Page 5 of Entranced in the Mountains
I play the harp, been playing it since I was six years old. I touched one in my grandmother’s basement twenty-one years ago and since then, not one day has passed that I haven’t touched the smooth, taut strings of a harp. My mom even brought one with us on our vacations.
Sloane plays the violin. She’s the one who got us all together in the first place, but she’s getting more and more checked out. Ithink she wants to move on and settle down with her fiancé. She hasn’t said anything yet, but I suspect she wants to start trying to have a baby. I can tell by the way she acts whenever we see newborns or little toddlers running around. She gets so happy and misty-eyed. Our days with Sloane are numbered.
And then there’s Tessa and Mira. If Sloane leaves, we’re toast. I can’t handle those two on my own. Tessa plays the cello and Mira sings and plays the Bodhrán, which is a handheld frame drum. They’re always at each other’s throats. I’m getting so sick of being the peacekeeper of the group.
I’m getting sick of traveling too. Every weekend, another small town, another crappy motel, another diner with nothing healthy on the menu. It’s exhausting. And listening to Tessa and Mira bicker and argue constantly is just so draining.
I hear them argue, and then after I hear Tessa venting about Mira, and then I hear Mira venting about Tessa. I’m the sounding board to all of their issues and it’s getting unbearable. I want out.
“Not these guys again,” Tessa says as we walk onto the festival grounds. “These are the carnies that were in Holbrook.”
“Oh yeah,” Mira says, looking around. “They had the creepy guy that was always hitting on Ellie. What was his name?”
“Cooter,” I say, cringing as I look around for him. He didn’t leave me alone the entire day. It was horrible.
I pull my large harp case closer to my body as we hurry to the stage. Hopefully, we can get set up and start playing before he notices that I’m here. After that, we can make a quick getaway.
That guy was uber sleazy. He smelled like cheap beer and chewing tobacco and kept winking at me and calling me sweetheart. I still remember how his crooked gold tooth sparkled with the sun every time he said something that made my skin crawl.
We make it to the back of the stage without any carnies spotting us and we start to unload our gear.
“Here’s the setlist,” Mira says, handing out cue cards.
Tessa’s forehead scrunches up when she looks it over. Oh crappers, here we go.
“I thought we agreed to open with a slow ballad,” Tessa says, already worked up. “That way we can ease the crowd into it.”
“We need to start with something upbeat,” Mira says, dismissing her. “The setlist is already in ink so there’s no changing it now.”
Sloane just rolls her eyes and pulls out her phone to text her fiancé. She’s already over this. We used to diffuse the Tessa-Mira bombs together, but now I’m on my own dealing with all the crazy.
“You always do this,” Tessa says, crumpling the paper up in her fist. “We should make decisionstogether. As agroup.”
“You just want to start with a slow ballad because it features your cello,” Mira spits out venomously. “It’s selfish, Tessa.”
“Did you seriously just call me selfish?” Tessa spits back. “You’re the one whoselfishlyinsists on taking the spotlight, dancing and standing in front of me all the time.”
“I’m the singer!” Mira says as I drop my head and sigh.
“We’re a quartet!” Tessa says with her voice rising. “Each one an equal participant.”
“Guys,” I say, trying to calm this crazy train down. “We’re going to be on in seven minutes. Can we not?”
I look to Sloane for help, but she’s not even paying attention. She has a big smile on her face as she reads a text. She’s not even listening. Man, I wish I had a hot fiancé to distract me from all this…
“You always think you’re better than us,” Tessa says, dragging up any ammunition she can chuck at Mira. “You think you run the group.”
“I do run the group!” Mira snaps. “Did you bother to write out a set list or book the motel or look up the address to this place? No, you do shit all and then you bitch about everything.”
“Maybe I would if you weren’t such a control freak!”
“Hey!” I shout so loud their eyes snap over to me. “That’s enough! We’re on the job here. Act professional.”
How did I become the only adult in the room? Why am I always the referee? How is any of this my job?
I grab all of the set lists and start editing them with my pen. “We’ll playgood 4 ufirst and that way we’ll open with a bangandTessa has a moment to shine.”
Neither of them say anything as I hand the altered cue cards back. “Now, can we please hold the fighting until we’re in the van driving back to the inn at least?”
