Close Match

by Jerald, Tracey

  A lone guitar from the pit starts to play, and the blood rushes to my heart so fast, I fear I’m going to pass out.

  Linnie begins to sing a rendition of Kelly Clarkson’s “Sober” that shatters the last illusion I held I was going through my pain alone. Even though the song might give the impression it’s about an alcoholic, it’s not. It’s about addiction in all its forms—including love. Linnie’s voice sings about keeping her flowers as she rids herself of the destructive weeds, and I realize it’s my choice to be one or the other for her. I can choose to have a drink, and she’ll always love me, but she’ll remove my toxicity from her life. Or I can stay firmly rooted in the steps I’ve taken to fix myself, and maybe we can see if what we had will take root.

  Her voice soars to the heavens as she sings about how much harder it is now. I agree, my love. It is harder now. I don’t have a crutch anymore. I’m just this broken man who’s crawling after a dream. And the only hope I have it’s enough is the fact you sent me this ticket.

  Linnie’s not done singing, but I don’t think twice. I stand. I want her to know I’m waiting for her. Always.

  When she turns from the other side of the stage, only someone who knows her every facial tick would catch her falter. But she makes her way over. Standing almost directly in front of me, she finishes singing the last few lines of the song, adapting them to her magnificent voice.

  And soon, I’m not the only one standing.

  But it’s my eyes she holds while using her free hand to clasp her hand over her heart as she sings the last line of the song before she makes her way offstage to a standing ovation.

  I know I’m clapping louder than anyone else there.

  Eighty-One

  Montague

  Other than the time necessary for the network commercial breaks, the show hasn’t stopped for hours. Either Linnie or Simon has come out to introduce every act, explaining how their lives have been impacted by drug or alcohol abuse.

  Unfortunately, I’m less shocked than some of the other tuxedo-clad people sitting around me when Simon comes on stage to declare, “Tonight we entertained you because of the effects of how drugs and alcohol have affected Broadway and musical theater. But right now, I want to give you some statistics that affect everyone watching. According to the National Survey on Drug Use and Health performed in 2017, 19.7 million American adults—where an adult is considered twelve or older—are battling a substance abuse disorder.” The room gets eerily silent.

  “Seventy-four percent of adults suffering from a substance use disorder in 2017 also struggled with an alcohol use disorder. That same year, one out of every eight adults battled both a drug and alcohol disorder. 8.5 million Americans suffer from a mental health disorder and a substance abuse disorder concurrently.” He takes a deep breath to keep going.

  “The NSDUH also tells us the following: drug abuse and addiction cost Americans $740 billion annually in lost workplace activity, crime-related costs, and healthcare expenses. What if we can stop some of that now? By reaching out a hand to people who need some help?”

  Linnie steps onto the stage. “Addiction isn’t always something someone can control. I knew from an early age I’d have to be concerned. Addiction in all its forms is genetic; it accounts for 40 to 60 percent of the people at risk.”

  Simon says grimly, “Teenagers and people with mental health issues are more at risk for drug, alcohol, and other addictions than any other population in the nation. This includes our military veterans.”

  “And finally, emotional factors contribute to a risk of addiction. It starts with a tone from the top. This is where our children learn. When my mother put her sobriety ahead of anything, it’s where I learned. I’m just grateful my sister never had to experience the same thing.” Linnie’s eyes drift out across the audience before they settle. I can only assume Bristol’s here.

  “At the end of tonight’s broadcast, there will be information about how to get help. Please, if you or someone you love needs help, call those numbers. There are people who are in your area who care as much as we do.” Simon’s voice is heartfelt.

  “And if it’s you—if anything we’ve said or sung has got through—reach out. No one is going to turn away your hand.”

  “Linnie and I have one last number to sing tonight. We’ve asked the entire cast to join us. And we’re going to ask some of you to join us up on stage. Take a look around.” I and everyone on the floor of the theater turn around. Holy crap. The aisles have been cleared. Focusing forward, I see the orchestra drop and a stage move into place. Simon and Linnie clasp hands. “We’re going to pull some of the people we love up on stage. These are people who helped bring this event together for us in our hearts. We’re also going to ask you all to get on your feet.” There’s a muted roar of excitement as thousands of people start to get to their feet, myself included.

  After the noise finishes, a lone banjo starts to play. Simon begins clapping and steps back. “Sing it, babe.”

  Linnie smiles before her lips begin to sing about being hurt, forgiveness, and hearts breaking free. She reaches the refrain where the two of them harmonize as they clasp their hands together and walk out to the new edge of the stage. Simon kisses her hand before he goes down a small set of stairs to walk over to Bristol. Grabbing her hand, he keeps singing with Linnie.

  She’s smiling and dancing around the stage for the people in the rafters until Simon’s back on the stage before she starts her descent. It must be a dream when I feel her hand touch mine. “What?”

  Pulling her mic away, she whispers, “Take my hand, Monty.”

  And as I touch her for the first time in six months, trying not to crush her delicate fingers in my larger ones, I follow blindly up the aisle while she sings with Simon. I can’t see shit between the lights and my tears, so I stumble on the first step. Her head whips around in concern. I swipe at the wetness and shake my head. Her smile, dynamic before, trembles.

  I don’t know what to do other than absorb the moment in my soul. It’s just Linnie and Simon facing each other harmonizing as if in a singing challenge. Then from behind me comes a voice—a gospel queen—singing on top of them. And someone else adds their voice. A four-part harmony that sends shivers through me to let me know I’m alive and blessed to be.

  All because one woman stood by me.

  The song ends. The applause rolls like thunder over the crowd. Even with their mics turned up, Linnie and Simon have to yell to be heard by the audience. The curtain closes for a brief minute, muffling the sound. But before I can say a word, it opens again. Simon yanks Linnie toward him to crush her close. I wait, uncertain of what I’m supposed to do.

  After all, I’ll stand by her through anything the way she stood by me.

  “We’re going to have to give them an encore,” Simon yells to the entire crowd. There’s a war whoop behind me.

  Linnie nods excitedly. Her hair bounces around the gold dress she’s been wearing since her solo number. “You guys ready?” she shouts.

  The roar from the cast is her response. Giving a thumbs-up to someone to the side of the stage, she moves back into my space. Even though I’ve seen her eyes in Ev’s face, I’ve missed them. The happiness in them right now is the look I want to see in them when I take my last breath, I decide. “This could take a while,” she apologizes with a crooked twist of her lips.

  “I’m here for as long as you want me by your side,” I tell her honestly.

  Something flashes behind her eyes. She holds out her hand. This time, I take it with no hesitation. Her fingers give mine a quick squeeze as the banjo starts up again. Linnie starts to sing. Simon joins her as they’re both exposed to the audience. The spotlight smacks us all in the face as the curtain opens, and we quickly become blinded. She squeezes and tugs my hand. I move forward right beside her.

  I don’t care if anyone can see tears on my face more clearly.

  They’re a gift.

  Just like the woman holding my hand singing.


  * * *

  After what seems like forever, the curtain closes. I’m separated from Linnie as person after person sucks her into the vortex of the night’s success. I panic a little when I lose track of her when suddenly she’s hoisted high in the air by a strong set of arms. “She did it! She pulled it off! Let’s hear it for our Linnie!”

  Wolf whistles and cheers ratchet up a notch. Even as she blushes, her eyes are searching over the heads until they lock onto mine. Her face softens. Other than the few words, we haven’t spoken. But something inside me relaxes when I see the look on her face.

  That is until a hand clamps down on my shoulder. “Linnie looks beautiful, doesn’t she?” Simon comes up behind me.

  I nod. “And happy.”

  “You have no idea how long it’s taken to get that way.” His hand clenches harder. “Why don’t we wait for her in my dressing room?” he offers. It’s not a suggestion.

  My heart thumps madly. It’s my first test. “Have the fixings for a Shirley Temple in there?” I ask quietly. “It’s my newest drink of choice.”

  The hand loosens a bit. A ghost of a smile flicks on his lips. “An homage?”

  I shake my head. “Maybe at the beginning? Then I found when I drank regular soda I was searching for something else to be hidden in it. This way, I can see, smell, and taste exactly what I’m supposed to have.”

  “Which is?”

  My eyes find Linnie through the multitude of people who are passing her around. “A chance. I don’t deserve anything more than that, and I’ll have to earn it every single day.”

  His hand, instead of clamping down again, relaxes completely. “Let’s get you out of this chaos. I’ll leave word for Linnie to meet all of us down in my dressing room.”

  Confused, I let Simon guide me out of the madness. “What did I say?”

  “Something she’s been telling me for a while. I guess I just needed to hear it from you.”

  Simon’s greeted and congratulated the entire way to the space that’s designated with a signed held up by duct tape as “Houde/Brogan.” “Come on in.” He opens the door.

  I step across the threshold, and Bristol Houde is cradling a sleeping dark-haired baby to her chest. “Shh, Simon. I just got him down.” She doesn’t even look up.

  “My love, we have company,” Simon murmurs. Bristol’s head snaps up. Her eyes dart to her husband before her face relaxes.

  “Montague Parrish.” Her voice sounds so much like Linnie’s it’s almost painful to hear the coolness I expected from one woman directed at me from the other.

  “Bristol.” I keep my distance from the small family.

  After a few whispered words that I can’t make out, Bristol’s smile warms. “I saw you up on stage, Monty. How did that make you feel?”

  “Petrified,” I admit. Bristol laughs softly. Simon guffaws. As a result, their son jolts awake.

  “Well then, since you’re here, you can put him down again. The nanny’s tried twice,” Bristol says with a touch of bitterness to her husband.

  “Because singing this little man to sleep is such a problem.” Simon reaches over and takes the baby from his wife. She touches her free fingers to her lips.

  “It is when you can’t sing your way out of a bad karaoke bar. Did Linnie ever share that’s one of the things they tested on our DNA tests?” Bristol’s whiplash change of subject makes my head spin. “That and they check to see if we’ll flush if we drink alcohol. Do you know if you do?”

  Ah. Now I get it. “I think I learned to tolerate so much of it that I might have broken the test.”

  “And now?” She crosses her arms akimbo.

  “I suspect the results would be more accurate, but I don’t plan on finding out the traditional way. Maybe I’ll take the test for my year sobriety.”

  Her lips curve. “I think that’s a great idea.”

  A nervous laugh escapes me just as the door flies open, almost catching me in the back. And there she is, triumphant from the night of success. Her eyes are just as I remember them before I let the alcohol take my hand instead of the woman I love.

  She’s the only star I’ve ever genuinely wished upon. And now that alcohol isn’t causing a haze over my memory, she’s brighter than I remember, more vivid. What else was dulled about our relationship due to the bottle? And will I get a chance to find out?

  Linnie breezes by me to be enveloped in Bristol’s arms. Simon beams at both of them but doesn’t stop crooning to the baby in his arms.

  “I am so proud of you.” Bristol buries her head against Linnie’s shoulder.

  “I sure as hell didn’t do this alone,” Linnie says.

  “No, but it was your idea to do something more. It didn’t have to be this,” Bristol counters. “You took a stand. You believed. You opened your heart. You always do.” Her eyes drift over her sister’s shoulder to me. “And it looks like it might have paid off.”

  “Your instincts were right on.” Simon’s sitting; his hand gently rubbing his son’s head as he cradles him. “If we can help prevent one more family from being hurt the way ours was…”

  “Then it was worth it,” Linnie concludes as she pulls away from her sister. Slowly, she turns. I hold my breath as she walks toward me and holds out her hand just like she did when she was singing. Like I’m in a trance, I lift mine toward hers. “How many days has it been since you’ve last had a drink?” she calmly asks me as our fingers touch. That spark, the one that pulled us together from the very first moment, ignites.

  “One hundred eighty-three days, twelve hours, and—” I look away to check my watch. “—sixteen minutes. But that’s just from the time I woke up in the hospital. I don’t count the time I was blacked out before that. That’s how long it’s been since I woke up and realized my life was over.”

  “That’s not when your life was over, Monty. That’s when your life started again.”

  Shuddering, my voice cracks when I get out, “You’re right.”

  “Are you planning on drinking tomorrow?” No quarter given, but I don’t deserve any after what she’s been through.

  I shake my head. “No. Nor the day after that.” I’m firm in my declaration.

  “Then let’s celebrate tonight, and we’ll just…see.” As she turns to talk with her sister and brother-in-law again, I know I didn’t imagine the way her pulse fluttered in her neck.

  Maybe it’s just left overexcitement from tonight.

  Or maybe I’m being granted one final wish upon a star.

  Eighty-Two

  Montague

  It’s hours later. I’ve been on the outskirts watching Linnie celebrate with the rest of the cast. Euphoria and exhaustion are warring for equal time on her beautiful face. Tonight wasn’t just about putting on a charity show; it was about exposing her soul for the world to see. She’s pushed herself beyond her limits and can’t say no. She’s thinner than she was, more drawn. She’s lost a part of herself and hasn’t had a chance to recharge to be who needs to be.

  It’s my turn to try to be a hero if only for a little while.

  Stepping up behind her, I gently lay my hand at the small of her back. She jumps but not noticeably. “Didn’t you mention something about Simon and Bristol’s?” I say, being deliberately vague.

  The look she shoots me is laced with gratitude. “Yes. I’m sorry, everyone, but I have to go. We’re late.”

  There’s a flurry of well wishes before I’m able to guide her down a crowded hallway back to the dressing room we were in hours before. Once we’re inside, her head bows. Her hair cascades forward, exposing the smooth nape of her neck. I swallow hard. “What do you want to do?” I ask quietly.

  “I just want to go home.”

  “Do you want me to call you a car?” It’s the last thing I want to do, but I can see the trembling exhaustion beginning to set in.

  “No.” I remain silent by the door, uncertain whether I should stay or go until she takes the decision out of my hands. “Will you walk me b
ack? I’d like to talk.”

  “Of course. I’ll step outside.” I fumble for the knob behind me.

  “Thank you. I’ll be just a moment.” She comes closer until mere inches separate us. And then she quietly closes the door in my face.

  I fear that’s only the beginning of what’s going to happen on the way back to her condo.

  * * *

  She’s changed into an oversized cardigan, leggings, and ballet flats. After the heels she’s been wearing all night, I imagine they feel like heaven on her feet. She’s struggling to shrug on a long black coat while holding on to an enormous purse. “Let me,” I offer quietly.

  She stills before turning her back to me. I hold the collar of the coat while she slips in one arm and then another. “Would you mind holding this?” She hands me the oversized leather bag.

  I take it and it almost pulls my wrist to the floor. “Jesus, what do you have in here? Anvils?”

  Linnie’s lips tip up, revealing a flash of her dimples. “Shoes, makeup, you know—all the things I don’t want to leave here overnight.”

  “How about I carry this while you navigate?”

  “It’s not that heavy,” she protests. I take a chance and lay my hand on her shoulder. Even through layers of coats and clothes, I feel her stiffen.

  “You’re running on empty, Linnie. I can help with this.” I hold her gaze for a moment before she acquiesces.

  “Okay.” Taking a deep breath, she nods toward the right. “Let’s head out the back. If we try to go the way we came, we’ll be here till dawn.”

  “Whatever you say.” We begin walking. After a few more well wishes, we’re left alone on a dimly lit staircase heading down a flight. To break the awkward silence hovering between us, I tell her, “I’m sorry to hear about your godmother.”