Page 18 of Don't Think

It’s been so long since I’ve seen a live show, it feels like the first time all over again. But this? This was my entire childhood.

Before I had my girls, underground shows wereeverything. The highlight of my week, just abouteveryweek.

There was something about being sixteen and slipping into a packed, dimly lit venue with your boyfriend and best friend on each arm. We always made it a point to sit along the bar with our sodas served in beer glasses—just to get a small taste of adulthood. Being surrounded by like-minded people who justneeded to scream, sweat, and forget the world existed for a while? It was incredible.

My mom didn’t exactlyapprove, but she always said she’d rather know I was at a show than at some random party. So we made a deal: as long as I stayed out of trouble, I could go to concerts as much as I wanted.

And I kept that promise. I never once got into trouble.

Instead, I got pregnant the second I turned twenty—two years into nursing school and three years into dating Trevor.

The overhead lights flicker, casting a red glow that sweeps across the stage when the first band members rush out. First thing I notice? Their face masks look way too much like Slipknot’s. Like, borderline copyright lawsuit.

The lead singer’s face is completely concealed behind a Halloween mask, long dreadlocks and all that sway with every subtle movement.

I chuckle before glancing beside me to find Ana already jumping wildly, her attention completely fixed on the band like they’re the best thing since sliced bread. When the guitarist hits the first riff, the sound explodes into the air so hard that my heart leaps into my throat, pounding like it wants to burst out and join the crowd.

Then my eyes fall on Nora beside her. The pure look of terror on her face is impossible to miss, especially as the red and yellow lights dance across her wide eyes. She’s gripping her phone tightly to her chest while her gaze darts across the stage.

I know that look all too well. She’s trying her hardest to enjoy this, but she doesn’t know how to say that this just isn’t for her.

I quickly place my hand on Ana’s back, signaling her to let me squeeze through, and carefully weave my way through the tight space. When I reach Nora, I slip my arm through hers.

“You okay?” I shout over the music while the bodies around us sway us back and forth as if we’re on a boat.

When Nora turns to look at me, her face is ghostly white. She looks like she’s either about to pass out or puke, maybe even both, but she nods anyway. Her grip tightens on my arm as if I’m a lifeline and am the only thing keeping her from drifting away.

I tilt my head at her, then point up toward the balcony. “Do you want to go upstairs until Bottom Line?”

She nods slowly, her eyes bouncing between the constant sea of bodies surrounding us.

I tap Ana on the shoulder and lean into her ear. “We’re going upstairs!” I shout over the music, though I’m not sure it’s even audible. But she nods and starts shoving her way through the crowd.

The second we’re done climbing the million stairs to the balcony, Nora exhales loudly with her hands on her hips.

“I don’t know how you guys used to do this every weekend,” she admits, breathless. “That’s a lot.”

“You get used to it,” I say with a shrug.

“Well, this is better,” Ana says, plopping down into one of the empty chairs. “Now I don’t have to endure the stench of body odor for at least another hour.”

I shake my head and lean against the banister, looking over the ledge at the bobbing wave of fans below. The view from up here is actually… pretty cool. Watching the swarm of swinging limbs and crowd surfers from above, rather than worrying about a boot to the head, feels like stepping into a completely different world.

“They almost look like ants from up here,” Nora comments from beside me.

I turn to look at her and instantly notice how much better she looks. The pink has returned to her cheeks, and her eyes don’t look like they’re about to pop out of her head and roll across the floor anymore.

That’s one thing Ana and I tend to forget about Nora—she’s not used to this. The loud music. People constantly bumping into you. But us? Wethriveon it.

“Do you want to stay up here for the rest of the show?” I ask, mentally crossing my fingers that she says no. Even though if she did, I wouldn’t hesitate to park myself up here the whole night.

She turns her head slowly, her eyebrows knitting together. “No, of course not.” She shakes her head. “I think I just needed to dip my toes in before fully committing.”

I purse my lips, not fully buying it, but deciding to give her the benefit of the doubt. “Okay, but if you change your mind, just let us know.”

The three of us settle in upstairs, conserving most of our energy for Bottom Line. I peek over the banister one last time and finally see the stagehands swarm the stage, wheeling away the amps to replace them with bigger ones.

Then the lights turn back on, and the surround sound hums softly in the background as people start to pile out for the intermission. Or, in other words, our cue to head downstairs and claim spots closer to the stage.