The Day The Music Died
Summary: Miley hates Mother's Day.
"A long, long time ago, I can still remember how that music used to make me smile…"
Miley turned down the radio, the Don McLean song grating on her last nerve. She was on the phone with Lily, and her brother had the music blaring.
"Hey! I was listenin' to that!" Jackson protested. The two were in the kitchen, and he was seated at the island, making himself a sandwich.
Glaring at him, Miley retorted, "Well, I'm not, so there!" Then she went into the living room and sat on the couch, resuming her conversation. "Sorry about that, Lily. Jackson was being a butt."
"I am not a butt!" Jackson called.
Miley rolled her eyes, refocusing her attention on her friend. "So, are you coming over later?"
"Um, no, I can't…" Lily replied, hesitation in her voice.
Trying to remember if the blonde had been grounded recently, Miley asked, "Why not?
"My mom wants to do stuff together," Lily answered.
"Can't you do that tomorrow? Today's the rehearsal for the Hannah concert next week and I really wanted you to come…" Miley trailed off, realizing that her friend was being unusually quiet. "What's wrong?"
There was a pause, then Lily said, "Miley…today is Mother's Day."
The phone almost fell out of her hand. Mother's Day? Miley thought. Gulping down the lump in her throat, she managed to reply, "Oh, sorry. There's another rehearsal during the week. You can come to that."
"Definitely. Look Miley, I'm really…"
"It's okay," Miley interrupted, before the word "sorry" could come from her friend's lips. "No big deal. See you in school tomorrow."
She hung up, staring at the receiver she held with both her hands. A mixture of guilt and anger consumed her. I'm sorry, Mama, she thought, feeling tears form in her eyes. I'm sorry I forgot. Happy Mother's Day. If we were still in Tennessee I'd visit you at your grave, I swear.
It's not fair. Lily gets to spend today with her mom. Oliver is spending it with his. I want to spend it with you.
She looked at the island to find that Jackson was still making his sandwich. He'd turned up the radio again.
"But something touched me deep inside, the day the music died…"
Her eyes widening, Miley realized it was that song. The song her, her family and extended relatives all sang at Thanksgiving back home. She, her dad and Mom used to sing the verses, and those less vocally gifted joined in on the chorus. Her pain increased ten-fold when the solo her Mom used to sing came on…
"Do you believe in rock n' roll, can music save your mortal soul, and can you teach me how to dance real slow…"
At that point her mom would grab her dad and they'd start twirling around the room, both from enthusiasm and from the one or two alcoholic drinks they'd consumed earlier that evening.
"Dang it, Jackson!" Miley screamed, slamming the phone down and stomping into the kitchen. She ripped the radio from the outlet and threw it across the room.
Going over to pick up the now mangled radio, Jackson stared at his sister with his mouth hanging open. "You were off the phone!"
"How could you listen to that today, you insensitive jerk!" Miley yelled. She was breathing heavy, clenching her fists at her sides.
Understanding in his eyes, Jackson put the radio on the counter. "You remembered."
"Lily can't come to rehearsal because…she's spending time with her mom," Miley sighed.
She couldn't blame it on Lily though. She should've seen the signs – her dad and brother quieting whenever she walked into the room, her dad reminding them to call their grandmother over the weekend…why didn't she put two and two together sooner? Every other year since their mother died she'd become so moody and miss her mother so much that her family would avoid her until the day passed. Once in a while her father would try to offer some comfort, but she'd always leave the room.
Why didn't I remember this year?
The answer came too quickly.
Hannah.
She'd been so busy with getting ready for the tour and writing new songs and rehearsal and interviews…she hadn't given her mom much thought. Or anything else, for that matter. Her desperate need to pass her anatomy test proved that; she'd always been an okay student.
"Hey, are you okay?"
Shaking her head, Miley forced herself to calm down. Chances were good that it wouldn't be helpful if she was furious with herself when her father came home and yelled at her for throwing the radio. Clearing her throat, she nodded. "I'm sorry, Jackson. I just…lost it."
"I miss her too, you know," Jackson sighed, putting a brotherly arm around her shoulders. "I know I tease you and call you a brat sometimes…mostly 'cause you are…" The feeble joke had its desired effect, and she cracked a small smile. Smiling back, he continued, "…but if you ever want to talk about Mom, just ask."
Giving him a quick hug, Miley straightened up and replied, "I might take you up on that, thanks."
"Hey," Jackson said, glancing back at the radio. "You want me to tell Dad a big 'ole bird came through the window and…"
Miley chuckled. "No, it's okay. I'll be a big girl and face the music."
"It's your punishment," Jackson shrugged, going back to his neglected sandwich.
Miley brushed her wig, trying to make it look a bit more natural. It was a few hours later, and she was sitting in the spare dressing room in the rehearsal studio. Since some of the tour sponsors were here, she needed to don her Hannah persona, where if she was just rehearsing with her Dad and friends she wouldn't bother.
Realizing that her wig as secure as it was going to get, Miley put her brush back on the counter and looked at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were a little red, both from exhaustion the last few weeks had brought upon her and crying after her meltdown earlier. If the makeup anyone asked, she's just say she'd been sick or had some bad allergy problems lately. The last thing she wanted all of Hollywood to know was that Hannah Montana still cried over her Mommy.
This shouldn't be so hard, Miley thought. Mother's Day should not be so hard. She died years ago. Why are my feelings still so…raw?
Maybe because on every other day of the year they're the total opposite.
For the most part, Miley came to accept her mother's death. It happened, there was nothing she could change. All she could do was keep her mother with her in her heart.
But there were times…Miley wondered if she still did. There were days, weeks at a time where she would only give her mother a passing thought. She was busy with school, friends, and being Hannah. The move to Malibu made it so much easier. People weren't always saying, "there's that Stewart girl, the kid with the single father, poor dear, I remember how sweet her mother was," whenever she passed by. No, as far as Malibu was concerned, it was just the three of them, and always had been.
It was odd, though. At the same time she was so busy with other things, her mother always found a way to enter her thoughts. She couldn't count the times Lily would say something like, "my mom is so embarrassing" or "my mom grounded me, she's so unfair" and Miley would glare at her, even if she hadn't been thinking of her mother that day.
Every time one of her friends complained about their mother, she wanted to scream at them at the top of her lungs, "don't you realize how lucky you are?"
Then there were the unanswered questions. Was her mom proud of her for being Hannah? Did she approve? Did she even know? And was she proud of the person she'd become?
Deep in her heart, Miley knew that her mom would've been supportive of her music career. Still, she always had that nagging feeling that she could be wrong.
So many times she'd talked to her mom in her dreams. But that's what she was – a dream, and only a dream.
Speaking of dreaming…Miley thought, blinking to keep her eyes open. All the late rehearsals lately were catching up with her. Glancing at the clock on the dresser, she saw that she had enough time for a twenty-minute power nap. She folded her arms on the dresser, put her head down, and her eyes closed instantly.
"Have you been staying up late again, Miley?"
Miley's head shot up. Funny, that sounded a lot like…
No, it can't be, Miley thought, wiping her eyes. Here mother was standing in front of her, her arms folded across her middle. Standing up, Miley gasped, "I'm dreaming, aren't I? This is one of those weird dreams where you think you woke up but you're really still sleeping…"
"Darlin', I love you," her mom began. "But you need to know when to let the other person talk. And yes, you are dreaming."
Miley's heart sank. A small part of her had hoped that she was really talking to her mother's ghost. "Oh. It's still nice to see you, though," she said, wrapping her mother in a hug.
Hugging back, her mom looked her in the eye and replied, "But it's really me."
"But how…how are you here?" Miley sputtered, wondering if dying gave one the power to read minds. Then again, her mother had always been able to read her mind, even when she was alive.
Smiling, her mother answered, "Let's just say it's my Mother's Day present to you."
"Mama, it's called Mother's Day for a reason. I'm supposed to have something for you," Miley replied.
Her mother chuckled. "Sweetie, you don't need to give me anything. My baby girl is a wonderful person, and a superstar to boot. What more could a mama ask for?"
"You mean that?" Miley asked, feeling relief wash over years of uncertainty.
Sighing, her mother put her arms around her again. "Did you really think I wasn't proud of you? Heck, you could give up being Hannah tomorrow and I'd still be the proudest I've ever been of anyone in my entire life." When Miley raised an eyebrow, she added, "Well, it's an expression."
Miley laughed. "That's not all I wanted to talk to you about. Mama…I'm sorry."
"Sorry for what, baby?" her mother asked, confused.
Her shoulders sagging, Miley answered, "For…for not thinking about you as much. For sometimes forgetting what you look like. For not talking about you a lot."
"Now what kind of mama would I be if I was mad at you for that?" her mother exclaimed. "Miley, honey, I'm dead. You should be moving on. If you weren't, I'd be worried about you."
"Yeah, I guess. But I can't help but feel guilty sometimes," Miley admitted.
Shaking her head, her mother argued, "Please, don't worry about it. You're father thinks about me enough for the both of you. That reminds me, I gotta stop by his dreams later. And Jackson's."
"I'm sure they'd both love to see you," Miley replied. Boy, conversation at breakfast tomorrow morning sure will be interesting.
"By the way, sweetie, do me a favor?" her mother asked. "Tell your daddy not to have any of that hot chocolate tonight like he had last night. I don't want any weird dreams interrupting my visit."
Miley nodded. "Got it. Do you really have to go?"
"I know you do, and I miss you too," her mother assured her, wrapping her in one last night. "But you've got to wake up. You have some singing to do."
"Oh, alright," Miley sighed. "Happy Mother's Day, Mom. I miss you."
"Thanks, sweetie," her mother replied, then put a finger to her daughter's heart. "Bur you know I'm always right here. And looking out for you."
"I think I knew that" Miley admitted. "Thanks Mama."
"It's my pleasure." Narrowing her eyes, her mother rubbed some off some of her mascara. "But tone down on the makeup. You're not sixteen yet."
"Okay Mom," Miley laughed.
Her mother glanced down at her outfit. "Put some leggings under that skirt while you're at it."
Miley smiled. "Okay, Mom." Before she knew it, her mother was pulling down her skirt and adjusting some other aspects of her outfit. "Mom, mom, mom…"
"Hey, bud, wake up! Miley, come on…"
Her eyes flew open. She found that she wasn't standing with her mother fussing over her, but sitting at her dresser with her head down. Her smile wide, she looked up to find her father staring at her. "I'm up. Sorry, just taking a little nap."
"You really should get more sleep," Robbie advised, then stared at her eyes. Then he handed her a tissue.
Taking the tissue, Miley wrinkled her brow in confusion. "Why'd you give me this? Is there a booger hanging out of my nose or something?"
"Your mascara, hon. You must've smudged it while you were sleeping," her dad told her, indicating that she look in the mirror.
Miley gasped. Her makeup had smudged in the exact same place her mother had rubbed it in her dream. Grinning, she took the tissue and wiped the rest of the mascara and some of her lipstick. When her father gave her a questioning look, she explained, "Tonight, Hannah goes for the natural look."
"I always tell you, the natural look is best," Robbie agreed. "Now come on, we're starting late already."
On their way out to the hallway, Miley paused. "Oh, and Dad? Don't have any hot chocolate tonight."
"What? Why?" Robbie asked, then his eyes widened. "Hey, how'd you know about that?" When she only walked further down the hallway, he called, "Miley? Miley!"
Ignoring him, Miley continued down the hallway, singing. "A long, long, time ago, I can still remember how that music used to make me smile…"