Keith’s garage wasn’t the most glamorous location to hold band practice, but it was what we had available on our non-existent budget. My friend was one of those devil-may-care types who, in the absence of a car, decided that his garage was nothing more than a massive storage shed that he’d never have to clean or organize. Dust bunnies playfully frolicked through the air anytime someone took a step or disturbed the piles of boxes which were stacked as precariously as late-game Jenga towers. The entire room smelled of asbestos and inevitable emphysema. Keith and I stood just inside of his monument to apathy while Max had carved out a small corner for himself against a wall and was reading another one of his medical texts.

I laughed lightly at Keith’s announcement, half expecting him to join in and reveal that he was just trying to mess with me. His sullen expression only darkened and my hopeful chuckles faded. “Last show? Why would Arcadia be our last show? We’ve been talking about playing a place like Arcadia since we were in college, why would we quit right as we get where we want to be?”

Keith looked down at his feet while he continued to break the news, kicking something on the floor that didn’t exist. “Look, Jane, I’m sorry. With me having a baby and Max going off to med school in the spring, we just don’t have the time to commit to practicing and going to gigs. I planned on keeping this to myself for a while and giving the band another few months; then this opportunity for us came up. How amazing will it be to end the band on such a high as playing for one of the nicest venues in town?”

Those seemingly obvious circumstances had never even crossed my mind before now. It was so easy to get so swallowed up by everything happening in your life that you missed what was going on in everybody else's. Of course Max had gotten into med school, the dude basically lived and breathed his books. Keith had already told me he was having a baby and getting married. Obviously those massive changes would affect his free time. I was an idiot for not seeing this coming sooner. Losing the band was going to hurt… a lot. Between splitting with Thalia, the awkward schism that had formed between Sasha and me, and now this; it felt like everything I wanted to hold onto from my past was slipping away. This was especially terrifying for someone who had so little to show of the present. I worked one dead-end job I hated and another that I didn’t mind; most of my free time had been spent in dives with the guys or playing games at home, I was transitioning, but everything I was doing to that end was more passive than anything. When The Average Joes had played their final note, what would be left for me?

Shit, this wasn’t the time for mopey good-for-nothingness. “Hey man, I get it. Max has got to go off and invent new and ethically questionable ways of cheating death. Then there’s you and Eva who are gonna be raising a baby; by the way, I know a great therapist for when you eventually scar them emotionally.” Keith punched me in the arm and laughed, the heavy mood quickly dissipating. My friends were doing great things and I couldn’t be more proud of them. “Hey, wait a second, where’s Ray? I need at least one other fuck-up around for solidarity.”

Keith shrugged and sat on a nearby box, creating a smokescreen of dirt and particulates a ninja could have used to make a slick getaway. “Your guess is as good as mine. Dude left right after things got heavy at the bar and hasn’t picked up the phone since.”

Keith, Max, and I waited for Raymond for an hour before assaulting him with an endless stream of calls and texts. Not wanting to waste the day, we went through our practice without him. Things were quiet without Ray; his particular brand of crass had never been my thing but he did liven up the place. Towards the end of the day, I noticed that something else was up; Max hadn’t said a word to me. He’d spoken to Keith and nodded when I addressed him but I couldn’t remember a single word uttered by him to me in the hours we’d spent in a cramped space. It was downright bizarre.

We finished up and went our separate ways, vowing to kick Ray’s ass for going AWOL when he finally showed up again. By the next morning, none of us had heard back from our absent ally. Usually, I would get to ride a high after jamming with my friends, but all I could do now was worry. I picked up my phone but froze; I didn’t have anybody I could talk to. Keith and Eva were no doubt still high off getting engaged and pregnant, Sasha didn’t seem keen on communication following Thalia’s drunken confessional, Thalia was currently number one on my shit list due to said confessional, and Max was saying less to me than before… a truly impressive feat. Who else was there?

***

“And you’re telling me all of that happened in the past two weeks?” Brent was laying on his couch, arms crossed in front of his chest. That’s right, I had turned to my therapist for support. Normally a totally understandable and acceptable thing to do, but in my case… “Jesus Christ, every time you come in here it’s like I’m catching up on a whole season of Days of Our Lives.” Brent was a dick.

It had been about a week since Thalia dropped my bomb on everyone and the fallout was still in full effect. “Yup, shit’s weird man,” I said, lazily swiveling in Brent’s office chair. Don’t ask me how we switched positions here. Brent obviously had a slew of issues himself, but I was not the person to solve them. “I just wish everything could get back to the status quo, you know?”

“The hell you do,” Brent scoffed, rolling into a ‘draw me like one of your French girls’ pose.

“Of course I do. What, you think I like having all this drama in my life? I miss the good ole days of just playing with my band, talking with my friends, and--”

“And being called Joe, hiding who you really are, going forward with your transition in secret like it was something you were ashamed of. Yeah, I’m sure you miss all of it.” I shot Brent a glare. “Don’t give me that look, you know I nailed it. I know things suck right now, like REALLY suck, but it’s a necessary suck; like you’re taking the venom out of a snake bite. Unfortunately, you do seem to be sucking a snake-bitten asshole right now, but still, necessary.”

“That metaphor really got away from you didn’t it.” I couldn’t help but crack a smile at my therapist's ridiculous attempt to say something profound.

Brent sighed and shot up from his seat. He stepped over, rolled the office chair next to the couch, and tipped it over. Gravity forcefully evacuated me onto the couch Brent had occupied not a few seconds ago. “Sorry ‘bout that.” Brent took his seat on the office chair, still positioned closer to the couch than I’d like it to be. He hit a lever on the side and the chair slowly ascended away from its base. “I feel like I need to look large and authoritative for this next part since you’re the most stubborn asshole I’ve ever dealt with. Nobody likes being told that the pain they’re going through is unavoidable, that there isn’t some overnight miracle cure that’ll make all the bad stuff disappear, but that’s the world we live in. It’s called growing pains; you might remember them from your first round of puberty, though those were physical while these are social and emotional. In order to get where we’re going, there’s a path we have to follow, and sometimes going through bad places is par for the course. Everyone starts at A and stares longingly at Z, but guess what? You have to go through every single goddamn letter to get there, even the shitty ones like L and V.” Brent stared at me, obviously having said his piece.

“But… everything is changing so quickly. My friends are all drifting away, Sasha is drifting away. I don’t want to be alone.” Words came out of my mouth without making a pit stop at my brain. My eyes stung and I felt a familiar pressure that I knew preceded crying.

A firm hand planted on my shoulder and Brent’s tone shifted dramatically; he put away his perpetually sarcastic voice and began speaking slowly and quietly. “That feeling is absolutely normal, Jane. People will enter your life, ingrain themselves in your world, become absolutely essential to you… and unfortunately, many of them will have to leave for one reason or another. It is not a commentary on you; once again, it’s simply a fact of life. It doesn’t make it hurt any less, I know, but new people enter as old people leave and you will never truly be alone unless you want to be. Now for the people who matter the most to you, keep them close. It may take more effort than you’re used to, but if you mean as much to them as they mean to you, no obstacle is insurmountable.” Streaks of water flowed down my face as I started to sob. Brent reached behind his chair and produced a small box of tissue that I happily accepted. “It’s all right. You’re doing an amazing job, Jane. So many people see the path to what they want and shy away, but you rose to the occasion. You are stronger than you know, stronger than most people will know. You are truly amazing and you’re going to be fine; hell, you’re going to be great.”

Brent sat there, hunched over in a position that could not have been comfortable, and held my shoulder until I settled down. We kept talking for a while longer and eventually he reverted to his normal dick-ish ways, but I couldn’t help but see my therapist in a new light. “Alright, my next appointment’s in five minutes so you gotta get your weepy ass outta my office pronto.”

Checking the clock, my stomach dropped. I had been in Brent’s office for three hours. My insurance only covered hour-long visits and there’s no way I could afford an extension on my own. “How the hell? The clock is wrong, right?”

Brent apathetically checked the time. “Nope, seems about right. Girl, you can talk up a storm when you want to.” I could feel myself physically deflate into the couch. “Now get out of here, my lunch is almost over.” What? “Look, I appreciate you hanging out after your session and keeping me company but I gots bills to pay so I need you gone, capiche?” I didn’t move, unable to process the fact that Brent was doing something unbelievably selfless. “Oh for the love of god, do I have to literally wink and nudge here? You’re in the clear, so clear the hell out.” At last, I complied with Brent’s demands, thanking him profusely on the way out. He simply rolled his eyes at my gratitude, but I saw the faint hints of a smile he was trying to hide.

Turning my phone on outside of Brent’s dilapidated building, I was greeted by two text messages; one from Keith and the other from Sasha. I opened Keith’s first as I assumed it had less of a chance of breaking me emotionally.

Average Joes are going to be meeting at Arcadia for practice from now on. Will be practicing with TC… sorry.

TC… we were going to be practicing with Thoughtless Crime. Just like old times. I half-heartedly chuckled to myself, trying to focus on the humor and absurdity of my life rather than on how much I hated the situation. Well, since I was on a roll, I decided to see what was behind door number two.

Jane, sorry I haven’t tried to contact you since, well, you know. I know we probably have a lot to talk about. Things feel really weird and I don’t know what to do or say to make them better. But damn, it’s weirder not talking to you at all than it would be having extremely uncomfortable and stiff conversations, so I’d like to choose that option. If you’re okay with it, of course. I miss you. Maybe we can have lunch sometime, we’ll pretend like the elephant doesn’t exist and just have a good time like we always have.

Sasha signed off of her message with a smiley face that I couldn’t help mirror. Admittedly, Brent was right about a lot of things. Hanging out with Sasha wouldn’t be the same as it always was, no matter what she said. This was going to take effort, but I cared for her and she at least cared enough to reach out. It was something.

***

“Still no drummer? You guys can’t be serious. It’s been two weeks, axe the motherfucker and find someone new. We don’t need you assholes ruining the show before the main attraction even starts,” Paul, Thoughtless Crime’s drummer and resident piece of shit, admonished Keith as Raymond failed to show up on time for practice… again.

Keith had started off by defending Raymond, by insisting that he was an integral part of The Average Joes. In this case, however, distance did not make the heart grow fonder, and as Raymond continued to dodge practice, Keith’s loyalty waned. We were no longer worried about Ray’s safety. Keith had received a few cryptic texts from him mentioning that he was busy and would show up “next time.” It had been a few too many “next times.”

“We’ve got a replacement coming today, they’re just running a few minutes late. This one will be here, I assure you.” Keith was obviously frustrated. Nobody wanted to oust Ray, but we didn’t want to fuck up our last show either. Our leader had called in a favor from Panicked Run, a band we’d covered for in the past. Their drummer was a bonafide badass named Salim, and despite having less time to learn the music than we’d have wanted to give him, everyone that knew how he operated assured us that he would nail the performance when the time came. Loud knocking from the stage door echoed into Arcadia and Keith perked up. “That must be him now.”

Keith rushed off to fetch Salim and I just looked around Arcadia in awe for the millionth time. I’d attended a few concerts here in the past, but seeing it empty and from the stage was a sight to behold. The building had been built like a massive shell-shaped amphitheater, but indoors. Thousands of empty seats could fill my entire field of vision if I let them. The walls were stark white with red drapes and curtains hanging down. The floor was some kind of black stone and the ceiling had a massive panoramic mural of a night sky. The stage alone was larger than some of the venues we’d played in the past, built for plays and musicals with elaborate sets. Max lazily tuned his guitar near our unoccupied drumset while I contemplated how to best use all of the space we’d been given. My usual M.O. was planting my feet near the microphone stand to prevent myself from falling off of the cramped stages I was used to performing on. Now… now I had options.

“What’s up, motherfuckers!” A familiar, jovial voice boomed from the back entrance. Raymond entered the auditorium casually, as if nothing had happened. “Y’all miss me?” Max looked dumbfounded, as I’m sure I did as well. Keith followed Raymond in, furious. Just looking at Keith’s face had Ride of the Valkyries playing in my head.

“What’s up? What’s up!? What the fuck is up with you!? Where the hell have you been? How the hell can you even just show up and ask ‘what’s up?’” Keith’s face was a deep crimson; he could have probably blended right into the curtains here if he tried. Hell, Keith could have replaced the stadium's fog machine with the steam shooting out of his ears.

Raymond was unfazed and kind of looked around the room. “Oh, y’know, I was just chilling, waiting for our problem to resolve itself.” Ray’s eyes settled on me and he cocked his head to the side in confusion. “Guess I didn’t wait long enough.” Raymond walked up to me at a speed I had never seen him move before. He placed one massive hand on the center of my chest and shoved me down. “What the hell are you still doing here, freak?” My back screamed as it smacked against the hardwood floor. There was that word again, the true F-word… just like in the bathroom. Raymond looked over his shoulder at Max and Keith. “Why’d you keep it around so long? You shouldn’t feel sorry for it, it’s an abomination.” Raymond’s head shifted back and brought his black eyes back to mine. “Now get out of here or I’ll stop asking nicely.”

This shit wasn’t happening. I’d known Ray for years. He’d never do something like this to anyone, let alone a friend. I got back on my feet. “What the hell, man? What are you saying?” As I finished my question, Raymond spit on my face. All hope that this was some joke flew away. “Why--”

“Cut it out, Ray!” Keith growled behind him. Raymond turned away from me. Keith was not a small guy; he was about as tall as me and looked like he never missed a day at the gym. Raymond, however, towered over Keith at six and a half feet tall and probably weighed twice what he did. “You cut that shit out right now.”

Raymond scoffed, “You can’t be serious. You’re defending it? Can you believe this, Max? Keith wants to choose a tranny bitch over me.” Raymond looked over Keith’s shoulder at the now approaching Max. Our guitarist stopped slightly behind Keith and crossed his arms, glaring at Ray.

“Get out.” Raymond seemed taken aback by Max’s words. “You don’t belong here anymore. Leave.” While Keith and I had become best friends over the years, Max and Raymond had always seemed to hang out with each other more often than not. It was one of those odd-couple-ish relationships where you didn’t understand why two people got along, they just did. Apparently, that had changed.

“Max…” Raymond’s voice was wounded. He took a look around himself and realized that he was no longer among friends. Raymond snarled and started storming off, passing a tall man with dark skin and a T-shirt that was a bit too small for his frame. Ray recognized Salim immediately and realized he had been replaced. “You catch any of that?”

Salim looked straight at Raymond and spoke in a clear deep voice. “Every word.”

“And you’re okay playing with a freak?” Raymond looked back at me with spite as he spoke.

“I didn’t agree to play with you, my friend. I agreed to perform with the lovely lady and the two gentlemen over there. Now, please excuse me.” Salim brushed right past Raymond and sat at our drum set. He pulled out a couple of drumsticks and started stretching his arms more nonchalantly then I’d seen anyone do anything in my life.

Raymond kicked over an amp and stormed out. “All you faggots deserve each other,” were his parting words to us. Good riddance, I suppose. Thoughtless Crime, who had paused what they were doing to watch our dirty laundry being aired, returned to their practice, not wanting to get involved in any way. Thalia’s eyes lingered on me for a few moments. If I didn’t know any better, I would have sworn she looked regretful.

After washing my face in the women’s room, I returned to the stage and approached Salim. “Thank you for that. It… means a lot.”

“I didn’t do anything special,” he replied, “but you’re welcome, I guess.” I started to turn away but Salim spoke up again. “You know, I was only doing this to thank you all for helping my friends and I, but after meeting that douche, I’m kind of glad to be replacing him.” Salim smiled warmly and I couldn’t help but do the same. “Besides, he may have been an okay musician, but I’d bet a drum kit of gold against my soul I think I’m better than him.” And he was better, MUCH better. Within a single practice, Salim had gotten half of our set list down pat and was nailing it. We had been afraid that a replacement would slow us down but the absolute champion we’d gotten was going to put us to shame if we didn’t step up.

***

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry that happened to you. You’re okay, right?” Sasha and I were sitting across from one another at the most fashionable restaurant either of us frequented, Taco Barn. I nodded in response to her question. I was alright; I didn’t think I would be after the explosion with Ray, but somehow it kind of just slid off my back. “I’d say I’m shocked, but Ray always did come off as kind of an ass to me.”

“Oh yeah, that’s how he comes across to everybody, we just hadn’t realized the true depths of his dickishness until then. Anyway, our new drummer is amazing; the dude is absolutely crushing it!” Sasha leaned back and cupped her newly minted food-baby while she sighed in contentment. This was nice, familiar, comfortable. Honestly, I’d expected things to be a little awkward after everything that had happened, but that’s just not how we rolled. Sasha and I were back to being good friends with absolutely no complications.

“So, spoken much with Thalia?” Yeah, I didn’t believe my bullshit either. Sasha was staring at the wrapper-laden plastic tray in front of her and not at me. I shifted in my colorful hard plastic seat, feeling the shift in the mood.

“No, not at all really. She sticks with her band and I stick with mine. I don’t think either of us wants it any other way.” The cheese on the nachos in front of me started coagulating in the ensuing silence. A couple of screaming kids ran past my chair complaining about wanting a different toy with their meal. Loud beeps of timers going off could be heard from the kitchen and a disgruntled customer grumbled about getting mild sauce instead of hot. While a fast food joint may be a decent choice for a casual day out with a friend, it surely wasn’t conducive to whatever the hell today was becoming.

“She said a lot of things back at the bar, huh?” Sasha laughed stiffly while asking. Her face became sullen soon after. “I can’t believe what happened to her on tour though… that was awful.”

“Especially with what happened between her and Helen. She obviously loved her a lot. It -- it must be nice to be that crazy about someone.” How the actual flaming hell did we end up talking about Thalia’s relationship trouble?

“Sometimes it is,” Sasha muttered, turning a shade of pink that complemented her red hair perfectly. Wait, sometimes what is? Being crazy about someone? But who -- oh. “Sometimes it just overcomplicates things.”

“I mean, things don’t have to be complicated, do they?” Sasha looked up at me and the absolute clusterbomb of chaos around us seemed as distant as the moon overhead. Her face was a mixture of hope and trepidation, showcasing the duality of her thoughts. I would have continued to talk, but saying what I did had already caused my airway to collapse, preventing me from breathing, let alone making intelligible noises.

“Jane, I like you, a lot. Always have.” Without giving me a second to respond, Sasha stood up and leaned over our table to kiss me. It lasted for only a second and was more of a peck than a kiss, but when she sat back down both of our faces matched her hair. “I gotta run.” Sasha slid out of her seat and straight-legged it for the door.

“Wait, Sasha!” I yelled, completely unafraid to create a scene in the already rowdy dining room. My plea fell on deaf ears as the girl who kissed me exited the building. My head fell backward and hit the back of my seat. Keith had told me to wait for the right moment to ask her out, and sitting in a Taco Barn at nine in the evening, surrounded by way too many people to be in any way comfortable, my moment came. I pulled out my phone to text Sasha. I typed out at least a dozen messages ranging from flirty, to suave, to funny, but deleted each one. In the end, I settled with something simple.

Sasha, I like you too, a lot. If you’re free after the Arcadia show, I’d love to take you to dinner. Provided of course that you don’t run away again.

What? I couldn’t not put a little jab in there. It would have gone against everything our friendship was built on to let that go. For the next five minutes, I sat in the Taco Barn, going through phases of checking my phone and pushing it off to the side in an attempt to ignore its existence. Finally, the little box chimed.

I would love to. No promises about the running, though. If your band is playing, I might need to flee to spare my poor ears the trauma.

I smiled dumbly at my phone. Damn, I still couldn’t get one over on her.