Perfect Tunes - Emily Gould Page 0,36
side of the building, feeling like she might not be able to stand up for much longer. She could hear, from inside, the band’s moment of indecision and then its resolution: they continued to play, and Callie kept singing. Laura wobbled, thinking of going back in, but then decided against it. She needed to lie down and rest; she had to go to work at the bar in a few hours.
* * *
When Laura woke up, it was dark out and Callie was just getting home. The apartment was cold; the radiators hadn’t clanked on yet for some reason, and Laura burrowed into the pile of blankets, curling against the back of the couch, willing herself back into unconsciousness. Then she had the disturbing thought that she might have actually slept past the start of her shift; she hadn’t bothered to set an alarm because it had seemed impossible that she’d sleep longer than a few hours. She rushed to stand up and immediately felt dizzy again. Slowly, she made her way down the hall to the kitchen and collapsed into a chair at the kitchen table. The wall clock said it was nine; she was due at the bar an hour ago.
Callie was standing by the sink, filling the Pyrex measuring cup with water and chugging it. She barely glanced up at Laura; she was drunk and seemed distracted.
“What happened to you? Are you okay? I wanted to come check on you earlier, but by the time we finished playing you were long gone, and then there were so many people there who wanted to talk.… Someone said they saw you throwing up outside?”
“I think I’m really sick,” said Laura. She put her head in her hands.
“You just haven’t been taking care of yourself. You’ll start to feel better soon; you just need some food.” She was probably planning to go back out later; it was early for her to call it a night, and Laura was sure that Davey and the rest of the band would be celebrating Dylan’s life till well into the next day. She felt disgusted by all of them. Dylan’s death was just another excuse for them to party.
“Callie, are you even sad?”
Callie was spreading butter on a piece of toast with her back to Laura. She put the toast down in front of her and took out her makeup bag and started redoing her eyeliner at the table. It had smudged, but it didn’t look like she’d been crying.
“Of course I’m sad; I liked Dylan a lot. But it’s complicated. I can’t imagine how you feel, but it’s a sad time in the world, too, and Dylan’s just one person.…”
“I feel really bad. I don’t know if this is normal for when someone dies. I feel dizzy and nauseous, and I’m worried something’s really wrong with me.” Laura picked up the toast and took a bite. She could feel it crunch under her teeth, taste the butter and salt, but then she couldn’t figure out how to make her throat muscles work to swallow. She kept chewing it, hoping she could find a way to make her face and stomach work properly before it became necessary to spit it out.
Callie put down her hand mirror and scrutinized Laura.
“Are you pregnant?”
She reminded Callie that she was on the pill, then thought back to the last time she’d had sex, in Concord. The missed days. Laura felt sweat pool under her arms and immediately become clammy in their cold apartment. She hugged her knees up to her chest on the chair and shivered. Callie had already moved on.
“I told the Clips we’d play the rest of their tour with them. Like, as part of the band, like we did today.”
She watched Laura for a reaction—waiting for permission, it seemed, to unveil her own smile.
It wasn’t forthcoming. “Wait—so the Groupies? My songs? We’re going to abandon our thing to replace Dylan?”
“Not abandon our thing. It’s just to finish out the tour—they’ve already sold the tickets, somebody has to sing. It may as well be us, right? And then we’ll see where it goes from there. If nothing else, it’ll make it so much easier for us to get a recording contract—to actually put out an album of your songs. This is going to be how you become a star, Laura!”
Laura couldn’t process what was happening. Callie was sitting there beaming, like she was delivering good news. But the piece of toast was still sitting in her