Graffiti Casanova

Heroism and Chinese Takeout

My phone was ringing from across the kitchen.

"What now?" I yelled as I stabbed the chicken I was making for Dad and I. It seemed like I'd gotten about a thousand calls that day and ignored all of them-- I couldn't pretend to be cheerful and normal today. After a quick glance at the chicken to confirm it wasn't burning, I shuffled over to check the caller ID.

Jared?

It made no sense that he was calling. I tensed, but my curiosity got the best of me and I answered.

"Hey," I said carefully.

"Claire Bear!" he sang cheerfully into the phone. "How ya been? It's been ages!"

I blinked. "Loaded question."

He gave a nervous chuckle. "That good, huh? Listen, I have a favor to ask--"

"Jared..." I bit my lip

He stopped. There was a pause before he sighed.

"Look, I know things are... weird. But Brett broke his finger and it's tomorrow night, and I'm only calling because you're the only one who knows the songs."

I was silent.

"It's an acoustic set, Brett won't even be there. It'll just be you, me and Davey."

I pressed my lips together in a tight line. I missed Davey so much.

"You can't cancel?"

He fumbled. "It's... sort of important that we don't."

I rolled my eyes. So a label rep was going to be there. "Jared, you can't ask me to do this for you after you all pushed me out."

"That's not-- we didn't--" he sighed in frustration. "Whatever. But it's just this once. We could even call you a guest artist and have you do a few songs on your own--"

"I can't, Jared. Sorry. Good luck with the label rep."

I hung up. I sat at the table and stared out the window, fingers woven into my hair. I was done playing music, I decided. This phone call and earlier today was a giant flashing billboard screaming at me to quit. I had just killed my career after all-- soon it'd be on national television for all to see. I needed to focus on taking care of Dad now anyway. I could afford to stay home for now, maybe Bennie or Mrs. Lewis from next door could stay with Dad if I got the occasional wedding gig--

"Is something burning?"

I whipped around to find Dad standing in the doorway of the kitchen. His eyebrows shot up and he lifted his hands. "I come in peace. But you might want to check on dinner."

I leaped up with a little yelp and rushed to salvage the now smoking, blackened chicken.

"I'm making macaroni tomorrow night," I mumbled, glaring at the ruined dinner.

"And ordering Chinese tonight." Dad handed me a takeout menu and the phone, and disappeared into his studio, calling over his shoulder, "you know what I want!"

Half an hour later, dinner was finally ready thanks to China Star and Bill, the delivery guy we'd gotten to know way better than was healthy.

"Dad?" I knocked on the door to his studio and pushed it open when I didn't hear an answer.

"Dad? Dinner is--" I stopped. He was hunched over on the end of the black leather couch, face in his hands. His guitar was on the floor in front of him.

I moved to kneel next to the guitar and reached out to touch his hair.

"Daddy? What's wrong?"

He looked up at me and met my eyes. His were full of frustration.

"I can't play it." His face hardened. "My fingers won't do what they're supposed to."

"Oh Daddy..." my face was threatening to crumple, and I fought for control.

"I can play the beginning and then--" he gripped his close-cropped hair, a habit we both had when upset. I slipped my hands into his and brought them down to rest on his lap.

"What if I lose all of it?" he breathed. He wasn't really talking to me anymore.

He gave a hollow, humorless little chuckle.

"Pretty useless, huh?"

"You'll never be useless."

He looked up again, eyes softer. "You'll keep playing, Claire Bear. Won't you?" He gripped my chin in his big hand. "You love it too much to do anything else. Promise me you will." It was an echo of what he'd said before-- before we knew his diagnosis. Before I had choked at a huge audition. Before I had decided to quit.

I couldn't keep a tear from slipping out.

"I promise."

The corner of his mouth lifted. "Good." His face brightened, and I knew he was just trying to diffuse the tension. He never could be serious for long. "Now, I'm hungry. What's for dinner?" He stood and headed towards the kitchen.

As soon as he cleared the door, I slumped against the couch and lost it. My face twisted and a silent sob racked my body.

"You ordered Chinese? You know me so well!" he shouted. "Get in here, it's getting cold!"

I took a slow breath in, and let a shaky breath out before answering, fighting to keep my voice normal.

"Be right there!"

I grabbed my phone, and through blurred eyes I typed a message.

Fine. I'll do it.

Immediately Jared's name popped up with his answer.

You're my hero, Claire Bear. Tomorrow night at the V Bar downtown.

Personally, I think Bill is the hero of this chapter. Hopefully Claire tipped well... Hit that star! 

 Chapter song is La Reyna by Penny and Sparrow.