My feet are aching and I shift my weight. I’m more dressed up than I’ve been since my birthday dinner— high-heeled boots, new jacket, hair washed and pulled into a messy bun, and I even put on lipstick. But I can’t get my thoughts straight, don’t know what to think or feel about my father, and I’m leaving in a few days. He didn’t end up buying the brownies and we didn’t end up talking. We arrived at the concert hall together, but just as we were parking Doug called. So instead of me having a night out with my father, he dropped me off at the entrance and said he’d be back after talking Doug off a ledge, so to speak. Meanwhile, Melody is on her way back, hitching a ride with one of the festival women. She said she’ll meet me at the house later.

This is Jaxon’s big moment, but I can’t concentrate on anything.

‘To hell and back. No. That’s. Not. It.’ What does that even mean?

The singer and lead guitarist are twinning in black skinny jeans, chunky black Doc Martens, and blue-black hair. The electric guitar is jarring and I can’t help but put my hands over my ears.

Now the lovebirds are kissing, her eyes open and his closed, and they’re seriously right in my face.

I could find an exit but going outside wouldn’t be a good idea. It’s so cold my eyelashes formed ice sculptures as I walked in from the car. The toilets would be quieter but they’re across the room with a crowd of people blocking the way.

Someone bumps into me from behind, and I turn around angrily, but they apologise and give me a bucktoothed smile.

I join the clapping as the singer screams ‘NO’, the guitar completes a final screech and the band leaves the stage.

They announce Jaxon’s band coming up next and I push through the crowd to get closer.

I’m halfway to the stage. Is that Jaxon? I see his shape by the backstage curtains.