Any Other City by Hazel Jane Plante

Author:Hazel Jane Plante
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Arsenal Pulp Press

Even your charms can’t hold me now

Even your charms can’t hold me now

Even your charms can’t hold me now

I imagined Eloise in the studio beside me, nodding and saying, There’s a power in repetition. It’s like casting a spell. I knew she was right.

I looked over at Sam. She threw me an “it sounds great in here” smile. I grinned and looked away. When I looked back, she was headbanging and making devil horns with her fingers. I started laughing, fumbled the riff, then just stopped playing altogether. Jay stopped at the same time, so it almost sounded like we’d planned to end it like that.

Sorry, Sam said. I just wanted you to know how good it sounded.

No problem, I said. I love the enthusiasm. How are we doing for time?

We’re going to have to shut things down pretty soon, she said. Sorry.

Okay, I said. Let’s cut this song right now, whatever it’s called. I can listen to it later and come up with words. Jay, your drums sound killer. He shrugged.

That session felt so fucking good, I said, packing up my guitar and pedals. You have no idea how much I needed that. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

That was fun! Sam said.

Jay had come out from behind the drum kit. Sam tugged at the hem of his T-shirt and leaned against him. (I was willing to wager they were lovers, currently or formerly. Or maybe they would become lovers in the near future.) When is your band playing again? she asked Jay. Is that tonight?

Yeah, tonight, Jay said.

You should come! Sam said to me. Jay’s band is incredible.

I wanted to be supportive, but I was wiped. I can’t tonight, I said. Sorry. Rain check?

Okay, Sam said, rain check. It doesn’t rain here often, but when it does—she whistled—look out.

—

A friend told me you’ve already swooped in to woo a young trans femme. You didn’t waste any time, did you? When she told me, I wanted to cry and throw up. Another friend said she overheard you saying some shitty, untrue things about me. Please keep my name out of your mouth. I haven’t disclosed what you did to anyone and I haven’t maligned you, even though my heart is tattered.

I took my guitar out of its case to work out words for the song I’d started writing, but I couldn’t get into the same headspace I’d been in earlier today. Instead, I was hit by memories of what happened that night. (Your bloodshot eyes. Your muddy motorcycle boots. Your chipped tooth. Your body, a taut tangle of sorrow and rage, swaying in the doorway. Your voice, trembling: You don’t get to forget me.) I tucked my guitar back in its case and crawled into bed. I closed my eyes and let panic and sadness engulf me. I sobbed so hard that my body quaked. I gasped for air. It felt like something had died inside me that night and been decomposing under my rib cage ever since.

Suddenly, I was struck by a tsunami of anger.

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