Guitar Class

A Short Story by Ashley C. Cantave

Part 2

One Tuesday night, Will called me. I was just as excited when I saw his name flash on my phone that time as I was the first time he called and every time after that. I didn’t think the feeling would ever go away or get old.

“Hey, PA girl,” he said. That was his new nickname for me, and I felt tingles all over when he called me that.

“Hey, Will,” I said, smiling.

“So, we have a gig this Friday night in a friend’s basement. Do you think you can help us out with the sound?”

“Um, this Friday?” I thought for a second. I had actually planned to go to the movies with a friend on Friday. But I was sure she would understand if I had to cancel. “Yeah, sure. What time?”

“The party starts at nine, so we should get there around seven to set everything up and do a sound check.”

“Ok, sounds good.”

“Ok. I’ll give you the address at school tomorrow ’cause I can’t remember it off the top of my head.”

“That’s fine.”

“Ok, bye.”

“Bye.”

He hung up. I released a deep contented sigh, then fell backwards onto my bed and began to fantasize about my first time working on a concert with Will.

I would arrive at the performance site and get everything set up quickly. This would impress Will enough for him to say, “Nicely done, PA girl. You really know your stuff.”

I would shrug and say, “I guess so.”

He would continue to be impressed—so much so that, during the show, before a love song, he would introduce it by saying, “I’d like to take a moment to dedicate this song to a very special girl who helped us out in a big way tonight. This is for you, Parker.”

I would be in the audience, and I would smile as he sang the song on stage and stared at me the entire time.

After the show, as I was packing things up, he would approach me and say, “I really meant what I said onstage.”

I would turn to him and say, “You did?”

He would nod. “I did.” And then he would kiss me, and I would relish the kiss.

When it was over, he would say, “Are you free next weekend?”

“Do you have another show?” I would ask.

“No. I was wondering if you would be free to go on a date with me.”

I would smile and say, “I’m free.”

I envisioned some version of that fantasy over and over every day until Friday. And though I knew that, in real life, I would be operating the mixer and, thus, not free to stand in the audience and just watch Will and his band perform, that didn’t stop me from imagining things differently.

And then Friday came. (For the record, my friend was only moderately upset that I had to reschedule our trip to the movies. When I invited her to come to the show instead, she declined. She said Will’s band didn’t play the kind of music she liked.)

My dad dropped me off at the show site and helped me bring in the equipment I brought with me. Then he left graciously, but only after speaking to the parents of the person who was hosting the party. My dad wanted to be sure they were really going to chaperone the entire event. Satisfied that they were, he left.

I got there so early that not even Will’s band had arrived yet, so I just started setting up what I had—the mixer, a few microphones, an amp, and a studio monitor.

I also realized that yet another aspect of my fantasy would not be realized in this room because there was no real stage. There was only an area of the basement with hardwood floor that was sectioned off from the rest of the hardwood floor, and also darker. But everything was on the same level. Oh well.

As I was arranging things, the band arrived with their stuff.

“Hey, PA girl,” Will greeted.

I smiled. “Hey.”

“Glad to see you got here early.”

“Yeah, I definitely didn’t want to be late for this.”

“Cool.”

I greeted the other band members and then finished setting up the rest of the equipment. Then the group did a sound check.

I was ecstatic to find that the acoustics in this room were infinitely better than those in the dance studio. The band’s music came out much fuller and smoother than it had there. It was possible that an expert PA person could bring out great sound from anywhere, but I was convinced that good acoustics were always an ideal starting place.

Partygoers began filling the basement almost as soon as the sound check was done. While the band and I waited for the party to officially commence, I approached Will.

“Are you excited?” I asked him.

He shrugged. “I guess so. I mean, this isn’t a big event.”

“But it’s something.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Well, I think you guys are going to do great.”

“Thanks.”

I smiled. And then I waited for him to say something to me, something encouraging—anything at all, really. But he said nothing. He just fiddled with his guitar.

“Well, good luck,” I said.

“Thanks,” he said. I nodded, wished the rest of the band good luck, and took my place behind the mixer, which I had put to the right of the instrument setup. (Well, it was to the right from my perspective. To the audience, it was on the left.)

Finally, when the room was full, Todd—the energetic junior who was hosting the party—went up to a microphone and said, “Thank you everyone for coming to my party! Now, are you ready for some music?” The crowd yelled. “I can’t hear you,” he teased. They yelled louder. “Ok, let’s do it!”

The audience cheered as Todd introduced the band. Then he practically leapt to a spot in the audience, and the band started to play.

They opened with an upbeat song to which the audience danced enthusiastically. I couldn’t help but laugh at Todd’s over-exaggerated dance moves. But I did no dancing of my own. I just monitored the mixer and glanced at Will from time to time.

As the first song was ending, I adjusted some of the knobs on the mixer, allowing the band to transition seamlessly into another up-tempo song. The partygoers kept dancing. I kept watching Will, thrilled to be part of this moment with him. But as I prepared to adjust the mixer for the mid-tempo song that was supposed to follow, Will began to speak.

“We’re going to slow things down a bit now,” he said. “And I’d like to take a moment to dedicate this song to a very special girl in the audience.”

I gulped and my heart skipped a beat. Whatever this next song was, the band hadn’t practiced it with me. Maybe Will was saving it to surprise me tonight. I was definitely surprised. And I was also having trouble breathing. Though it wasn’t happening exactly as I had imagined, it seemed my fantasy was coming true.

Will started singing a rather coherent love song. Though he kept his eyes on the audience the whole time, I had the feeling this song was for me. Maybe he didn’t want anyone else to know who the song was really about—until he told her himself, that is. I adjusted instrument levels as the group played and Will sang.

The band played one more song—the one they had intended to play after the second one—before taking a break. Todd turned on a mixtape to play in the background in the meantime.

I wasn’t sure what to do then. Should I approach Will and tell him thank you for the song? No, I should wait for him to approach me. After he put his guitar in its case to rest, it appeared he was going to do just that.

I quickly moved from behind the mixer, smoothed out my curls, and waited for him to come toward me. Then I watched as he approached a blonde beauty in the audience. I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but whatever he said to her made her smile.

So, Will hadn’t been singing to me after all. He had been singing to her.

The color faded from the room just then, and everything started moving in slow motion. I stood frozen, again unsure what to do. I didn’t want to be anywhere near Will right now. What I really wanted was to cry, preferably in private.

But before my glistening eyes let a tear fall, Todd approached me and said, “Hey, you set up the sound system tonight, right?”

“Uh, yeah, I did,” I said.

“The sound is incredible. Nice job.”

“Thanks.”

“Can I hire you to do other parties?”

“Um…sure. That’s fine.”

“Ok, cool. What was your name again?”

“Parker.”

“Parker. Can I have your number?”

“Sure.” He pulled out his phone and typed in my number as I told it to him. “We’ll be in touch.” I nodded and he walked away. That little hint of encouragement kept me from bawling openly before the night was over.

Will’s band finished their set after the break. And the party ended soon after that. The entire time, I did my best to perform my duties even while having a clear view of the blonde beauty who had captured the attention of the boy I loved. I saw her staring at him the way I had wanted to stare at him—knowing he was staring right back at her. But I strove to ignore her and focus on what I had come to do.

I waited until everyone was gone before I started disassembling everything. The girl Will had been speaking to was one of the last guests to leave. And, of course, she didn’t leave before giving Will her number.

The band members congratulated themselves on a great performance as I unhooked, disconnected, and packed everything. And they also thanked me for helping them, even Will. But I barely registered any of what they said. I just wanted to finish and go home.

I waited until I was alone in my room to start crying. I felt so stupid. What would make me think that a guy like Will would ever be interested in a lowly freshman like me? One of the reasons he was in this band was probably to meet girls like the one he was singing to. I felt so foolish for even entertaining a fantasy of us being together.

I helped Will’s band with a few more performances before I had enough. The blonde girl Will met at Todd’s party was always there, and eventually she and Will started dating. Since I couldn’t stomach seeing them together, I had to stop spending so much time around them.

At the end of the fifth show we collaborated on, Will asked me, “Hey, are you free next weekend? We’ll be playing outside for a friend’s barbecue.”

“Uh, actually, I’m not free,” I told him.

“What?”

“Sorry, I have plans.”

“Oh, ok. I guess we can find someone else for that party.”

“You might need to find someone else for all your future shows, Will.”

“Why?”

“I, uh, I’ve just gotten really busy. I can’t help you out anymore.”

“Not ever?” I looked into his pleading eyes and thought for a moment that I would stay after all. But then I caught a glimpse of his girlfriend behind him, and my resolve returned.

“No, sorry. This is my last show.”

He sighed. “Fine, whatever.” And then he walked away, displaying more anger than I ever thought him capable of.

That night, to make my decision feel more final, I deleted Will’s number from my phone.

*****

I didn’t usually watch the clock at school anymore. When I did, it was most often during seventh period. And I only watched it to know how soon that class would be over. I didn’t like seeing Will anymore, especially because things had grown tense between us since I stopped being PA girl for his band.

From what I understood when I caught snippets of their conversations, they were having trouble replacing me. And even after they took it upon themselves to learn how to set up a PA system, their group soon split up due to creative differences. But I got the feeling Will blamed me for their breakup.

To keep me from thinking too much about Will, I started making sound system setup a real hobby. I began by doing a few shows for Todd. Then his generous referrals prompted other students to approach me to help them with their shows. I even worked on the school’s PA system for the spring musical. And some of these gigs paid. I had never even thought to ask Will for money.

I loved doing shows so much that I did eventually stop thinking about Will as often. But I did still think of him. I wondered if he was happy with the girl he had chosen. I wondered if they were still together. I wondered if he would form another band or get back together with his old one.

I wondered if he ever thought about me. I wondered if he ever knew I liked him. Part of me wanted to thank him for introducing me to the PA world. But I knew that would be a sore subject for him.

I also wondered if I should explain to him the real reason I had to stop working with him, but I didn’t think he would see it as good enough. Will, with all his shrugging and indifference—how could he ever understand how much I had loved him and how much it hurt me to see him with someone else—someone so unlike me in every way?

I doubted he had any experience with unrequited love, let alone unrequited love as painful as what I had experienced. So, it didn’t seem worth it to try clarifying why I did what I did.

Sometimes I considered changing my look or persona to be more like the kind of girl boys like him wanted. It seemed girls like her would never want for reciprocal love. But then I would look in the mirror and think, no. I’m enough. And someday someone else would know that, too.

Copyright © 2021

(I hope you enjoyed the story! If you want to read more like it, please click here. And if you haven’t already read Part 1, you can read it here.)

Last updated: February 4, 2022