He wasn’t even sure why he was doing this. Time travel was a whole can of worms he probably wasn’t ready to open. But he was already too deep to back out now. He just needed to go back. To convince Henry not to leave. Then the studio would right itself and he would no longer be trapped in this Hell. He had to be able to change the past somehow. To fix his mistakes. Henry was always so good at pushing him to do the right thing. He needed Henry there to keep him on the right track.
“This will work.” He murmured as he feverishly drew the lines. “It has to.” Soon he wouldn’t hear the screams anymore. Soon everything would be back to normal. He told himself this as he began to chant the words of the incantation. The runes below him began to glow and he felt himself fading out of this time and into another...
Where he promptly fell face first into a bush. He cursed and floundered about, trying desperately get himself out of the foliage. When he finally got back on his feet, he had leaves and sticks in his hair and possibly down his shirt.
“Son of a motherfucking bitch.” He cursed under his breath as he brushed off his vest. He knew it wouldn’t do anything, but it made him feel better. He looked around. Where had he ended up? Judging by his surroundings, he was in a forest. He could see lights in the distance, so he was probably near some houses.
“I swear, if I went too far back.” He grumbled to himself, starting to make his way through the grass and bushes. He could hear the sound of water nearby, maybe a little creek or lake. He was almost out of the forest when he heard a familiar voice.
“Jojo, how much longer do I have to hold this? My arms are getting tired.”
He froze. That had sounded like Esther. Just...younger. His stomach began to sink. No, it couldn’t be. That had to be a different girl. There was no way it was actually Esther. He couldn’t have gone that far back. Then another voice spoke, one that made his blood run cold.
“Perfection cannot be rushed, Essie.”
That was him. It was undeniably him. He peeked through the bushes, catching sight of the two figures he knew he would find. Younger versions of himself and Esther were crouched on the bank of the stream. His younger self was sitting on the ground, scribbling away on a sketchpad while Young Esther held something in her hands. She had her back to him. Judging by her voice and what he could see of her body, she was probably in her early teens.
“Well, if your perfection doesn’t hurry up, I’m gonna let the frog go.” Young Esther said testily.
“WaitnoI’msorryEstherI’malmostdoneIpromise.”
“Ugh. Fine.”
“Thank you!” Young Joey’s face lit up and he started scribbling even more furiously.
Joey stood there, staring at the younger versions of himself and his sister. Why did his chest suddenly feel so tight? He’d walked away from his family a long time ago. They hadn’t cared about him. They hadn’t! They hadn’t thought he could do it!
“Okay! Done!” Young Joey turned the sketchbook around so Young Esther could see. Young Esther put down what she’d been holding, which had apparently been a frog, and took a look at the picture.
“You’re getting better.” She said as she wiped her hands on her skirt. “It actually looks like a frog this time.”
“Essie!” Young Joey’s face screwed up in frustration.
“I’m sorry.” Young Esther laughed, ruffling Young Joey’s hair. “But it does look better. You’re making a lot of progress.” Young Joey made a face at the ruffling of his hair, but Joey knew the boy was secretly beaming. He’d always loved when Esther praised him.
“Joey! Esther! Dinner’s ready!” His mother’s voice came from the house up the hill. Joey’s breath caught in his throat at the sound of her voice. He’d forgotten what a lovely voice she had. Young Joey and Young Esther exchanged a look before scrambling up toward the house.
“I need to get back,” Joey said to himself, even as his feet carried him up the hill and to the window looking into the dining room.
There was his father, setting the plates and silverware on the table, and his mother, bringing in the food. Joey took more after his mother than his father, at least when it came to body type. Ethan Drew was a short and stocky man, but both he and Joey had long, dark hair. Joey had always wished he could grow a beard like his father’s, but he’d only ever managed the mustache. Miriam Drew was a slight woman, a little taller than her husband. She was the one Joey and Esther had gotten their freckles from. There were a few streaks of grey in her brown hair, but she was even more beautiful than Joey had remembered. She had such kind eyes and a warm smile.
“What were you drawing this time?” Miriam asked as Young Esther and Young Joey ran in and sat down at the table.
“A frog!” Young Joey held up the sketchbook. “Essie caught it for me!”
“You better have washed your hands.” Ethan sat down at his place, giving Young Esther a pointed look.
“I did, Pa.” Young Esther rolled her eyes. Yep. Definitely a teenager.
“It looks lovely, Jojo.” Miriam smiled, patting Young Joey’s head.
“You’re certainly getting better.” Ethan agreed as he got a look. “If you keep at this, you’ll be really good someday.” Young Joey’s eyes widened.
“You really think so?” He asked, his voice hushed with awe.
“I do.”
“Can we eat?” Young Esther asked. “I’m really hungry.” He could have sworn she looked a little jealous. Then again, she was a teenager.
“Of course.” Miriam began dishing out the food.
“Hey, Ma?” Young Joey kicked his feet against the chair.
“Yes?”
“Can I go over to Ricardo’s house on Friday?”
“Ricardo is the one you’re taking piano lessons from, right?” Ethan asked.
“Mm-hm.” Young Joey took a bite of his food. “His mom bought some new sheet music and I wanna see it.”
“As long as you’re back before dinner,” Miriam said.
“Okay!” Young Joey smiled wide.
“I’m going to be working late tomorrow.” Young Esther poked at her food with her fork. “Delia got sick, so I have to cover her shift.” That was right. Esther had worked at a candy shop when she’d been about 14 or 15.
“Do you need me to come walk you home when you’re done?” Ethan’s expression shifted slightly, looking a tad worried.
“It’s fine.” Young Esther shrugged. “I’m walking home with Mildred.”
“As long as you’re safe.” Miriam and Ethan exchanged a concerned glance that neither of their children noticed.
Joey couldn’t tear himself away from the scene before him. His younger self looked so happy. He couldn’t remember ever being that happy. To his surprise, he found himself crying.
“They didn’t believe in me.” He said to himself. “They didn’t love me. I had to leave. I had to follow my dreams.”
But the more he watched, the more wrong he knew he was. When his parents looked at his younger self, he could see genuine love in their eyes. Love he’d convinced himself had never been there. And, he had to admit, now that he was older he knew just how hard it was to be an artist. His parents had known long before he had that what he wanted to do would be hard.
He lingered outside the house for a long time, just observing his family as it had once been. His father reading his younger self and Esther stories, his mother embroidering. He’d always admired her embroidery. No matter how much she denied it, he always thought she was an artist too. Finally, it came time for his younger self and Esther to head to bed. He moved to the back of the house, peering into the room that he and his sister had once shared. Young Esther was already sitting up in bed, reading a book, while Miriam was tucking his younger self in.
“Ma?” Young Joey gazed sleepily up at his mother.
“Yes?” Miriam asked, leaning over Young Joey’s bed.
“I love you.”
Miriam laughed softly, pressing a kiss to her son’s forehead. “I love you too, Jojo. I will always love you. No matter what happens.”
“Promise?” Young Joey asked.
“Promise,” Miriam replied.
Joey had to turn away, sinking to the ground with his back against the wall. He closed his eyes, taking deep breaths to try and keep himself from crying. He missed his family. He missed his sister. Running away had been a mistake. Driving Henry away had been a mistake. Everything he’d done since leaving home had been a mistake.
“I’m sorry.” His voice was small. He didn’t want to do this anymore. He didn’t want to be Joey Drew, studio head, anymore. What was the use in dreaming if it meant he lost everything he cared about?
The world around him began to glow once more as he felt the telltale pull of the magic. When he opened his eyes, he was back in his ruined office. He looked wearily around, dipping his hand into a pool of ink.
“It might as well have been a dream.” He laughed weakly. He collapsed at his desk, laying his head on the wood and allowing the tears to start flowing. He should never have let things get this bad.
Talking with J.None is always a good time, and this is no exception. In this relaxed 90-minute conversation, he and Ethan spoke about everything from favorite drinks to video games, but most of the time was spent talking about his musical origins and inspirations, his non-vocal talents, practice habits, cultivating his extended range while honing a solid core, his favorite collaborators and solo pieces, his time with VoicePlay and appreciation for their creativity, advice for aspiring artists, his projects in progress, and his funniest memories on- and off-stage.
