Among the musty smell of books and the quiet hum of the store's heater, Thalia and I stood face to face after our long separation. We both waited for the other to say something, to set the tone for this reunion. I was done dancing to the beat of her drum. This was my chance to finally confront her, to give voice to all of the tumultuous feelings that had built up since she vanished.

“Why?” Believe it or not, I had wanted to be a writer at some point in my life; unfortunately, I was not a talented wordsmith. By some divine miracle, I had managed to keep my voice steady and calm as I asked my simple yet layered question. With that one word, I had asked many questions. Why didn’t you tell me about your tour? Why didn’t you say goodbye? Why did you never pick up the phone? Why are you back now? And why the fuck aren’t you saying anything?

“I…” Thalia paused a pause so positively endless it nearly drove me insane. “I’m sorry.” Thalia turned to leave. Reflexively, I grabbed her shoulder. I felt her flinch under my grasp and immediately let go. Something was horribly wrong. The Thalia I knew didn’t know the meaning of the word retreat. She never would have turned tail at a time like this; she would have stood her ground, defended herself and her actions.

“Please, don’t do this again.” There was venom in my words that time as some of my repressed spite slipped out. My request had sounded equal parts reasonable and cruel… a winning combination. Thalia’s shoulders rose and fell as she took a deep breath. She looked over her shoulder at me, eyes pleading.

“Not here. Come with me.” Thalia began walking once again, this time with me in tow. She grabbed her thick coat from the rack by the door and the two of us stepped out into the chilly autumn night. I followed Thalia along the deserted city streets until we found ourselves sitting at a park bench. The wood of the bench felt like ice and I shivered.

“I fucked up. I know.” Looking straight ahead, into a darkened array of trees, Thalia’s eyes refused to glance in my direction. “I didn’t know how to react when we were offered the tour. Obviously, the whole band was hungry for it; I was too, but I had you. You were amazing, you need to know that. It’s not every guy that can make someone even think twice about an opportunity like that.” Thalia stroked my ego with a practiced ease. Too practiced. She had used our walk to gather her thoughts and form a script. Two years later and she was still using the same old tricks.

“Thalia… You wouldn’t have left without a word if you cared that much; what really happened?” Just give me the reason. If you were half the strong woman I knew you were before, you would stop beating around the bush and finish this.

“I left the way I did because I cared about you. If I had talked it through with you it only would have made me want to stay.” I knew that was bullshit, she knew that was bullshit, the cute fluffy squirrels I imagined were sleeping in the trees near us knew that was bullshit, and I wasn’t in the mood for it any longer.

“Cut the crap, Thalia. Who was it?” It’s amazing the conclusions we can draw given enough time and the proper motivation. Thalia was too brave a person to be afraid of my reaction to her leaving, she was too ambitious to be swayed to stay, and she was too prideful to keep big news like the tour to herself without a reason. The only way I could see Thalia ever feeling the need to keep a secret… was guilt.

Thalia shivered, whether from the cold or the fact that I was getting warmer I couldn’t tell. “I don’t know what you mean.”

I had to make a conscious effort to keep from exploding. The game was over, the board was clear, all that remained was her king facing an army of pieces; yet, she was still going to force me to bring her to checkmate. “What was his name? Who did you cheat on me with?”

Dead silence hung in the air. You could tell it was nearing winter as no creatures made sounds to ease the tension of the moment. The only thing I heard was the unsteady breaths we each drew and released. Neither Thalia or I moved; this moment was a powderkeg doused in kerosene and the slightest spark seemed liable to bring everything to a volatile conclusion.

“Helen. Her name is Helen. She’s the lead guitarist of Gracefall Hour. Joe, I had to end it with you because... I’m gay.” Well, fuck me sideways with a cactus made out of pure irony. What the hell was I supposed to even say to that? ‘No worries, so am I!’ Dear God. I mean, I asked the question, but shit, that was not even in the ballpark of what I had thought she was going to say.

“I see.” Yup, that was the best I could come up with. Give me a break, I was still processing new information.

“I know I should have told you sooner, but I hadn’t told anybody. You and Helen are the only two people who know now. I’m sorry.” Part of me wanted to agree with her, to tell her that she should have confided in me and that I would have understood. Another part of me realized how incredibly hypocritical it would be to say just that.

“I get it. I still don’t like how things played out back then, and you definitely should have said something before bolting, but I understand. I’m sorry you felt the need to keep your identity to yourself. Just know that I would never and will never judge you for that.” Wait, why the hell was I comforting her now? What kinda conversational witchcraft was she pulling?

The tension in Thalia’s shoulders released as she sunk into the bench with relief. “You really are a good guy, Joe.” Nope, I was an amazing woman. “I really was a fool for leaving the way I did.” There are a few choice words I would have used instead of fool but overall I agreed with the sentiment. “I don’t expect everything to mend in just one day.” Thalia’s voice cracked and tears started forming in her eyes. Nope, your crying has no power over me now. “Hell, you’d be a saint to forgive me at all. I just hope that one day, we can at least be friends again. I missed you.” My feeble attempts at anger and resistance were doused by the torrent of her sapphire eyes which finally stared into mine. This was obviously cheating; how the hell was anybody supposed to spurn eyes like those? Fuck it, Saint Jane had a nice ring to it anyway.

“I missed you, too. Nothing would make me happier than to start over with you, as friends.” Thalia’s arms wrapped around me and started squeezing the life out of me. How strong was she!? I hugged her in return and started tearing up myself. Don’t ask why I was crying too; I blamed the damn hormones.

After our midnight park rendezvous, I walked Thalia back to her car at the bookstore. Conversation wasn’t exactly flowing steadily and there was clearly an epic amount of awkwardness hanging in the air that I sincerely hoped would clear in time. Thalia offered me a ride home, but I declined. Walking was one of the few activities which seemed to clear my head and relax me; I really needed that right about now.

On my way home I turned my phone back on and found five missed calls from Keith. Weird. I called him and he answered on the first ring. “What the hell, man? Where did you go? What happened? Why’d you go all radio silence?”

“Geez, Mom, calm the hell down, why don’t you?” Keith had a tendency towards extreme overreactions. He was going to make an amazing father to an unbelievably anxious kid one day. “I ran into Thalia, that’s it.”

When you’ve known someone for a few years and truly connected with them, you begin to read the meaning behind their words. It’s typically a convenient trait which can help solve miscommunications between friends and families, but it can also be annoying as hell.

“You went looking for Thalia!? I told you not to do anything stupid! What happened? What did she say? What did you say?” Notice how Keith started by calling me stupid but quickly devolved into a trivia night host? Despite wanting to play the wise friend always looking out for his crew, Keith often dove straight into the drama of any situation. He was a lot like my uncle in that way. Every day he would chide my aunt for watching telenovelas, yet he always seemed to know exactly what was going on with the plot.

“Nothing much happened man. We decided we were going to start over as friends, that’s it.” If I listened closely enough, I’m pretty sure I could have heard the renegade vein in Keith’s neck pulsing. Yeah, I knew that answer wouldn’t satisfy him.

“Nothing much happened? You and your ex-girlfriend are friends now and nothing much happened? The fuck you talkin bout Willis!? You can’t just say ‘Oh, I guess we’re friends now, that’s it’ and expect that to actually be it! Details, mofo, I need details.”

Deciding to have mercy on Keith, I recounted the night to him as I walked through the deserted city streets and up the stairs to my apartment. Of course, I changed a few details so as to avoid outing Thalia without her permission; I was an ass but not THAT much of an ass. As far as Keith knew, Thalia had broken up with me to be with Dennis Page, the lead singer of Gracefall Hour.

“Dude, man, that’s rough. Did she tell you why she came back early?” Keith asked, nearing his quota of nosiness for the day.

“Nah, I forgot to ask about that. I’m sure it’ll come up eventually. Hey, I gotta crash now, but I’ll see you at practice. We gotta bring down the house next Saturday.” Physically and mentally drained, I just wanted to hang up and sleep.

“Yeah, that’s cool. Hey, man, just… be careful letting her back into your life. I get that you still care about her, but don’t let her take you for a ride again. I don’t want you getting hurt.” Keith paused for a while, allowing barely enough time for the sentiment to settle in. “Yeah, I can’t stand whiny emotional you. It was a pain in the ass cheering you up last time, I ain’t doing it again. Peace!” With a click, our conversation had ended. It always amused me the hoops guys would jump through to avoid displaying the fact that they had feelings. Oh, and that bit about not liking whiny emotional me -- just wait til the estrogen kicks into gear, he was gonna have way more emotional me than he’d ever bargained for… assuming he wouldn’t freak out and ditch when I came out. Damnit, I knew this dark train of thought I’d ridden dozens of times before was going to keep me up all night, again.

That Saturday, I arrived at the venue early for probably the first time ever. My band was flabbergasted; Raymond didn’t actually believe it was me. That’s right, the prospect of me being punctual was so unbelievable I had Raymond convinced I was my own non-existent twin. My bandmates all checked their instruments and we finalized our set list given our time block. Having a few extra minutes before the show, I broke off from the pack to do some vocal warm-ups. It was a futile effort, really, one that would have me sounding like a slightly more in-tune slasher movie murder victim during the performance. What can I say, some people got it and I wasn’t some people.

Pacing along the hallway between the two green rooms, I heard a commotion coming from Thoughtless Crime’s area. “Back fucking here again. I never thought this shit would happen,” a male voice was going off.

Another masculine voice joined in, “Yeah, and we have our fearless leader to thank for that.”

“Fuck off, if you assholes would have had my back, even a little, things could have been different.” After her rebuttal, Thalia burst out of the door and stormed into the hallway.

“And where the hell are you off to?” the first voice nearly shrieked.

“None of your goddamn business, Paul.” Thalia slammed the door shut and a string of vulgarities could be heard from inside the room she’d just vacated. She growled in frustration and punched the doorframe. “Goddamnit,” she muttered.

Against my better judgment, I introduced myself into the situation. “Hey, Thal, you alright?”

Thalia jumped at my words, having not expected a witness to her band's squabble. “Oh, shit, Joe. What’re you -- right, you’re opening. Well, this is embarrassing.” Thalia forced an obviously manufactured smile.

“Nah, you’re just getting into the badass rocker mindset. Punch them walls!” I made the massive mistake of punching a wall as I said this. It was dreadfully painful, a fact that must have shown plainly on my face because Thalia started chuckling.

“Well, you’ve got a hell of an arm on you, champ, but you still have a long way to go in the badass area.” Thalia smiled at me. It almost made the throbbing pain in my hand worth it.

“Are you kidding, I totally just broke my hand in at least eight places and haven’t started crying… yet.” Her chuckles elevated to a breathy laugh. Boom, mission successful; I made plans to honorably discharge my right hand with a Purple Heart and honors. “You want to talk about what just happened?”

Thalia checked her watch. “You’re on in five minutes. If we had more time I’d seriously consider it, but we’ve got a crowd of faces to melt.”

“Alright, how about after the show I buy you a free drink from the bar? No need to thank me, what’re friends for?” That act of stupidity earned me an adorable eye-roll and smirk.

“Sounds like a plan, but you better kick some ass out there. I don’t drink with losers.”

“Aww shit, well, raincheck maybe? I’ll try to get my act together and we meet back here in a few years?” Thalia punched my arm and called me an idiot before I was dragged off by Keith, who took schedules and the concept of time way too seriously.

By the end of our set, my throat burned from roaring at the top of my lungs, my arms ached from flailing around like one of those inflatable car dealership hype men, and my brain hurt because I wasn’t nearly drunk enough to be singing in front of this many people. While my bandmates retreated to the green room to unwind for a bit, I hopped off the stage, downed a couple of shots and made my way closer to the performance space to wait for Thalia’s entrance.

Now The Average Joes weren’t great; hell, most of the bands that blew through this sorry excuse for a bar weren’t, but Thoughtless Crime was amazing. They were a band you would see and instantly know they had what it takes to make it mainstream. One of my favorite parts of their performances was the lead-in to the first song. Most bands begin with a guitar riff or a drum beat, but Thoughtless Crime began most of their songs with Thalia’s killer vocals leading the charge. She was a Valkyrie up there, a badass warrior angel leading her army of musicians and fans through the controlled chaos of a battle she was about to start.

“Save your moonlight for someone who cares, save your stars and your candles, and useless red flares,” Thalia sang. It was the opening to their song ‘Darkest Night’, a fan favorite and a definite crowd pleaser... when done correctly. The band behind Thalia started playing an entirely different song, throwing the whole performance out of whack. She was singing a somber and downbeat opener while all of her bandmates were playing the intro for ‘Ashes in the Sheets’, a fast headbanger song. It was a mutiny. Thalia’s band was rebelling and trying to make her look like an idiot. I hated to admit it, but it was kind of working. Thalia turned towards her band, furious while they all looked at her with mocking smiles. She didn’t stop singing her song and they didn’t stop playing theirs. It was a battle of wills and the only real losers were a confused and unsatisfied audience. Thalia finished her selection first and waited in silence as her band played through the rest of their track. A stunned audience half-applauded, unsure of whether the travesty they’d witnessed was intentional or not.

Having lived for the phrase ‘the show must go on,’ Thalia turned back to the audience. “Well, that was fucked, wouldn’t you agree?” An uncomfortable crowd shuffled around, a few errant chuckles escaping here and there. “Just to make sure there is no confusion this time, our next song is going to be ‘Subversive Seduction.’” She looked over her shoulder at her band. “Are we quite ready?” The drummer, who seemed to be leading this coup, nodded.

Thalia started singing once again, but her band never joined in. The three other people on stage hung back with smug grins and let her give an a cappella performance. For what it was worth, Thalia didn’t bat an eye this time and did the best with what she was given, finishing out the song before addressing the crowd once more. “And I thought we’d get it right this time. I’m so sorry, it seems--” Thalia was cut off by her band erupting into song, the song she had just finished singing to be exact. I could see the rage building in Thalia’s eyes but she maintained her composure and stood her ground on the stage once more.

The crowd booed and threw rubbish and bottles at the stage. One bottle clipped Thalia’s shoulder before glancing off and shattering on the floor near her, but she didn’t even flinch. She stood motionless, waiting for her bratty bandmates to finish their tantrum. The entirety of their thirty-minute set followed roughly the same pattern. Neither party relented and in the end, the crowd thinned as the audience began walking out. The bar was shockingly empty for a Saturday night, especially a Saturday that had promised a well-known local headlining act.

Keith, Raymond, and Max had come out during the performance and watched the trainwreck unfold alongside me. After it finished, my friends left, not enjoying the ruined atmosphere of the bar. I stayed behind, hoping to find Thalia. It turns out that I’d have a much easier time than I anticipated as she found me and, without a word, dragged me by the shoulder to the bar.

“You promised me booze, and boy do I need it now,” Thalia proclaimed as we each took up a stool. She ordered us a few shots each, and when they arrived she held out the first of her glasses to me. “To a fucked-up shit of a night.”

It wasn’t something I was excited to drink to, but it was obvious that she needed a drinking buddy that night and I was happy to oblige. We clinked our glasses together and downed the first of many shots we would share that evening. It was an evening full of awful decisions and terrifying revelations. It was an evening I would never want to repeat, but one that was undeniably necessary to get us where we needed to be.