“You’ve been secretly taking guitar lessons?” Dale stood with his arms folded, eyebrows up, mouth turned down.
“I couldn’t tell you right away. I didn’t even know if I’d be any good. You’ve always been so adamant about me playing keys and…”
“I was adamant because the band needed a keyboardist. Not a second guitarist.” The confusion in Dale’s eyes turned to pleading, for the woman before him to transform back into the one he’d known mere moments ago.
“Lots of great bands have two guitarists. Talking Heads. The Rolling Stones. Velvet Underground. Radiohead has three guitarists.”
“Who the hell is Radiohead?” Dale glanced at the other two guys, who shrugged and stepped farther away.
“Just some … you wouldn’t … It doesn’t matter,” Oona stammered. “The point is, we can make two guitars work. And if we need to, we can find a new keyboardist.”
“None of this makes any sense.” He walked in tight circles around the yard. “You say you’re quitting school to be with me, be with the band, but you learned a new instrument behind my back … What else are you hiding from me?”
Plenty, she wanted to say, but she merely shrugged. “I still want to be in the band. Maybe you should ask the other guys what they think. At the very least, you should hear me play. I’m a good guitarist.” Better than you, but I’ve had years more practice.
“Factory Twelve asked us to tour with them based on our sound, which has keys. I don’t know if they’ll want us without them. I don’t know what our sound will be like now.” Dale stopped pacing and examined her face closely. “I can’t put my finger on it, but you’re different.”
“Early adulthood is a formative period in a person’s life.”
“See? Even the way you’re talking right now—it’s not like you.”
“It is me. The real me.”
Corey stepped back into the circle. “Hey, since we’re changing things up, can we also change our name?”
“What’s wrong with Early Dawning?” Dale asked, hands up in exasperation.
A reluctant forward shuffle from Wayne. “I hate to say it, but … everything.”
Brow furrowed and jaw set, Dale braced for an argument. But when he caught Oona’s eye, his face softened.
“As much as I love the Velvet Underground reference, I’m not crazy about Early Dawning as a band name, either,” she said. “But we could still find something with a nod to the Velvets. How about … Candy Says?”
“I don’t know, do we have to be so obvious about our influences?” Wayne lit a cigarette and blew smoke above their heads. “What if we mix it up a little more? How about … Strangers with Candy? Or just Stranger Candy.”
The four of them stood a little straighter, a new hum of energy running through them.
Oona’s ears buzzed with the echo of something Kenzie had mentioned in 1999, about a European eighties one-hit wonder. Wasn’t her name Candy Stranger?
“Stranger Candy,” murmured Dale, his face full of fire and mischief.
“You’re already picturing the marquee, aren’t you?” Oona knocked her shoulder against him.
“I think we all are.” Corey chewed his thumbnail, nodded. “So you think Madeleine is gonna mind you dropping out of school?”
Mom. Mom is alive.
Another hard swallow and, “I think she’ll be fine with it. Hell, she’ll probably ask to be our tour manager.”
Wayne stubbed his cigarette out on the heel of his boot. “Can we go back inside now? It’s freezing out here.”
Lagging behind, Oona grabbed Dale’s sleeve to hold him back. “We’ll follow you guys in a minute.”
When they were alone in the yard, he gave her a nervous look. “Any more bombshells?”
“Nothing bad. You know how we planned to go to Europe this summer, after the tour?”
“Don’t tell me you changed your mind about that, too.”
“No way, I still want to go. But I want to stay longer. I think we should stay the rest of the year. Work odd jobs along the way if we need to…” But we won’t need to, because in March, Croeso will win the Florida Derby, paying out 85–1 odds.
“And what about the band? If the Factory Twelve tour goes well, we should use the money to cut a better demo, follow up with our own tour.”
“The band will still be there.”
“Europe will still be there,” Dale said, following her logic.
You won’t be here. She wished she could tell him enough to convince him: that nothing would ever come of the band regardless of their name, that he should enjoy his last days because he had only fourteen months’ worth of them left.
“We won’t get another shot at Europe,” Oona insisted. “It may sound morbid, but … this is our one chance to go.” Taking both of his hands in hers, she begged him with her eyes, with her skin, with her mouth against his. Dale’s side of the kiss asked many questions, but hers offered no answers—only that he had to trust her.
When they broke apart, he half smiled and let out a long decisive sigh. “We’ll find a way to get to Europe.” Oona moved in for another kiss, but he put out an arm. “I’m still figuring out how this band is going to sound with no keys and two guitarists. If it doesn’t work, we’ll need to find a new keyboardist. So there’ll be five of us. And I can’t make any promises about Europe beyond the summer. Let’s see how the tour goes.”
“Let’s see how the tour goes,” she agreed.
Even though the band wouldn’t make any significant mark on the world of music, she’d have the year to experience the high that comes from creating and playing songs. And even though Dale would die young, it wouldn’t be this year, and she’d cherish every moment with him, cultivate memories she’d savor during any lonely days to come.
Beyond that, she couldn’t know what the rest of the year had in store, to say nothing of subsequent ones. The future had shown her previews of what lay ahead, but there were always surprises mixed in with the spoilers. Glimpses, but not the full picture. And whether she went by her internal age of twenty-six or her external age of nineteen, she was still young, and she had decades of living to do, even if it was out of order.
Oona would always try to create continuity and meaning in her life—she couldn’t help it—but she’d also seize these moments of happiness and relish them. Whichever way the years flowed, it was impossible to outmaneuver their passage. Even chronology doesn’t guarantee security. All good things ended, always. The trick was to enjoy them while they lasted. Oona was still learning.
Every time she leaped, no matter the year, someone important would be absent from her life: Dale or Madeleine or Kenzie. Every year, bittersweet. But that was okay.
There would be bad days, there always would. But she’d collect these good days, each one illuminated, and string them together until they glowed brightly in her memory like Christmas lights in a mirrored room.
“How about we go back inside and you show off your guitar skills for us? I bet you’re impressive.” Dale winked as he held the door open for her.