Again, But Better

18. Break Your Walls
January 24, 2011 (take two)
Mom and Dad,
When I write these, all I can think about
is 2017. I’m so confused about my life.
When did I stop manning the wheel? Was
it here? Was it when I came back home?
Was it a gradual process or did I let go
all at once?
Last night, we Skyped before you
went to dinner at Aunt Marie and Uncle
Dan’s. When was the last time we did
that?
We don’t even try anymore. When did
you stop trying? Why did you stop
trying?
XO,
2017 Shane
After class, I knock on Pilot’s door with my digital camera. It
swings in after a few seconds. He openly smiles at me, and it’s
wonderful. His guitar lies on the blue bedspread.
“Hey!” He steps aside so I can come into the room.
“Hey, have you been guitar-ing?” I ask.

---

“Yeah, doing some light guitar-ing, working on some new
stuff.” I watch as he catches sight of the camera in my hand.
“What’s that?”
“This is my blender. I thought we could make smoothies.”
He presses his lips together and takes a step back. “Did
Shane Primaveri just make a dry, sarcastic remark?”
“I’ll have you know, I make more than one dry, sarcastic
remark per year now.”
He drops back on the bed with a chuckle. I lean against the
doorframe.
“So?” he asks with raised eyebrows.
“Oh yeah, so!” I do a little hop as I stand up off the wall I
was leaning on. “I’m here to jumpstart your musical career.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah, I have an evil-genius foolproof plan. It worked for
Justin Bieber, and it’s going to work for the Swing Bearers.”
He rolls his eyes, but humors me.
“We’re gonna start your YouTube channel.” I walk over
and sit next to him.
“You know YouTube and all that stuff really isn’t my
thing.”
“Is music your thing?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you want people to hear your music?”
“Yes,” he says with a small smile.
“Would you want to potentially make music for a living?”
He glares at me with a cynical grin and half-lidded eyes.
“This is just a platform to jump off. YouTube is huge.
People can discover you there; you can build an audience
there; it’s a portfolio when you’re trying to get a job. It can

---

provide endless possibilities! I spend a lot of time on the
internet. I’ve watched it with my own eyes!”
“And what exactly are you planning with the camera?” he
asks, amused.
“We’re going to record your first video!”
“Right now?”
“Why not?” I raise my eyebrows. His lips come together as
he ponders this. After a moment, he picks up his guitar.
“I was thinking a duet.” I scoot back so I can lean against
the wall and sit crisscross applesauce.
He grins now, guitar in position. “You sing-sing?”
“You doubt me?”
“I would never,” he says matter-of-factly.
We stare at each other for a moment before I clear my
throat. “Okay! So, I think we should do a duet of ‘Wrecking
Ball.’”
He laughs, shaking his head. “Still set on that?”
“Just this one song. Come on. We’ll call it a cover. We
won’t take credit. Humor me here,” I ramble incessantly.
He smiles at the ceiling for five seconds before he turns to
look at me again. “Give me half an hour to work out the
chords.”
I grin. “See you in half an hour.”
When our slightly altered version of “Wrecking Ball” comes
to an end, we smile at each other for a good long moment. I
get up quietly and stop the recording before retreating to my
spot next to him on the bed. During the half-hour break, I
dressed up a little fancier and threw on some red lipstick for
my YouTube debut. Now I feel a smidge overdressed.

---

“You have a nice voice.” He carefully sets down his guitar
by his desk.
“Thank you, O musical one,” I say, crossing my legs. “Are
you happy with that take?”
“I think that’s going to be our most genuine take.” We only
did one take.
“I agree. It’s 2011 YouTube; we can get away with that
performance.”
I hand him the memory card. He pops it into his computer
and drops the file to his desktop before giving it back to me. I
replace it as he lies down on the bed. He puts his hands behind
his head and watches me. I stay seated on the edge, legs
hanging off the side.
“That red lipstick is driving me crazy,” he says after a few
moments.
I laugh. “Did you want to use it?”
“Lamppost.”
My heart ricochets. “Did you just use