The Sound of Us

Chapter Thirty. “Everybody Hurts” by R.E.M.

CHAPTER THIRTY

“Everybody Hurts” by R.E.M.

DANTE

I hadn’t seen Skye for four days when she showed up at the station for our show. She’d called in sick for work, both at the station and at the coffee shop, and wouldn’t respond to any of my messages. I’d tracked down both Haley and Isla, neither of whom had anything to say.

The sinking feeling I’d had all week got even worse when she arrived in the studio only minutes before I was about to send Nick out to find her.

“You’ve got three minutes,” Nick said, shutting down the screens he’d used for his show. “I’ve put on ‘City of Stars’ to keep things mellow before you guys get into it. What’s the topic for the day? Something juicy I hope. I was disappointed that Noah canceled your show last week.”

“We’re going to talk about the commercialization and authenticity of music.” Skye took her seat beside me. “We can debate whether popular bands and artists have sold out their artistic integrity for the sake of commercial success.”

Puzzled, I frowned. “I thought we were going to talk about punk rock.”

“I thought this would be more appropriate since you are clearly the kind of person who believes in success at all costs, regardless of whether you undermine a person’s competence or vision, whereas I believe in authenticity.” She pulled on her headphones before I could respond, and I did the same, trying to focus through the maelstrom of emotions swirling in my brain. Skye wasn’t just angry; she was furious, and I had a sneaking suspicion I knew why. Part of me had hoped she’d be happy, even grateful that I’d funded the internship, but another part of me had always known how she would feel about it, which was why I had never come clean.

After the filler song ended, I introduced the topic and turned the microphone over to Skye, who launched into the discussion without preamble.

“When a band achieves commercial success, they often have to make compromises, sacrificing their authenticity to please record labels and mainstream audiences. Some bands, however, would rather stay true to themselves and their vision. They don’t believe in success at all costs.”

“We can’t fault musicians for wanting to reach more people,” I countered, scrambling to find a way to justify my actions. “Taylor Swift reinvented her sound and became a world-famous artist. Success doesn’t always equate to selling out.”

“It’s a betrayal.” Skye slammed her fist on the desk. “True success in the music world has to be earned. It has to be authentic or you’re just pretending to be someone else.” For the first time since she’d entered the room, she looked directly at me. There was no warmth in her eyes. No smile on her lips. I’d betrayed her trust and had unwittingly cut deep to the heart of what she struggled with most.

“Maybe we should focus on giving people the benefit of the doubt,” I offered, my voice tight. “There could be other reasons for their choices. We shouldn’t assume that commercial success equates to a betrayal of their original vision.”

We segued into a discussion of specific bands and the conversation became less heated and more like the usual banter that made Skye so much fun to work with. The time passed quickly and Nick opened the studio door as soon as we were off the air. “Noah wants to see you right away.”

“Noah?” Skye jumped up from her seat. “What’s he doing here?”

Noah waved us into his office and directed Skye to close the door. I hadn’t seen him in almost a week, and I was unprepared for the drastic change in his appearance. Hollow-eyed, gaunt, pale, his cheeks sunken, Noah looked like he’d aged ten years and lost twenty pounds. The collar of his pink shirt gaped at his neck and his bolo tie hung askew. A feeling of dread crept over me and I gripped the nearest chair to steady myself.

“What the fuck happened to you?”

“Don’t bother to sit down,” he said, gesturing to my hand. “You’re not here to chill out and relax. What the hell is going on?”

“Why are you here?” Skye demanded. “You’re supposed to be—”

“Away.” Noah cut her off with a glare. “Those plans changed, and thank God because I tune in to the station only to hear two people bickering under the thinly veiled cover of the most boring of musical debates.”

“There was no debate,” Skye said. “I found out that Dante funded the internship. I saw a letter from the university on his desk naming me as the recipient. You must have been in on it, too. I wondered why you picked me after my terrible broadcast, but now I know I got the position because Dante must have felt sorry for me. He never thought I’d make it on my own, so he likely made you hire me in exchange for donating money to the station. You didn’t really me want me.”

I was floored by how close she’d come to the truth, but it just proved she had the makings of a great journalist, and it was a small comfort that I had helped her on that journey.

“I recommended you to our board of directors because you were the right candidate,” Noah said. “I did not know beforehand that there was anything going on between you and Dante. The board had the ultimate say and they could have refused my recommendation, but they agreed with my choice.”

“He’s not lying,” I told her. “My grandmother left her estate to me. I wanted to help the station, so I offered to fund the internship. I did want it to go to you because I didn’t want you to lose your place in the journalism program, but Noah wouldn’t even let me give him your name. He said it had to be fair.”

“Fair?” She gave a bitter laugh. “I would be shocked if Noah didn’t figure out right away that I was the person you wanted him to hire, especially after you showed up at the station for the interviews. He would do anything for you. He loves you like a son. There is no arm he wouldn’t twist. No hill he wouldn’t climb. There is no fair when it comes to you.”

“Skye…” Noah coughed, choked. He sipped some water, coughed again. Then he doubled over, coughing violently. He grabbed a tissue to cover his mouth and it came away full of blood. I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. A cold sensation skittered across my skin and my eyes fixed on the dry coffee pot beside his desk. When was the last time I’d actually seen Noah drink a cup of coffee? This wasn’t a new illness. He’d been sick for a very long time.

“Should I call Bella?” Skye crouched down beside him. “Do you need to go back to the hospital?”

I had a sudden feeling that the floor wasn’t stable anymore. “ Back to the hospital?”

“He’s been there all week,” Skye said, handing Noah a glass of water. “Bella came to look after him.”

I couldn’t process what I was hearing. “How do you know?”

“I went with him in the ambulance on Monday morning.”

“You took him there?” Fear found an outlet in anger and my body started to shake. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“He didn’t want you to know because you have your LSAT tomorrow. He didn’t want you to worry. I’m pretty sure that’s why he’s here and not in the hospital. He was afraid you’d wonder where he was.”

I couldn’t process what I was hearing. “What’s wrong with you, Noah?”

“Pancreatic cancer,” Noah sighed. “It’s terminal. It spread everywhere. I didn’t think you were ready to hear it.”

Terminal.

I’m sorry, your mother didn’t make it.

I’m sorry, your sister’s gone.

I’m sorry, your grandmother passed away.

No. No. No. No. This wasn’t happening. Not again. It was just a bad dream.

“But I could have helped you,” I protested. “You didn’t have to go through it alone. I could have found doctors, medicine…” My stomach twisted in a knot. “My inheritance. You would have had the best care. You can have the best care. I haven’t finalized the other donations.”

“I’m dying, Dante. Even the best care can’t save me,” Noah said. “There is nothing you can do, and I didn’t want you to bear the burden of trying to stop the unstoppable.”

The room seemed to spin, and the sound of my heartbeat thudded in my ears, loud and fast like a drum as the weight of his words sank in. Noah had been the one constant in my life, the person who believed in me when no one else did. He was my mentor, my friend, the father I’d never had. And now I was going to lose him. Just like I’d lost everyone else.

“How could you keep this from me?” I turned on Skye, finding in her worried face an outlet for my pain. “How could you sit there and talk about trust and authenticity while you were hiding a secret so huge it makes a mockery of everything you said? You know how I feel about Noah. You know I would want to help. You know about my family and how I couldn’t—”

“Dante.” Noah waved away the cup of water Skye was holding to his lips. “It’s not her fault.”

“It was her choice.”

“It wasn’t my choice,” Skye said. “I wanted to tell you. I wanted Noah to tell you. But he wanted me to wait one week until you’d written your test and he’d handled his affairs. I had to respect his wishes. That’s why I stayed away. I couldn’t lie to you so I just… tried not to be around.”

“Fuck the test,” I shouted as I stumbled toward the door. “What about me? How about respecting my wishes? I thought we had something together. I thought you knew me, but you don’t know me at all.”

I heard a grunt, a soft thud. Behind me Skye screamed. “Call an ambulance!”