They Chose Her, I Left the Band

"Irene, I'm talking to you."

My brother, Anthony, rapped impatiently on the table.

I took out my earbuds and looked up. "What?"

Anthony tossed a rusty key into my lap.

I looked down. The tag said "Southside Motel, Room 802."

My voice came out dry. "Didn't we book a hotel? Why are you sending me to a motel?"

My sister, Susan, said it like it was obvious. "The hotel's almost full. Only two rooms are left, and both have king beds. Daisy and I will take one. Anthony and Arthur can take the other. Perfect.

"Anthony and Arthur have to look after us girls. As for you..."

Susan wasn't done. She added what she clearly thought was a joke.

"You're different. You dress like a tomboy and you pound those drums so hard, we're not worried about you."

She went on, "Besides, you need inspiration to write songs. I checked it out. The place is a little run-down, but it's quiet. It has that lonely-artist vibe. You'll be fine."

Those three words, "we're not worried," cut deeper than she knew.

I knew she didn't mean any harm.

She even thought she was defending me when she assured every worried relative that I was easy to care for and never needed anyone to look after me.

My whole life, the only praise I ever got was "mature," "low-maintenance," and "nothing to worry about."

Whenever my brother and sister brought friends home, they'd introduce me with the same line. "She's mature. You don't have to worry about her. Just leave her be."

I'd told them before that I hated hearing it. They only laughed and waved me off. "We're paying you a compliment, and you're still complaining?"

But it hadn't always been like this.

One night in high school, someone followed me partway home. I was so scared my heart was in my throat.

When I got home, I told my brother and sister, shaking all over.

They both went white. Without a word, my brother grabbed his jacket and retraced my route to see if the person was still there.

My sister threw her arms around me. "Why didn't you call sooner? You scared me half to death, you know that?"

After that, for a whole semester, they took turns waiting for me outside school.

My brother would sit on his beat-up old motorcycle, and my sister would stand under the streetlight and wave the second she spotted me.

In winter, she'd pull off her gloves and hand them to me, then stamp her feet with her hands jammed in her pockets. Whenever it was her turn, she was waiting at the school gate right on time. She never missed once.

Back then, I knew that even if they teased me, they cared about me.

But everything changed after Daisy, the neighbors' daughter, moved to the city from the countryside.

My brother and sister were always making Daisy giggle. At first, Arthur would frown as if he didn't approve.

But at some point, Arthur became one of them too...

When Anthony saw me frozen in place, he waved a hand impatiently in front of my face.

"My dear little sister, you're already embarrassing enough. Keep up the drama, and people really will get sick of you."

His eyes were cold with contempt, though his voice sounded sweet.

When I still didn't react, Anthony clicked his tongue in annoyance.

Daisy spoke up to smooth things over. "Maybe... maybe I should stay at the motel instead! Don't put Irene on the spot."

"No way!"

All three of them shot her down at the same time.

Daisy gave a coy little pout. "Why not? I can rough it too."

Arthur laughed and ruffled Daisy's hair fondly.

"A place like that isn't for you. You couldn't handle it."

Susan nudged my arm. "Hear that? Say something. Don't make this hard on everybody. The band budget has to cover Daisy's new keyboard. Be reasonable."

I looked at our reflection in the window.

The four of them looked like they'd stepped off a glossy band poster, the men handsome and the women gorgeous.

Only I didn't fit. I was like a shadow, always standing behind them.

I swallowed the bitterness in my throat and heard myself say, "Okay."

The relief on everyone's faces was obvious, as if they'd just gotten rid of a huge burden.

So, in their great generosity, they dropped me off at that run-down motel.

I pushed open the door to Room 802. Inside was a single bed, and the walls were so thin I could hear every sound.

The room reeked of cigarettes, sweat, and cheap booze. I nearly gagged.

Right on cue, Daisy video-called me. "Irene, while you're there, you can look for some underground rock inspiration."

"That place suits her. She'll take care of herself anyway. She'd never make us worry."