November 23rd 2022

Chapter 327
Our Production of Musicality

Dear Mrs. Friar,

I think I've been telling myself that I've been too busy, giving myself excuses not to reach out. I just didn't know what to think or say after I heard about what Lamar and his friends pulled off at school, like it would reflect on me or something? I don't know. But I couldn't leave it alone anymore and I had to speak up, because I know you've always been there for me when I was your student, and you've been doing the same for everyone, including my little brothers. It hasn't been easy for all of us. My dad and stepmom have been trying to respond logically, I guess, but they can't pull it off, so they just end up getting disappointed and angry at Lamar. They know, as well as I do, that he could do so much better, but this incident just went and revealed this other side to him that's been kind of hard to deal with.

When my father started seeing Carla, Tre and Lamar were still kind of little. They mostly stuck to themselves when our parents would try to bring the two of them and Rolly and I together, which was fine, because the two of us kind of did the same thing. Then when our parents got engaged, and when they got married, we all kind of had to decide where we were going to stand, you know? Nothing we said or did was going to change the fact that this was happening, so we could either be miserable and hate each other or we could try and make this work. Predictable as it sounds, I think it was when Dad and Carla got pregnant with Martin that we really came together, but I guess that will happen, won't it? Anyway, things were good from there. Rolly got closer with Tre, which was normal, seeing as they were the same age, in the same grade and everything. And Lamar was mine. He was such a funny little kid, always brave, always so confident, and easygoing. When I'd go off on a sort of house cleaning kick, he'd be there, and he'd help me with all of it. His favorite part was getting at all the little corners that could be hard to get to. He'd just crawl in there like it was his lucky day. And when I'd try and find a quiet corner to study, sometimes he'd show up and just plop a few cookies on my desk without a word, or some chips, or a juice box…

When Rolly told me what was going on at school, about the cheating, I couldn't believe it, wouldn't believe it, not until Lamar told me himself. Even then, I couldn't believe it. I asked him why he'd done it, but he wouldn't say. My stepmother says sometimes how Lamar is more scared to disappoint me than anyone else, and I thought she meant it as a joke, but now I guess she didn't. I've been calling home and talking with him some days during his suspension though and I can't decide if that's what it is anymore or if it's just that he's not the same anymore. Something in him has changed, and I guess what it comes down to is that he's not that boy he used to be anymore now that he's in high school. Hoping it's just a phase and he'll grow out of it. I'm not saying I need him to be a kid again, but whatever this is, I'm not sure where it's going and I don't like it.

Other than that, things are going well. Bodhi and I have been enjoying our travels, but we're also looking forward to coming back to Texas. I guess it's true about seeing what home means to you once you leave it. I don't think I ever really felt it until now.

See you soon,

Rochelle McNeil

.

Dear Rochelle,

I am looking forward to your return, too. It has been wonderful to see pictures from your travels, to see the places you've been as much as seeing how much you and Bodhi have been enjoying yourselves. I am still in awe sometimes to see his transformation, to see how much these last steps in his transition have done for him as a person, in his spirit.

I don't know whether it's because I've been your teacher, and Rolly and Tre's teacher now, or because he's dating my little brother, but I was very shocked when I found out about Lamar's part in what happened at the school, too. I believe I have seen some of what you're referring to as well, I'm afraid, and all I can say at this point is that I have seen my fair share of teens in this specific period in their lives, and these changes are not uncommon, but they also have a way of fluctuating. The best we can do now, I guess, is not write him off. We care for Lamar, and we are going to keep on fighting for him, always. I can also guess, as a fellow oldest sibling, that part of you has been hating to be away since all this has started, maybe considering coming home early. Don't do it. Just keep going, like you were going to. You deserve to focus on yourself and Bodhi for as long as you've wanted to get there. We've got things covered here, so don't you worry.

Take care, big hugs to you and Bodhi,

Mrs. Maya Friar

x

For as much as Maya would say that she still freaked out a bit when she came face to face with some celebrity or another, keeping the vast majority of that reaction on the inside or for later, when she was on her own, it still felt like something of a win when she came away from an encounter without having made a complete fool of herself. If that was so, then today's encounter was nothing short of a grand victory, because she kept her cool in front of none other than the legendary Porter McNeeley. The guy could easily have been called The Face of Broadway for about as long as she could remember, even back when she'd lived out here as a kid. She remembered seeing posters and billboards around the city and, well… She would never tell him this, and she certainly had only ever told a very, very select few, but she used to fantasize that he was her father. This had been in those early days, after Kermit had left them. She'd go wandering around, and she would see one of those posters and sigh. Okay, Dad, I'll go back. After they'd moved to Austin, she had forgotten about all that for a while. When it had come back to her, she'd told Lucas about it, and he'd had the appropriate response, laughing a little because it was funny, but also staying respectful of where the feeling had come from.

And now there he was, coming to sit across from her in the hotel restaurant. She'd been coming down here, the last couple of evenings, after the girls had gone to sleep, with her notebook and her laptop. She needed this moment to sort of stop and collect her thoughts, as much for what they'd seen at the day's auditions as whatever bits of lyrics and melodies had been toying at her mind. She wasn't necessarily in one of those periods where she churned out so much at once that she imagined someone turning a faucet all the way open when it had been quietly trickling, but it was enough that she knew she'd be going into the Hex repeatedly once they got home. Lucas both understood and encouraged this. Had they been at home, this would have been her heading into the studio, but since they were here, the restaurant was a good substitute… especially when she managed to get her hands on some late night dessert.

As focused as she'd been, she'd just so happened to take off her earbuds a few seconds before, and she thought she heard her name. So, she looked up… and there he was. The man was the definition of aging gracefully. When his hair had gone to gray, people had seemed to think that it had been his destiny all along, his best look, for how well he wore it. Seeing him in person, Maya could believe this. She quickly had to chase those thoughts away though because he was coming toward her with that winning smile of his.

"Good evening, I hope I'm not disturbing you," he spoke to her, and again the little fanatic beastie in her heart was having a fit while on the outside…

"No, not at all," she told him as she stood and offered her hand, which he shook. He's touching my hand! She motioned to the chair across from hers in invitation, and he tipped his head in thanks before taking off his jacket, draping it over the chair, and taking a seat. At no point did they introduce themselves, and later the beastie would have a party, thinking that Porter McNeeley knew who she was. It would be the tip of the iceberg right there…

"I heard that you were in town and hoped to get a chance to meet with you," Porter started to explain, and Maya just could not think of what to do with her hands anymore. She hoped he wouldn't notice, but he did… and he chuckled, a good-hearted laugh, which helped her relax and laugh with him.

"Sorry, it's just a bit…" she gestured, searching for words that the beastie would not relinquish.

"Don't worry about it," Porter insisted. "Would it help if we kept talking?"

"Probably, yes. Talking I can do… usually," Maya declared.

Soon, they were just chatting like old friends, like colleagues, peers… Maya was sure later, for a little while, that it could only have been a fever dream, too much cake, or something… They talked about the weather, which led to him asking after how she had fared with the storm in Texas over the holidays. They talked about their families, she showed him pictures of the girls, told him how Marianne was going to be in a local production of Les Mis and had been proudly walking around the city in the shirt her cousin had gotten her after New Year's when she'd gotten the news. He was curious to hear her sing, and he didn't have to wait long for video evidence, because she had that and shared it with him along with her earbuds. He smiled the whole time, started talking about his own children, all of them grown now and parents themselves… which was a great part of what had brought him to seek her out today.

"I am either going to be the best or most embarrassing grandfather for bringing this up, but my eldest granddaughter is a songwriter herself and she absolutely loves everything that you've done. She'd very self-conscious about her own work, she's barely let anyone in the family hear any of it, no one else. I've been telling her she could be a singer, with a voice like hers and the songs that she's written, but she only ever shakes her head and gives me the mortified eyes. Now, I'm not saying she should be talked into it if she doesn't want to do it, but if she could only allow herself to… dig a little deeper, maybe her options would feel different. So, I was wondering if maybe you would be able to speak with her, to mentor her in some way. I know you're busy, with your family, and being a teacher, and…"

"What's her name?" Maya smiled, and Grandpa Porter was a sight.

"Portia," he grinned. "First grandchild," he added, and she nodded, understanding. They'd named her after him. "She's fourteen years old, fifteen soon, hard to believe," he shook his head. "She lives in Colorado, with my daughter and son-in-law." Maya nodded again before reaching into the front of her bag, where she always kept a notepad handy, for tearing off purposes. There, she wrote out her contact information and passed it over.

"I can't wait to know her."

TO BE CONTINUED


See you tomorrow! - mooners