Page 14 of Finding Tane (Foggy Basin Season Two)

Tane

S ix weeks later

It was Thursday, and the weather was turning a bit colder. Autumn (or fall as the locals would say) was on the way, for sure. I’d spent the morning working at the grocery store, Christian had come down with a cold and I wanted to give Dillon a morning off.

I walked back to the flat humming to myself, my fingers itching to pick up my guitar and play the melody I’d been stuck with all morning.

I had an idea for a song in my head. My muse had been returning to me slowly. And the music it told me to write was entirely different to what I’d been doing before. It was calmer, slower, more folk than hip hop, more soul than club.

I wrote in the mornings, well...most of the time.

Some afternoons and evenings, I tutored Henry. He’d got the word out, I guess, and I’d had some other high school kids, and then some actual adults come to me about teaching them guitar, or singing lessons.

It brought in a little money, but more, it fed my muse. Getting to teach was something I’d never known I wanted to do. It was nice to find a place to slot into the community. Henry said he appreciated how patient I was with him, and I guess the others liked my style as well.

I unlocked the flat door and let myself in, picking up my reliable old guitar and settling on the couch to play the melody. It sounded even better now. I recorded myself playing it, so there was no danger of forgetting.

It had been a couple of weeks since the settlement with Andrew Lane went through — I’d had to pay him and the studio out to cancel my contract, but it was nothing I couldn’t bear. I had savings, royalties owed, even.

I looked out the window and my fingers strummed a new phrase for the song. I was coming to love this town.

After the big event at the shop, sales were back where they had been. Dillon speculated that perhaps people were staying away to give him a settling in period, or maybe it had been a seasonal thing?

Whatever the reason, business was buoyant and Dillon wasn’t worrying about it any more. In fact he was ordering more Jin ramen and Buldak hot sauce than ever before.

Aster had returned to Sacramento to study, but sent me regular selfies and updates via text. I kept him updated on his brother as well as goings-on in town. (And maybe I sent him a little money for new binders and cool shoes every now and again, but that was between us.)

My phone dinged, drawing my attention to it. It was a relief to not be afraid of my phone anymore.

A selfie. Dillon had got a delivery of BTS branded ramen, and was grinning like a loon in front of it. I sent him back a selfie of myself giving a thumbs up.

I liked the new song, I could make it into something beautiful and upload it.

Every now and then, I’d record a song and upload it to a Soundcloud account I’d started. All acoustic, of course. The music was under my name: Tane, and although I didn’t advertise that I was also Whetu, it seemed some of my fans had been looking for me.

I soon had thousands of subscribers for my strange, soft little tunes, and the feedback was overwhelmingly positive.

Of course, some of the comments were asking where the club tracks were, but they were by far outnumbered by the fans who connected with my new lyrics, and my new styles.

The donations rolled in far faster than I’d expected and there was definitely enough interest for an album.

I rented a small room I could hold music lessons in, and in instruments my students could try out. Next up would be finding a recording studio, but I’d need to go to another town for that.

It could wait.

The next project I had in mind was finding an engagement ring for Dillon.

For some people it might be too soon. I knew my mother would tell me to wait longer.

But my soul had recognised something in Dillon, and I knew he felt the same way.

It was funny, coming from a place of panic and overwhelm, months ago, to being so sure of my future.

I knew what it would be. It would be with Dillon, and a bit of work at the grocer’s, tutoring music and releasing a little at a time.

Maybe I’d do a concert again, maybe I wouldn’t.

Someday I’d take Dillon home to Aotearoa so he could see where I’d come from.

For now, I knew Dillon wouldn’t be home for hours yet. I set my guitar down and left the flat, hopping in my little secondhand car.

I put on some KPop and drove to Hartsville to check out the jewelers there. I wanted to find him the perfect ring, the perfect symbol of how I felt about him, when I proposed.

I could already imagine his smile, how he’d laugh and kiss me and say something like “yes, of course.” I couldn’t wait to spend the rest of my life with him.

Life was beautiful, and the best part was?

Even if things got hard, if I got overwhelmed again, or something from my past came back to haunt me? I knew I’d get through it, because I had Dillon, and Dillon had me, and we both had Foggy Basin.