Ten>>>It Keeps Me Off The Streets
I walk into the bathroom whistling after my lesson. It’s my second week with my new job. The kids are annoying, but I like having something to do. I glance at myself in the mirror. But I’m not the only one in the mirror. Harper is standing behind me and I feel my heart jump into my throat. I am in the girls bathroom. Oh my god. I used to have nightmares about this when I was growing up. Other than the skirt, the man the women on the bathroom doors really don’t like that dissimilar!
“I’m in the wrong bathroom…aren’t I?” I ask, blushing deeply. What else are you supposed to say in a situation like this?
She looks at me and walks over to a stall, going in and closing the door. Finally she says, “The women’s room is shut down for repair. This is currently a coed bathroom I suppose.”
I feel halfway relieved and halfway in disbelief. She is a spirited one, I remember from the other day. I pray she is not just teasing me. I walk over to the other stall and go inside. As I’m waiting to go myself I can hear her in the stall next to me.
I don’t know why I do it. If someone could please inform me why a sane person would say this, the explanation would be greatly appreciated. Because I doubt my sanity. I have no clue why in the world I say what I am about to say.
“I can hear you peeing, you know.” The second the words come out of my mouth I want to take them back and shove them down my throat. First there’s no reply. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.
“You’ve never heard someone pee before?”
“No I have,” I say quickly, “It’s just. It’s not everyday I’m in a bathroom with a girl in the stall next to me I guess.” We flush on unison but she makes it out of the door before me. The zipper on these khakis has always been tricky.
I come out to wash my hands and she finally replies, “Well I’m glad you enjoyed it as much as I did.” She rolls her eyes sarcastically and dries her hands off. I look into the mirror and watch her, blushing when she looks over and looks me in the eye.
I am trying to figure out why she hates me so much. Yeah I teased her about liking me. And I played a joke on her about my mother. But are those really the sins of all sins?
“Harper,” I say to her and join her at the air dryer. Usually I want to slaughter whoever invented these. They take way too long and by the time the air goes off your hands are only halfway dry and you end up just wiping them on your pants. But standing there with her, my hands next to hers, makes me feel a little bit less resentful towards the unidentified hand dryer creator.
“What?”
“Why do you dislike me so much? You didn’t feel this way…when you first said hello to me you know. You were friendly and now you’re just…to be honest, you’re actually quite frightening.”
I wait while she thinks. It feels like she’s been thinking for at least 20 seconds, but I know I’m exaggerating by far.
“So you’re intimidated?” She smiles at me. Ahah! She’s realized she’s been unnecessarily cruel and my punishment for the jokes the week before had been too harsh.
I smile back, to assure her I hold no antipathy towards her and wipe my hands on my pants as the dryer goes off. “Something like that,” I say quietly. Maybe I’ve found at least a new friend. She is definitely not girlfriend material. She scares me way too much for that. But lately, I’m typically a lonely person. I don’t mind a platonic relationship.
I lay on the grass in the backyard, a guitar in my hand, a notebook next to me, and think. “Even though I’ve lost my way…” I repeat to myself over and over again, trying to find a phrase that rhymes nicely with it. “Even though I’ve lost my way, I’m not afraid to say…I’ll…make you pay…I’m glad to be away….” I set my guitar down in exasperation. Song writing shouldn’t be frustrating. When you’re frustrated, it’s usually a sign you’re not in a good frame of mind for writing songs. But it seems like I haven’t been in a good frame of mind for the last couple years now. Maybe I lost my talent. Maybe I never had a talent at all.
I begin to reflect on the past few years. The band was still going strong in 2000. “If Only”, our hit single, was number one on MTV the most times in the summer of 2000. It even beat N Sync. That’s impressive, now isn’t it? We rushed back in the studio after a tour that summer and fall to get another album put out. Total, we wrote about 130 songs for the next album. We offered 80 of them to our label. There was a problem with every song we offered. “Underneath” was too slow and depressing. “Sun and Sky” was too sappy. “Lost Without Each Other” was bubblegum pop. “Now I See” was too rudimentary. It started tearing the band apart. We didn’t even notice how everything was falling apart. It’s like the band is a puppet, with many different strings holding it up. The people up top, controlling us, were snipping the strings. And as each one was cut, the band got weaker and weaker. And our lights got dimmer and dimmer. Until we just didn’t care about the band anymore. We didn’t care about the music. We didn’t care about the fans. Finally, when we could barely handle it anymore, we told the label it was over. Hanson was over. And Zac enrolled in college, and Isaac signed up for some classes as well and told his ex girlfriend he’d be around more for his daughter, and I, well I was the only one screwed over by the plan. I’m still illuminated when it comes to Hanson. I have difficulty writing songs now. And my voice just isn’t as animated as it used to be from years of disappointment, but I still have a fire burning inside me for the band. I want to be out the on the road again playing music. But my brothers simply have no interest. Zac always says, “Once I get to try college out for a year or two we’ll get back on top if it. We’ll sign with a new label and we’ll tour again. We’ll make a come back.” But we all know he’s only saying that because he’s too afraid to confirm it’s over.
I sigh and sit back up, resting the guitar in my lap again. So why do I still write songs if we’re not going to do anything with them? It’s relaxing. And it gives me something to do I suppose. As my mom might say, it keeps me off the streets.