let's talk about this

A month after My llama's first show with John, I found myself once again driving my truck with Peter riding shotgun. However, the silence was slightly more awkward than the trip to the beach since I hadn't spoken to Peter in that month. Even Shawn Mullins couldn't soothe my rattling nerves.
We were on the way to Austin, my truck bed full of tents, sleeping bags, and of course the ever-present grill. I'd tried to convince Tod that the campground we were staying at had grills at each site -- we'd used them during every other road trip to Austin after all -- but he'd become strangely attached to this particular birthday gift. Since he was a little nervous about playing at South by Southwest this weekend, Kathleen and I had decided that his grill had become his security blanket. But who could fault him? I wasn't even playing and I was nervous; after all, some of my best friends in the world were making their debut at one of the hottest music and film festivals in the country. I think the only one of us who wasn't nervous was John.
"I'm beginning to think John is an alien."
"What!?" I was more than startled at this statement from Peter since last I knew he wasn't a mind reader.
"Think about it," he said, as though this conversation wasn't the first one we'd had in many weeks. "Aside from the fact that he's a professional homeless guy -- not all that unusual really -- he's always happy, never nervous, never angry, he's got this really unnatural..." Pete searched for the word.
"Peace?"
"Exactly!" Pete snapped his fingers. "He's like that Buddhist Kathleen dated for five minutes. Only not a Buddhist, funny, a first-class musician with great taste in movies, and an unnatural gift at Halo."
I rolled my eyes. "Someone's got a crush."
Pete smiled, surprising me by taking my joke as just that. He shrugged. "We've been spending a lot of time together when I'm at the house."
"I didn't realize you'd actually been around lately."
The lightness of our conversation did not make it into my voice.
Peter sighed. "How about we just get this over with. I really want to have a good weekend."
"And we all know that your needs and wants are priority."
"Stop being so passive-aggressive, Gia!" Peter said, his voice rising. "For goodness sake, let's not play around anymore."
"Fine!" my voice rising to match his. "Let's start with the fact that you've become a complete jerk. I can't even describe the look on Tod's face when you weren't at the pub that night. I mean, where were you? Working? Stuck in traffic? What? What excuse?"
"No excuse," Pete said. "And I told Tod that later. We worked it all out."
"Well that's great. And what's with you're hanging around lately? You're here, you're gone, you're back again...we never see you and when we do you're silent and surly and moody and a complete prick."
"Sorry mom," Peter said, sarcasm like acid in his voice. "Didn't realize I had to clear my calendar with you first."
"Did you ever just think about the fact that we're your friends, your family. We care about you and the last six months you've just been acting different. Not you. Friends are supposed to notice that kind of stuff."
"Did you ever think that maybe, just maybe hanging around got to be a little hard," Peter said. "I needed some time away from all that 'familiness.' "
My voice softened slightly and I knew I was about to step into a minefield. "I know it was hard when your brother died, but we wanted to be there for you. You didn't let us."
"I don't want to talk about it."
I shrugged. "I know. You never do."
We were silent for a moment, but some smoke still hung in the air.
"Keep going," Peter finally said. "You're not going back far enough into this anger you're holding against me."
"You sound like a psychiatrist."
"Gia."
I sighed and my heart constricted. "Fine. Fine. It still hurts, Pete, is that what you want me to say to you? I'm angry, yes. Sure, things weren't perfect. I was starting to get tired and overwhelmed getting carried along in your wake, but I loved you so much some days I thought my heart would explode. I wanted to get over that overwhelmed feeling. But you couldn't wait. You pushed and pushed and I'm sorry but sometimes pushing doesn't work and I'm sorry but I just got too exhausted. And then Travis died and you shut us all out. You shut me out but still wanted me to be just the same Gia, holding on for dear life to the tornado that is Pete. And it was all or nothing, but I never wanted it to be nothing, Pete. And then you got mean, and it hurt." I silently cursed the tear that sneaked out of my eye. "It really hurt."
Shawn sung about sad people.
"Guess that's it?" Pete asked, staring out the window.
"In a nutshell."
"Good."
I passed a semi-truck and glanced at a field full of cows. Were they Blue Bell cows? We weren't that far from Brenham. Shawn made it through his songs and my five-disc changer switched to Journey. My cell phone chimed once and delivered a text from the mini-van in front of me, full of instruments and musicians. Need food. Next exit.
"I miss you, Gia."