Bo & Ember

by Andrea Randall

  “Well,” Georgia added, “guess we can’t hate our parents for making smart investments when we were younger, huh?”

  Solstice and Michael owned Willow’s tiny bungalow, but they’d rented it for years until Willow was old enough to live on her own.

  “Amen to that,” Willow said with her head still buried in the refrigerator.

  Ember seemed quiet as she clutched her sweater around her. It was chilly by California standards, but a miracle based on the month we’d just had in New Hampshire. On a number of levels.

  I mouthed, “You okay?” and Ember smiled as she nodded to the back door. I followed her through the sliding door, noting the hush that had fallen over our friends before Willow started to school Regan in the art of tempeh.

  “What’s up?” I asked as I sat next to Ember on a weathered and probably decades-old fallen tree trunk.

  Her cheeks were rosy and absent of signs of distress, so any worry about her overly quiet demeanor faded.

  “I had a great time with the girls today.” She looked down at her knotted hands.

  “Okay … I … don’t … what’d you guys do?” I didn’t even know if Ember wanted me to be asking the questions, but I knew asking was better than not asking.

  “Don’t be mad,” she started. “But I had Georgia take me to her artist in La Jolla. Where she had all her work done. That’s how we had time to get the cupcakes.”

  I scrunched my nose. “Arti—oh! You mean tattoo artist?”

  Ember nodded and my eyes bugged out. Ever since I met her, she’d talked off and on about getting a tattoo, but I hadn’t ever heard her discuss any concrete ideas. Still, any time she gave me a back rub she traced her fingers over the broad cross on my back, so I knew it was never far from her mind.

  “What’d you get?” I smiled as my knees bobbed impatiently.

  Ember lifted her left arm, and it was then I finally noticed the covering. She carefully peeled the tape off enough so she could move the dressing back to show me. Once her skin was exposed, her eyes shot to me.

  “Like it?” she asked innocently.

  My stomach dropped in the best way it had in months as I took her arm in my hand. “Oh, Ember…”

  In the center of the inside of her wrist was a black pair of angel wings. Wings that looked remarkably like the ornament I’d given her for Christmas.

  “Are these—?”

  Ember cut me off. “They are. I snuck the ornament in my bag. I wanted them with me … always.”

  I was speechless for a few seconds. “They’re beautiful on you. And, a wrist tattoo? Gutsy. I love it.”

  “Well,” she blushed, “this is my chord hand. Now, whenever I play the guitar I’ll see it, and be reminded of all of our angels above. Just like you said.” Her eyes filled with tears, but the smile never left her face as she leaned her head on my shoulder.

  I kissed the top of her head—something I took every opportunity to do because her hair always smelled like something different. Coconut, mint, fruit … it was always amazing. “I’m proud of you.”

  Ember’s hand tightened in mine. “I’m proud of us,” she whispered.

  Just as the sun started its dance with the horizon, there was a knock on the sliding door. We turned our heads and found Willow holding plates of food, indicating dinner was ready.

  “Well, my badass wife,” I teased. “Let’s go eat.” I stood and held out my hand.

  “I am badass, aren’t I?” Ember grabbed my hand and stood up, walking hand in hand with me to the house.

  I grinned and kissed her knuckles. “You have no idea, do you? You’re amazing.”

  As we sat and ate with family and friends, each time Ember’s wrapped arm caught my eye, I felt like it was a wink or smile from one of “our angels.” We’d been given roots and wings, and it was our turn to soar.

  Georgia and Regan stayed at Willow’s until about 9:00, before finally yawning their way out the door. We knew we had a busy few days ahead with taped recording sessions and more interviews, so Ember and I headed to bed right after they left.

  Just as our heads hit our pillows, Ember’s phone buzzed with a text message.

  She rolled to her side, and the room lit with a soft glow as she read it. After she was quiet for a few moments, I leaned in and kissed her shoulder.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “Monica,” Ember replied meekly. Her ears lifted as she smiled, though her sniff gave away tears. “They’re having a girl.”

  Instinctively, my arm wrapped around Ember and I pulled her close. I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t say anything even if I had words, because I realized it would have been around this time that Ember and I would have found out the sex of our own baby.

  “It’s good,” she whispered while nodding, seeming to sense my hesitation. “I’m happy for them. I really am, you know.”

  “I know.” I kissed her shoulder once more.

  Ember set her phone on the bedside table and rolled back over to face me. “It’s been a little weird with me and Mon lately, but we’ll be okay.”

  “Weird how?”

  “I think she’s afraid I’ll have a meltdown. She’s reluctant to share things with me, or complain about the pregnancy on days when she’s feeling like crap. I wouldn’t tell her it was okay if it wasn’t. I mean, God, I didn’t speak to her for a couple of days after the miscarriage. That’s all the time I needed from that situation, you know?” Ember spoke quickly, like she was talking to Monica and not me.

  “Have you told her this?”

  She nodded. “I guess all I can do is keep being there for her and she can keep being there for me. The fact is, now we’re at two different stages in our lives. That’s why we were both so excited to be pregnant at the same time. So nothing would have to change, you know? But, it’ll change now. Not bad, just … different. She’ll settle into mom mode, you and I will be on tour, and for the first time we’re going to share less in our everyday lives and need to support each other more than before.”

  “I love the shit out of you, you know that?” I didn’t need to talk with her about her friendship with Monica. She just needed to vent and verbally process.

  That’s something else we’d been working on with Dr. Bittman. Not trying to fix everything for each other. Just because one of us has a struggle, doesn’t mean the other person can or should fix it. Sometimes support means being a set of ears and strong arms.

  Ember brought her lips to mine, and I loved that I could feel her smile against my mouth. “I know. I love the shit out of you, too.”

  Halfway through the week, Ember and I and Celtic Summer were finally in the studio to do some live recording sessions. While we’d taped some back in early December while we were in New York, we were going to have a live feed streaming on the website today. Each group was going to choose pieces of three songs, and talk a bit about the process of writing and recording the number.

  The plan was to release our first singles in a week or two, allowing us time to have two singles out before the album dropped. It was carefully crafted and expertly executed. And, I was thankful to be on the talent side of things for this round. PR for a business is one thing. For entertainment it’s a whole other animal.

  Yardley entered the large recording room looking bright and relaxed in a flowing sundress that looked like something Ember would wear. It was much different than her New York attire. Her blonde hair hung free, instead of in the tight ponytail that looked downright painful most of the time. I grinned at her coastal costume change.

  “Okay, guys,” she chirped. “This room is big enough that whoever isn’t playing can sit on those couches over there. That will help the cohesive image we’re going for, too.”

  Ember chuckled. “It’s hardly just an image, Yardley. Surely you know that, right?”

  “I do. Honestly you’re the easiest group of musicians I’ve ever worked with. Let’s capture it on tape before the egos take over, huh?” She was so matter-of-fact that the
five of us found ourselves looking at each other with wide eyes.

  Which one of us would morph into Brutus with our power hungry greed? A Judas among us, perhaps? That’s what we were each thinking, but we kept smiles on our faces to mask the sudden suspicion.

  “Well, thanks for the pep talk, Yardley,” Chris joked. “Let’s get to work, shall we?”

  Yardley’s shoulders sank as she sighed. “Sorry, guys. Didn’t mean to be a downer. Just being realistic. I’ve been involved with this world a long time.”

  “So have I,” Ember said confidently. “We’ll be okay. Let’s get cracking.”

  Yardley studied Ember for a moment, noticing, perhaps, as I had, the shift in her demeanor over the last couple of months. No longer was Ember downplaying her industry know-how, brushing off praise of her skill and history. She was ready to make something of this album, of our talent together, and didn’t want to waste time worrying about potential personality conflicts. With a nod and a grin, Yardley turned on her heels and moved into the control room with Willow.

  A second later, Beckett dashed into the control room from the exterior door. Ember gave a slight wave and a smile before turning for her guitar.

  “Haven’t heard from him in a while,” I mumbled after checking to assure the microphones weren’t on.

  Ember shrugged. “Me either. Guess he’s been busy producing our album.” She winked and tuned her guitar, lifting her chin as her way of telling me to get my act together.

  I watched as she tuned a few chords. The bandage from yesterday was off her wrist, and every few chord changes I caught Ember’s eye as it flicked to the pair of wings on the inside of her wrist. The tattoo was more than just about the baby we’d lost, or my parents, or even Rae. It was Ember making an indelible statement that she wouldn’t be held down by pain and grief. She would rise. Always.

  We hadn’t decided which group would play first, but as all of us were tuning, I saw Ember tilt her ear toward Shaughn.

  “Viva La Vida?” Ember questioned as she took off her guitar and placed it in its stand.

  Shaughn nodded and kept playing. As soon as I adjusted my ears, I picked out that Shaughn was playing the slow violin harmony. She played both guitar and violin, and was fluent in both languages.

  Regan bobbed his head. “Right on.” On cue, he began the sharp staccato part.

  Ember whipped her head to me. “You know a piano melody for this, right?” Her eyes were provocatively enthusiastic. “I know you do. I’ve heard you play it.”

  “I do.” I laughed.

  “Let’s play it!” She motioned to the recording room. “Ignore them. Let’s have fun for a second. Together. We can do this, right?” Ember moved to the drum set and separated the base drum from the group, dragging it to the lead mic.

  “Chris,” she continued. “You keep the beat here and sing with me.”

  Chris grinned. “Abso-fuckin’-lutely.”

  I shifted the keyboard around as Ember directed Regan and Shaughn. “You both play those short notes at the beginning, then one of you take high and one low. You decide. Shaughn, you’ve played this a lot, right?”

  Shaughn nodded. “It’s a great warm up.”

  “Yay!” Ember clapped, and I realized I don’t think I’d ever heard her say yay in her life.

  I watched placidly as she moved mics and stands around the studio, talking to Chris about pitch and entrances. Finally, she turned to me. “You good, love?”

  I gave her a thumbs-up, grinning like a fool at how at home she seemed. Today over most days in the last month.

  From the control room, I saw Willow grin and Beckett mouthed, what are you doing? Ember flicked her fingers in a motion requesting they turn on our mics. “Getting along,” Ember teased as she slid on her headphones.

  Willow covered her mouth as her shoulders shook slightly against her laughter. Yardley sat back with a curious look on her face and Beckett looked enticed as he slid some controls and gave Ember the thumbs-up.

  Ember situated herself next to Chris and looked over to Shaughn and Regan, whispering, “Five, six, seven, eight…”

  Regan and Shaughn kept their eyes on each other as they settled into the rhythm of the song. Ember tapped the quick beat against her thigh. As she entered the song, Chris struck the pedal of the bass drum. Regan and Shaughn split into their different parts as I brought my fingers to the keys. It blended perfectly, like Ember had seemed to know it would. This song, in particular, always gave me chills, more so after my recent stumble inside the house of God.

  Ember carried the second verse alone, as well, but Chris joined her as we all erupted into the chorus. I resisted the urge to turn on my mic, and pushed down the twinge of jealousy toward Chris that he got to sing with Ember in that moment.

  No one knew how lucky they were to have the chance to sing with her until it was all over and they were left wanting more. I sure hoped he was enjoying it. The three people in the control room certainly were. Yardley’s wide—but controlled—smile was laced with satisfaction as she watched her hand-picked musicians work together.

  The song was over seven minutes long, and for that entire time, we blended perfectly. To a song that isn’t your standard “jam” song, the five of us performed as a group, thanks to my wife. And those wings that gave her the courage to step out and own her true self.

  At the close of the song, when the last note faded, Ember raised her hands in victory. She and Chris hugged as Shaughn and Regan high-fived.

  Yardley leaned into her mic on the other side of the glass and turned it on. “Message received.”

  With an appeased smirk on her face, Yardley sat back in her chair and we all carried on with our session.

  Ember

  Our week in California flew by. There were live streams, interviews, and a few small meet-and-greets. By the end of it, I think we’d finally convinced Yardley that this wasn’t our first rodeo. Sure, we weren’t seasoned by any means, but we all had class enough to interact with fans as if they were human … because they were. And, so were we. All that was left to do was sit around and wait for our April album release party, and prepare like hell for the tour. Which, basically, meant we had to sleep a lot.

  The good news was the tour bus was about four times the size of one of The Six’s RVs, so we likely wouldn’t want to kill each other until three-quarters of the way through the tour. By Labor Day, if my calculations were correct.

  The night before we were scheduled to fly back to New Hampshire, Bo and I were packing our suitcases, when I got a call from Tyler.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, gorgeous.”

  I grinned. His greetings were different every time, but I favored “gorgeous” and “sweetness.”

  “Is Bo there?” he asked with a hint of urgency.

  “He is, what’s up?”

  “Put me on speaker for a second.”

  I flagged Bo down, who was busy organizing his belongings perfectly inside his suitcase. “Tyler wants to talk to us,” I whispered, tapping the speaker button. “K, Tyler, we’re on.”

  Tyler took a deep breath. “All right. When you guys left, the addition was almost complete.”

  “Yeah…” Bo said, baiting Tyler for more information.

  “It’s done and I’ll be painting it tonight. Well I won’t be painting it…” he drifted off in soft laughter. “But what I want to ask is if you can give me artistic license for the first bedroom at the top of the stairs on the right. Rae’s old room.”

  Bo and I shot our eyes to each other at the same time. We hadn’t once discussed what we’d do with that room. For about a minute, I’d considered making it a nursery, before rationalizing that it wasn’t wise logistically, being on the opposite end of the mile-long hallway.

  “So … is that a no?” Tyler interrupted our long silence.

  Bo swallowed hard, running his hand over his head, perching it on the back of his neck. “I don’t know … I haven’t really thought … what do you want to do
?”

  “I know this is asking a lot, Bo,” Tyler replied. “But … I need you to trust me. I want it to be a surprise when you get home. It’s nothing huge. Not a remodel, I mean, I’ll have it done by the time you guys get home tomorrow night. But, since at the end of next week this phase of the remodel will be done, I wanted to give you guys a gift. On me.”

  I grinned at the humility in Tyler’s voice, and my chest ached at the hopeful, but pained, look on Bo’s face. Those two had been through a lot of crazy life together, and trust was being called out.

  “Are you okay with it?” Bo asked me. “It’s our house.”

  I smiled and responded as if there weren’t a third party present by phone. “I know it’ll feel weird but we have lots of Rae all over the house, and on my body.” I winked as I lifted my tattooed wrist. “I think it might be nice to make some new memories there.”

  “I was hoping you’d say that,” Tyler cut in, reminding us of his long-distance presence.

  Bo sighed with a grin. “All right, Tyler. We trust you. We will be home tomorrow night, though, so … just … don’t leave a mess,” he teased.

  Tyler laughed freely. “Okay, enough chatter with you two, I’ve gotta go work.”

  I pressed “End” and resumed packing. “You really okay with this?”

  “You know?” Bo said as he zipped his suitcase. “I really am. I totally trust him. We’ve been through our shit, Tyler and me. And he’s been great to you over the last couple of weeks. We can all move on, I guess, huh?”

  I smiled, proud of the steps we were both taking to be emotionally healthy adults. Before I could respond, Willow knocked on the door.

  “Hey Ember? Beckett’s here and he wants to talk to you.”

  I shot a curious look at Bo, who shrugged.

  “Okay,” I called. "I’ll be right down."

  “I’ll stay here,” Bo said as he took off his pants and shirt and slid into bed. “I need a quiet minute after this week.”