Perfect Tunes - Emily Gould Page 0,49
in a way she hadn’t in years (three). The whole day opened up to her, dazzling with possibility. Then she remembered that she was going to play music onstage tonight, and her happiness evaporated instantly.
She had never had stage fright before—even when the Groupies had opened for the Clips, she’d been too besotted with Dylan to register the situation as anxiety-inducing. Tonight would be the most people she’d played for since then, and she’d rehearsed with the band only a couple of times. She tried to summon the first few words of the new song she’d written with them and drew a blank. Her stomach clenched, and she threw the remainder of her churro in the nearest trash can.
Luckily she was saved from spinning out into panic by a text from Callie, who gave the day shape by telling her where to meet up to “rehearse and chill.” It was far enough away that it justified taking SEPTA, which would be a fun challenge and would remind her of her own city’s relatively sparkling, efficient, and democratic subway system. But she had so much time to kill that she decided to walk there anyway.
She was just beginning to regret this decision—it was getting hotter, and though she knew she was heading in the right direction, she was slightly lost—when she got a call from Matt. She answered on the first ring, breathless. “Is everything okay?”
“Sorry! I didn’t mean to freak you out. Everything is totally, totally fine.” Something about his voice, which was unmistakably the voice of a grown-up, reassured her. Every part of Laura that had clenched up as soon as she saw Matt’s name on her screen released somewhat.
“I am so sorry I’m even bothering you with this. It really is no big deal, but Marie is saying that she isn’t hungry and will wait till Mommy comes home so she can make the food ‘the way Mommy makes it.’ Is there some strategy you use to get her to eat? Like, what does she mean by that?”
“Oh, this trick. She’s pulled this on babysitters before. What a little dissident.”
Matt gently laughed, like they were in this together. Parental solidarity was new and very welcome.
“She’ll break her hunger strike eventually, but if you want to be on the safe side, put out some Goldfish crackers or something and don’t specifically say they’re for her or that she should eat them. She’ll sneak them when she thinks you’re not looking. It’s better than nothing. See if you can get her to drink water, though, it’s hot out.” She paused. “Sorry, I know you’re not an idiot.”
“I’m not not an idiot. Once I sent Kayla to her mom’s for a weekend when I was going out of town with no underwear and they’d just sent their laundry to the drop-off place and K had to wear a bathing suit till I came over with a pair. They told her it was special superhero outfit for big girls.”
Laura indulged him with a mild laugh. “Okay, we’re definitely both idiots. Hey, what are they doing right now?”
She could hear him walking into the other room, the girls’ piping voices becoming just audible. Laura’s heart leaped unexpectedly.
“It looks like they’re at it with the Barbies again. Or whatever these dolls are. The healthy-body-image Barbies. They seem to be going on a trip.”
“They’re trying to find their mommies,” she heard Marie say. Matt was silent on the other end.
“I should go,” she told him, keeping her voice light and level.
“Sure you don’t want to talk to her?”
“I don’t have time right now, but definitely later, before bed. I’ll talk to you soon, okay? Thank you for letting me know about the food. And, Matt, thank you so much again for taking care of her. I owe you guys one.”
“We will most assuredly take you up on that, sooner rather than later. Break a leg!”
“Thank you! I will! I mean, thanks.”
As she hung up, Laura realized that she’d wandered mindlessly while on the phone, and now she definitely didn’t know where she was. The neighborhood she was in now had blocks of undifferentiated vinyl-sided two-story houses, uglier even than the ones on similarly ugly blocks of her North Brooklyn neighborhood. It was midafternoon, but the people she passed seemed as menacing as they might if it had been nighttime.
She was wearing cheap Urban Outfitters jeans that had been through the washing machine too many times and a shapeless gray T-shirt. Sweaty curls stuck to her