by Daisy Allen
“And he will be for the rest of his life.”
“What can I do to get you to drop this?”
“What makes you think I want anything?”
“Because I know you. I know how selfish you are, how greedy for fame and fortune. How nothing in the world matters but you.”
He grins. “And that’s why.”
“Why what?”
“Why I want you to come work for me, because you know me.”
“Not this again.”
“Yes, exactly this again.”
“Come work for you? I despise you. Now more than ever.”
“That won’t stop you from doing your job. See, I know you. Come, come work for me and my band. Write about us, get us in the papers, on the news, in front of people’s faces.”
“I have a job.”
“Quit. Today. I’ll pay you twice what they’re paying. Can you really afford to say no?”
“You’re sick.”
“Fine. Forget the money as a reason. Why don’t you think about this—you come work for me, and I might not feel so inclined to keep pushing for custody, since I’ll get to see more of Ben since you’ll be around.”
“What?” Please don’t offer me this, I beg him in my head. Don’t make this part of the deal. I won’t be able to say no.
“You heard me. So, think it over. But not too long. Tick tock, all offers have an expiration date. Just remember, I won’t stop until I’ve won, Emily. I’ll do whatever I can to make it so. Pick the right team to be on. Sooner or later, I will get what I want.”
***
How many times have you looked back on a decision you’ve made, and wished that you’d done it differently? How many times, when in that moment, you’d been so sure you were doing the right thing?
How many times in my future will I look back on this exact moment and wonder if I made the right decision.
“Come on, Ben. Hurry up, we have to go.” I hurry my son. Grabbing as many of our possessions as possible and cramming them into the suitcase.
“Where, Mommy? Where are we going?” he asks, taking my hand as I lead him out of the bus.
“We’re going…we’re going away. We have to leave, right now.” I push the suitcase out the door and pick Ben up under his arms and help him down the steps.
“But…I don’t want to go, Mommy. I want to stay,” he says, tugging on my arm, willing me to drop the suitcase handle.
“I know, I know, but we can’t. You have to come with me now. We’re going to go on a new adventure! Don’t you want that?” I say, trying to keep my voice light, hoping he doesn’t pick up on my own sadness.
“I don’t know, Mommy. I don’t want to leave.”
“I’m sorry, baby. Mommy’s sorry, but it’s for the best.”
“Can’t I say goodbye to everyone?”
“No, sweetheart. We don’t have time. We, er, we can call them later.”
“Please, Mommy please!” he yells, and his confusion tears at me.
“Quiet, Ben. Just please, be quiet until we get into the taxi.”
“I don’t want to be quiet, Mommy! I want to say goodbye to everyone. I want to say goodbye to Uncle Brad! Uncle BRAD!” he yells.
“What’s going on? Where are you going, Emily?” Brad comes up behind us, catching Ben in his arms.
“I…I have to go, Brad. I’m sorry,” I say, not bearing to look at him.
“No…wait, what’s going on? Where are you going?” he asks, his voice as panicked as I feel.
“I… I can’t tell you.”
“Then you can’t go!”
“I have to, our taxi is here. Say goodbye to Uncle Brad, honey.” I pull at Ben’s sleeve.
“No!” he yells and wraps his arms tighter around Brad’s neck. I almost wish I could let him stay, to spare him this.
“You’re taking Ben?” Brad asks, his hand coming up to cup Ben’s head against his chest.
“Of course I am, he’s my son. My son…and Silas’s,” I force myself to say, force him to remember.
“No, Butter.” he pleads. “Talk to me, tell me what’s going on, I can help, I promise I can help!”
“You can’t, it’s too late. We have to go. Let him go, Brad.”
“I don’t want to go, Uncle Brad. I want to stay,” Ben cries, and I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to ignore the despair in his voice.
“I’m sorry, baby, I’m so sorry. Brad, let him go, please.”
He looks at me like I’m asking him to tear his own heart out. He squeezes Ben tight, closing his eyes as they cling to each other, unable to let go. “I love you, Ben,” he whispers against my son’s ear. And I hope Ben never forgets it.
“I love you, Uncle Brad,” Ben sobs.
Brad leans over and I reach for Ben, pulling my son into my arms. His scream at being taken from Brad pierces my ear, but he lets me hold him, his body shaking with tears.
Brad reaches over and wraps his arms around us, his hand warm on my back as he whispers, “I love you, Emily.”
I can feel my heart shattering, and I have to leave before I can’t. I pull away from him, forcing myself to look into his eyes one last time.
“Goodbye, Brad. I had no choice. I’m sorry.”
I carry Ben over to the taxi, Brad following with our suitcase. I climb into the car and shut the door behind us as the taxi driver lifts the suitcase into the trunk and closes it with a thud. Ben climbs onto the seat staring out the window, his hand pressed up against the glass. His sobs echo the same thing I feel in my heart.
I don’t turn back. The past is now in the past.
How many times? How many times will I relive this moment, wondering if I was right or wrong?
Chapter Thirty-Three
Brad
No one will tell me where she is. Someone must know, but no one will tell me.
Not Dennis, not her editor, not even her mother, who has spent the entire time we were friends trying to get us together.
She won’t answer her phone, she won’t reply to my emails.
I don’t know how she is, how Ben is, and how that fucker Silas fits into the equation.
I only know that once again, I have a gaping hole in my life in the shape of a blue-eyed, shiny-haired brunette, and it feels like all the air in my lungs gushes away into that abyss.
“Tell me where she is, Phil.”
“I don’t know. I don’t know anything more than you. Only that she sent me all her notes, an outline of her article, and a simple ‘I’m sorry.’”
“TELL ME WHERE SHE IS!”
“Brad. I promise you. I don’t know. I would if I could. But she hasn’t been in contact with me at all.”
“You’re just pissed at her because she left you high and dry.”
“I can see how you might feel that way. But at this point, I just wish I knew that she’s okay. Let me know if you find out anything.”
I know he’s telling the truth. It’d be easier to think otherwise. At least then I’d have hope of having some way to get in touch with her, but I know, I know he cares about her. He didn’t blink an eye when I asked him about helping to fund a nanny for Ben on the tour. He only asked what else he could do to make it happen.
“I will. I’m...I apologize for yelling at you. I’m just very worried.”
“I know. I’ll let you know if I hear anything.”
“Please.”
I hang up the phone and stare at it. It’s ridiculous that someone can just vanish into thin air. Two people, I remind myself, though I hardly needed to. I didn’t think it could’ve been worse, but the ache is double what is was when we last parted. There are two empty spots in my heart now.
“Hey, have you heard anything?” Jez wanders into the living room on the bus from his bedroom.
I just shake my head.
“Nothing at all?”
“Yeah. Not from her. No one that will answer my phone calls has heard anything either. That, or she’s told them not to tell me anything.”
&n
bsp; “It’s fucked up.”
I shrug. I don’t know what to say.
“It is fucked up, Brad,” Jez says firmly, surprising me.
“What’s fucked up?” Marius asks, climbing onto the bus, Sebastian and the girls trailing behind him.
Jez just sighs and gestures his head toward me.
“Ah. Well, for once, I agree with you.”
“What do you mean?”
“You didn’t see what we saw when she left.”
“No, I fucking lived it,” I remind him.
“Well, I can tell you, watching it was no picnic either. She was sad, Ben was devastated, confused...and you. Well, I could do without seeing you look that wretched ever again, thanks. Except, now I’m seeing it every day.”
“But we don’t know why. She must have a reason.”
“What could possibly be worth that, man?” Marius demands.
“You guys are being too rough on her. It’s not like she wanted to leave. You saw how she looked! Something’s going on, we just don’t know what it is yet.” Hailey says, her voice soft, obviously sad for her new friend.
“It’s not the first time—” Sebastian starts.
“Yeah, yeah, we know. Brad boo-hoo sad. A lot’s happened since then. She’s been amazing on this whole tour. Helpful, doing things she doesn’t need to, helping out where she can, not to mention talking you guys up a storm. The last few weeks, everywhere we’ve gone people have mentioned the columns she’s written. Come on, give her credit where it’s due,” Cadence rants at her husband, her arms waving around, emphasizing her point.
“I give her credit where it’s due. But the way she’s treated Brad, is not where that’s at,” Jez counters with a shrug of his shoulders.
“Guys...” I try to interrupt.
“Not to mention, how does Ben fit into all this? He was fucking traumatized,” Marius argues.
“She’s his mother, it’s her decision what’s best for him. That doesn’t always mean they know what it is,” Hailey counters.
“Guys...” I try again.
Marius ignore me and continues. “Well, maybe we would’ve all been better off if...”
“GUYS!” I yell, and they stop, as if realizing I’m there for the first time. “I appreciate all this fighting over my virtue, but all of it is irrelevant. The only thing that matters is where they are, and are they all right.”
“And how do we find that out?” Sebastian raises the vital question.
“I don’t have a fucking clue,” I admit.
We all look at each other, seemingly having the same lightbulb moment at once.
“Let’s ask Dennis!”
***
When I left at the age of eighteen to go on tour with the band, I couldn’t get out of London fast enough. I packed one bag, with three shirts and five pairs of underwear. My violin and bow. And a box of cookies my mother sneaked into my bag.
I left everything. Because I thought I’d lost everything.
My parents begged me to write or call more often. But anything that made me think of London made me think of her.
Now I spend my days looking for things to bring me closer to her.
I moved into her bedroom on the girls’ bus, gathering all the clothes and Ben’s toys she left behind in her rush to leave. I surround myself with them to keep me company on the sleepless nights.
Every conversation, I want to be about her. Every song, something to make me remember her laugh, her smile, her body, the way she felt in those seconds after climaxing and falling into my arms.
I have no wish to distance myself from her, only pretend that she’s not gone.
***
“I’ve found her. She’s with Silas,” my manager tells me after he’s pulled me apart from the band.
“What?” I can’t be hearing him right.
“She’s working for Silas.”
“Damn. How did you find that out?”
“She had to have her mail forwarded and Phil give me the address. It’s a PO Box that’s being paid for by Silas’s management company.”
“How the hell do you know that?”
“Just, it’s my job, okay?”
I can tell there’s something he’s wanting to say but isn’t.
“What?” I press.
“I was going to make an insulting joke, but for once, I think you probably don’t deserve it.”
I raise my eyebrow, curious. “Well, now I have to hear it.”
“I was just going to say, I got four deadbeat musicians two Grammy awards for playing classical music in a year where the video with the roundest, jiggliest ass was the most popular form of entertainment. Finding the address of an ex-employee is a lazy morning for me.” He gives me a half-smile and I know he’s just as worried as the rest of us.
“You are the king,” I tell him.
“Seriously, though. I don’t know what you’re going to do with this information. And to be honest, I spent a lot of time wondering if I was going to give it to you. Be careful. I’m serious, it’s not just about her…and the kid. But you, you need to be careful how you tread from here.”
“What do you think I should do?” If anyone would know the right thing to do, it would be Dennis.
“I don’t have a clue. I’m sorry it’s come to this. I like her. Hell, I even like the sticky little kid. You guys don’t deserve this. Whatever’s going on, why she left and why she’s working for him now? I don’t know. I just know it’s not right.”
“Well, I know why. Well, I can guess. And you’re correct on that—it’s not right. It’s not right at all.”
He pats me on the shoulder, and not for the first time, I wonder where any of us would be if it weren’t for Dennis.
“Thank you, D.”
“You bet.”
I reach over to try to give him a man-hug. He pulls way, looking terrified for a moment, before batting me with his tattered leather notebook and making a run for it.
***
It’s Sunday here, and you’ve been gone almost a week. I miss you more than I did yesterday. By tomorrow, who knows if I’ll even be able to bear. I’ve found Ben’s sock, the one with the toes all different colors? I know he loves it. Tell him I’ve got it, and I’ll get it back to him one day. Tell him I promise it.
The message sends, and I close my eyes, ready for another night of missing them.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Emily
I read the text message. By the time I get to the end it’s blurry and I have to wipe my eyes to make out the words. Just like with all the other messages. I can’t quite make myself delete it, and archive it in a folder with the rest of them. Hidden until halfway through the night when I can’t sleep, and I take them out to read, one by one again.
At least we’re back home.
After leaving Bra—…after leaving Liverpool, Silas was at least reasonable enough to let me go home instead of joining them on the road immediately. I thought he was being especially generous, only to find out that his band was going to be based in London for the next few weeks anyway, doing a round of live interviews and shows, and rehearsing to work out some of their kinks.
I wasn’t going to complain though. The last thing I really wanted was to jump head-first into another tour, with people I didn’t know.
Ben is back in school, which is the best thing for him at this point. Brad or no Brad, in hindsight, taking him on the road at such a young age and while he was injured probably wasn’t the best thing for him. They say routine is the best thing for a child, and the tour with the Rock Chamber Boys was anything but that.
That’s what I tell myself though, when the doubt seeps in, and I hear him calling for Brad.
I try to ignore that fact that it was the trauma of leaving, not of being on tour that did the most damage. Instead I try to focus on the knowledge that in the long run, this will be the best thing for him.
For me, maybe not, but for him. Which is really the same thing, I guess.
T
he phone rings, and I brace myself. Either it’s Brad or it’s Silas. One I want to answer but can’t. And one I don’t want to answer, but will.
I glance at the screen and sigh.
“Yes, Silas?”
“Don’t know if you know, but we’ve got a show booked for tonight.”
“Yeah, I have the schedule.”
“Do you need us to come pick you up?”
“No.”
“Um, okay then. I guess I’ll see you there at six.”
I hang up the phone, keen to get away from him as soon as possible. I throwing the phone onto the bed.
I tell myself the initial anger and loathing will subside soon, and then we can move on. And somewhere, deep inside me, I try to believe that it will happen.
***
The band comes running off the stage to the sound of enthusiastic applause. They’ve played an eight-song set, mostly their own songs, with two covers as an encore.
I sit at a table in the back, taking notes.
They have a tried and true rock sound, and their lyrics have some depth. But the performance leaves me cold. And it has nothing to do with the music. I know though, that my write-up will be as objective as it can be, because in the end, my feelings toward Silas, not the band, are purely personal. The other members have had nothing to do with my situation and from what I’ve seen of them, there’s no reason for me to think of them as just like any artists, trying to make it big in the world.
“Hey.” Silas comes over to me, shaking some hands as he moves through the crowd.
“Hey.” I don’t look up from my notebook. There’s no reason to look at him more than I have to.
“How was it?” he asks, high-voiced, still hyped from his set.
“Good.”
“Any notes?”
“Uh, nope.”
“Okay, do you know what you’re going to write yet?”
“You can read it when I’m done before I send it off.”
“Emily.”
I force myself to meet his gaze in response, raising an eyebrow.
“Is everything okay?”
