For me those hours passed in a dream, so I wasn’t surprised when during one of the slower numbers—I think it was “Who’ll Stop the Rain”—my mother and father waltzed by.
Mom’s head was on Dad’s shoulder. Her eyes were closed and there was a dreamy little smile on her face. My dad’s eyes were open, and he gave me a wink as they passed the bandstand. There was no need to be embarrassed by their presence; although the high school dances and the PAL hops at the Lewiston Roller Rink were strictly for kids, there were always a lot of adults when we played at the Eureka Grange, or the Elks and Amvets in Gates. The only thing wrong with that first gig was that, although some of Astrid’s friends were there, she wasn’t.
My folks left early, and Norm drove me home in the old microbus. We were all high on our success, laughing and reliving the show, and when Norm held out a ten-dollar bill to me, I didn’t understand what it was for.
“Your cut,” he said. “We got fifty for the gig. Twenty for me—because it’s my ’bus and I play lead—ten for each of you guys.”
I took it, still feeling like a boy in a dream, and slid open the side door with my aching left hand.
“Rehearsal this Thursday,” Norm said. “Band Room after school this time. I can’t take you home, though. My dad needs me to help paint a house over in Castle Rock.”
I said that was okay. If Con couldn’t give me a ride home, I’d hitch. Most of the people who used Route 9 between Gates Falls and Harlow knew me and would pick me up.
“You need to work on ‘Brown-Eyed Girl.’ You were way behind.”
I said I would.
“And Jamie?”
I looked at him.
“Otherwise you did okay.”
“Better than Snuffy,” Paul said.
“Way better than that hoser,” Kenny added.
That almost made up for Astrid’s not being at the dance.
Dad had gone to bed, but Mom was sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of tea. She had changed into a flannel nightgown, but she still had her makeup on, and I thought she looked very pretty. When she smiled, I saw her eyes were full of tears.
“Mom? Are you okay?”
“Yes,” she said. “I’m just happy for you, Jamie. And a little scared.”
“Don’t be,” I said, and hugged her.
“You won’t start smoking with those boys, will you? Promise me.”
“I already promised, Mom.”
“Promise me again.”
I did. Making promises when you’re fourteen is even easier than working up a sweat.
Upstairs, Con was lying on his bed, reading a science book. It was hard for me to believe anyone would read such books for pleasure (especially a big-shot football player), but Connie did. He put it down and said, “You were pretty good.”
“How would you know?”
He smiled. “I peeked in. Just for a minute. You were playing that asshole song.”
“Wild Thing.” I didn’t even have to ask.
• • •
We played at the Amvets the following Friday night, and the high school dance on Saturday. At that one, Norm changed the words to ‘I Ain’t Gonna Eat Out My Heart Anymore’ to ‘I Ain’t Gonna Eat Out My Girl Anymore.’ The chaperones didn’t notice, they never noticed any of the lyrics, but the kids did, and loved it. The Gates gym was big enough to act as its own amplifier, and the sound we made, especially on really loud tunes like “Good Lovin’,” was tremendous. If I may misquote Slade, us boyz made big noize. During the break, Kenny went along with Norm and Paul to the smoking area, so I did, too.
There were several girls there, including Hattie Greer, the one who’d patted Norm’s butt on the day I auditioned. She put her arms around his neck and pressed her body against his. He put his hands in her back pockets to pull her closer. I tried not to stare.
A timid little voice came from behind me. “Jamie?”
I turned. It was Astrid. She was wearing a straight white skirt and a blue sleeveless blouse. Her hair had been released from its prim school ponytail and framed her face.
“Hi,” I said. And because that didn’t seem like enough: “Hi, Astrid. I didn’t see you inside.”
“I came late, because I had to ride with Bonnie and Bonnie’s dad. You guys are really good.”
“Thanks.”
Norm and Hattie were kissing strenuously. Norm was a noisy kisser, and the sound was a bit like my Mom’s Electrolux. There was other, quieter, making out going on