by Carian Cole
“I’m not entirely sure that’s a healthy situation for either one of us.”
“Everything we want is bad for us in some way, Piper. Come see me.”
My heart leaps to say yes and wants me to run straight to my closet and grab all the cute clothes and hop on a plane to re-capture the night we shared a few weeks ago—before the shit hit the fan. But my brain is screaming no, no, no. He’s still on drugs. He’s messed up right now on the phone as we speak. Tomorrow he might not even remember asking me to come see him, or he could disappear before my plane lands and I’ll be stranded in Seattle.
“I wish I could do that, but I can’t. Like I told you, I can’t just take off work last minute. And even if I could... I have Lyric to think about and you’re still messed up.” I try to word it as gently as possible. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to see each other when you’re using.”
“Could you maybe get someone to watch her? And you come see me? Then you could only miss one day of work. Like fly out here Friday, spend Saturday with me and go back on Sunday when I leave.”
He’s right, I totally could do that. But I’m disappointed he immediately wants me to leave Lyric home. Even though I’m not ready for them to meet yet, it hurts that he hasn’t asked about her at all during this conversation. I had hoped he would be curious about her, maybe ask me to send him a picture. Something. I’m grateful he sent money for her, but that may be all he’ll ever do, and I have to accept that. I refuse to push Lyric on a father who doesn’t want her and risk her getting hurt. She deserves better than that.
I don’t let my heart sway me into another heartbreak. “I can’t see you when you’re using drugs.”
“Okay. So I won’t do anything while you’re here. I’ll be high on you, nothing else.”
I lean my forehead onto my hand and close my eyes, wishing this wasn’t so hard.
“So we have a great day together, then we both leave, and you go back on tour and get all fucked up and I come home with a broken heart. Again. And I won’t know when I’m ever going to see you. Again. And I’ll worry about you constantly. I’m sorry, I can’t do it.”
I hear the click and spark of the lighter again, the suck of air, and I’m pretty sure he’s getting high again.
“You’re right.” The sexy confidence he had a few moments ago has been replaced with sadness. “I can’t do that to you. I’m sorry, babe, for being such a fucking mess.”
“I’m sorry, too.”
“After the tour, I’ll get in a program, okay? I promise.”
“Okay...”
“I mean it, Ladybug. I’m gonna try really hard this time.”
I sigh. “Okay.” I can’t say anything else. My heart hurts too much.
“Will you tell me you love me?”
“Of course.” I take a death breath and swallow over the tightness in my throat. “I love you.”
“Will you think of me when it rains?”
“Yes. I always do.”
“I want you to go to sleep, okay? Don’t think about the bad stuff. Think about how much I love you, and how much I want you, and no one else. No matter what, that’s always going to be true.”
That much is true. And that’s what scares me.
After we hang up, Acorn shows up at my bedroom door with Penguin in his mouth, and jumps up on the bed to cuddle against me. Blue might be a mess, but without him I wouldn’t have the love of two of the most precious little beings in the world.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“Morning.”
I smile at Josh as he enters the kitchen and makes a beeline for the coffee maker.
“Hey. What time did you get home last night? I didn’t hear you come in.”
He pours coffee into his favorite mug and leans against the kitchen counter. “It was late. Like two a.m.”
“Ooh. So the date went well?”
He shrugs. “Eh. She was okay.”
Putting my book down, I look at him across the room, wearing gray sweatpants and a white V-neck T-shirt. The front of his blond hair is longer now, hanging down almost to his eyes, and it makes him look edgy and sexy. He’s been doing a lot of photoshoots lately and even landed a hair product commercial not too long ago.
“Just okay?
“She has a lot of shoes.”
I raise an eyebrow at him. “Do you feel threatened by shoes?”
“No, seriously, Piper. She has about a thousand pairs of shoes. She collects them. She has an entire room in her condo just for shoes. They’re all sorted by color and heel height. It was scary.”
“Well it could be worse. She could collect dolls,” I tease.
“I would’ve jumped out the window. I love fashion, but having that many of anything isn’t normal.”
“It’s expensive, too.”
“No doubt. They were all expensive brands. I don’t know how she can even afford that many shoes.”
“Maybe she steals them.”
He gulps the last of his coffee and puts his mug in the dishwasher.
“I’m not going to see her again. I tried. She’s nice but I think she’s got hoarder potential or at the very least will run me into debt in six months flat.”
“You do realize you have double the dating pool and you still can’t find someone you like? Maybe you’re being too picky?”
Shrugging, he looks out the window into the backyard. “I’m not settling for someone just to be with someone. I’m happy. I have friends, I have family, I have you and Lyric. I don’t need a shoe hoarder or a guy who wants me to call him Daddy. I’m all set.” He turns back to me. “Where’s Lyric?”
“She’s in the playroom with Acorn doing that puzzle you gave her.”
“Have you been online this morning? Read any of the entertainment news?”
I narrow my eyes at him, suspicious of his random questions. “No... I haven’t been on my laptop yet. Why?”
“You might want to. Looks like your boy’s on a bender.”
“What are you talking about?”
He just shakes his head. “Go look. I’ll be out raking the backyard if you want to talk.”
Dread sends a feverish chill through me as I check on Lyric and then retrieve my laptop from where I left it on the coffee table last night. Sitting on the couch, I pull it onto my lap, wait impatiently for the dial-up to connect, and then open up my AOL account. I click on the Entertainment section and there it is.
The beginning of the downfall.
Thousands of Las Vegas concert-goes were disappointed and rightfully outraged last week when No Tomorrow front man repeatedly botched his own lyrics, cursed at fans, and stumbled around on stage in a clear state of intoxication before walking off stage mid-concert and refusing to come back.
Sources confirmed Von Bleu then disappeared with no contact for four days and was found wandering incoherently in the desert. He is currently hospitalized for dehydration and exposure but is in stable condition.
Back-up vocalist Reece Blackstone publicly apologized to No Tomorrow fans for canceling the last three shows of the tour and claims Blue has been suffering a breakdown from extreme stress coupled with a recent shoulder injury. He advised that Blue is receiving treatment and they will resume working on their new album soon.
There’s a video alongside the article, and I immediately regret clicking on it. Like a train wreck, I can’t look away from the ugliness of it. Even though I just read the details of his behavior, seeing him so out of control on stage, a complete disheveled drunken mess, barely able to stand or speak—let alone sing—is devastating and cringeworthy. Fans are yelling and booing at him, and I can understand why. The man stumbling around is nothing like the soft spoken, charismatic vocalist they came to see.
I want to bleach my brain. The videos and photographs make me nauseous on so many levels. And that whole disappearing thing. Just the thought of him walking into the desert, most likely with nothing but his guitar and his backpack, is disturbing.
Worried, I
chew my thumbnail while I try to process my thoughts. I want to call or email Reece and make sure Blue is really okay, but he may tell me things I don’t want to hear. I’m not sure I can be trusted to stay away if Reece tells me Blue is in a lot worse shape than this news article is letting on. And then what? Do I fly out there to see him? Get dragged further into this spiral of push and pull with him? If he’s this much of a mess, it will destroy me to leave him. I’ll want to bring him home with me and try to fix him. And him? He’ll probably fight me like a wild animal and ricochet between making me leave and begging me to stay. But other than Reece, who else does he have? What if he needs me?
I open up my email program and search for Reece’s email address, which I added to my contacts the day he came to talk to me and gave me his card.
“Mommy?”
I look up from the screen. Josh holds Lyric in the doorway. Acorn is beside them. “Uncle Josh is gonna teach me to plant flowers. Will you come, too?”
I hover my fingers over the keyboard for a few seconds, and then I exit out of the email. Standing, I smile at my beautiful baby girl. “I would love that,” I reply, catching Josh’s slight approving nod.
I need to focus on the good things in my life, and they’re all right here in front of me.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Immersing myself in work is what I do. I don’t even take a lunch break anymore. I eat at my desk over my keyboard, sometimes calling my mother or Ditra for a quick chat before I throw myself back into the never-ending to-do list of my day.
The rest of my time is spent with Lyric. Reading to her, taking her and Acorn to the park. Letting her help me get dinner ready. Watching television with her and Josh, until I finally fall into bed completely exhausted. The next day, I do it all over again.
As long as I keep myself busy, I’m not falling apart missing Blue, or working myself into a worried frenzy reading about his debauchery. There’s been a lot of crazy in his life lately, unfortunately. His life and career have been up and down like a seesaw. When I read about the ups, I silently cheer for him. I print out the articles, the interviews, and the photos. I hide them all away in an old steam trunk in the basement, along with all of his albums, band T-shirts, and memorabilia like concert tickets I’ve purchased over the years. All of this I hope to give to Lyric someday so she has pieces of her father’s life and accomplishments. Regardless of anything else, he’s an amazing musician—an icon in the grunge rock era—and I’m immensely proud of him for that. I hope all his accomplishments will help Lyric overlook his less than favorable moments. Like drunken tantrums on stage and disappearing into the desert.
It’s nearing five o’clock on Friday night, and I’m almost done updating the production schedule when my direct line rings.
“Good afternoon, Piper Karel.”
Silence.
“May I help you?” I ask.
“Hey, you.”
At the sound of his deep voice, my heart flip flops like a trained dog under his command. It’s been a year since we last talked, although I’m not really sure I can call that a talk at all. He called me drunk in the middle of the night, distraught and mumbling about voices and darkness and pain and how much he missed me and birds and things I couldn’t even begin to comprehend. I listened to him until the sun came up. I tried to calm him and bring him down from whatever mental trip he was on. Suddenly he stopped talking, and I held the phone to my ear for a full ten minutes, waiting and listening, and softly saying his name. Worried, I hung up and called Reece, who confirmed that Blue had passed out on his bed, still with the phone in his hand.
I, unfortunately, didn’t get to pass out and sleep that particular night a year ago. I had to get my daughter ready for school and head to a grueling Monday morning at work.
“Hi,” I say.
“You’re mad at me. I can hear it in your voice.”
“And you sound sober.”
“I am. But it’s still early,” he jokes.
“That’s not funny, Blue.”
He clears his throat. “I know. You’re right. I’m two weeks sober, actually.”
“That’s great.” I force myself to sound positive, but I’ve heard this before.
“I miss you, Ladybug. I think about you all the time.”
“I miss you too. You know I do.”
“How’s Lyric?”
I lean back in my chair and spin it toward the window. “She’s great. She loves school, she’s making friends. She loves to read. She’s reading books way ahead of her grade level.”
“She got that from you. I got the pictures you sent me. She’s adorable.”
“She is.”
“How’s Acorn?”
“He’s doing okay. He’s got cataracts now, and he doesn’t hear very well anymore. He limps sometimes. The vet says he has arthritis. He’s still happy, though. Lyric just loves him to pieces. They’re inseparable.”
“You’re a great mom, Piper. To both of them.” He pauses. “I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t know you were taking care of them.”
I want to tell him I didn’t have a choice, because he abandoned me with both of them. But I don’t, because I know he’s incapable of taking care of anyone—himself included.
“Well, I love them. So it’s easy.” I glance at the clock on my desk. “I hate to cut this short, but you caught me just as I was about to leave the office. I have to pick up Lyric at a friend’s house.”
“Can I call you tonight at home?”
“If you want to. But if you forget, I’m not going to call you.” We played that game last year. He’d email me and tell me he was going to call, and I’d sit and wait. And wait. I’d lose patience, give in, and call him and he’d either be out or inebriated in some way, and I’d feel like an idiot for waiting around for him.
“I won’t forget. I promise.”
I think about him as I drive across town. He sounded good today, like he did years ago. I know better than to get my hopes up, though, because we’ve been here before.
So many times.
As soon as Lyric’s in the car, I push Blue out of my mind to focus on her. I refuse to let him crawl back into my head and my heart and distract me from all the important things in my life.
I take Lyric to the diner for dinner. We have grilled cheese and share a milkshake while she tells me all about her day. Later, we put our pajamas on and sit in my bed watching Disney movies like we do every Friday night.
At ten-thirty my phone rings, and I pick it up before it wakes Lyric. She has fallen asleep beside me.
“Wow, you called,” I say, smiling with surprise.
“I’m trying to live up to my promises.”
“This is a good start.”
“How was your night?”
“The usual. I took Lyric to the diner, we took Acorn for a short walk, then we watched television. Exciting, huh?”
I wonder what rock stars do with their time. I doubt he sits around watching television.
“Honestly? It sounds nice.”
“It is nice,” I agree. “So what about you? Where are you now?”
“I got home last month.”
“I heard you did a tour in Europe?”
“Yeah, it was wild. The fans are crazy over there, they’re so passionate. And the food is fucking amazing. I got some new ink while I was there, I found a killer artist. I’ll send you pictures if you want to see.”
“I’d love to see.”
Lyric stirs next to me and pops her head up. “Mommy. Is that Gramma?”
“No, it’s a friend of mine.”
“Can I say hello?”
“Not tonight.”
“Wow. That’s her?” Blue asks.
“Yup. That’s her. Can you hold on for a few minutes while I take her to bed?”
“Yeah. Of course.”
I lay the phone on the nightstand. “Let’s get you in your bed, okay?”
“Can’t I sleep with you tonight?”
“Momm
y’s going to be on the phone for a little while so you should sleep in your own bed.” I jump off the bed and hold my hand out to her. “Let’s go brush our teeth.”
It takes me fifteen minutes to get her ready and into her own bed, and it hurts my heart when she asks me again who I’m talking to. I tell her again it’s a friend. Not telling her who it really is feels like a betrayal, but I’m not ready to tell her about Blue yet. Lyric has never asked me where her father is, or who he is, but I know as she gets older she’ll be asking those questions. I have no idea how I’m going to tackle that.
“You still here?” I ask when I’m back in my bed with the phone.
“Yeah.”
“I’m sorry that took so long.”
“It’s fine. I’m a little wacked hearing her voice for the first time.”
“How did that make you feel?”
“Um... a lot of things. Surprised and sad, but glad, too. Her voice reminds me of yours, so soft and cute. Does she know anything about me?”
“I was just thinking about that actually. She doesn’t. She’s never asked. But she’s almost six now and sooner or later she’s going to have questions.”
“What are you going to tell her?”
“Honestly I don’t know. I’m just going to tell her you moved away. When she gets older I’ll tell her more. I guess someday you and I can figure something out together.”
“Okay. I’m not ready yet but someday.”
I hear him inhale and I hope it’s a cigarette and not a joint.
“Someday I’d like to get to know her. It’s up to you, though. I know I don’t deserve anything.”
“Blue, don’t say that. She’s your daughter and I want you to have a relationship with her, but as long as she’s under eighteen, I don’t feel comfortable with her being around you if you’re still partying. I won’t let you yo-yo her like you do to me.”
“Understood. And I agree. I’m not an idiot, I know I’m not good for her. But it’s on the list of things I want to work on.”
“You have a list?”
“A list of things I want to unfuck in my life.”
