Grand by Sara Schaefer

Author:Sara Schaefer
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Gallery Books
Published: 2020-08-11T00:00:00+00:00

chapter eleven

In Blacktail Canyon, the air is cool between the rocks. Ted had led us to a cavern there, a cathedral for our concert.

Everyone spread out, sitting on our life jackets; Ross and I tucked ourselves against the upward sloping walls. Ted and Jesse broke out their guitars and started playing. I looked up at the curvy ribbons of sandstone, climbing ever higher, the sunlight zigzagging down through the canyon’s slim opening. At eye level, the light diffused into a gauzy glow. No one talked—it became a full hour of communal stillness. Some people lay down on smooth slabs, some began snoring.

At one point, I looked over to find Spandad dancing by himself. His gyrations looked exactly like the kind of movements someone with the nickname “Spandad” would think acceptable. He was both in the pocket and really feeling himself.

I panned my gaze farther back along the canyon trail. There, in the distance, I spotted Spandad’s wife, leaning against a rock, sulking. I thought about offering to send a video of this moment to their marriage counselor, whom they would surely be hiring the very moment the trip ended.

“Does anyone else play?” Ted said.

“Sara does,” Ross said, pushing my shoulder into the direction of the instruments.

“I am terrible,” I said, not lying.

“Come on,” Ross said, “You know you want to. I’ll sing with you.” She was right, I did want to.

“Okay fine,” I said, taking the guitar. People perked up, as if they were about to see a secret tomb unearthed.

Ross knew exactly what song I was going to play. At Chrysalis—that extra-credit Christian group we had both joined in high school—our favorite song to sing had been a reworked version of “Amazing Grace,” set to the tune of “Peaceful Easy Feeling” by the Eagles. After a few false starts, I got to strumming the chords and we began singing.

“Amazing grace, how sweet the sound… that saved a wretch like me…”

My hands started cramping up because I was so nervous. I tried to focus on the strumming and kept pushing the words out. Our voices bounced around the cavern.

I couldn’t remember the words to the second verse—because honestly, who can?—so I abandoned the song.

“Whatever. You get the idea,” I said.

Everyone clapped. Thankfully, when you’re stuck a mile down into the Earth’s crust, people’s standards are really low when it comes to musical abilities.

“Play something else!” someone asked.

“I don’t know many other songs,” I said, starting to blush. God you’re so corny. Stop hogging the guitar and give it to someone who can actually play!

I started trying to pick out the chords to Indigo Girls’ “Closer to Fine,” which I had played countless times as a teen.

“Are you trying to play ‘Closer to Fine’?” Andrew asked.

“Yes, but I can’t remember it exactly.”

“I know it,” he said. I practically threw the guitar to him. He started strumming those familiar chords.

Ross and I sang, just absolutely hitting the shit out of those harmonies, beaming with cliché. I kept laughing at how hokey it

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