by Melanie Dawn
“What’s going on, sir?” I questioned, reaching for my tickets for proof that we belonged in that section.
“Mr. King didn’t want you to disappear without his autograph,” he answered, handing me a large manila envelope.
“Autograph?” Alexis asked, suspiciously eyeing the bulky package.
“Yes, ma’am,” the man said pointedly and walked away with a strange smile.
“Open it, Mom! See what it is!” Alexis bubbled with joy, her blue eyes glimmering with excitement.
Olivia clapped her hands excitedly. “Yeah, open it Mrs. Honeycutt!”
I tore open the package. Inside was a concert tour T-shirt, a small poster autographed by each band member, and four upgraded front row tickets down by the stage. Wrapped around the four tickets was a piece of paper with a hand written note from Chris.
I blinked a few times at the tickets in my hand. I’d never been on the front row at a concert before, however I’d seen views of it through my binoculars many times. I couldn’t imagine sitting so close that I could see the sweat beads on a singer’s forehead or reach out and touch him as he walked by me, but the tickets I held in my hand were about to change all that. Alexis and the girls were already freaking out. I held it together, even though I was turning cartwheels in my head.
We were ushered toward the front of the stage. The aisles were dark. Voices in the arena produced a steady roar around us. Seats filled quickly as the show was getting ready to start.
This is it! This was my moment to relive the moment that Chris sang for everyone in the cafeteria at Fairbanks. It was no secret that the kid had talent—gumption. I knew one day he’d follow his dreams straight to the top. I just never knew that I’d be sitting on the front row to witness it.
Suddenly, the lights dimmed, and the crowd went wild chanting Chris’s name. It was so surreal.
I looked at Alexis who was giddy with excitement, bouncing on her feet and chanting along with them.
Clapping my hands above my head to the beat, I joined in, “Chris King! Chris King!” while I watched anxiously for his arrival.
After a few billowing puffs of fog, some elaborate laser effects, and a few skillful pyrotechnic tricks, the music began. The crowd sprang to its feet, clapping and screaming in anticipation of Chris. My heart pounded in my chest, and a rush of adrenaline shot through my veins the moment the lights shut down to total blackness on stage.
We all heard his voice before we saw him as he began one of his chart toppers. The low timbre of his voice rang out over the roar of the crowd. Just then, as if on cue, rising up from beneath the stage through a hole in the center, he slowly appeared while the spotlight zeroed in on him.
High pitched, piercing screams echoed throughout the arena. Girls clamored toward the stage for an opportunity to reach out and touch him. Alexis and her friends were no exception, jumping up and down, stretching their hands toward him as he made his way down stage.
“Ohmigod, Mom!” Alexis screeched. “This is so awesome!”
Chris’s voice was crystal clear, echoing through the microphone. He was scanning the crowd, watching his adoring fans as they bobbed and swayed with enjoyment. I could only imagine what the sea of faces looked like from his point of view.
I turned around to get a glimpse at the obscurity. Thousands of faces. It was beyond belief. Flashing lights from cell phone cameras twinkled like fireflies in the darkness. I imagined that to Chris, the sight was amazing and lonely at the same time—knowing his fans loved him, but never really knowing any of them.
I whirled back around to observe Chris. He was walking slowly, taking his time to reach out to all of his idolizing fans. He worked the crowd, winking and waving to others who were farther back and out of reach. He was such a great entertainer, playing it up for the audience. Of course, having a powerful body, a handsome face, and a fantastic voice—a triple threat—helped too.
Chris constantly scanned the rows of spectators as he found his way front and center. Just then, his gaze landed on me and his eyes fixed on mine. A smile flickered on his lips and a glimmer of happiness twinkled in his dark brown eyes. I still couldn’t get over the fact that I was this close to the stage to witness it. Caught up in the moment, I was filled with pure elation for the young guy I used to know who was so desperate for a taste of this rock star world.
Chris sauntered over to us, reaching his hand down to Alexis, Olivia, and Payton. The girls went wild, and I worried that Alexis might faint. I couldn’t help myself. I extended mine too. There was just something magical about touching a celebrity. It was silly, I know, but still…
Chris’s hand grazed my fingertips. Rather than brushing by me like he had all the others, he grasped mine and stayed there. Focusing solely on me, he sang the last line of his song and held the final note for several extra seconds while the crowd went crazy, screaming, shouting, whistling, and clapping.
Chris ignored all of it. For a few stolen moments, he seemed lost in thought, piercing me with those deep, penetrating eyes. The room disappeared around us, and just like that day in the Fairbainks cafeteria, this moment was ours. I flashed an enormous smile right before the lights dimmed. He’d accomplished everything I’d ever wished for him and more. I just hoped he knew how truly proud I was.
The girls sang and danced all the way back to the car after the concert was over. I even joined their antics a few times. There was just something about Chris’s concert that gave me an emotional high. Proudly, we carried our souvenirs of concert T-shirts and autographed posters under our arms. It had truly been a night to remember.
When we finally settled into my Elantra, Alexis blurted, “Mom, you never said you knew Chris King! That’s so awesome! How do you know him? Did you go to school with him?” She bombarded me with questions, still hyped-up from the concert energy.
“Yeah, Mrs. Honeycutt,” Payton piped up from the back seat. “How do you know Chris?”
I glanced at Alexis’s friends in the reflection of my rearview mirror, unsure of how much I wanted to divulge.
Turning my gaze toward Alexis, who was sitting in the passenger seat beside me, I remembered the glum, deep-seated significance of my past with Chris. Swallowing hard, I stuffed the painful reminder of my ugly emotional baggage down, zipping it up tight. I never wanted Alexis to feel like the issues I had in the early months of her life were her fault in any way. Hell, I’d spent the first few years trying to overcompensate for my guilt. I reached out, smoothing her wavy, brown hair and tucking a stray piece behind her ear. “It’s a long story, sweetheart, but let’s just put it this way… Chris King and I go way back.”
As I drove home that night, my heart was bursting. I was content, but at the same time, my thoughts were heavy as they drifted back in time. Back to a time when Chris King was the very essence of my existence—a shining light in my darkest hour. Until the day I watched painfully as he walked away from Fairbanks Juvenile Justice Center and straight out of my life.
“That concert fucking rocked!” Tommy, my bass player, twisted off the metal beer cap and handed me the bottle. “You really know how to work a crowd,” he teased with a devilish grin, gyrating his hips to mimic my moves. “I’m sure there are some fine ass honeys already at the after-party waiting for you.” He waggled his eyebrows, trying to convince me.
I chuckled. For the most part, women at the after-parties all looked the same to me—desperate. “You had some nice riffs, my friend,” I complimented him, ignoring his comment. Lifting the beer to my lips, I guzzled half of it.
Jeremy plopped down on the sofa, propping his feet up on the table in front of him. “So, y’all ready to hit up the after-party? Lotsa sexy ladies out there who are ready to meet and greet the band,” he insinuated with a wink.
I rolled my eyes. Why tonight, of all nights, was I just not feeling up to any after-party?
Jeremy held his phone in front of him, tapping the screen with his fingers. “Sonya says she’s never been with a drummer before.” H
e grinned like the ass that he was. “I’m about to change all that.”
“Dude,” Tommy chimed in, “Ask her if she has any hot friends.” He elbowed me in the ribs, knowingly.
Jeremy chuckled. “Hell yeah, she does.” He turned the phone toward Tommy to show him the picture Sonya had sent of herself with her friends.
“Fuck yeah. This is on.” Tommy murmured, taking another pull from the bottle.
I leaned back against the sofa, not in the mood for any of it. “I’m just gonna hang here tonight, boys.”
Both of them froze and stared at me as if I’d suddenly grown two heads. I’d never turned down an after-party before. This was new territory for all of us.
Disgusted, Tommy blurted, “You’ll do no such thing. With all the cherries out there just waiting to be popped by the famous Chris King? Fuck, dude. You’re coming.”
I shook my head. “Nah, man. I don’t feel like popping anything tonight but the tops off these beers.” Tilting it up, I chugged the last of the bottle.
Jeremy looked at me like I’d just told him my dog died. “You feeling okay, bro?”
No, I wasn’t. My head was all over the fucking place, and I couldn’t tie one thought down. “Yeah, just tired,” I lied. There was always something about a show that pumped me up with the energy of ten men afterwards, but tonight… I just don’t know…
Jeremy, clapped a hand on my shoulder, hesitating as he asked, “You didn’t see Kaitlyn in the crowd, did you?”
Would I sound too crazy if I told him that they all looked like Kaitlyn to me? When I looked out into that crowd, show after show, all their faces blurred together to remind me of the same face I missed day after day, year after year. “Nah, I didn’t see her.”
Jeremy slid his hands into his back pockets and asked, “Well, what is it then?”
“It’s nothin’, honestly,” I shrugged, not wanting either of them to probe me further.
Jeremy stared at me, unconvinced. “Look, man, I get it. You don’t wanna talk about it. It’s all good. I’m gonna go get with Sonya.” He slapped me patronizingly on the back. “You stay here and sulk.”
“Whatever, man,” I rolled my eyes, grabbed the remote, and clicked the power button for the television.
As I flipped through the channels I could hear Jeremy and Tommy taking shots and talking shit from across the hotel suite.
“Dude,” Jeremy hissed, “I don’t know what the hell’s up with him.”
Tommy threw back another shot. “I know, man. Ever since he saw Kaitlyn at the grocery store, he’s been drowning his shit, but it’s not like him to want to pass up some easy ass. What the fuck?”
“I don’t know,” Jeremy said, throwing me a sidelong glance.
“Guys,” I snapped. “I’m sitting right here. I can fucking hear you.”
“Sorry, dude. Just trying to figure out what the hell happened.”
“I told you. It’s nothing. Nothing happened,” I barked. Just as the last word exited my mouth, a certain sexy, brown haired, green-eyed, former counselor infiltrated my mind again. What the hell?
“All right, man. Peace.” Tommy flipped me off, smiling as he stepped out the doorway.
I chucked an unopened condom packet toward Jeremy. “Don’t forget your raincoat,” I warned him as he headed out the door behind Tommy.
He caught the tiny plastic square in midair. “I never do.” He winked, and then he was gone.
I threw my hands behind my head and watched television absently, not giving a shit what was actually on.
I had almost dozed off when a familiar chime from my phone indicated a text. I swiped my finger across the screen, smiling at the words that popped up from an unknown number.
Yes, to dinner. Let me know when and where. –Salem
Without hesitation I typed my response. Tomorrow. Acropolis Grill. 8pm. I look forward to it.
She immediately replied. Can’t wait!
A goofy grin plastered my face. I read her final text over and over as I walked toward the shower. Flipping on the bathroom light, I kicked off my shoes and tossed my jeans and T-shirt at the chair in the corner. I plugged my phone into its charger on the counter and started the water in the shower.
Standing under the hot stream, I let the water run over my body and hoped it would rinse my troubles down the drain with it. I couldn’t seem to focus on what to do next because my mind was a wreck, but I finally managed to lather up and rinse. I hopped out, dug through my suitcase for a fresh pair of boxers, and settled down into the bed, throwing the sheet over my body. In my newfound solace I lay there, quietly staring at the ceiling in the darkness.
My mind drifted, but not to its usual place. Instead, a set of pale green eyes crept into my thoughts. I closed my eyes, attempting to fall asleep while my imagination lingered on a woman whose hand I’d touched in the crowd tonight—a woman who changed my world so many years ago.
“Good grief,” I growled as I jerked the blanket off of my body and rolled out of bed. Alexis’s crying had jarred me awake for the third time that night. “Dammit, why won’t she just stay asleep?” I grumbled as I shook my fists toward the heavens and stomped toward my doorway.
The bedroom was still dark. Eerie moonlight cast shadows on the walls. Groggily staggering toward the sound of Alexis’s wails, I accidentally bumped my shoulder into the door frame as I trudged past it. “Ow,” I said, rubbing the tender spot with my hand.
It had been nearly twelve weeks since I’d slept more than an hour or two at a time. Since Alexis’s birth nearly three months ago, I felt like a walking zombie. The longer I went without sleep, the more resentful I became. My twitching eyelid was proof that lack of sleep does crazy things to your mind and body. I was a pressure cooker about to blow my top. It didn’t help that it was my last night to get some sleep before my first day back to work from maternity leave.
I slammed my palm against the wall just before my hand landed on the doorknob of Alexis’s room. “Why? Why, why, why, why?” I moaned as I turned the knob.
The soft scent of lavender invaded my nostrils the instant I opened the door. Someone once told me that lavender soothed babies and helped them sleep better, so I’d always bathed Alexis with that particular scented baby soap. I was beginning to think that was all a myth. She wailed from her crib like someone was killing her while I gripped the railing, peering down at the writhing bundle.
“What’s wrong now, Alexis?” I pleaded with her. The tickle in the back of my throat forewarned me of the tears that were starting to form in my eyes. “Don’t you understand that Mommy needs rest? I can’t be a good mommy if you don’t let me sleep.”
She stopped crying and opened those beautiful, blue eyes. She looked at me with wide-eyed infant wonder. Her flailing arms and legs stilled for just a moment. Then she smiled at me and began flailing again, only happily this time, as if to say, “Yay, mommy’s here!”
I grinned back. “You little booger,” I whispered, picking her up and patting her back. Immediately, a loud burp escaped her, and she hiccupped. “Is that better?” I cooed, bouncing her gently in my arms.
She answered with her own tiny coo and laid her head on my shoulder. I plopped down in the recliner next to her crib. I knew she didn’t need to eat. I’d just fed her an hour earlier. Clicking the nightlight off, I began rocking her.
In my twenty-four years of life, I’d never anticipated the overwhelming feeling I would get when I’d cuddle my baby in my arms until the moment the doctor handed her to me in the delivery room. In an instant, my whole world changed as I embraced my little miracle in my arms. On nights like these, the moment we settled down together in the rocking chair, my anger and frustration would vanish as I’d peer down at my precious angel and watch her stare at me with wonder. I couldn’t believe that in a single second I could go from hating the drudgery of motherhood to cherishing the quiet moments of snuggling my sweet girl in my arms.
I sang a few lullabies and within minutes, she was sound asle
ep again. It didn’t take long for me to doze off as well. It also didn’t take long for my back to start aching, forcing me to wake up again. I imagined my husband taking up most of the bed in our room. Usually his body miraculously sensed when I got out of bed because by the time I made it back, I’d have to shove him over to be able to climb back into my side. God, I despised him sometimes.
He’d wake up in the morning and say, “Good morning. How did you guys sleep last night?” He’d ask that as if I were the only one on the clock at midnight. Hello. He’s the father. He should take a shift every now and then. In the past few weeks, I’d tried to wake him up, but he’d just grunt, roll over and put a pillow over his head instead.
Life with a baby was nothing like what I’d expected. It was grueling, menial work with little reward. No one warned me how difficult having a child really was. Honestly, I wasn’t sure what I was expecting. I knew that newborns didn’t sleep well for the first few weeks, but I had no idea that sleepless nights would last so long. It was really starting to mess with my head.
I was a counselor for Christ’s sake. I should’ve been able to get a handle on the depression that was suffocating me. I should’ve been able to talk to myself like I did my clients and snap out of it. That’s just it. I had always thought depression was a matter of ‘snapping out of it’ until my own depression overtook me. Now I realized how foolish I was to think that.
Parenting just flat out sucks sometimes.
Then I peered down at my beautiful, sweet baby with chubby cheeks and wispy hair sleeping soundly in my arms, and I immediately beat myself up internally for thinking that.
She’s amazing and perfect in every way, Salem. How dare you think she’s ruined your life!
Geez, what is wrong me?
Carefully, I laid Alexis down in her crib and swaddled the plush pink blanket around her like a cocoon. Please, God, let her sleep, I thought to myself as I tiptoed out of her room.
