Unplugged (A Portrait of a Rock Star)

by J. P. Grider

  I let Mara leave …but I didn’t want her to. She had upset me, but only because the truth had hurt …so much. To hear someone else say it, well that was like pouring alcohol on my already wounded heart. But, I really had to talk with Mara. I shouldn’t have let her go. Not like that. This day was certainly turning out to be one hell of a bad day. And it wasn’t even noon yet.

  As much as my father and Ronnie had agitated me, my conversation with Mara had left me unsettled. Not so much was it what she said that bothered me, but how we left things. Moving forward with our relationship was kind of what I wanted, and talking about the serious stuff, well that would definitely help to lead us there. It was just so intimidating getting close to Mara. I was afraid I would mess up big time …again.

  After changing into my faded blue t-shirt and my favorite pair of jeans, which were now way too big on me, I googled Ackerman Farms to get the directions. Mara’s house was cute. It was a small white Craftsman, with dark green shutters. The driveway was long and narrow, because her house sat far behind a larger one of the same style, on the same property. I started to get a little nervous, because as I pulled up the drive, I saw her little white Beetle parked in the back. She was home. I saw the white lace curtains in the front window move, so I’m sure she caught a glimpse of me. There was no turning back now. I could not, very well, back out of her confining driveway now that she had seen me; there was no need for me to look sillier than I had already felt. I turned the ignition off and sat idly for a second or two to gather my courage. I couldn’t take too long, of course or I’d begin to look suspicious. However, when I looked toward the house, Mara was standing at the edge of her front porch, with her palms turned upward – as if to say, ‘well… are you going to get out of the car or what?’ Of course, I got out, shut the door and stood there …like an ass.

  “Tagg, come on in.” Mara was obviously riddled by my apprehension. I sauntered towards her, but felt as if I were moving in slow motion, almost in reverse. If the puzzled look on her face was any indication, I’d venture to guess that she was trying to assess what the hell was wrong with me. Well, basically everything was wrong with me as far as I was concerned. “Tagg, are you alright?”

  I finally made it up the stairs to her porch. She gently placed her hand on the upper part of my arm. “What’s going on Tagg?” Again, she asked, “Are you alright?”

  All I could do was look down and into her beautiful eyes. “Tagg, why don’t you come in? I’ll make you a cup of coffee.”

  I nodded my head and followed her in. “Go ‘head and sit down, I’ll go get us coffee.” She must have been wondering why all of a sudden I’d turned mute.

  I sat down on her red, green and gold plaid couch. Obviously something that came with the house, since she seemed too young to like plaid. I was still too nervous to speak. Here I was, in Mara’s house and I couldn’t even bring myself to talk to her. I leaned back against the couch, before noticing the book that was on her coffee table. I shifted forward to get a closer look at it. It wasn’t a book. It was a hard-cover journal. Pink. In the upper-right-hand corner, in small black letters, were the words My Letters to Brad. With my pinky finger, I lifted the cover to peek inside. In rounded, girly handwriting was a letter that began, ‘Dear Bradley, you don’t know how very much I miss you. Everyday is a struggle.’ I promptly let the cover drop back down; it was terribly inappropriate to invade her privacy like that.

  A few seconds later Mara entered the living room holding two cups of coffee. I stood up to take one from her. “This one’s yours,” she said as she gave me the cup in her left hand, “light with two sugars.” A pretty rose color suddenly appeared on her face and she softly said, “I noticed that you usually put two sugars in your latte, I assumed you took your regular coffee that way, too.”

  “I do.” The words came out raspy due to my previous silence. So, I repeated myself, hopefully sounding clearer. “I do.” I sat back down on the couch and sipped my coffee. Mara sat down on a green and white checked wooden chair that was positioned across from me. Well, the cushions were green and white check. The chair itself was made from wood. It looked like one of those old-fashioned chairs you’d see in someone’s grandmother’s house.

  I couldn’t help it, but in between looking at Mara’s questioning eyes, I’d keep glancing down at the journal, wondering who the hell Brad was. If she had a boyfriend, then I was definitely misinterpreting her vibes. Then again, if Brad was her boyfriend, then why would she be writing letters to him in a journal, instead of just talking to him. Unless he was in the service and stationed somewhere, like Iraq. Mara had noticed my deliberating. “Brad was my husband.” Obviously, I was lousy at hiding my thoughts.

  “Oh. I’m sorry. I …um…”

  She cut me off. “It’s okay.” In and instant she cut straight to the point. “Why are you here, Tagg?”

  Breathe, Tagg. Why was this so damn hard? “I… uh… I… I wanted to apologize … for my behavior before. I shouldn’t have asked you to leave.” She tried to interrupt me, but I raised my hand to stop her. “Let me explain, Mara.” My courage was finding its way back. “What you had said was exactly what I had known. Of course I take full responsibility for Crystal’s death. Why do you think I’ve closed myself off from society for so long?” This, of course, was a rhetorical question. “I guess the reason your comment hit me was because I have never heard it said out loud before. Oh, I’ve read the implications in all those tabloid magazines. Hell, I’ve kept them all. I look at them from time to time as a reminder, just in case I ever thought I’d might forget. Like that’ll ever happen.” The last sentence I said quietly, more to myself than to Mara. “Anyway, hearing the blame out loud, in someone’s voice other than my own, well, I couldn’t handle it. Not many people are …so blunt …when they’re face to face with me.” I paused, so when Mara started to speak, I didn’t go on.

  “Tagg, I only said what I said to reiterate what I know you must be feeling. Obviously I can’t know exactly what your emotions hold, but I could imagine.”

  I let out a non-humorous chortle. No, she couldn’t even imagine the emotional horror I was suffering. “Excuse me, Mara, but I don’t think you could even fathom what goes on inside of me.”

  “Give me some credit, Tagg.” Mara’s beautiful but now tempestuous eyes were boring into mine. The expression on her face was one of contempt and hurt.

  “What’d I say, Mara? I only implied that unless you were living my life, walking in my Converse All-Stars, you couldn’t possibly fathom the guilt I carry with me.” This was getting intense. I had wanted to smooth things over and instead, I was making everything worse.

  “One day, my husband …Brad …and I had plans to go down the shore. It was the end of summer, almost fall, and we had always loved the seaside at that time of year. Children were back in school, people were back to work, their vacations already spent.” Why was Mara telling me this? She’d totally switched subjects on me. But, she was really somewhere out there, probably reliving their wonderful day at the beach in her mind, so I let her continue. “So, we picked a day during the week so that there would be even less people around. We loved an empty boardwalk and an even emptier beach. Brad had taken a vacation day and I had no classes scheduled that day. So, our plans were set. We were really excited to take a much deserved break together.” Mara looked down, paused and then continued. “But …well …the night before our trip, I had a sudden panic attack about my upcoming test on the Wednesday after. So,” another solemn pause, “I had asked Brad if he would mind much changing his vacation day to Thursday so that I could spend Tuesday studying. Brad was always so wonderful and understanding. Of course he wouldn’t mind.” Mara sighed. “The next morning, Brad went off to work and I piled all of my study materials on the kitchen table, made a pot of coffee and turned on the news before setting out to study for the entire day.”

  Mara’s pause was longer this time, so I thought her story was finished. I had no idea why she had just sha
red it with me, but I figured I should have sounded somewhat interested. “Well, how’d you do on the test?”

  Mara stared right through me. “Oh …I never did take that test.”

  Okay. “Why not?”

  “Do you know what day it was?”

  “Well, according to your story, I’d gathered it was a Tuesday.” This was getting weird.

  “Yes. It was a Tuesday.” Another sigh. “Actually, it was a beautiful Tuesday morning. Cool and clear, the weather couldn’t have been more perfect.”

  Oh, now I got it. “So, you must have regretted switching days. I bet it rained on Thursday, huh?”

  “Oh, I regretted it alright, but not because of the weather.” Mara kept taking her time with this. I really didn’t understand where she was going with this. “Do you know what Tuesday it was?” I shook my head no, even though I realized it was probably a rhetorical question. “It was Tuesday, September 11, 2001. Do you know where my Bradley worked?” Again, I shook my head, only this time a chill ran up my spine. She nodded her head, “Yes …he worked on the seventy-third floor of the North Tower. He died that day.

  Silence. Deafening silence.

  Chapter Eight

  So, Mara did know what it felt like to indirectly be the cause of someone else’s death. Now I had understood why she was agreeing with my blaming Crystal’s death on my bad decision. Oh, I know Mara was not breaking any ten commandments by committing adultery, but she did inadvertently make the wrong decision. If she hadn’t panicked about her test, they would have been on their way to the Jersey Shore when the World Trade Center was attacked. Instead, Mara had to live with the guilt of sending her husband to work …on the absolute worse day possible.

  “Mara …I’m so, so sorry.” I was just staring at her. Her mouth was pinched in a straight line and her chocolate eyes were melting. “I’m so sorry …for Brad, for you …and I’m so sorry that I ever accused you of not comprehending the utter pain that I’ve been suffering. You do know how much it hurts …intimately.”

  Mara swallowed; I could actually hear the lump in her throat. “Thank you,” was all she could force out. We stared at each other a while. I had intended to tell her my secret today, but that would undermine her agony. I would not do that to her. I simply smiled at her. “I’m glad I met you.”

  Mara smiled, through her tears, back at me. “I’m glad I met you, too.” We stared a while longer. If we had been sitting closer to each other, I think I would have leaned in and kissed her. But, the coffee table was between us and it would have been awkward to lean across the table to kiss her. I probably would have spilled our coffee. I could have walked around the table to kiss her, but that would have seemed premeditated instead of spontaneous. It just didn’t seem like the time. After what began to be an uncomfortable few minutes, Mara stood up and took our mugs. “Would you like another cup of coffee?”

  “Sure.” I wasn’t ready to leave, so another cup of coffee would temporarily keep that from happening. This time I followed Mara into the kitchen. I leaned against the counter while she made my coffee. She had one of those single-serve Keurig coffee machines that my mom had at her house in Franklin Lakes. I had always intended to get one of those. “Mara …I’d like to ask you something.”

  “Sure, Tagg, what would you like to ask me?”

  Her eyes seemed so much brighter than they did a few minutes ago; I didn’t have the heart to bring her down again, so I just said, “Never mind.”

  Mara continued preparing our mugs of coffee, but she took a double-take of me and stopped pouring the milk. “Tagg, what is it? You can ask me anything. You know, I shared my story with you in an attempt to help you.” She covered my hands with her tiny ones. “I saw how much you were suffering and I really wanted to help ease your sorrow.”

  “How do you do it, Mara? How do you forget?” The words came rushing out.

  “Oh, Tagg… I’m not sure you ever forget. I mean how could you? You probably replay the events in your head over and over trying to change the course of them. Asking ‘what if?’ every time. No, I think it’s impossible to really forget.” There was a slight hesitation. “But, you can forgive. You really need to find a way to forgive yourself for being the catalyst to such a horrendous tragedy. It’s not going to be easy; nothing worth anything ever is. But once you forgive what you’ve done, you can begin moving forward.”

  My eyes were dry, but my body was numb. Could I ever forgive myself? I didn’t think so. I leaned back against the counter, both my hands cupped around its edge behind me, and turned my gaze up toward the ceiling. I swallowed a huge lump in my throat and tried to let the images of my deceit disappear. The enormity of what I’d done was too massive to ever be able to forgive myself. It was hopeless. And, if I could not be forgiven, albeit I would have to be both the forgiver and the forgivee, I could not allow this relationship with Mara to ever be more than a friendship. She deserved a better man.

  “Tagg …” Mara placed my coffee on the counter behind me and took my right hand. She squeezed it as she gently spoke to me. “The first step in healing is recognizing that you need to forgive what you’ve done. It won’t be easy, but I’m sure you’ve never even considered it. Maybe, you can think about it at least. Baby steps, Tagg.” Her milk chocolate eyes met my gloomy blue ones and I could have sworn I saw a spark in her eyes. Could I ever truly be worthy of an angel’s love?

  No longer was my left hand on the counter behind me; I found myself timidly positioning it on Mara’s waist. She continued her gaze into my eyes, but mine fell onto her lips. Before I could contemplate if it was a good idea or not, I moved in closer and tenderly pressed my lips to hers. Her lips were soft and sweet and warm. Incredibly, she was kissing me back. I could taste cinnamon, just like her scent. My heart filled with a warmth that I did not recognize; a feeling of home, of somewhere I finally felt that I belonged. Both my hands were now engaged on her lower back and I was holding her so close I could feel her blood racing through her veins. I couldn’t tell whose heart was pounding faster – her’s or mine. I knew she was just as enthralled with our kiss as I was; that’s why it was so bewildering to feel her pushing me away.

  “Tagg…” Mara stumbled on her words. “I’m sorry …I …uh.”

  “I’m sorry, Mara. I shouldn’t have done that.” I struggled to say something to hide my humiliation. “You must have some rules about dating your clients. I’m sorry.”

  “No Tagg, that’s not it. I just think you’re vulnerable right now and…”

  “And, you don’t want to take advantage of me?” My chuckle was strained, but I was trying to salvage any pride I might have had left.

  Mara smiled, just slightly, “No, I was…” Mara looked down at the floor. “I was just protecting myself.”

  “Ah. I don’t blame you. I’m an immoral monster. I’d protect you from me, also. I…”

  Mara abruptly interrupted me. “No! Tagg, that is not it at all. You have to believe me. I just don’t… you have been lonely for so long; I’m afraid that you may be misinterpreting your feelings. I just don’t want to be your rebound person. I’m not even sure if I’m ready… it’s been so long. I…”

  I reached my fingertips to her mouth. “Shh. Mara, it’s okay. I understand. I’m sorry I kissed you.”

  “Well, I’m not sorry you did.” Mara’s face and neck turned a beautiful crimson before she looked down again. “Tagg, why don’t we take our coffee outside? We can sit on the porch.”

  I took her hand and we headed out to her front porch where we sat on a small, white wicker loveseat. We were still for a while, just taking in the vast, green lawn that swaddled the land in front of Mara’s house; it was so different from the midnight water that rippled in front of mine. “Tagg, why don’t you want to bring Holland back?”

  Mara’s question took me be surprise, but I looked her right in the eyes. “I don’t want to be like that anymore. I don’t want to live that life anymore. I didn’t like who I was back then and I’m jus
t completely done with that version of me.”

  “You didn’t like singing?”

  “Oh, I loved singing. I loved being in touch with my music. I just didn’t like the type of things that went along with it.”

  “You can’t have one without the other? I find that hard to believe.”

  “I don’t know Mara. I just don’t want to live there anymore.”

  Mara wasn’t going to let this go. “Don’t you see, Tagg? You live there everyday. You haven’t moved away from that life; you live there in your mind day after day. Until you get back up there, back on stage and doing what you love to do, it’s always going to haunt you. I know it’s a cliché, but you have to get back on the horse in order to get over the fall.”

  Was Mara my personal trainer or my therapist? “I don’t know Mara. I guess I am afraid. I don’t think very highly of myself and I just can’t see how I can make it work this time. I’m not that same cocky twenty-something kid who thought he could hang the moon; I’m old and I’m scared.”

  “Well, who isn’t anymore?” Mara squeezed my thigh right above my knee. What did I do to merit this friendship? I do not know. “What made you get into music in the first place?”

  I shrugged. Was it my Dad’s influence? Bruce Springsteen’s? “I just always loved music, I guess. It…makes me feel…” I thought about what I was saying. I shook my head. “It’s complicated. Music.” Mara just stared at me with her big, brown eyes. “it…” I inhaled. “Music hurts. It adds salt to our wounds. It can mend and heal, yes, but it can cut like a knife. It can send us back in time…or help propel us forward. It is the catalyst to the heart’s emotions, the harmony in our souls.” I exhaled. “For me, it’s been the salt. The knife in my heart. Bringing back every bad emotion associated with it. That’s why I haven’t picked up an instrument…or turned on the radio…in all these years.”