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Back in the Day by Aviana
Number of reviews: 14
Print:  Chapter or Story
Mr. Leeds announced me just the way we practiced, right at the end of the Jazz Band's Winter Concert.
"Now we have a special performance tonight. He is the first ninth grader to ever play with the 12th jazz band here at Alton Prep and he also has a solo performance. I am proud to present, William Timberlake."
I stood up from the row of folding chairs in the back of the stage and walked forward to the stand in the center of the stage with my sheet music. I didn't need the sheet music. I had this song memorized. Everyone applauded and the clapping quieted down. Then I brought the saxophone up to my lips and I began to play.
The song went off without a hitch. I played just as well as I heard it in my head. I played it flawlessly and at the end I got a standing ovation. I bowed but I could hardly muster a smile. I had been looking for him in the audience all night.
Dad wasn't there.
"Will! Will!" Uncle JC called my name as I walked from the back of the school auditorium to the main seating area. He jogged over to me and hugged me hard. It was a sad substitute but I did love Uncle JC. I hugged him back because I was left with no other options.
"You were amazing," Uncle JC pulled back to grin at me. "Wow! You're superb. You have more talent in your little finger than I have in my whole body. I loved it! I got it all digital recorded. Every single second!"
"Where's Dad?" I asked. I knew the answer. Uncle JC looked uncomfortable because he had to say it.
"Well, you know, he just caught up. He got trapped in the studio. You know he would be here but--"
"I don't really want to hear it." I cut him off and began walking up the aisle.
"But I got it recorded." Uncle JC hurried after me. "And we'll all watch it together. Tonight. Me, you and your dad. I would love to see it again. You should see yourself up there. You're so handsome. You're so soulful!"
"He couldn't take an hour out of his day, Uncle JC?" I looked at him and shook my head. "He just doesn't want to. He doesn't care about me."
"Come on, don't say that, Willie." Uncle JC put a hand on my shoulder and steered me out of the auditorium. "He's got a lot on his plate. He's under a lot of stress. It's a tougher business than you think."
We got out to the back lobby and I saw Uncle Lance and his two daughters Mia and Jin, plus Uncle Joey. They clapped for me. I dropped my anger for a moment and gave a little bow.
"Better get your autographs now. I'm about to be famous!" I joked. I got hugs all around.
"You're incredible!" Uncle Lance gushed. "I could never play like that. Ever!"
"High five, Will!" Uncle Joey gave me a high five even though I'm too old for that kind of stuff. "Seriously, though you could get your own CD."
"Nobody even listens to CDs!" I rolled my eyes because they were so old fashioned. "But if they did, I think I could break your record."
"Oh, now he's talking smack!" Uncle JC said. "Time to leave."
We went out to get dessert and appetizers at my favorite restaurant. It was a fun treat, I must admit. I took my mind off of things for a while. I always had fun with my "extended family". Dad had a couple of younger half-brothers, but we didn't see him very much. His family lives far away, in the south. At least all of his old bandmates live around LA.
My happiness subsided quickly once Uncle JC drove me back to the house. We walked through the front door and the whole house was dark. That didn't mean Dad wasn't home. I knew he was home. He was just in one of his moods.
I walked through the house to find him in the studio.
"It was a whole hour, Dad," I said in the doorway. "Okay, 15 minutes... if you just wanted to sneak in for my solo. My fucking solo."
Dad looks up at me. I can't stand how pale he is. It's like he's a vampire and he never goes outside. When he gets like this he just locks himself in the studio and he can hardly care about the rest of the world. Sure, it gets him a lot of hits for himself and other artists, a lot of airtime and money and Grammys. But dammit, what about me?
"William, I don't have time for your attitude."
"You don't have time for anything!"
"Hey." JC appeared behind me. "You should see this, J. He's awesome. I recorded it. We can play it right now."
"Uncle JC, don't you think he should apologize?" I asked, taking a step into the room just so JC could get in, not because I wanted to be closer to Dad or anything. Uncle JC didn't say anything. He just pulled out the digital recorder.
"William, you're 14 years old," Dad said. "I think you can understand this. I'm sorry I missed your concert. But you'll have other concerts. I had to do this tonight. There was no way I could get out of it."
"The hell you couldn't Dad!" I exclaimed. "You just didn't want to. You don't care about me!"
"I care about you, William," Dad said in a weary way.
"Let's... you should watch this," Uncle JC suggested loudly. He pushed the play button on the digital recorder. The TV in the room came to life. Dad did look at the screen. His hair was kind of matted. I wondered when the last time he washed it.
"I hate it when you're like this!" I said, over the beginning of my saxophone solo. "Snap out of it. Mom died nine years ago. I'm right here!"
Dad sighed slowly. He rested his chin on his hand, leaning over his studio equipment. I grabbed Dad's glass of wine from the table and smashed it on the floor.
"WILLIAM!" Dad yelled.
I just wanted him to pay attention to me. I stepped back behind Uncle JC.
"It really is beautiful music," Uncle JC mumbled, pointing at the TV. Nobody in the room had any idea what to do. I heard myself playing the saxophone sharply and aggressively. Dad put his face in his arms on the table he was sitting in front of.
"I'm going to bed," I said, since I obviously wasn't getting anywhere and Dad had already forgotten about my defiant act. "Bye Uncle JC, see you later." As I was leaving I heard Uncle JC say, "Justin, he has a point. You should have been there."
"Just let me get through this one day," Dad said. "I'll deal with Will after this one day."
Deal with me later. That's always Justin's plan. I'm always on the backburner. I'm always last choice.
I marched into my room and slammed the door, but my room was so far away from the studio that Dad didn't even hear.
I picked up my picture of Mom off of my dresser. She's hugging me when I was about three. She has such a wide open happy grin on her face. I wondered what it would be like if she were still alive. Everything in the house would be happiness and smiles probably. And she and Dad would come to my stupid school concerts, arm in arm.
I mean, a 9th grader on the senior band! Isn't that something to celebrate? Isn't that an accomplishment?
Well, it wasn't good enough for my father.
We looked a lot alike, my mother and I. I flopped down on my bed.
The day she died was the next day. It was still a gloomy day at my house.
I changed into something to sleep in and then hid in bed, even though it was early and I wasn't sleepy. I couldn't think of anything else to do.
About a half hour later, there was a knock on my door and then Dad let himself in.
"Will, are you sleeping?" I wished I was. Dad walked in and kneeled beside my bed and looked at me, resting his arms on the mattress.
"What do you want?" I asked in a low voice.
"I'm sorry about tonight. I really shouldn't have missed your concert. I watched what JC recorded and you were really wonderful."
I stared up at the ceiling.
"I love you, you know," Dad said. He took my hand. His skin was so pale I could see all his blue veins and it was grossing me out. "It just gets hard for me sometimes. I loved your mom very much."
"I know!" I pulled my hand away so I wouldn't have to look at his hand anymore.
"And you remind me so much of her."
"Sorry," I said sarcastically.
"It's not a bad thing. Look, I'm going to try to do better. Just give me some time. I'm working hard. I want you to have the best life. I want you to have all the stuff I never had growing up. It was hard for us, living poor. I never want your life to be like that."
I doubt we'd ever be poor, even if Dad stopped working for five years, let alone one stinking night. But I don't say anything.
"I'm really proud of you, playing the saxophone like that. You have a lot of talent. I admire that, Will."
I looked at him to see if he meant it. Despite everything, his words made me feel good. I relaxed a little.
"I really love it," I said. This was something we could share. "Playing the saxophone and everything. I listen to old jazz CDs that Uncle JC has. It's really good."
Dad nodded. "I'm glad you love it. Music is wonderful, Will. It's a wonderful hobby. But... I don't want you to make the mistake of getting to caught up in it. I want you to focus on school. You need to get an education and go to college. There's just not a market out there for saxophones and jazz music. There would never be a career in that, Will. No matter how talented you are."
I stared at him for a moment. I wanted to scream in his face, FUCK YOU. But I didn't. Instead I just rolled over.
"God, sometimes I think Mom is better off dead," I said to the wall. "At least she got to get away from you."
I didn't see him leave but I heard the door close behind him. I didn't get to sleep for a long time.
The next day I was yawning in the hallway, late for my 3rd period class, when I heard someone call my name. I turned and saw one of the guys from Jazz Band grinning at me.
"Where you going?" He asked.
"Geometry," I said and made a face.
"Skip it. Come with me." His name was Miller and I always thought he was a cool guy, so I turned away from math class and followed him towards the back of the school. He ducked into a low space in some weird corner. There were two other guys sitting there, seniors too. We were all wearing our pristine school uniforms, red striped ties with our pressed white dress shirts and khaki slacks with a black jacket.
"Hey guys," Miller said. "This is William. He is sick on the saxophone."
"Hey man," One guy said. The other guy lifted a hand in greeting. I smiled and sat down in the tight space. I felt cool. What were we hiding from?
"I saw you," said the talkative guy. "Last night. My step-sister was in that show. That solo was wicked."
"Thanks," I said. This was the kind of praise I was looking for.
"Guess who his dad is," Miller said, jerking a thumb at me.
I rolled my eyes. Miller just told them. "Justin Timberlake."
"Who?" The talkative guy said.
"Justin Timberlake!" Miller exclaimed. "Man, you're wasted. You know."
"I know," said the previously silent guy. "Justin Timberlake from that band Nsync. Weird. I thought he was like... white."
I laughed uncomfortably. I really didn't want to talk about it.
"I'm Justin, man," said the previously silent guy. "Guess who I'm named after. My mom was like psycho for your dad, man. She said in 2001 she spent like two months following his band around and going to all the shows. It was nuts, man. She still gets all flustered and red when his songs come on the old school radio station. I'm like calm down, man, damn! And she said she's met him like 50 times and she'll always love him and she's like totally obsessed with your dad. If I tell her that you're here, she'll shit a brick. For real."
"Please don't tell her," I said. "Shitting a brick. That sounds dangerous. He's not all that."
"That's what I say!" said Justin. "She's a crazy lunatic."
"How about your mom?" Miller asked. "Was she obsessed with your dad? Like a crazy fan too?"
I shook my head. "I don't think so. I don't know. She's dead."
"Oh sorry," Miller said quickly.
"Today is the day she died," I went on, not sure why. "Well, nine years ago."
"That sucks!" Justin said. "But not for my mom. That's how sick she is. She totally wants to get with your dad. How did she die?"
"What?" I asked, taken off guard.
"Your mom, dude. How did she die?"
I stared off to the space as my heart suddenly seized. This was crazy.
"I don't know," I answered.
"What?" Miller and Justin and Talkative guy said at the same time.
"I don't know." I looked at them bewildered. "I don't know how she died."
"Shit man," Justin said. "How old were you?"
"I was five."
"You're a youngin'," Miller said authoritatively. "But I think he needs this more than we do." Miller reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a joint. "Know what this is?"
"It's marijuana," I said. I took health class. I knew I wasn't supposed to take drugs.
"Yeah, but it's not just marijuana. This is premium Mary Jane, my good friend. Now take a hit. I'm not peer pressuring you, I'm just giving you a suggestion. Take your mind off of things."
He didn't have to tell me twice. I waited until he lit the joint then took my first hit. I was coughing in about two seconds. The second time was better.
"You're a natural!" Miller declared before taking the joint for himself.
"Is your name really William?" Justin asked. I noticed his eyes were all bloodshot and bleary. So that's what they did back here.
"Yeah. It sucks." I said.
"Really old name. You need something new man. Something hip. What's your middle name?"
"Justin." We both laughed.
"Figures," Justin said. "Well, I'm just going to name you, boy. Let's see." Miller passed the joint to Justin. Justin took a hit and then passed the joint to the talkative guy who wasn't talking anymore. "I know, I'll call you Jez."
"Why?" I asked.
"I don't know," Justin said.
"Suits you," Miller said.
"Jez," I said. "Alright. Whatever." Now it was my turn for the joint and I was looking forward to it.
That day was the first day I came home high. Dad didn't even notice. I don't think I saw him the whole day. The illustrious Justin Timberlake, huh? If only his brain dead super fans could see him now.
I spent the ninth anniversary on my mother's death in a haze.
Seven days later I got kicked out of my first prep school.
* * *
I wake up with a start. I look at my watch, Justin's watch. Thank God he has one. I was only out for about 20 minutes, which is good, because it's creepy sleeping on a porch. But I'm occupied by a realization that I never had before.
I really don't know.
How did my mother die?
How does Sasha die?
Is she going to die?
I sit up with all these questions on my mind. I have to find out. I curse myself for being so stupid. Why didn't I ask my dad more questions? Why didn't I try to get to know him instead of being so angry all the time and feeling sorry for myself. I stand up, brushing off my pants. It's time for me to stop being such a pansy ass. I just can't sit on the porch all night after being locked out of my own house. I have to take action.
I jump up to my feet and walk around to the back of the property. The back doors slide open to the back porch. I walk up the steps to the back porch and then I look around for something heavy. I find a big rock that is probably some sort of decoration. This is what I'm looking for. I pick up the rock and heave it towards the door. The glass in the door simply cracks. Damn, I expected it to shatter. I pick up the rock and try again. I have to throw the rock three times to get the glass to actually fall and then I have to hack a hole through the rest of it.
By this time the alarm in the house is blaring. The phone is ringing off the hook. I jog over to answer it.
"Mr. Timberlake, do you have an emergency?"
"No, so sorry." I say quickly. "I broke a window accidentally. Everything is fine. Thank you for checking up on me."
"Certainly Mr. Timberlake. Have a good night."
I hang up relieved. Well I survived the first challenge. I'll get the door fixed in the morning.
Now for the second challenge.
In two days, I will start my whirlwind press tour with Nsync as Justin Timberlake.
I need to know everything about him.
It feels like it takes years for the computer to boot up again. I search a couple of search engines. I find this great site that has a huge Nsync Buy-Sell-Trade site. Someone has all of Nsync's appearances on tape. Someone else has all magazines with Nsync featured in it.
I arrange to buy them both.
The next day I am watching the tapes of all the TV appearances Nsync had done and the performances they did, trying to learn the dances as quickly as I can. I learned about something called muscle memory back in school and it seems to be true because there is something familiar about every move. As soon as I put a song on, it feels halfway familiar, like the ghost of a memory. Maybe my dad was helping me after all.
I take a break, sweating and breathing hard, when I hear a car drive up the driveway. I move to the front door and see that someone's here to see me. It turns out to be Lance. I open the front door for him as he walked up.
"I was listening to the police scanner," He says, walking inside. "Someone stole your car?"
"Why are you listening to a police scanner?" I ask, closing the door behind him.
"Oh my god, did they break into your house too!" Lance exclaims, staring at my broken back door.
"No, I did that. How did you know it was my car?"
"They read the license plate. They apprehended someone in the middle of a robbery and they found out the car was stolen too."
"I should call the police station," I say. I'm not sure how this works but I can figure out, just like I've figured everything else out.
"Don't forget, 7 am tomorrow, at the studio. So we can get over to the music video set and all."
I'm glad he told me because I definitely didn't know that. "Oh yeah, tomorrow. I'm there."
"And I just wanted to see if you were really doing alright," Lance says. "Because I'm worried. You just haven't been yourself lately."
"I guess I'm just stressin'" I say. "New CD and all."
"Yeah, but this is the easy part. All we have to do is ride the wave," Lance says confidentially.
"What's the biggest change you've seen in me lately?" I ask, hoping to gain some insight into Justin's personality, something I might be missing.
Lance pauses for a moment. "I don't know. You're just not as... focused on the things you usually focus on. Like... your hair, basically things that have to do with you."
I bite my lip to keep from laughing. I always knew my dad was a conceited little bastard.
"Oh, let me work on that!"
"I just want you to come to me if something is wrong," Lance says, kindly. I'm tired of standing up in the middle of the living room.
"Sit down. I'll get us something to drink."
As I pass a mirror in the hallway on my way to the kitchen I pause to take a good look at myself again. I touch Justin's large nose. He still has to grow into it.
"What do you want?" I call to Lance. He wants a water. I see Justin has a lot of different beers. I take a Corona out. This is very old school.
"Justin, it's 11 am." Lance says when he sees my beer as I hand him a bottle of water.
"Is that supposed to mean something?" I sit across from him in a recliner chair and pop the beer open.
"Is this what's going on?" Lance gestures to my beer with wide eyes. "Alcohol?"
"No!" I put my beer down wearily. Lance has ruined it.
"Lance..." I lean forward. "Do you ever think about the future?"
"All the time," Lance says.
"The distant future. Like 20 years from now."
"Sometimes. What about it?"
"Like what you're gonna be like and who you're going to be with." I nod to myself. "If you're going to be happy. If you're going to be rich."
"I guess sometimes. But mostly I just think about the future as in what we're doing tomorrow. Which is shooting a music video. In case you don't remember."
"I remember," I say quietly. "It's going to be fun."
Lance brightens at that. "Yeah, I'm excited. So you should go to the police station and try to pick up your car. Want me to drive you?"
I shake my head. "No, it's okay. I gotta wait here for someone to come and fix the door. They say they are coming in the next couple of hours."
"Yeah, that's right." Lance turns his gaze towards my broken back door. "How did you do that? Seems pretty deliberate."
Well, I don't want to talk about that. I'm thinking about something else. Lance knows Justin's plate numbers? That seems a little obessesive. And then he comes around, looking for him. And asking questions. Lance seems so small, right now, and innocent, with lots of blonde hair and a large neck. I can't help wondering.
Does he have a crush on Justin?
"Lance," I say because I can't remember and because he and Justin seem so cozy. "Have you told everyone you're gay?"
Lance pales.
Then he turns red.
Then I realize I've probably made a huge mistake.
"I'm sorry!" I choke out as quickly as I can. But Lance is already standing.
"I'm gonna get out of here," He mumbles.
"I didn't mean it," I go on. "I mean, it's okay if you are. You can tell me. You can trust me, Lance! I'll still like you no matter what. You'll always be one of my best friends. I already know. Look you don't have to pretend."
Lance turns and looks me hard in the eyes. He seems to lean towards me, just squinting in a cruel way.
"What is WRONG with you, Justin?" Lance asks. "Don't make assuptions about me."
Oh God, extreme denial. What can I do to fix this?
"You know, I just feel like you're turning into a completely different person." Lance says. "I didn't come over here for you to insult me. I was trying to help you. So I'm leaving. Bye."
I can't talk. Lance is out the door.
I know I am supposed to be fixing Justin's life but I am steadily ruining it!
Lance will get over it, I try telling myself. I was doing him a favor. I was trying to help him out.
I have to be normal on the shoot for Bye Bye Bye. I have to.
Then again... what has Dad ever done for me? Why am I trying so hard to change his life for the better. Maybe he deserves it. Maybe he deserves and the pain and the heartache and all of the crap that he has coming.
Maybe I can't change anything and it's pointless to try. I hate this. I just want to go back to my life. It might have sucked but as least it was mine.
Still, I feel bad. And I don't feel bad as Justin. I feel bad as Jez. I didn't want to make Lance upset.
And what about Sasha?
I abandoned watching the videos and reading the articles about Nsync. I was just going to do the best I could from now on.
* * *
Day one of the music video.
We spend four hours listening to Bye Bye Bye and learning the dance. It's hard work. I have no idea that Dad ever worked so hard. We're moving, we're spinning, we're changing position and jumping and skipping and whatever these moves are called. I'm glad everyone is starting from the bottom up like me. We watch outselves in the mirror, cameras all around. I feel stupid, but I am dancing. Darrin, the choreographer, tells us to do it again.
This is crazy. But finally, we stop dancing and we can get lunch before the music video starts.
"Hey, Justin," JC comes over to me and leans against the food table. I'm making a sandwich. I'm hungry.
"Lance said your car got stolen."
"Yeah," I say, glancing at him. I wonder what else Lance said. But JC doesn't go on.
"Am I doing okay, today?" I ask. I don't know why. JC pats me on the shoulder.
"You're phenomenal." He says. "Let's finish shooting this fast, I want to get out of here.
I go to sit down at a bench with my food. It tastes really good. I'm really hungry. But then I look up and lose my appetite. Because there she is.
Sasha.
I put my sandwich down.
She notices me. She doesn't smile or anything. But she doesn't ignore me.
"Hi Justin," She says. She walks over to me and hands me a letter. "This is for you. From Jive."
"Sasha..." Suddenly I hate my plan. I don't want to push her away. I want to be near her.
"Have a good day," She walks off before I can collect my thoughts. I throw the rest of my sandwich away and go to get my clothes on for the first shot.
The cameras are all around. I have to play up to them. I don't have to but I do. I don't know, I'm crazy, but when I forget about all the crap and I'm just like pretending to be silly young Justin, it's kind of fun.
"This is what happens when you fit a size 12 foot in a size nine shoe!" I say to the cameras. My foot hurts, but I guess it's part of superstardom.
We have to explain the song and gush over the video director, Wanye Isham. I pretend that I know why he's so wonderful and all.
We are doing all this pre-taping fun stuff for the camera when Lance pulls me aside.
"Listen," He says, glancing at me only for a moment, then looking away. He turns his microphone off. "Let's forget about last night okay."
"Okay," I say, putting my hands in my pockets. But I don't want to just drop it. However, this might be the best thing.
"We've got a music video to do," He says. Then he turns his microphone back on and walks away.
I have some time to think when we're sitting on a couch, listening to the director. Why are we all on the same couch? Why is this group always so touchy feely? I need more personal space.
I think I've made my final decision.
I can't change the future. I just have to find a way to get out of this situation.
Unfortunately, the universe isn't giving me a way out. And today, I'm stuck shooting a music video.
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