Old Familiar Song

Chapter 1 Now Larry Carson’s cell phone beeped as he pulled to a stop at the red light a block away from his daughter’s school. With his foot on the brake, he dug his phone out of the holster on his hip and checked the screen—a new text message from his ex-wife Jennifer. He groaned as he hit the OK button to unlock the phone and read the message. Don’t 4get 2 pickup Crys. The text-speak made Larry’s brain hurt. At thirty-five, couldn’t Jen take two seconds to spell out the words correctly? And why did she feel the need to remind him to pick up their daughter, anyway? He knew it was his weekend with Crystal. He wasn’t the type of father who’d leave her waiting in the parking lot after school. Jen had sent it to piss him off, he knew. He slid open the phone to reply—he didn’t know quite what he’d say yet; should he tell her he was already there, or say something snarky to let her know he didn’t appreciate the reminder? But before he could start typing, a horn sounded behind him and he tossed the phone into the passenger seat. The light ahead was green, and he took his foot off the brake to zoom through the intersection, angling for the curving drive in front of the middle school. Already dozens of other cars clogged the area, hazards flashing, doors slamming, kids dodging traffic as they called back to friends and paid little attention to where they were going. Larry saw an opening as an SUV lumbered away from the curb and zoomed his sporty little Honda into the slot before anyone else could take it. Then he flipped on his hazards and scanned the crowd milling about in front of the school. There. Crystal stood with a trio of girls her own age—skinny legs beneath too-short shorts and knobby elbows flared out to either side, books clutched to her still-flat chest. Long, blonde hair hung in a straight curtain from her brow to just past her shoulders, and when she laughed, silver braces flashed in the sunlight. Larry’s heart swelled to see her, his own daughter, his own flesh and blood, twelve going on thirteen and growing up too damn fast for his tastes. When had he become old enough to have a pre-teen daughter? When had she grown out of diapers and dolls? Another year and it’ll be high school, he thought, and a shudder ran down his spine. Then college, then God, she’ll be on her own. I’m not ready for that, for any of it. Why can’t she be three again, and still small enough to cradle in my arms? When she glanced over at him, he smiled and waved, but she turned back to her friends as if he didn’t exist. Do they have to grow up? Larry thought, weary. They had the whole weekend ahead of them, and he didn’t want to start things off on the wrong foot, but if she was going to blow him off trying to look cool for the other girls, then it would go downhill from here. Maybe Jennifer was right; maybe Crys was starting to cop an attitude. Larry knew kids her age tried to push against their parents, see what they could get away with, and if he gave a little, she’d take a lot. Well, two could play that game. She wanted to look cool? How cool is this? With the palm of his hand, he leaned on the car horn, a long bray that filled the late afternoon air and made heads turn in all directions. Then he rolled down the passenger side window and leaned across the seat to holler, “Hey, Crys! Daddy’s here!” When she glanced his way again, her face blazed a deep crimson from her cheeks all the way to the roots of her hair. Hunching her shoulders, she rolled her eyes and shook her head as her friend giggled, but at least this time she started for the car. Larry was about to hit the horn again, but she quickened her pace, almost sprinting the last couple feet. By the time she tore open the passenger door, anger had replaced her embarrassment. “Dad! How could you?” she shrieked, ducking down in the seat as if hoping no one she knew would see her in the car. “God! Lame!” He checked his side-view mirror for an opening back into the flow of traffic. “You saw me wave.” “I was talking with my friends.” Every other word out of Crystal’s mouth was emphasized, as if to underscore the ongoing drama that was her life. Larry turned off his hazards and put on his turn signal, but still no one slowed enough to let him in. “Buckle up, sweetie.” Flipping her hair over her shoulder, Crystal grimaced. “Don’t know why I bother. The way you drive…” she groused, pulling the seat belt across her body. Before she could snap it in place, though, she let it go and sat up. “What the—Dad!” She reached behind her, extracting his cell phone from beneath her. With a look of disgust, she dropped it in the empty drink holder between the seats. “Why don’t you get a smart phone? This thing is crap. You can’t even get e-mail on it.” “I don’t need e-mail,” Larry told her. “Seat belt, young lady, or we’ll sit here all day. Want me to hit the horn again? What will your friends think of that?” She made a little sound in the back of her throat that let him know exactly what she thought of it, but she buckled her seat belt, and then pulled her own phone out of the small purse dangling from her wrist. It was the latest iPhone in a case covered with pink rhinestones, and without another word, her fingers started flying over the virtual keyboard on the screen. Most likely texting her friends about everything that had happened in the two minutes since they’d been apart. Larry glanced over and caught a phrase that looked like unintelligible code—ZOMG SMH RLY? As he eased out into the flow of traffic, he asked, “What’s that even mean?” “Dad!” Her voice rose a full two octaves and she shrunk away from him, holding the phone to her chest. “God, serious breach of privacy!” “Hey, I pay for that phone,” he reminded her. She didn’t answer. For a few tense moments, neither spoke. Larry concentrated on navigating out of the crowded schoolyard, and his daughter ignored him. When he reached the red light again, he relaxed his shoulders, loosened his fingers from their death grip on the steering wheel, and took a deep breath. “Look, I’m sorry,” he began. Crystal gave him a sideways glance but didn’t bother turning away from her phone. Reaching for the dashboard, Larry clicked on the radio and turned up the volume enough to hear the music. Something light, easy listening, what he used to think of as his mother’s music but now found himself singing along to when he was in the car alone. As he sat back, he placed his hand on Crystal’s knee and patted it like he used to when she was a little girl. Her skin felt unnaturally smooth beneath his—what, she was shaving now, too? When did that start? “I didn’t mean to embarrass you back there,” Larry said softly. “I want us to have a nice weekend, okay? Can we do that?” Crystal glanced up. “Green light.” At least there was no longer any animosity beneath her words. “So…” Larry searched for something to talk about, but nothing came to mind. Crystal kept her nose to her phone, ignoring him. After an awkward moment, he asked, “Did you have a good day at school?” She let out an exasperated sigh. “Can we listen to some real music?” Before he could reply, she reached over and started pushing buttons on the radio, changing stations. Static burst from the speakers as she twisted up the volume in her search for something better than what he’d been listening to. “Hey, I liked that song,” he said, half-joking. “Lame,” she told him. The first station she settled on played only a snippet of music before switching to a commercial and she was off again, fiddling with the buttons to find something, anything she liked. Larry caught the tail end of an Aerosmith song and almost told her to stop, but didn’t bother. When she finally stopped again, she cranked the volume way up. “Oh my God, I love this one!” she cried. Larry gave her a quizzical look. “It hasn’t even started yet. How do you know—” “It’s like my favorite song,” Crystal assured him. To him, it sounded identical to all the other noise the radio stations called modern music. Overproduced and unoriginal, with a thumping back beat that would play well on any dance floor and merge seamlessly in with the next song on the playlist. “This is crap,” he muttered under his breath. “You really like this?” “Everyone does,” his daughter said. “Geo’s awesome.” “What the hell kind of name is Geo?” Larry wanted to know. Crystal didn’t bother to answer. Instead, she turned the volume up another notch as the music dropped slightly and a breathy male voice purred through the speakers. I know him. The thought sent a shiver through Larry—half memory, half dream, all lust and longing and need. His knees weakened, his fingers tightened on the steering wheel. His heart stuttered in his chest. God, no. It wasn’t. It couldn’t be. Hoping his voice sounded steady despite the surge of emotion suddenly roiling through him, Larry asked his daughter, “Who’s this again?” In the passenger seat, Crystal bopped along in time with the beat. “Geo. He’s good, ain’t he?” Good? Hell, no. Good was the kid on American Idol who could carry a tune. Good was the woman in the gym who belted out Britney Spears while wearing her iPod on the treadmill. Good was the older gentleman at the back of the church choir, the one with the bottom basement voice who could really get the congregation rolling during “Amazing Grace.” Geo wasn’t good. The voice coming from Larry’s base model speaker system was pure honey, dripping into him sweetly and coating every inch of his insides. Lyrics in that golden voice were sung for him alone, and only him, and no one else. If he closed his eyes, he knew he could let Geo’s soothing, soulful tone carry him away to places he hadn’t been in a long, long time, back to people he used to know, dreams he used to have, things he’d loved and lost somewhere between then and now. Those words, in that voice—they were like a heartbreak, and Larry felt tears well in his eyes because he hadn’t known until he heard them how much he’d been missing in his life. “Geo.” His voice didn’t betray any of the conflicting turmoil inside him, thank God. At least, if it did, Crystal was too wrapped up in the music to notice. He reached over to turn down the radio—just a little, enough so he wouldn’t have to compete with that glorious voice, but not too much, because he wasn’t ready to let it disappear yet. How had he managed to get through the day without hearing it before? Without knowing it existed in the world beyond him? How would he go on, how could he, with it out there somewhere waiting? He cleared his throat to get his daughter’s attention. When that didn’t work, he thought he knew something that might. As casually as he could, he told her, “I know this guy.” She stopped in mid-move, arms in the air, head tipped to one side. Only the muscles in her neck moved as she swiveled around to look at him. “Nuh-uh.” “I do,” Larry assured her. “Do you `seriously think I’d forget a voice like that?” Now it was Crystal who turned down the radio, and Larry fought the urge to turn it back up. If he’d had headphones, they wouldn’t be enough—he wanted that voice inside him, all the way in his head, in his heart, his soul. As deep inside as it could get; he wanted— His lips on mine, his fingers flat on my stomach, his legs and mine tangled together on the narrow futon I used to call a bed. His eyes like stars in the darkness above me, the sweet pain as he entered me, my name in his voice. That little trill he makes in the back of his throat on the chorus? He does that when he comes, or at least he used to. He did with me. His daughter snapped him out of the memory and back to the present. “Dad, you’ve never even heard this song before.” With a nod, he conceded, “True.” “You don’t even like it,” Crystal added. Again, Larry nodded. “All right, all right. But I know this guy. I do! We went to college together.” She turned toward him, her seat belt straining as she turned to stare at him directly. “Shut. Up.” He glanced at her and shrugged. “No, really. Only he didn’t call himself Geo then. He was Geoffrey Mason…well, mostly he went by Geoff. I guess the Geo is some sort of stage name or something. We sort of had this band—” “You did not.” Crystal’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Oh my God! You were in a band with Geo? So why’s he famous and you’re not?” Larry didn’t know how to answer that. The truth was, he hadn’t thought of Geo—Geoff—in, God, years, it seemed. The memories surfacing now were sweet, first love and boyhood romance tinged with nostalgic regret. What could’ve been… But what it was hadn’t been all rose petals and sunshine, really. If it had, nothing would’ve changed, and he probably wouldn’t be where he was, driving home with a pre-teen daughter beside him, an ex-wife texting to make sure he’d picked her up safely, and a weekend ahead playing the responsible father. He and Geoff would still be together, if things between them had been as perfect as he wanted to believe they’d been in retrospect. So the question was, really, what had happened? He didn’t want to get into it—not here, not now, and definitely not with Crystal. So he shrugged off the past and put on a smile for her benefit. Tried to pretend there was no hurt behind the memories. “Oh, you know,” he said, “we all sort of went our separate ways. When it ended, I got my degree, met your mother—” Crystal snorted derisively. “Yeah, that worked out well for you.” “I grew up,” Larry told her. “Had you, got a job, moved on. I haven’t even thought of Geoff in years.” “Geoff,” she said softly. Sitting back in her seat, she bent over her phone again and started to text furiously. “See, that’s how I know you’re legit, because everyone calls him Geo, and you’re all like, Geoff. Which is totally his real name. Wait until I tell Mindy my dad knows the hottest singer on the planet! Were you guys like BFFs or something?” Larry didn’t answer. Oh, honey, he thought with a grin, we were so much more than that.