Sheet Music - A Rock 'n' Roll Love Story

by Ann Lister

  Michael nodded and stepped off the stool. “Thanks,” he said, and tossed some money onto the top of the bar. “I’ll stop back in before I leave.”

  Annie hadn’t managed to get too far up the road toward the cottages when Michael finally got outside. Part of him actually considered getting into his jeep and driving back to his beach house, forgetting he had seen her. For several minutes he painfully watched her slender frame slowly maneuvering across the ruts in the road until he could no longer take the sight of it. Pensively, he came up behind her. She froze and turned around to face him when she heard the sound of his boots.

  He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. All the weeks of worrying and wondering had led to this moment and now that they were face to face, words escaped him. Instead he hung his head, not wanting to look her in the eye.

  “Go home, Michael. You completed your mission and found me, now you can leave,” she blurted, emotion making her voice quiver.

  “What the hell happened? You obviously never followed through with the physical therapy.”

  Annie turned away and contemplated the placement of her next step. “That’s none of your damn business.”

  “Maybe not. But I still care.”

  Annie turned around to face him. Anger contorted her face, streaks of tears glistened beneath the glare of the overhead street lamps. “Then I feel sorry for you. I’ve moved on and you should have too.”

  For a few brief moments they stared, eyes locked in a silent inner war. Finally, Annie shook her head and turned away. The pity in his eyes was excruciating to see, almost more than she could bear.

  “Go back to Boston, Michael.”

  Michael had the feeling she was preparing to flee and took a desperate step closer toward her. His mind swirled with crazy thoughts of irrational ways to take her back to Boston with him. Then before he could stop the words, they spilled from his mouth.

  “I can’t stop loving you, Annie. It isn’t something I can just shut off and walk away from. It’s not that easy. I thought you were moving back to Grafton. What happened with that?”

  His words hammered at her brain and in the blink of an eye she was on the ground, shaky footing lost to the darkness of the night. Why did he have to make this harder than it had to be, she thought, watching her wooden crutch roll across the road and coming to rest in a pothole. One long stride and he was at her side, gently lifting her from the pavement.

  “Get your hands off of me!” she screamed, attempting to yank her arms from his. “I don’t need your help or your pity. In fact, I don’t need you! Why can’t you grasp that concept and leave me alone?”

  Michael continued to clutch her firmly in his arms. He could smell the stale booze on her breath. His eyes bored deeply into hers, praying to see some hidden spark of sanity left in her. But there was none to be seen. Her eyes were empty and dead.

  “You want me to leave? Then look me in the eye when you say it. Go ahead. Look me straight in the eye and tell me you don’t still love me!” He shook her in anger. His voice cracking with each word he spat. “Say it and mean it and I’m gone. You’ll never see me again.”

  Annie stood frozen. Tears dripped from her face. She despised him for finding her but even more because he had seen her in such a broken state. More than anything, she hated herself. At that moment, the idea of death seemed like a gift. With every ounce of resolve she had left, she stood defiant, ready to say anything that would make him turn and walk away. She stiffened her back and locked onto his eyes. Taking a long and steady breath, she prepared to drive the last nail into her own coffin.

  “I stopped loving you a long time ago, Michael,” she said matter-of-factly and without emotion. But, inside, her heart stopped beating. A piece of her soul died.

  He stared back at her, his mind digesting her words slowly. It wasn’t possible that she had truly meant what she had said. Not after all they had been through and shared. It was the drugs and booze talking, not her. Then without warning he pulled her body against his and kissed her on the mouth. It was quick, hard and fast, like a bolt of lightening striking out suddenly from the center of a storm cloud. And in the flash of that moment he felt her soften to his touch, like the petal of a flower weakening under the weight of a droplet of rain. It was all he needed to reserve the hope that someday they’d be together again. It was a tiny spark of affection, hidden beneath the layers of garbage she had tried to cover it up with; it still lingered there. It was a small victory for Michael and filled him with a sense of relief.

  In retaliation, Annie slapped his face fiercely with her hand. Instead of turning away from the blow, he smiled. The elation he felt in his heart far exceeded the sting left from her hand.

  “Go to hell!” she yelled. “I hope the memory of that kiss remains with you because that will be the last kiss you’ll ever get from me!” Then, grabbing her crutch, she trudged off toward her cottage.

  “Don’t be so sure of that,” he mumbled out loud.

  He waited until she was out of sight before he walked back into the bar. Jimmy was waiting for him.

  “What the hell happened to your face?” he asked.

  “It’s a long story,” he answered with a smile. “Some other time.”

  Jimmy shook his head. “You leaving now?”

  “Yeah. But if you need me, this is my cell phone number,” he said, sliding a piece of paper across the bar toward Jimmy. “She’s pretty messed up. Can you do me a favor and keep an eye on her?”

  “That goes without saying,” Jimmy replied.

  Michael nodded and quietly slipped from the bar.

  It was before noon when Michael got the call from Jimmy.

  “The freaking bitch is out cold and no one can wake her up,” he screamed into the phone.

  “I’m on my way.”

  Minutes later, Michael’s jeep skidded to a stop in front of Annie’s cottage. Inside the cramped two-room cottage, a half dozen people were gathered. Jimmy was beside Annie’s bed violently shaking her and demanding she wake up.

  Michael pushed himself inside. “She got a pulse?”

  “Yeah, but it’s faint,” Jimmy replied.

  “Okay, get her out of bed,” Michael instructed, as he assessed the cluttered room.

  “Ah, Mike, she’s not wearing anything under the sheets,” Jimmy whispered.

  Michael turned around and faced the spectators. “Everyone out!”

  One girl remained. “Do you want me to call 9-1-1?”

  “No! We don’t have time to wait for the fucking ambulance. I’ll drive her myself,” Michael answered, trying to remain calm. “Jimmy, grab a pillow case and load up every pill bottle you can find. Check the bathroom and kitchen cabinets too! Everything comes with us.”

  When Jimmy disappeared into the bathroom, Michael went to Annie’s dresser, pulling out a pair of sweat pants and a shirt and began to dress her limp body. Through it all, Annie remained semi-conscious.

  At the hospital the doctors loaded Annie’s stomach with charcoal to induce vomiting. Even in the hallway, Michael could hear the terrible retching sounds coming from Annie’s body.

  “Mr. Wade, it’s been a while since I’ve seen you, hasn’t it?” a friendly doctor said as he shook Michael’s hand. “How’s sobriety treating you?”

  Michael smiled when he recognized Doctor Ramos. A familiar face was a welcome sight at this point. “Twelve years and counting,” he replied proudly.

  “Very well. That’s good to hear,” he answered, peering over his shoulder toward the emergency room where the nurses and interns were still busy working on Annie. “I wish you could say the same for your friend.”

  Michael nodded in agreement.

  “Can you tell me what happened?” the doctor asked.

  Michael proceeded to give the doctor a brief history about Annie’s accident, recovery, and subsequent addiction to the pain medication.

  The doctor rubbed at his face thoughtfully. “Is it possible she did this on purpose?”<
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  “What do you mean?” Michael asked, his eyes locked onto the doctor. “Are you suggesting she deliberately tried to kill herself?”

  The doctor nodded.

  “No way!” he protested, but it was a notion he hadn’t yet considered. Then again, up until six months ago, he never would have thought it possible for Annie to become an addict either.

  “I’m not saying she attempted to take her life, Michael. I’m just asking if you think the possibility was there. In any case, you saved her life. Another couple of hours and you’d be planning her funeral now and not her rehabilitation.”

  The doctor gazed at Michael. “You do realize that is what she has to do now, right?”

  “Yeah, I know the drill.”

  “The clinic has a few beds open. If you could get her to sign herself in, we could get this started as soon as she wakes up.”

  Michael nodded and shook the doctor’s hand. A few hours later, he was once again standing vigil in a hospital room waiting for Annie to wake up. The time slowly ticked by, silent as death, as she continued to sleep.

  Just before dusk, she began to stir.

  “Good morning,” he chirped, though it was almost night.

  The sudden noise caused Annie to flinch. She groaned in protest and reached for her head. Michael stood where he was, leaning against a huge window in her room that offered an unyielding view of the Atlantic Ocean. When recognition of his voice registered in her brain she forced herself upright, seemingly in self-defense, and leaned against the headboard of the bed.

  Let the games begin, he thought, taking a hearty gulp of his black coffee. How many interventions had he been apart of, trying to get friends off the drugs that were slowly killing them? He couldn’t remember, or maybe he didn’t want to.

  “Where am I?” she asked, rubbing at her eyes.

  “The hospital,” he answered quickly.

  Annie’s shoulders stiffened. “You took me back to Boston?”

  “Does that look like the city skyline to you?” he answered with sarcasm, pointing toward the receding tide.

  Annie glanced above the windowsill from her bed, saw the ocean, and began to cry. “Then where am I?”

  “Martha’s Vineyard Hospital. I wanted to take you to my beach house in West Chop so you wouldn’t have to wake up in another hospital, I’m thoughtful that way but, Dr. Ramos refused.”

  “You own a house here?” she groaned, rolling her sore eyes. “Funny, you never mentioned that before now.”

  “Sorry, I guess I never had a chance to work it into a conversation. We weren’t together long enough. But, if that omission upsets you then you really won’t want to hear that I also own the club you’ve been working in for the past several weeks.”

  “You’ve got to be joking!”

  “By the way, you’re fired.”

  “Of all the places in the world I could have moved to get the hell away from you, I had to choose here!”

  Michael smiled broadly and crossed his arms over his chest. “Fate works in mysterious ways, babe.”

  “Screw you. There are plenty of other places to live and work.”

  Michael moved closer and dropped himself into a chair beside her bed. “Do you remember what you did last night?” he asked, anxious to move the conversation onward.

  Annie sat silent and rubbed at her eyes. “That’s none of your business.”

  “Can’t remember, can you?”

  “Fuck you!”

  “I saved your life last night. The doctor said if you had been left alone another couple of hours, you’d be dead now. Which makes me have to ask myself, is that what your intention was?”

  “Don’t flatter yourself. If I were going to kill myself, it wouldn’t be over you. Leave me alone. None of this concerns you.”

  Annie staggered to her feet with her hand clasped over her mouth.

  “Bathroom is in there,” he instructed. He followed and leaned against the door jam. “Don’t let that black shit scare you. It’s leftover charcoal from the emergency room. That’s what they use to induce vomiting in addicts so they don’t fucking die.”

  “I’m not an addict!”

  “Really? Then the ten pounds of pill bottles I removed from that dump you’ve been calling home must have been part of the room decor?”

  “Why are you doing this to me? Can’t you just go away and leave me alone?”

  Michael blocked her words from his mind. “You fucked up last night, Annie. In the rule book of junkies, you screwed up.”

  “Stop calling me that!”

  “Have you not bothered to look at yourself in the mirror lately? What do you weigh now, 90 pounds? Have you seen how dead your eyes look?”

  Annie forced herself up from the floor and lunged at him, her hands lashing out wildly against his chest and face. “God, I hate you! You think you’re so high and mighty! But you’re nothing more than a lying bastard: a monster in a shiny black car!”

  Michael grabbed hold of her before she slid back to the floor. Then spun her around to face the mirror above the sink. “You can deny it all you want but that won’t change the reflection staring back at you from that mirror. You’re an addict. Accept it and deal with it.”

  Annie’s head dropped forward in exhaustion. “Please take me home.”

  Michael kept his arms wrapped tightly around her tiny frame. “I’m sorry, but I can’t do that.”

  “Why not?”

  Knowing the reaction that was about to come, he strengthened his grip on her. “The only place I’m taking you is rehab.”

  Then came the second assault. With every ounce of fight she had left, she physically and verbally raged on him: insulting, hateful words that cut him to the bone, and still he held on, even though his own anger was reaching the boiling point. His head ached from the attack but he knew it wasn’t her spewing the hate. It was the disease.

  “You can say whatever you want, Annie,” he shouted against her neck. “It’s not you talking right now…it’s the drugs.”

  He continued to hold his grip until she stopped fighting and slumped limply in his arms. “I’m doing this because I care. Someday you might even thank me.”

  “Fuck you,” she screamed, and then another violent outburst followed.

  After tossing her back into bed, Michael dialed the extension to the rehab wing attached to the hospital and told them to expect Annie downstairs within the hour for admission.

  Just before midnight, he pushed her downstairs in a wheelchair, then stopped outside the door to the rehab wing entrance. “Go inside, they’re waiting for you,” he instructed coldly.

  She looked at him in the darkness, quiet and broken, tears streaming down her pale face. He knew it would be months before he would be able to erase that image from his memory.

  “I'd say I'm sorry for this but I'm not,” he stated somberly. “This has to be done, and in some small way, you know it too.”

  “Yes. But why can’t I do it as an out patient on my own?”

  “That isn’t how it works, Annie. I’d do it for you if I could but I can’t. This is something you have to do by yourself and it will be, by far, the hardest thing you’ll ever have to face.”

  Annie shook her head in agreement and stepped away from the wheelchair.

  “When you’re ready, call me. I’m a lot easier to find than you were,” he said, forcing a smile onto his tired face.

  Without the will to return the smile, Annie made her way toward the clinic door. Michael watched until she disappeared. It wasn’t until he got back to his beach house that he allowed the impact of what had happened to hit him fully and then it consumed him. It would be days before he could even bring himself to share the experience with Brian.

  Almost daily, he called Doctor Ramos from Boston, asking for an update on her condition. She was doing as well as expected. That was their standard reply. But no effort was ever made by Annie to contact him. When he asked if he could attend family day to show support for her, through
her doctor, she refused his request. When Michael called two months later he was told she had discharged herself with no further information. His next call was to Jimmy at Lola’s to see if Annie was performing in the area clubs. Jimmy did some checking and called back with a confirmation. Annie was indeed still on the island and performing sporadically but obviously did not want further contact from him. The reality of that hurt him deeply.

  So, that was how it was going to end for them, he thought? He had too much emotionally invested in her to let it slip away. Everyone around him, especially Brian, urged him to let her go, and move on with his life. It wasn’t as easy as they made it sound. Nothing ever was.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Annie ignored the first two rings of the telephone, thinking it was merely part of her dream. Only after the sixth ring did she realize it wasn’t. She searched the nightstand beside her bed, aimlessly groping for the receiver in an effort to stop the incessant noise.

  “Hello,” she said in an irritated voice, while one eye strained to read the time on her alarm clock.

  “Well, you’re a hard woman to track down,” a raspy male voice replied in her ear.

  “Who’s this?” she asked, her sleepy brain struggling to recognize the vaguely familiar vocal tone.

  “You mean, you don’t recognize my voice?”

  “No, and frankly, it’s too damn early to be playing the guessing game too!”

  “Annie, it’s Brian.”

  “Brian who?”

  “Brian Lofgren,” he replied, with tension in his voice. “Exactly how many Brians do you know?”

  “It’s nine o’clock in the morning, Brian. What can I do for you?”

  “Well, I’m glad to hear you haven’t lost your spunk.”

  “Is that what you call it?”

  “Annie, I’m calling about Mike,” Brian blurted, the levity evaporating from his tone. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but…”

  “Has something happened to him?” she asked, cutting Brian off in mid-sentence, and sitting upright in her bed.

  “No, not physically but it’s nice to hear the concern in your voice. That must mean you still care for the bastard.”