cashsommer:
cash wished there was some sort of manual that could tell him what cheat code he needed to deal with jay. a decent control-alt-delete for the fuck up’s and the byproducts that came with it, but there was no quick fix that existed for something like this, which is why he moved his hand away, stepping back again with a palpable awkwardness. cash hadn’t seen his father in twenty-five years and hadn’t spoken to him for sixteen. jay was trying, which was more than cash could confidently say he had done up until the man’s death. his son’s foot in the door, no matter how aloof it could be at times was miles ahead of what he could’ve expected from his own experiences. learning to balance each other took time- he tried to understand that. “ not just fine, kid. you’ll do great. and she’s going to be over the moon- they all are. i’m sure you could get up there and not hit a single note right and they’d still be proud to death of you. ”
cash doubted that she’d extended her well wishes onto him. maybe she was just a far better person than he was after all these years. he’d always had trouble letting go. he’d loved her once, hated her too after he left. now cash did his best to have a neutral positivity, especially in regards to her husband. he swallowed back any bitterness on his tongue. “ you know, we can fly them all out if you like. you could show them around, do the whole LA thing, ” he offered. he didn’t want to share his time with jay, but he knew how much he missed them and his life back home. “ maybe even disneyland or whatever. ”
part of him wanted nothing more than to agree. after all, it would be nice to have everyone here with him in la, even if for just a week. and yet, he knew--- that was the wrong answer.
“disneyland?“ he wrinkled his nose, “look, if they want to meet mickey mouse, they can go to disney world. i love them, but i’m 19 now. i don’t want to have to fly out my mom when things get hard.“
he looked down, “not that things are hard here. it’s just- different.”
he thought about it for a second, his brows furrowed together in thought. after a moment, he scuffed the toe of his sneaker against the floor, “mom has always been like that, you know.“
“even when i just started taking lessons, she’d clap even when i got all the notes wrong. as long as i tried my best.“
“look, i know this is just like a piano recital or- like- an impromptu garage band gig or even a football game. i’m not worried about messing up and having people not like me. it’s just-“ he wrestled with his own thoughts, before finally managing, “it’s just that- you were never there for those things.”
“and suddenly, trying my best doesn’t feel good enough.“










