I walked into Richie’s house, not knowing what to expect. The layout was a bit strange, I’ll admit. The front door was actually at the back of the house and lead straight into the living room, which also served to be his bedroom. A randomly placed tile area with a stovetop, refrigerator, and microwave was the only thing distinguishing what I assumed was the kitchen. With the exception of the bathroom, there seemed to be only one room in the entire house.
Richie threw his keys and jacket into the corner before noticing the strange look on my face. “Yeah, I know it’s weird. Just have a seat on the couch. I’ll grab us some drinks and then I’ll explain, alright?”
I simply nodded and sat on the sofa, making note of the pillows and blankets neatly folded on the floor next to it. Was this where he slept?
After a few minutes, Richie sat next to me, carrying two mugs of hot chocolate. We sat in uncomfortable silence as I waited patiently for him to tell say what he wanted to say.
“Make yourself comfortable. It’s a long story,” he said eventually.
“They always are.”
“Well, remember when we first met? You mentioned how I was a bit young to be touring around like I do.”
“I remember.”
“I was able to get the job because my dad was already in the industry. He was a drummer for a lot of different bands, none of them really gaining mainstream success, but few people could have been happier with their lives.”
I could recognize the fondness Richie had for his dad by the way he talked about him. “He sounds like a great guy.”
“He was,” Richie nodded, “but I haven’t even gotten started yet. It might be hard, but try not to say anything until I’m done. My dad was a wild, free spirited man touring all over the world with different bands, but everything changed when he met my mom. When I was born, my parents weren’t married. They were young and confused, not knowing what to do with me. For the first few years of my life, my parents took care of me but still didn’t want to marry each other. My dad took time off from his touring, but he couldn’t stay away from the rock star scene for long. When I was five, he went on a short, country-round tour and decided to take my mom and me with him. After that short trip, my mom was instantly sick of the entertainment industry and wanted to settle down with a normal life. My dad, on the other hand, didn’t want to me tied down by anything. Because she didn’t want any reminder of her past, my mom let my dad take me.
“He enrolled me in independent study so I could tour with him. Although he wanted me to learn to be a musician like he was, he never stopped telling me how important it was to choose my own path. I wanted to make him proud, so I took up the guitar. However, it just wasn’t for me. I was more interested in what happened behind the scenes than what was on stage. I remember the day I told him that I didn’t want to be a rock star.
“I was about ten years old and scared of what he might think. He sat me down, looked me in the eye, and told me to do whatever I wanted to do. After that, he talked to a lot of different record companies and touring agencies. That’s how I got my job.
“But after a while, he felt that I should also know what a normal life was like so that I would have the experience to choose any path that I wanted. He was able to contact my mom when I was twelve. After a lot of debating, she agreed to let me stay with her under the condition that I wouldn’t be a burden. Her idea of not being burdened was building a large wall down her house. That was my section, and the rest was hers. It wasn’t that bad, though, because I was always on tour so I spent more time on the road and in hotels than I did at my pitiful excuse for a home.
“Last summer, my dad used his money to buy my mom a new home in New York, also split in half like she requested. He got me enrolled in Amigos high school, and altered the house so that I would have at least something to live off of. He did all of this while on the road. I never know where he is anymore, but my dad is always finding ways to give me money, get me jobs, and support me even when my mom refuses to.
“This house is the one he bought for us. This wall behind us is the one built to separate me from my mom’s side of the house. She gets the front door and I get the back door. We don’t talk to each other and everything’s fine. I basically live on my own, take care of myself, and with the exception of the occasional donation from my dad, I make my own money.”
Another silence fell upon the room as I tried to process everything Richie had told me. I had never heard anything like this before, and it only made me respect him more. It must have been hard for him to share all of that with me. I felt as though this had brought us closer together. I stared into my mug, trying to think of a response to his amazing story.
“You know,” he said, breaking me from my trance, “you can’t drink hot chocolate by just staring at it. I’ve tried.”
I smiled. “Sorry. I just don’t know what to say.”
“That’s okay. It was nice to be able to tell someone though.”
“Why? So you can get it off of your chest?”
“No. Now I know that if I die, there will be someone out there who knows me for all that I am,” he winked. After a second of yet more silence, Richie coughed. “Sorry. I’m not used to talking that much. Now, if you’re done trying to telepathically drink your hot chocolate, let’s start packing.”
“Right,” I said, unable to wipe the grin from my face.
