"Music to Survive To," OFC/OFC (Radiation Canary Bonus Track)
This is part of a Radiation Canary sequel/side novel that I'm putting together called Radiation Canary - Bonus Tracks. It will be made up of short stories of fans, side characters, friends, family members, etc. who encounter the band Radiation Canary in some way, shape, or form. Since the novel covers about a decade, there are obviously a LOT of stories left untold. So hopefully this project will help cover some of that. This is the first one! You don't have to have read The Rise and Fall of Radiation Canary to read this. :D
I'm also not sure if the title should be "to Survive To" or "to Survive By." I'm open to suggestions. ;D
Summary: Two fans meet up outside a Radiation Canary concert. (3,475 words)
Music to Survive To
by Geonn Cannon
http://www.geonncannon.com
Copyright © 2012 Geonn Cannon
We sit on concrete, regardless of the weather, our backs against a brick wall, and we wait. The doors wouldn't open until six, but everyone knows that you can't wait until the last minute to try getting a good seat. I'm not at the front of the line, but I'm not very far back, either. I'm well ahead of the first corner the line winds around. It's my first time attending a Radiation Canary concert, and I have no idea how I'll react to seeing them in the flesh. But I want to be close. I want to be certain I can see them clearly instead of just being blurry shapes. The other fans are considerate to the other businesses near the venue. We leave openings so people can get into the clothing or pet stores in front of which we've formed a human battlement.
It's freezing out, so I'm wearing my coat, two sweaters, mittens, and a hat pulled down over my eyebrows. I have the earbuds of my iPod in, my knees drawn up to my chest, and I have my eyes closed. The others around me are catching up on homework, reading, napping, tapping at their little phone screens. I remember when Mom clucked her tongue about how it used to be that only doctors had to be available at a moment's notice.
Someone taps me on the shoulder and I open my eyes to see the girl who has been in front of me for the past forty-five minutes has twisted around to smile at me. Her hair is jet bacl except for a single stripe of white running down the center part. It would look artificial except that she doesn't seem the type to affect that sort of thing. She holds up a hand in apology, already turning away as she realizes I'm in "solitary" mode, but I pull out my ear buds and smile.
"Sorry," she says when I can hear her. "I didn't know you were sleeping."
"I wasn't." It's not really a lie.
"I was just wondering which one you were listening to."
She doesn't have to ask which band I'm listening to. There's no rule against listening to other music in line for concert tickets, but it seems blasphemous to listen to anything other than Radiation Canary.
"Their latest one. It's on repeat."
Her smile widened. "It's great, isn't it? I just love 'Away from Shore.' It's so epic."
I nod carefully and fumble with my iPod, switching it off so I won't miss the music while I'm talking.
"I didn't want to interrupt, but my friend went off in search of food." She looks down the street, eyes scanning the street without much hope. "I think she decided to hunt and kill something with her own two hands. Anyway. Sorry for butting in. I'm Grace. Grace Haskell."
"Ingrid." We shake hands, and it's oddly impersonal because of our gloves. "It's okay. We can talk if you want. I need to preserve my battery anyway."
She adjusts herself so we can talk without her being twisted like a pretzel. Her coat is unzipped far enough that I can see the collar of her shirt. It's a Trading Rainmakers for Wizards Tour shirt; I have one at home that's been washed so many times the colors have all faded. It's probably the most comfortable thing I own.
"So what's your favorite song?"
"On the new album or in general?"
"General. All three albums."
"Besides 'Say a Prayer'?"
She smiles. "Well, that's a given. Okay, call it second favorite song."
Even the most ardent fans, and maybe especially the most ardent fans, would have to think for a moment before answering. I don't. "'The Day After,' from their first album."
Grace smiles. "Excellent choice. Mine is probably 'The Importance of Your Radio,' since that was the first song I heard. I saw them perform it on Settle in, Seattle! and I was completely hooked."
I rest my head against the wall behind me. "'The Day After' saved my life."
She looks at me like maybe I'm setting her up for a joke, but she sees I'm sincere. "How?"
I reach up and pinch the brow of my cap, then pull it forward off my head. It comes easily, sliding over bare skin until my bald scalp is revealed. I fold the cap in half on my lap and smile as Grace takes in the sight and processes what it means. It means chemotherapy, which means cancer.
"I'm in remission. But I was eighteen when I was diagnosed, so it kind of seemed like a death sentence. I lost heart. Everyone told me it was important to fight but I just closed myself off. I was about to graduate and I couldn't even make myself care about SATs or college. I just locked myself away upstairs in my bedroom and watched TV or listened to music. Lots and lots of doom and gloom type music. Disaster songs. My mother got me a copy of Action After Warnings because one of the songs was called 'Survivors.' I listened to it because of a few of the other titles on it."
Grace smiles. "'Mutually Assured'?"
I nod. "And 'My Weak Hand,' 'Mushroom Cloud,' 'Duck and Cover'... it sounded like it would really fit with my mood. But they tricked me. Damn it."
Grace laughs.
"I listened to the whole thing and just stared at the wall the whole time. But when 'The Day After' came on, I hit repeat. I couldn't let that song end. 'Don't look back at the disaster, try to see what happens the day after.'" I felt tears in my eyes and blotted them away with my mitten. "Every time I heard it was like... getting slapped in the face. I needed to stop looking backward and focus on what was ahead. Cancer might possibly steal some of my time, but I was letting it take my whole life away. I couldn't stop having cancer, but I could minimize the damage. So..." I shrug. "I got up, dusted myself off, and got to work."
"Wow." Grace scratches her cheek and looks down at her feet. "I like 'Importance' because of the way Lana looks when she sings it. Kind of shallow after that."
I laugh and put my cap back on. "Nah, she does look pretty hot when she's singing that one. After the quiet part when it suddenly picks up?"
Grace's eyes brighten. "Yep. When I saw it live, I got goosebumps. It's like she pulled me in, wrapped her arms around me, and then threw us both off a cliff. After that I had to hear the rest of the album. Did you ever get around to listening to the last few songs on the album?"
I grin. "Yeah, eventually. Mom was very happy to hear that the songs weren't as bleak as the titles suggested." I scratched my cheek where I thought a tear might have slipped free, but the skin was dry. "And she was really happy to find out that I was ready to look into my options, both for college and for my health. Now I'm a sophomore at U of W and, like I said, the cancer is in remission. I know it's a lot of weight to put on a single song--"
"No. I think it makes a lot of sense. You know, when life cannot find someone to sing her heart, she finds a philosopher to speak her mind. Or something like that."
"Beatles?"
"Kahlil Gibran. Philosophy major, sorry."
I shook my head. "Don't be sorry. I'm majoring in Music History."
Grace tilted her head and gestured toward the front of the line. "Thanks to Radiation Canary?"
"Yeah, possibly," I admit.
I see her eyes dart past me and I turn to see an Asian girl about my age coming toward us. I vaguely recognize her from the hours she's been waiting in front of me since she's spent most of that time turned around to talk with Grace. Grace's friend, back with a white plastic bag that is full of food.
"Sorry," the new arrival says. "The lines were insane at all the places near here, so I had to walk like five blocks just to get this." She pushed back her hood to reveal a thick braid of black hair with red tips. "Hi."
Grace introduces us; her friend is Andrea Sun. She retakes her spot on the sidewalk and places the food between her and Grace.
"There's more than enough if you want to share," Andrea says.
"That's so nice. But thank you, no. I have a ton of food in my backpack, but thank you."
Grace moves so that she can address me and Andrea both. "We were talking about our favorite Radiation Canary song."
"Other than 'Say a Prayer'?"
I laugh. I had a feeling it was going to be a fun wait. Andrea chooses 'Forgotten Lore' as her second favorite, and I correctly guess she's a Lit Major. Eventually they realize I'm alone and suggest that we get three seats together. I don't have anything better to do, and concerts are always a little better when you have someone to enjoy them with, so I agree. By the time the doors open and we flood into the building, I feel like I've known Grace and Andrea my entire life. Grace makes sure we don't lose each other as we file into the theatre and take positions near the stage. We're five rows back; close enough to be envied but not so close that we'll have to crane our necks to see the band. Grace stands next to me with Andrea on her other side.
We politely endure the opening act, applauding and making noise so they don't feel unwelcome, but then the real show begins. Andrea revealed to me in line that Grace has a crush on lead singer Lana Kent, and I can see it in her eyes when the lights come up. When Lana struts up to the microphone in tight jeans and her trademark sleeveless blouse, Grace is transfixed. Lana's purple and black Telecaster is hanging in front of her like a shield, her right hand resting on the body of it as she adjusts the mic with her other hand. She smiles as we welcome the band with shrieks and animalistic cheers.
When we've quieted down enough for her to be heard. "Well, all right," she says. "Just for that, I think we'll play some music for you." She starts the intro to 'Band of Girls,' and I look to my left to see Grace is mouthing along with the lyrics. I turn back to the stage. Karen Everett is my favorite. She's the one who sings 'The Day After,' and it doesn't hurt that she's absolutely gorgeous.
Willowy and blonde, with the face of an angel, tonight her hair is curled and hangs down on either side of her face as she waits for her cue to begin playing. She's wearing a black vest over a gray shirt with cap sleeves. Her dress started black at the waist but soon gained color as it continued down until her calves were draped in a flowing lilac curtain. Karen plays the violin and cello depending on the song; for 'Band of Girls' she has the violin tucked under her chin. She closes her eyes and moves her whole body with the music, and it's all I can do not to be hypnotized by that sway.
The band gives us half an hour of their familiar hits before moving on to newer songs. 'Wet Coast' gets a big rise out of the Seattle audience, and 'Diving for Pearls' gets a raucous response. Their keyboardist Nessa Grace takes over vocals for 'Mountain Time', and the spotlight fades from Lana. I see her move across the stage to stand next to Karen's position. It almost looks like they're just playing music for each other, and every now and then I can see them speaking away from the microphones between providing harmony.
An hour or so into the show, Lana steps back to let Karen take center stage. Karen pauses to take off her shoes as she usually does when she sings, and I'm close enough to see her toes curl as the band starts the intro to 'The Day After.'
I focus on my breathing and was surprised by a hand slipping into mine. I look down and follow the arm up until I see Grace is looking at me. She leans in close so I can hear her over the music.
"Are you going to be okay?"
I nod and thank her, squeezing her hand. She squeezes me back, but she doesn't let go. I'm grateful for it as Karen begins to sing that song that finally got me out of my depression and onto my feet. I watch Karen as she sings. She's holding her violin, playing only when she doesn't have to sing, and as trite as I know this sounds, I feel like she's singing it directly to me. I watch her fingers as she plays.
"Right now is where the future meets the past, you can let go of pain or you can make it last. Tomorrow's the result of what you do now, will you get up and run or will you just take your bow?" The first time I heard her sing those words, my face was buried in the crook of my arm. The fifth time I was sitting on the floor next to my bed, staring at my CD player like it was an oracle. Now, standing four rows back, Karen's eyes sweep across the crowd as she sings the words I know by heart. I lift the hand Grace isn't holding up to my heart and smile when Karen's eyes reach our part of the audience.
She pauses. She smiles, and then she winks at me.
I squeeze Grace's hand and laugh incredulously as Karen continues singing. The song ends and Karen backs away from the microphone to go back to her position. Lana brushes a hand in the small of her back as they pass each other, leaning in to whisper something to her. It came out around Christmas that Lana and Karen were romantically involved, but I'm still not used to seeing the evidence of their relationship. It's not that I'm jealous; I wouldn't have a chance with Karen and I want her to be happy. But knowing she's taken is kind of a bummer.
After three encores, I join Grace and Andrea in the autograph line. I tried to beg off. It was late, I had a paper to write, I didn't have anything for them to sign, et cetera and so on. But Andrea insisted, so the three of us queue up. The line inches forward slowly and we finally turn a corner to see the four members of the band sitting at a long table like the kind we used to sit at during lunch in elementary school. The near-side of the table is merchandise: T-shirts, CDs, posters, wristbands, buttons.
Grace buys a concert poster and then turns to press it into my hands. "Here. They can sign that for you."
"What?"
"We shanghaied you into the line, so it's only fair."
I stammer, unsure of what to say or how to react. Andrea pats my arm and says, "Just accept it. I paid for her tickets because my boyfriend isn't a fan, so she's trying to settle the score with karma. Paying it forward."
"Boyfriend?" It was the main word in her comment that I'd gotten hooked on. "So you and she aren't...?"
Grace laughs. "No. Andrea isn't gay."
Andrea isn't gay. Nice and specific, but nothing to get my hopes up over. Before long I'm too overwhelmed to think about Grace. I meet Codie Renton as she signs my new poster. She's the drummer, but she also sings on a couple of songs. I shake Nessa's hand, but I'm focused on the fact that Karen Everett is right beside her. The only thing between us is the table, and I can't help but feel like I should back up to give her more room to... be. When I get Nessa's name on my poster, Karen laughs at something Grace says, and then her head swivels toward me.
"Hi."
I smile. "Hi. Wow. You have no idea how much I love you."
Karen's cheeks pinken slightly. "Thank you so much. What's your name?"
"Ingrid."
"Great name," she says.
Grace is smiling at me, and even Lana Kent - the great Lana Kent, is watching our interaction. She points at my cap. "I love the cap, but you don't have to worry about hat-head with us if you're hot."
"Oh. Um, it's... fine." I lift the front of my cap just enough that they can see I'm bald. It feels so wrong, like I'm flashing them, so I tug it back down into place. "Chemo."
Karen's expression has changed. "Oh. Is everything..."
"It's in remission." I look down and see her name on my poster. To Ingrid. Thank you so much for listening. Thank me? She's thanking me? "I was really depressed for a while, when I first... and I didn't... move. But then I heard your song. 'The Day After.' It woke me up and I decided to get off my ass. I got treatments, and I'm getting healthy. And I wanted to thank you for that."
Karen stands up and leans across the table. "Oh, my God. Come here. Give me a hug."
I hug her, embarrassed that I'm crying against the collar of Karen Everett's T-shirt. I finally manage to speak. "Thank you."
"Thank you." She leans back and puts her hands on my shoulders. "And you're out of the woods now? You're in remission?"
I nod and wipe my cheeks. "Yes. My doctors are confident."
"Well that's amazing. I'm so happy I was able to... to do something. Thank you for coming tonight. What was your name? Ingrid..."
"Winters."
"Good luck, Ingrid Winters."
"Thank you..." I don't know what to call her. Karen? Ms. Everett? I just shrug. "Thank you."
Lana quickly autographs my poster and then kisses the back of my hand. "Be well, Ingrid."
"Thank you."
I'm glad that Grace and Andrea are there, because otherwise I don't know how I would have gotten out of the theatre. I cling to these women I only met a few hours ago and, once we're back out in the cold air, I sit on the curb. Andrea says she's going to go get the car, but Grace stays with me. She rubs my back, just being present, and I'm grateful to her for it. I press the heels of both hands against my eyes and cry. I'm not embarrassed, not ashamed, I don't care who is watching me. Finally, I run my hand under my nose and sniffle, blinking the tears away.
"Thank you. For being here tonight. I thought it would be better to do this alone, but if you hadn't been there, I never would have met Karen. Thank you."
"Hey, no problem."
I look around. Other fans are leaving through the same exit we came through, but Andrea is nowhere to be seen. I turn to Grace and let the moment hang between us before I lean in and brush my lips across hers. She doesn't pull away, but she also doesn't build on it. I look down at the ground again.
"Sorry."
She brushes her thumb over my cheek. "If you're still sorry after the adrenaline wears off, then I'll worry."
I smile. "You'll still be around when the adrenaline wears off?"
"I'd like to be. I promised Andrea I'd buy her dinner. I just hadn't gotten around to inviting you yet. Wanna have dinner with me and Andrea?"
"No." She furrows her brow. "But I guess it would be rude not to invite her, so I'll compromise."
Grace smiles and takes my hand again. "Cool."
I look down at her hand and smile. Radiation Canary gave me back my life and put me on the right track for my career. It seems only right that they led me to a potential girlfriend as well. I hold onto Grace with one hand, my newly precious poster tucked against my other side, and we wait for Andrea to get back with their ride. I'll have them drop me off at my car, follow them to dinner, and then who knows where it would go by then? The future may be the only thing we have control of, but sometimes it's good to just let it take care of itself.
I'm also not sure if the title should be "to Survive To" or "to Survive By." I'm open to suggestions. ;D
Summary: Two fans meet up outside a Radiation Canary concert. (3,475 words)
Music to Survive To
by Geonn Cannon
http://www.geonncannon.com
Copyright © 2012 Geonn Cannon
We sit on concrete, regardless of the weather, our backs against a brick wall, and we wait. The doors wouldn't open until six, but everyone knows that you can't wait until the last minute to try getting a good seat. I'm not at the front of the line, but I'm not very far back, either. I'm well ahead of the first corner the line winds around. It's my first time attending a Radiation Canary concert, and I have no idea how I'll react to seeing them in the flesh. But I want to be close. I want to be certain I can see them clearly instead of just being blurry shapes. The other fans are considerate to the other businesses near the venue. We leave openings so people can get into the clothing or pet stores in front of which we've formed a human battlement.
It's freezing out, so I'm wearing my coat, two sweaters, mittens, and a hat pulled down over my eyebrows. I have the earbuds of my iPod in, my knees drawn up to my chest, and I have my eyes closed. The others around me are catching up on homework, reading, napping, tapping at their little phone screens. I remember when Mom clucked her tongue about how it used to be that only doctors had to be available at a moment's notice.
Someone taps me on the shoulder and I open my eyes to see the girl who has been in front of me for the past forty-five minutes has twisted around to smile at me. Her hair is jet bacl except for a single stripe of white running down the center part. It would look artificial except that she doesn't seem the type to affect that sort of thing. She holds up a hand in apology, already turning away as she realizes I'm in "solitary" mode, but I pull out my ear buds and smile.
"Sorry," she says when I can hear her. "I didn't know you were sleeping."
"I wasn't." It's not really a lie.
"I was just wondering which one you were listening to."
She doesn't have to ask which band I'm listening to. There's no rule against listening to other music in line for concert tickets, but it seems blasphemous to listen to anything other than Radiation Canary.
"Their latest one. It's on repeat."
Her smile widened. "It's great, isn't it? I just love 'Away from Shore.' It's so epic."
I nod carefully and fumble with my iPod, switching it off so I won't miss the music while I'm talking.
"I didn't want to interrupt, but my friend went off in search of food." She looks down the street, eyes scanning the street without much hope. "I think she decided to hunt and kill something with her own two hands. Anyway. Sorry for butting in. I'm Grace. Grace Haskell."
"Ingrid." We shake hands, and it's oddly impersonal because of our gloves. "It's okay. We can talk if you want. I need to preserve my battery anyway."
She adjusts herself so we can talk without her being twisted like a pretzel. Her coat is unzipped far enough that I can see the collar of her shirt. It's a Trading Rainmakers for Wizards Tour shirt; I have one at home that's been washed so many times the colors have all faded. It's probably the most comfortable thing I own.
"So what's your favorite song?"
"On the new album or in general?"
"General. All three albums."
"Besides 'Say a Prayer'?"
She smiles. "Well, that's a given. Okay, call it second favorite song."
Even the most ardent fans, and maybe especially the most ardent fans, would have to think for a moment before answering. I don't. "'The Day After,' from their first album."
Grace smiles. "Excellent choice. Mine is probably 'The Importance of Your Radio,' since that was the first song I heard. I saw them perform it on Settle in, Seattle! and I was completely hooked."
I rest my head against the wall behind me. "'The Day After' saved my life."
She looks at me like maybe I'm setting her up for a joke, but she sees I'm sincere. "How?"
I reach up and pinch the brow of my cap, then pull it forward off my head. It comes easily, sliding over bare skin until my bald scalp is revealed. I fold the cap in half on my lap and smile as Grace takes in the sight and processes what it means. It means chemotherapy, which means cancer.
"I'm in remission. But I was eighteen when I was diagnosed, so it kind of seemed like a death sentence. I lost heart. Everyone told me it was important to fight but I just closed myself off. I was about to graduate and I couldn't even make myself care about SATs or college. I just locked myself away upstairs in my bedroom and watched TV or listened to music. Lots and lots of doom and gloom type music. Disaster songs. My mother got me a copy of Action After Warnings because one of the songs was called 'Survivors.' I listened to it because of a few of the other titles on it."
Grace smiles. "'Mutually Assured'?"
I nod. "And 'My Weak Hand,' 'Mushroom Cloud,' 'Duck and Cover'... it sounded like it would really fit with my mood. But they tricked me. Damn it."
Grace laughs.
"I listened to the whole thing and just stared at the wall the whole time. But when 'The Day After' came on, I hit repeat. I couldn't let that song end. 'Don't look back at the disaster, try to see what happens the day after.'" I felt tears in my eyes and blotted them away with my mitten. "Every time I heard it was like... getting slapped in the face. I needed to stop looking backward and focus on what was ahead. Cancer might possibly steal some of my time, but I was letting it take my whole life away. I couldn't stop having cancer, but I could minimize the damage. So..." I shrug. "I got up, dusted myself off, and got to work."
"Wow." Grace scratches her cheek and looks down at her feet. "I like 'Importance' because of the way Lana looks when she sings it. Kind of shallow after that."
I laugh and put my cap back on. "Nah, she does look pretty hot when she's singing that one. After the quiet part when it suddenly picks up?"
Grace's eyes brighten. "Yep. When I saw it live, I got goosebumps. It's like she pulled me in, wrapped her arms around me, and then threw us both off a cliff. After that I had to hear the rest of the album. Did you ever get around to listening to the last few songs on the album?"
I grin. "Yeah, eventually. Mom was very happy to hear that the songs weren't as bleak as the titles suggested." I scratched my cheek where I thought a tear might have slipped free, but the skin was dry. "And she was really happy to find out that I was ready to look into my options, both for college and for my health. Now I'm a sophomore at U of W and, like I said, the cancer is in remission. I know it's a lot of weight to put on a single song--"
"No. I think it makes a lot of sense. You know, when life cannot find someone to sing her heart, she finds a philosopher to speak her mind. Or something like that."
"Beatles?"
"Kahlil Gibran. Philosophy major, sorry."
I shook my head. "Don't be sorry. I'm majoring in Music History."
Grace tilted her head and gestured toward the front of the line. "Thanks to Radiation Canary?"
"Yeah, possibly," I admit.
I see her eyes dart past me and I turn to see an Asian girl about my age coming toward us. I vaguely recognize her from the hours she's been waiting in front of me since she's spent most of that time turned around to talk with Grace. Grace's friend, back with a white plastic bag that is full of food.
"Sorry," the new arrival says. "The lines were insane at all the places near here, so I had to walk like five blocks just to get this." She pushed back her hood to reveal a thick braid of black hair with red tips. "Hi."
Grace introduces us; her friend is Andrea Sun. She retakes her spot on the sidewalk and places the food between her and Grace.
"There's more than enough if you want to share," Andrea says.
"That's so nice. But thank you, no. I have a ton of food in my backpack, but thank you."
Grace moves so that she can address me and Andrea both. "We were talking about our favorite Radiation Canary song."
"Other than 'Say a Prayer'?"
I laugh. I had a feeling it was going to be a fun wait. Andrea chooses 'Forgotten Lore' as her second favorite, and I correctly guess she's a Lit Major. Eventually they realize I'm alone and suggest that we get three seats together. I don't have anything better to do, and concerts are always a little better when you have someone to enjoy them with, so I agree. By the time the doors open and we flood into the building, I feel like I've known Grace and Andrea my entire life. Grace makes sure we don't lose each other as we file into the theatre and take positions near the stage. We're five rows back; close enough to be envied but not so close that we'll have to crane our necks to see the band. Grace stands next to me with Andrea on her other side.
We politely endure the opening act, applauding and making noise so they don't feel unwelcome, but then the real show begins. Andrea revealed to me in line that Grace has a crush on lead singer Lana Kent, and I can see it in her eyes when the lights come up. When Lana struts up to the microphone in tight jeans and her trademark sleeveless blouse, Grace is transfixed. Lana's purple and black Telecaster is hanging in front of her like a shield, her right hand resting on the body of it as she adjusts the mic with her other hand. She smiles as we welcome the band with shrieks and animalistic cheers.
When we've quieted down enough for her to be heard. "Well, all right," she says. "Just for that, I think we'll play some music for you." She starts the intro to 'Band of Girls,' and I look to my left to see Grace is mouthing along with the lyrics. I turn back to the stage. Karen Everett is my favorite. She's the one who sings 'The Day After,' and it doesn't hurt that she's absolutely gorgeous.
Willowy and blonde, with the face of an angel, tonight her hair is curled and hangs down on either side of her face as she waits for her cue to begin playing. She's wearing a black vest over a gray shirt with cap sleeves. Her dress started black at the waist but soon gained color as it continued down until her calves were draped in a flowing lilac curtain. Karen plays the violin and cello depending on the song; for 'Band of Girls' she has the violin tucked under her chin. She closes her eyes and moves her whole body with the music, and it's all I can do not to be hypnotized by that sway.
The band gives us half an hour of their familiar hits before moving on to newer songs. 'Wet Coast' gets a big rise out of the Seattle audience, and 'Diving for Pearls' gets a raucous response. Their keyboardist Nessa Grace takes over vocals for 'Mountain Time', and the spotlight fades from Lana. I see her move across the stage to stand next to Karen's position. It almost looks like they're just playing music for each other, and every now and then I can see them speaking away from the microphones between providing harmony.
An hour or so into the show, Lana steps back to let Karen take center stage. Karen pauses to take off her shoes as she usually does when she sings, and I'm close enough to see her toes curl as the band starts the intro to 'The Day After.'
I focus on my breathing and was surprised by a hand slipping into mine. I look down and follow the arm up until I see Grace is looking at me. She leans in close so I can hear her over the music.
"Are you going to be okay?"
I nod and thank her, squeezing her hand. She squeezes me back, but she doesn't let go. I'm grateful for it as Karen begins to sing that song that finally got me out of my depression and onto my feet. I watch Karen as she sings. She's holding her violin, playing only when she doesn't have to sing, and as trite as I know this sounds, I feel like she's singing it directly to me. I watch her fingers as she plays.
"Right now is where the future meets the past, you can let go of pain or you can make it last. Tomorrow's the result of what you do now, will you get up and run or will you just take your bow?" The first time I heard her sing those words, my face was buried in the crook of my arm. The fifth time I was sitting on the floor next to my bed, staring at my CD player like it was an oracle. Now, standing four rows back, Karen's eyes sweep across the crowd as she sings the words I know by heart. I lift the hand Grace isn't holding up to my heart and smile when Karen's eyes reach our part of the audience.
She pauses. She smiles, and then she winks at me.
I squeeze Grace's hand and laugh incredulously as Karen continues singing. The song ends and Karen backs away from the microphone to go back to her position. Lana brushes a hand in the small of her back as they pass each other, leaning in to whisper something to her. It came out around Christmas that Lana and Karen were romantically involved, but I'm still not used to seeing the evidence of their relationship. It's not that I'm jealous; I wouldn't have a chance with Karen and I want her to be happy. But knowing she's taken is kind of a bummer.
After three encores, I join Grace and Andrea in the autograph line. I tried to beg off. It was late, I had a paper to write, I didn't have anything for them to sign, et cetera and so on. But Andrea insisted, so the three of us queue up. The line inches forward slowly and we finally turn a corner to see the four members of the band sitting at a long table like the kind we used to sit at during lunch in elementary school. The near-side of the table is merchandise: T-shirts, CDs, posters, wristbands, buttons.
Grace buys a concert poster and then turns to press it into my hands. "Here. They can sign that for you."
"What?"
"We shanghaied you into the line, so it's only fair."
I stammer, unsure of what to say or how to react. Andrea pats my arm and says, "Just accept it. I paid for her tickets because my boyfriend isn't a fan, so she's trying to settle the score with karma. Paying it forward."
"Boyfriend?" It was the main word in her comment that I'd gotten hooked on. "So you and she aren't...?"
Grace laughs. "No. Andrea isn't gay."
Andrea isn't gay. Nice and specific, but nothing to get my hopes up over. Before long I'm too overwhelmed to think about Grace. I meet Codie Renton as she signs my new poster. She's the drummer, but she also sings on a couple of songs. I shake Nessa's hand, but I'm focused on the fact that Karen Everett is right beside her. The only thing between us is the table, and I can't help but feel like I should back up to give her more room to... be. When I get Nessa's name on my poster, Karen laughs at something Grace says, and then her head swivels toward me.
"Hi."
I smile. "Hi. Wow. You have no idea how much I love you."
Karen's cheeks pinken slightly. "Thank you so much. What's your name?"
"Ingrid."
"Great name," she says.
Grace is smiling at me, and even Lana Kent - the great Lana Kent, is watching our interaction. She points at my cap. "I love the cap, but you don't have to worry about hat-head with us if you're hot."
"Oh. Um, it's... fine." I lift the front of my cap just enough that they can see I'm bald. It feels so wrong, like I'm flashing them, so I tug it back down into place. "Chemo."
Karen's expression has changed. "Oh. Is everything..."
"It's in remission." I look down and see her name on my poster. To Ingrid. Thank you so much for listening. Thank me? She's thanking me? "I was really depressed for a while, when I first... and I didn't... move. But then I heard your song. 'The Day After.' It woke me up and I decided to get off my ass. I got treatments, and I'm getting healthy. And I wanted to thank you for that."
Karen stands up and leans across the table. "Oh, my God. Come here. Give me a hug."
I hug her, embarrassed that I'm crying against the collar of Karen Everett's T-shirt. I finally manage to speak. "Thank you."
"Thank you." She leans back and puts her hands on my shoulders. "And you're out of the woods now? You're in remission?"
I nod and wipe my cheeks. "Yes. My doctors are confident."
"Well that's amazing. I'm so happy I was able to... to do something. Thank you for coming tonight. What was your name? Ingrid..."
"Winters."
"Good luck, Ingrid Winters."
"Thank you..." I don't know what to call her. Karen? Ms. Everett? I just shrug. "Thank you."
Lana quickly autographs my poster and then kisses the back of my hand. "Be well, Ingrid."
"Thank you."
I'm glad that Grace and Andrea are there, because otherwise I don't know how I would have gotten out of the theatre. I cling to these women I only met a few hours ago and, once we're back out in the cold air, I sit on the curb. Andrea says she's going to go get the car, but Grace stays with me. She rubs my back, just being present, and I'm grateful to her for it. I press the heels of both hands against my eyes and cry. I'm not embarrassed, not ashamed, I don't care who is watching me. Finally, I run my hand under my nose and sniffle, blinking the tears away.
"Thank you. For being here tonight. I thought it would be better to do this alone, but if you hadn't been there, I never would have met Karen. Thank you."
"Hey, no problem."
I look around. Other fans are leaving through the same exit we came through, but Andrea is nowhere to be seen. I turn to Grace and let the moment hang between us before I lean in and brush my lips across hers. She doesn't pull away, but she also doesn't build on it. I look down at the ground again.
"Sorry."
She brushes her thumb over my cheek. "If you're still sorry after the adrenaline wears off, then I'll worry."
I smile. "You'll still be around when the adrenaline wears off?"
"I'd like to be. I promised Andrea I'd buy her dinner. I just hadn't gotten around to inviting you yet. Wanna have dinner with me and Andrea?"
"No." She furrows her brow. "But I guess it would be rude not to invite her, so I'll compromise."
Grace smiles and takes my hand again. "Cool."
I look down at her hand and smile. Radiation Canary gave me back my life and put me on the right track for my career. It seems only right that they led me to a potential girlfriend as well. I hold onto Grace with one hand, my newly precious poster tucked against my other side, and we wait for Andrea to get back with their ride. I'll have them drop me off at my car, follow them to dinner, and then who knows where it would go by then? The future may be the only thing we have control of, but sometimes it's good to just let it take care of itself.