by Carian Cole
“Blue might be a little strange and difficult, but he’s always been nice, and caring, in his own ways. I know he wouldn’t do anything to hurt Lyric. I think he would love her.”
“Really? Like he loved you and his dog?”
I glare at him. “Don’t be a jerk. I think he was just really confused at the time.”
“Nobody understands being confused more than I do, but he handled it like a first-class douche. I don’t want you or Lyric getting hurt. I don’t care who the hell he is.”
“It doesn’t matter to me who or what he is now. I still love him. And I believe he loves me,” I say softly. “I saw the concert schedule on their website. They’re going to be playing in Boston in two months, and I think I have to find a way to see him while he’s there so we can talk.”
He shakes his head. “Being in love with this guy has had your head fucked up for years. I don’t think talking is going to do a damn thing or get you what you want. If I were you, I’d hire a lawyer, get a paternity test done for proof, and sue for child support. He’s obviously got some money now.”
Even after all this time, I know Blue would never question paternity. He would believe me with zero doubt. And besides, Lyric looks way too much like him for anyone to ever deny that she’s his.
“Josh, really? Money is the last thing I want from him. You know I’m not like that.”
He rubs the back of his neck in frustration. “All right,” he sighs. “This goes against my better judgment, but one of the photographers I’ve worked with does a ton of band photography. Let me get in touch with him and see if he’s got any connections to get you in front of this guy.”
I perk up with renewed hope. “You’d do that for me?”
“I can’t make any promises, but I’ll try.”
I jump up and throw my arms around him. “Thank you. You’re the best.”
“Don’t thank me yet.” He pulls away and rests his hands on my shoulders. “Your makeup is a mess. Why don’t you go take a bath and I’ll pick up Lyric. I have to run some errands anyway.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, it’s no problem. I think you should regroup before Lyric gets home. You know she can tell when you’re upset about something.”
He’s right—Lyric is very empathetic for a child. She dials right into the emotions of people and animals around her and wants to make everyone feel better. It’s one of the many things I love so much about her.
The bath was supposed to relax me, but I sabotaged that by bringing the CD with me. I slid out the cover, which unfolded to show tiny printed lyrics and credits. On the last section of the foldout each of the band members included a short acknowledgement or dedication, and I read Blue’s last:
For Piper, keeper of my heart, you’ll always be my ladybug. Don’t give up baby, I took a walk, but I didn’t run away.
Chapter Twenty-One
The past two months have been a mix of both warp speed and dragging time. I haven’t been sleeping or eating well, and my focus at work has once again been lacking. My brain is either too tired to function or my train of thought is constantly derailed with thoughts of Blue. I’ve been listening to his music practically non-stop, analyzing the lyrics, trying to decipher what they mean and wondering if they’re a key to his feelings or just random words thrown together for the sake of a good song. I’m exhausted, and I’m disappointed in myself for getting so distracted with him again. I should be above this by now, shouldn’t I? I’m older and more mature. I’m stable. I’m professional—most of the time. I’m a mother.
But damn, when it comes to Blue, I always short-circuit. As unsettling as that is, it’s also undeniably exciting.
“Why can’t I go with you, Mommy?” Lyric asks. She’s perched on the bathroom vanity watching me put mascara on. She’s obsessed with makeup lately and loves to put on lip gloss and eye shadow. I have to watch her or she’ll make herself up when I’m not looking.
“Ditra and I are going to a concert, and it’s just for grownups. But you’re going to stay home with Uncle Josh and watch movies and eat popcorn and have lots of fun, okay?”
“Can I have ice cream, too?”
“You can have one scoop.” How can I say no when she’s inherited her ice cream addiction from me? I throw my mascara back into my makeup bag and plant a kiss on her nose just as Ditra appears in my bathroom doorway.
“Are you almost ready?” she asks. “We don’t want to be late. It’ll be a nightmare to find a parking spot.”
Taking a deep breath, I nod and exhale. “Yeah, I think I am.”
She picks up Lyric and settles her down on the floor, and we watch her happily skip off, most likely to find Josh downstairs.
“You look like you’re going to be sick,” Ditra says.
“I feel like I’m going to be sick.”
Ever since Blue walked out of my apartment years ago I’ve daydreamed about seeing him again, and now that day is here. Josh pulled some strings to get VIP meet-and-greet tickets to the No Tomorrow live acoustic show in Boston tonight. With any luck, I’ll be in the same room with Blue for the first time in five years. I’ve never been backstage at a concert before, but hopefully we’ll be able to talk somewhat privately.
Unless he runs when he sees me. Or pretends he doesn’t know who I am. Or…
“Piper?”
I shake my head and re-focus on Ditra. “Hm?”
“Stop freaking out. You’re going to be fine.”
“What if he ignores me? He might be too busy to even talk to me. He has fans now and I’m just a nobody.”
She tilts her head. “Seriously? He mentioned you by name in the CD credits. He left a note in your car. The dude isn’t going to ignore you once you’re right in front of him. Plus, you look drop-dead gorgeous. There’s no way in hell he’s going to blow you off. And if he does? I’ll throat punch him.”
“What if he goes ballistic when I tell him about Lyric? There’s going to be lots of other people there, right? I don’t want to cause any kind of scene.”
“I’m sure he’ll be surprised but I don’t think he’s going to go ballistic. She’s his daughter, and it’s time for him to know she exists. You’re doing the right thing telling him, no matter how awkward it is. That secret baby bullshit some women pull isn’t cool. You’re both adults. He’ll be fine. Maybe a little shocked, but fine. She’s a little girl, not a bomb.”
I wish I felt her confidence, but I have no idea how Blue is going to react when he sees me. I don’t know what kind of person he is now, or what frame of mind he’s currently in with his life. He could be totally level-headed or off the rails.
He could be married. He could have other children. He could have a girlfriend.
Hell—he could have all of the above and Lyric and I might just be a massive inconvenience to him.
Then what?
For two months I’ve been rolling the scenario dice in my head and have come up with several outcomes, ranging from epic disaster to fairytale happy ending.
As Ditra drives us to the concert, I’m only half involved in our idle conversation. The other half of my mind is back to trying to manifest everything I’ve been dreaming of, focusing on the positives, like I did the day Blue disappeared. It didn’t work then, but that doesn’t mean it won’t work now.
There’s power in positive thinking. I’ve read about it, I’ve seen others do it and they got the results they wanted.
So can I.
I can be happy. I can have the life I’ve dreamed of. I can—
“Piper?” Ditra shoves my shoulder. “Snap out of it. No amount of driving yourself crazy is going to change anything. Please stop worrying. Let’s just enjoy the concert. Do you have any idea how lucky we are to have tickets? This shit sold out months ago.”
“I know.” I wonder if the craziness of it shocks Blue as much as it does me. How he used to play for quarters thrown into a jar and now he’s sold out.
Ditra continues to rattle on next to me.
“Whatever happens after that, happens. You can’t change it. But let’s have fun and at least appreciate that this drifter dude you dated, the father of your child, went from playing on the streets to being a freakin’ musical legend.”
My stomach lurches. Blue? A legend? “I don’t know about that, Dee.”
She turns the car into the venue parking lot. “It’s true. He’s the real deal.”
Legend. Real deal. None of that means a thing to me. He’s the guy who made me a bracelet, bought me ice cream cones, snuggled with me as rain pattered against the tin roof, sang me to sleep, and ultimately stole my heart.
He’s my first and only love. The legend of my very best memories.
This is the fourth concert I’ve ever been to, and my first unplugged or acoustic performance. In a venue with other musicians and a huge crowd, that is. I watched Blue play unplugged, unhinged, unshowered, unhappily, uninhibited, and a million other un-things many times in the park and in the shed years ago. Back then it didn’t have a fancy name, though. It was just what he did.
And now, as Ditra and I settle into our seats to the left of the stage, I’m shocked by the number of people filing into the hazy room all the while speaking to each other in hushed voices as if this is a library or they’re in the graces of royalty.
I chomp my gum in fascination and watch all the fans, many wearing No Tomorrow T-shirts.
Leaning closer to Ditra, I whisper, “There are T-shirts.”
“Do you want one? There’s a guy out in the lobby selling them. We walked right by him.”
I do want one, but how bad will that look when I talk to Blue later? Standing there wearing a band shirt like a starry-eyed fan? Which I’m not. I mean, I love his music and his voice and I’ve been listening to it all non-stop... but I’m not a fan in the traditional sense of the word.
I’m a fan of him. Of his mind and his heart.
This is so very complicated.
The overhead theater lights dim and people scurry like mice to take their seats as the stage curtain separates.
I’m disappointed when members of a band I don’t recognize take the stage. I had completely forgotten about the opening act. My leg bounces with anxiety as they play songs I’ve never heard of, and I’m relieved when they finish and the curtain hides the stage again.
My teeth mash together in frustration. Does this really need to be so torturous?
After a few minutes, the heavy black curtain, deliberately torn, faded, and tattered, slowly pulls away to reveal the stage set up once again—still devoid of No Tomorrow.
The drummer, whose name I’ve forgotten, appears from the shadows and all but disappears when he sits behind his set. One by one, each band member enters the stage, and my heart pounds harder and faster, my eyes riveted to that shadowy, elusive entry point.
Waiting.
And there he is. Slowly sauntering, guitar in hand, to the stool and mic at the center of the stage, sandwiched between the other two guitarists. The crowd cheers and whoops, and he gives them the same humble, grateful nod he used to give the listeners in the park.
He looks so much the same, so much still in the world of his own head, that I almost expect to see Acorn sitting beside him up there on the stage. My chest heaves with deep breaths as a mix of anger and intense yearning clash inside me. How dare he sit there looking so normal—so untouched. For years I’ve felt that the scars I bear from his massacre of my heart must be visible to others in some way. Surely I don’t smile nearly as much, or as brightly, as I once did. I no longer giggle at silly jokes. I can’t read romance books or watch movies based on love stories anymore.
I’m changed.
But he looks the same. He’s still insanely good-looking. Maybe even more so now as his hair is longer and fluffier and he’s not quite as thin as I remember. His sparkling blue eyes are just as striking from my tenth-row seat as they were the last time I looked into them up close, when he kissed me goodbye, winked at me, and walked away.
The all-too-familiar lump of emotion forms in my throat.
He may have walked out of my apartment and my life, but he definitely has not walked out of my heart. Not by a long shot.
And as much as he’s hurt me, and shredded my heart to bits, just the sight of him still draws me in, possessing me like the words of a favorite song that I can’t not sing.
I feel like I’m about to combust in my seat as I grip the arm rests. I ache to walk up to him on that stage, see that beautiful smile he used to flash at me, and throw my arms around him. I want to grab his hand and run from this building with him. To the shed. To the place where we murmured undying love to each other over and over again and slept wrapped around each other, shivering from the icy drafts.
These people surrounding me don’t know him. They know his voice and the sound of his guitar, but they don’t know what his lips feel like, what his whispers sound like, what his body feels like.
They don’t know he agonizes over every note and every lyric. They don’t know how I listened and watched him with worry and love.
They don’t know about ladybug myths and rain.
I do.
Tears well up in my eyes and my vision of him on stage shimmies, as if he’s in an ocean of tears.
He lights up a cigarette with casual finesse as if hundreds of people aren’t sitting here waiting for him. Not to mention I’m pretty sure smoking is prohibited in here. But when has he ever followed rules? Settling the guitar on his thigh, he leans forward slightly to adjust the mic, and I catch a glimpse of feathery blue in his wavy hair, and my mind and heart are transformed back in time again. When he was mine and I was his and all these movements and mannerisms were as comforting and familiar to me as an old childhood teddy bear.
Why did he leave me? Why has he chosen this life full of strangers to play for when he could be playing for me in all our special places, making me breathless like only he can?
“Are you okay?” Ditra whispers in my ear.
I nod, unable to look away from the man on the stage who’s still got my heart in a vice, afraid I’ll miss something—a smile or a glance my way. I wonder if he would just lift his head, not hide behind the hair falling across his face... if he would just look out at the crowd, would he notice me? Would our eyes lock like they did way back when in the park when we just clicked? Would he feel the wave of memories course through his veins like I am? The undeniable pull of fate? Would he miss my kiss and my touch—would he miss me—so much that he’ll want to grab my hand and run?
I’d go. I’d sprint out of here with him without a second thought and run anywhere just to be with him again.
“Somehow he’s even hotter, isn’t he?” Ditra observes, breaking into my thoughts. “I guess he can afford to eat now. He’s got some meat on him.”
I noticed. I’m noticing everything.
I want to smack my best friend for also noticing and for pointing it out, because that means every other female in the room must be noticing and I don’t want them to. I want Blue to be mine and only mine to look at.
But without introduction or warning, Blue’s gravelly, tortured tone is filling the room:
We-eeeeeee loved until it hurt,
and we-eeeee, we broke each other’s hearts.
Believe me-eeee, every word I ever said,
It was all I had, all I ever had to give.
And I know, baby, I know, you shoulda had
So much more.
So much more....
The lyrics, so seductive in their sadness, come to life on his lips and in his half-closed eyes. Blue has always sung as if the words were being torn right out of his soul and I’m relieved to see that neither time nor fame has changed that.
I’ve never witnessed such an intimate concert, not in person or on television. The stillness of the crowd speaks volumes of their respect and love for the band. We’re all mesmerized, savoring every note and every word, waiting until the end of each song to clap and whistle in appreciation.
>
At the end of the third song, Blue finally looks at the crowd as if he’s just realized we’re here, and flashes a crooked, shy smile that I’m quite sure melted the hearts of every female in the room.
Me included.
“Thanks for being here with us tonight. We’re honored to play so close to where we all grew up.” He takes a sip from a glass that’s sitting on the floor next to his stool.
Didn’t he grow up in New Jersey? Hm. Maybe to him that’s close?
The crowd claps softly.
“Once upon a time, I left my heart in New England,” he continues, and my heart nearly leaps into my throat. Is he referring to me? Some other woman? Acorn, perhaps? “And I ain’t never been the same.”
He glances at Reece to his left, and they sing together in perfect synchrony.
Bloodstained tears, an angel without wings
Bury me in words, and steal my breath
Drag me from the depths of my tor-mented mind
Forget what I said, I’ve lost myself, I’ve lost my way
I walked so far but went nowhere in these shoes
I know nothing at all, but I once knew you
And, maybe, for a moment, you knew me too.
By the end of the concert, I’m a twisted mess of awe, heartache, and pride. Even if I had never known Blue personally, I would leave this theater feeling touched, forever changed by the band’s talent, their obvious camaraderie, and Blue’s charismatic stage presence. Tonight would be a memory I would cherish forever as something rare and special, as I’m sure most of the people surrounding me feel as well.
“That was amazing,” I say to Ditra as we stand and slowly make our way to the center aisle. “His voice is incredible. Everything was incredible.”
“It was definitely one of the best live performances I’ve ever seen. His voice is insane. And that other guy he sang with? Sheer perfection.”
“I think that’s Reece. I think they were friends in high school.”
