Page 74 of The Deviation
“I’m making a pork roast for dinner,” Mum tells me. “Stay and eat with us.”
“Sounds great,” I reply. “Let me finish up here and then I’ll come lend a hand.”
Beaming, she nods before disappearing into the kitchen. Dad pushes himself up from his chair and we finish cleaning up in what he would probably deem a companionable silence. For me, the room is deafeningly loud. Clamouring with all the secrets I’ve yet to reveal.
By the time we sit down to eat I’m vaguely queasy and my skin feels tight. Despite our proximity at the dining table, the distance between myself and my parents has never felt greater. How do I talk to them when I’m being dishonest about so much of my life? It’s always been hard for them to understand me, I know that. But somewhere along the way, it seems I stopped giving them the chance to try.
“I was down in Byron Bay for the Autumn Skies Festival on the weekend,” I begin. “We played the amphitheatre this year.”
They look at each other before Dad asks, “How was it?”
I smile. “It was fantastic. Perfect weather. A huge crowd. We had a great time.” Scooping up a forkful of peas, I force myself to chew and swallow. “Ned met Dante Sinclair while we were there. Turns out he’s a fan.”
Mum’s eyebrows lift in surprise. “A fan ofyourband?” At my nod, she gives a quiet gasp. “Goodness. That’s something.” My parents aren’t fans of Dante’s music, of course, but even they can’t deny the legitimacy of his career. The man is a household name around the world. I’m not above namedropping if it will help them understand how far Fifth Circle has come.
“Our tour is coming up soon. We’ll be playing shows all around the country. Most of those shows are already sold out.” They both stare at me, hands frozen on their cutlery. I can’t blame them for being shocked. In the past, I’ve always glossed over my work with the band. But it’s time I stop minimising my accomplishments for the sake of keeping the peace. I can’t hide forever. “It will be a lot of hard work, but I’m looking forward to it.”
Dad’s frown deepens the lines on his forehead. “Jeff doesn’t have a problem with you taking so much time off work?”
“It’s my annual leave,” I say before taking a sip of water. “How I use it is up to me.” In truth, my boss was excited to hear all about the tour. It seems he’s become a fan of the band as well.
“Then you’ll be back for good, right?” Mum asks with a hopeful smile. “You’ll have had your fun, and you’ll be ready to concentrate on your real career.”
This is my real career.The words appear in my head unbidden. They lock into place. Like a switch in my brain has finally been flipped to the correct setting and all at once, everything inside me feels… aligned. Because Cal has been right all along. Music isn’t a hobby for me. It’s where I belong. It’s my place in the world. Pharmacology is the distraction.
“You have such a bright future ahead of you, John,” my mother continues, unaware of the realisation that’s rendered me speechless. “You could make a real difference to the world, if only you’d let go of all the nonsense holding you back.” She reaches out, placing her hand over mine with a gentle squeeze. “It’s time for you to stop leading this double life and get serious about what you want for your future.”
A bittersweet smile tugs at my mouth as I lift my gaze to hers. That’s excellent advice. Except, the future I want doesn’t look like the future she and Dad chose for me. I’m going to disappoint them again. If I ever want to move forwards with my life, I’ll have to find a way to be okay with that.
“You’re right, Mum,” I tell her. “It is time.” My words bring such joy to her face that my chest aches, because I know I’m about to break her heart. “That’s why I’ve decided to take a break from the pharmacy to concentrate on Fifth Circle.”
It takes a moment for the words to sink in, for the blood to drain from her cheeks. “You can’t be serious,” she whispers.
“I am.” It’s me squeezing her hand now, hoping to provide some comfort. “I’m going to hand in my resignation before leaving for the tour.”
“When did you decide this?” Dad demands.
“I’ve been thinking about it for a while, but I only made the decision recently.” Like five seconds ago.
For most of my life, the idea of being a full-time musician seemed like some unattainable fantasy, to be enjoyed only in the depths of my imagination. But this last year has brought the fantasy closer and closer to reality every day. I’ve never felt more grounded, more real, more myself, than when I’m on stage, or working in a recording studio with the guys, or thrashing out ideas with Ned. It was inevitable my mind would start to play with the idea of taking it all further.
I didn’t tell anyone when those thoughts sparked inside me. When they grew wilder and more insistent, I refused to say a word. Because talking about those thoughts out loud would have made them real, a possibility, a conscious choice: To stay where I am, or step fully into the life I truly desire.
I’ve been too scared to admit there is something I want more than I want to please my parents.
“What do you think is going to come of this?” Mum’s eyes are wide, and glassy with unshed tears. “You need to think long-term, John.”
“I am thinking long-term. I’m thinking about being behind that counter for the next forty years, wishing every day I was somewhere else.” I shake my head. “That’s not how I want to live.”
“You’re doing good work there,” Dad argues. “You’re helping people.”
I nod in agreement. “It is good work. It’s just not for me.”
“You spent years studying pharmacy,” Mum cries. “It cost tens of thousands of dollars.”
“I’m the one repaying my HECS debt to the government. It’s my responsibility. As is my life.”
Dad scoffs. “Is this band of yours even making enough for you to live off? Everything you make is split four ways, isn’t it? That’s after expenses. How will you afford it?”