Page 41 of Best Friend Burden

“Don't focus on your hand. Don't focus on your technique. Your brain's already got that going on autopilot. The time to focus on that is when you're practicing. But, when you're playing, you've got to ignore individual notes and, instead, just relax and the music will take you over.”

I knew the feeling she was describing, but it was scary. Akin to jumping out of an airplane and hoping the parachute would open. But if I wanted a less scary career, maybe I should have gone into something more clear cut, like finance or something.

“That's the secret,” she said. “When I went into that audition, I shut you and Ernie out. I didn't care who I was playing with or how famous he was, I just listened to what he was doing and let my fingers and soul take over, free of judgment. Because you're right, I couldn't have thought about what you, Jackson, and Ernie were thinking as I played. I had to just ignore the world.”

She was answering the question, but also she was ignoring it. In describing what she did, she ignored the actual thing I was asking, which was, “How?” There wasn't a switch in my brain I could flip on and off. It was always going, whether I wanted it to or not. And when I wanted to do exactly what she was describing and run away from judgment and self-doubt, it would only make my brain distract me even more.

“I can tell you you're good enough a million times,” she said, “but until you believe it and trust yourself, you'll be stuck operating your instrument instead of playing music, if you know what I mean. Like you're still up there pressing down the strings and plucking them, but the instrument is just a tool. If you gave Charlie Parker a kazoo, he'd still manage to make great music because that's who he was.”

“That's true,” I said. But there was also a truth that she was leaving out: Parker had been addicted to heroin ever since he was 16 and he died at 34. No doubt, the music was in him all along, but for some people, maybe it took a needle to get to it.

I thought I’d managed to beat the addiction, but between Natasha and Melody over the past several weeks, I realized it wasn’t out of my system at all. I could fall back into that dark place with only the gentlest of pushes.

It terrified me.

CHAPTER17

***MELODY***

The anticipation was killing me in the weeks leading up to The Vegan Vaquero's West Coast opening. Everything had to be perfect, which of course was impossible, but I had Kalle helping me out.

Over the past few weeks, it became clear that Kiefer and I would need separate cars. With the money from the investors providing something of a buffer (as well as money I was saving by not paying rent), I could eat into savings and buy a used Subaru that worked more than well enough to get me to and from the food court. It gave me a slight amount of independence and made me less reliant on Kiefer. While Kiefer had offered to just let me use the car whenever I needed it, I could see a sense of relief on his face when I did go out and buy my own.

And it almost immediately became clear how abundantly necessary the car was once I had it. We no longer needed to synchronize our schedules or leave work early for the other and could more or less come and go as we pleased. With the hours I was working on stuff for the truck, the Subaru ended up being a lifesaver for both of us.

As, of course, was Kalle, who helped design the new sign and give the truck a new coat of paint. I still handled basic social media presence, but she got the word out within local vegan groups that we were opening. I was appreciative of her getting there early in the morning to meet with the vendors and make sure all the ingredients had arrived in time for our opening. There was a bit of an issue with the peppers, which were good, but not great, but she helped me get in touch with another distributor and managed to avert the catastrophe which would have delayed our opening by at least a week.

So we had all that taken care of and ready.

The problem was even if you had everything you could control under control, that was at most half the battle. There were other factors that were beyond preparation and, for those, all we could do was hope.

There wasn't much space to pace within the truck, but I made do with what I had, dancing around Kalle, who was running inventory. I could tell she was almost as excited as I was, though perhaps not as anxious as she wasn't risking anything. If the truck wasn't a success, she could just get another job. For me, I was on the line for $100,000 for the investors, and nobody would trust me with another business ever again. I'd have to somehow make my way back to Houston with my tail between my legs as I apologized to my dad, begging for his forgiveness and for him to take me back.

He would, of course, say yes — I was his daughter after all — but it would still be humiliating. And any time in the future I ever argued with him about anything, he'd point back to this and remind me how he was right, and I should have listened to him.

“Can I open us up?” Kalle asked, interrupting my train of thought. Although, today, it didn't feel so much like a single train as a swarm of gnats.

I looked at my phone: 10:28.

“Give it two minutes,” I said. “We open on time. Not a second earlier. Not a second later.”

“Okay, okay.”

I got it. I wanted to open, too. In my imagination, a long line had already formed of eager, hungry customers, but it was much more likely a barren lot on the other side of the window. After all, it was a Monday, and people were at work, not yet on their lunch breaks.

There was a knock on the back door, and I opened it up. Chelsea stood there with a big smile on her face.

“Today's the day!” she said. “You all ready?”

“Nervous,” I told her.

Kalle gave her a thumbs up. “Just waiting on the clock at this point.” She looked down at her phone. “It's taking forever.”

“You think it's going slow now,” Chelsea said, “It's agony at the end of a ten hour day when there aren't any customers.” She thought for a second. “Then again, it flies by during a rush, and you won't be able to keep up, so it evens out.”

She took a deep breath and looked at me seriously, putting a hand on my shoulder. “Listen, Melody...”

“I know,” I said. “Anything I need, just come to you.”

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