And then there was Woodstock. She wanted to join Woodstock. She wanted to be there when that happens. Wouldn’t that be historical and monumental just like the first landing on the moon? And what better way to experience the significance of it all than being physically present and basking in the glory of arts, music and rock and roll, along with the presence of music legends and surrounded by people who are equally, if not more than she was, immersed in the idea of just living in the moment without a worry, of co-exisiting together harmoniously through arts and music and just being together because of it, even for just three days? She heard Janis Joplin would be there. Janis was her hero. Janis had saved her from some sticky spots several times. No, not Janis, herself. Her music.
But not today, though. Rosie thought that Janis could never save her from the ruins that was happening today and probably the next days. Her dream of getting out of Burns through a record deal crashed right before her eyes earlier today. It was like Armageddon of some sort and she was both a spectator and a casualty. It was like watching her world stopped from spinning and then dramatically collapsing before her very eyes while feeling all the debris crashing into her. It was heart-breaking, soul-wrecking and terrifying and she did feel her heart hitting straight into the dusty garage floor before it broke into pieces, sending shards spreading all over her feet.
They ruined it for her. Cold, mercilessly and instantaneously. They left her confused, bruised and shattered and the silence that trailed when they finally closed the garage door was deafening that it left her speechless, defeated and angry. She was definitely angry. She could feel all her anger traversing through the every veins of her body and burning down all the nice and sweet and everything good she had of her.
“Fuck you!” Roseanne spoke the words so loud it shocked the attention of the seven o’clock patrons that went silent for a second or two, except for Johnny Cash on the jukebox. Most of whom she knew from having served them almost on the daily for more than a year now and most of whom she was friendly with because Burns was relatively a small town with a relatively small number of population and everyone knew everyone. But she was angry and she’d probably be, forever. And if she couldn’t get out of Burns for rest of her life, then the people of Burns would have to deal with that from now on, she decided.
Fuck! She screamed inside her head while imagining herself getting old and dying in Burns after serving thousands of burgers and milkshakes all her life while watching with such bitterness that was acrid in the mouth, while the world was getting on and progressing and she was left there in Burns to wilt and die. What a boring way to die, she thought angrily and clutched the crumpled table napkin inside her fist so hard that it made her knuckles white and hurt while looking murderously at Loren from across the table.
They were sitting in the farthest table inside the Mile Post 36, where she had been working regular since after graduating highschool. She was about to leave after her shift when Loren arrived and asked if she could spare him a moment. And despite her not wanting to see him ever again nor talk to him ever again, she wasn’t sure where she would be heading for the night anyway and so she gave in. She didn’t want to go home just yet because then she’d be reminded of how things had changed now and she wasn’t sure if she could deal with all of it tonight. Her mind was all over the place. And by place, she meant her garage and the set of instruments that she overturned out of anger and the strewn of papers on the floor bearing the songs she had written that she sent flying when she was trashing the place after the horrible silence she had to endure alone when they broke the news to her today. She'd have to clean those up all by herself.
Rosie looked at Loren from across the table and she hated how it reminded her of the nights when he would come and pick her up from the diner so they could go to the pubs together, wherever their weekend gig was. She hated how he strutted casually when he arrived just a minute ago as though he owned the place but without his guitar strapped on his back. Loren would usually carry his old guitar everytime he would pick her up on Friday nights when he could just leave it inside his car. Of course, Loren was putting on a show for the girls from their old highschool, Rosie knew. The girls loved it and loved him because he was undoubtedly a beautiful Korean, and there was only a handful of Koreans in Burns, including herself. The girls would usually spend their Friday nights in the Mile Post, slurping on milkshakes while gossiping about who was dating who. They would then shamelessly giggle for Loren when he’d arrived because he was pleasing to their sight and would flirt with him, it was disgusting.
Chapter 1
Start from the beginning
