Chapter Thirty

 

On Friday, AJ promised his grandfather he’d be waiting at home when he brought Mom back from the airport. For four days, he’d done nothing but sleep, watch the news, eat and play his guitar. His side still hurt like hell, but restlessness propelled him to attempt a walk with Grandpa.

A short walk. He’d gone a block before his body turned traitor on him, and forced him to go back. He couldn’t have left the house by himself if he’d wanted to.

Waiting felt like torture, though. He made an attempt to straighten his bed covers. Grandpa had moved most of the boxes out of his room, at least. He washed the few plates and glasses from lunch, then went outside to sit on the glider. The late afternoon sun baked the patio stone like a brick oven. The metal glider absorbed the heat like a magnet. At first, it felt good to sit outside, to hear the waves break against the shore, gulls crying as they floated on air currents. After about two minutes, sweat broke on his forehead, and rather than adjust to the hot metal, his legs felt more and more burned. He went back inside the dim bungalow. With Grandpa out of the house, he could watch MTV, but these days, the station played less music than reality shows. Crap, all of it.

At least in his room, he could relax and play his guitar. The down time had allowed his creativity to surface, and he’d started four new songs. Five, if you count the one he barely begun before he got stuck on the refrain. This time, it didn’t bother him. It would come eventually. He’d keep at it until it did. And once he felt up to it, he’d book a gig. Solo. And as soon he had enough songs for a CD, he’d record one and send it out to every radio station on his own, if he had to. The look of excitement in Cassiopeia’s eyes as he’d sung to her had convinced him he was just as good, if not better, than any other musician.

This time, he wasn’t going to quit.