“Aren’t you going to say anything?”
I opened my mouth. I barely made a gasp as the crying started.
“Jesus, Lizzie, I’m trying here. You need to speak up.”
I couldn’t make a sound around the tears. I couldn’t find my voice.
He pushed me away and got out of the tub. I stayed in place until the water turned cold. He was asleep and hugging the far edge of the bed when I finally crawled in. I barely slept and woke up hours before I needed to.
I packed and left for the airport without saying good-bye. Without saying anything.
Eighteen
I curled into myself and felt the hopelessness and emptiness of the void that had once been filled with Ares. Eva’s smile haunted my mind as I kept flashing back to what she said about future and babies and love.
But had she said anything about commitment? Had she said my future and babies would be with Ares?
I didn’t know anything anymore.
The plane shimmied and bounced as it hit turbulence. Normally, my stomach would have been trying to crawl out my ears and I would have panicked. But I didn’t care if the plane went down. Ares wouldn’t care, so why should I?
I missed my calling for becoming an actress. Neither the girls nor Miss Angie noticed I was nothing but an empty shell pretending to be a happy person when I finally got home.
“Can we talk to Ares?” the girls asked as soon as Miss Angie told me I should let him know I made it home safely.
“I texted him from the car,” I lied.
Bree’s little lower lip started to quaver, and I swear her eyes grew larger.
I sighed and pulled out the phone. I dialed his number and handed her the phone.
Her eyes darted side to side in confusion.
“Did it go to voicemail?”
She nodded.
“Tell him what you wanted to tell him. It will record it for him to listen to later,” I directed.
“Hi Ares, I wanted to tell you to not be so sad.” She shoved the phone back to me. I hung up without adding anything.
He hadn’t tried to call me, not once.
It was clear to me we were done, but I couldn’t move past it. I couldn’t get past our last conversation and progress into being angry or sad. I was numb, resoundingly numb.
“Missing the D?” Lydia asked the next time I saw her.
“Missing something,” I managed to say.
I gave her the entire breakdown of the trip, including our side excursion to LA, but I didn’t tell her about our last fight. Had it even been a fight?
I functioned on autopilot— work, kids, meals, laundry. I had no nerve endings, I felt no pain. Days passed and we had zero communication.
Ares texted, please tell the girls their pictures arrived. I put them on the fridge. There was no message for me.
Okay.
I had no message for him either. I didn’t want to talk. I just wanted his arms around me. I wanted him to say we’ll figure it out together. Instead the entire burden rested on my shoulders, and I wasn’t that strong.
More days passed and my period arrived. In my absentee mental state, I completely missed the signs it was coming. I had no cravings for chocolate. I had no swings of crankiness. I didn’t contemplate day drinking, all my typical hormonal ‘heads up’ warnings.
I texted him, I’m not pregnant. I thought I should tell you.
My phone rang within seconds. I stared at it. I couldn’t answer him. I couldn’t. It stopped. And then it started ringing again, so I picked it up.
“Are you happy?” His voice was bitter.
I hung up and threw my phone across the room. It rang more, but I left it there. I had receipts that needed to be entered into a spreadsheet. I didn’t need a guilt trip from the man I was supposed to be in love with.
The next week, I received a backstage pass to Bonnaroo via certified mail. There was a sticky note with ‘PS I love you’ scribbled on it.
Traffic could have been worse. Then again maybe not. Driving into an area that didn’t have the infrastructure for this influx of people, just slowed everything for miles. The whole town of Manchester basically shut down for the duration of the festival. There were three options during the week: hide from, attend, or work the festival. Locals didn’t get a discount, but there was a major music festival in their back yard for four days, they made arrangements to go, or run away.
Outside, it was hot and muggy. June in middle Tennessee doesn’t exist without those words hot AND muggy. I was not looking forward to being outside in the sun in this heat. I gave up years ago on what it did to my hair, but I could not just “give up” on what it did to my skin. I had already bathed in sunscreen in the morning, I would do it again when I got out of the car. Sunscreen always made me feel hotter and sweatier. Better hot than sunburned. At least the inside of the van was cool with air conditioning.
I didn’t dare roll down the windows, there was no breeze to be had, especially at the crawling pace I was currently proceeding. I managed to leave the freeway after hours of sitting in the festival lane the highway patrol set up along the shoulder, and now I inched my way toward the back entrance. I had gotten off at the wrong exit, and was heading in with the general festival traffic, and I had to get past all of it. I had my CD player blaring, just as every other car had something playing. Each car played audio homage to the music gods they came to worship. Today, I was different. I was listening to an audio book. I couldn’t quite bring myself to listening to Ares yet.
My festival pass came with a small map and a pass for where I should park. I didn’t have to find a spot with the regular festival crowd. I had a backstage pass to Bonnaroo, a big semi-local music festival. Big in that it’s four days long, semi-local in that I only had to drive about an hour to get to it. Ares hadn’t mentioned playing at Bonnaroo before so I could only guess that AudioVox’s tour manager had found them a few dates before heading to Europe.
In my previous life— life before Ares— I couldn’t even afford to attend, between kids and ticket prices, it just couldn’t happen. And my first time there, I got to pretend to be a tour bus, with a backstage pass.
In reality, I was more nervous to see Ares than any of that concert stuff.
The weeks since I left LA were long and lonely. I heard his voice only the one time, and he sounded angry. The girls called and left him voicemails, and he did send them texts. Them, my children, but not me.
We still hadn’t had that hard conversation. I still hadn’t managed to get into words what exactly was bothering me. But being in his arms would have been nice. I think if he could hold me long enough, I would figure out what I needed to say.
I loved him, and I actually wanted his baby, but not if it meant not having him too. My stomach roiled at the thought of seeing him again, I was more nervous than I had been the first night I hoped to spend with him. This was going to be my opportunity to let him know everything I felt. I wanted to clarify my fears as a single mother for him. It wasn’t just about loving someone enough to make a baby together, but about being together to love a baby.
As exciting as the whole Bonnaroo concept was, all I could think about was Ares and his arms, and his hair and his smell, and his lips. Would I ever be allowed to kiss those lips again? I needed a real kiss from him so badly. I needed a whole lot of other physical contact from him as well, but more so, I needed to know there was still a “we.”
That whole time dilation thing happened, the more I wanted this event to happen the longer it took to start. After what felt like days of barely moving, I was directed into a large dirt lot to make my way between large Prevost tour busses and semi-trucks and U-Haul vans. If anyone needed to ask which one was mine, I could honestly say the mini-van, and no one would ask which mini-van. It was the only one in the lot.
Once out of the van, I headed toward tents. Lots of tents, large white catering party tents tucked in an area of trees behind and between the stage areas. These were separated from the throb
bing masses by miles of cyclone fencing, and dirt parking lots. I kept getting redirected, the people working security were nice, and I guess I didn’t look or act like a groupie who managed to sneak back there. Actually, I felt out of place. I hadn’t dressed up, hadn’t put on makeup, hadn’t put on a cute little skirt, I hadn’t gotten an appropriate band T-shirt, or anything. I had gotten up early, the girls were already over at Miss Angie’s, I assumed they were still with her as she picked them up the night before and not Richard. Typical.
I managed to get dressed for being outside, that meant shorts, and yes, they were cargo shorts, I am boringly predictable in my mom uniform wardrobe, and a UV blocking fabric shirt. The other women I saw all appeared to dress cute so effortlessly: skirts with bikini tops, maxi dresses, flowing tank tops. I had a pang of remorse for not having taken the time to figure out how to dress like a girl. It was a brief pang, because it certainly wasn’t like I was going to be able to turn around, go home, change, and come back before Ares was on stage. AudioVox was slated for late afternoon. I had roughly an hour and a half to find Ares and fix what I broke before he had to go to work, and be worshiped by all those people on the other side of a few walls of fencing.
After walking into the wrong area more than once, I tentatively entered the closed off tent that had been indicated to me as the correct one. I saw him. He stood just a few feet from me, opening a water bottle. Something stupid, something mundane, yet the most amazing thing I had ever seen. Ares twisting open a plastic bottle of water.
Gunter, saw me first, and said, “Hey Lizzie.”
That made Ares glance up. In two steps I was in his arms. He lifted me into a fierce kiss. He filled my senses. His lips were cool and wet from the drink he had just taken, his smell warm and musky. He was so warm, almost too warm for this heat, but I didn’t care. He could have been made of molten lava at that point, and I would have wanted to be wrapped in him. Our lips still claimed each other when he put me back on my feet. My hands were on his face, running over his head and getting tangled in his hair. His hands were doing much the same. We were touching everything: arms, backs shoulders, chests, faces, just to make sure the other one was really there. I gazed into his face, and then was buried into his chest in a hug that would have merged us into one body had that been possible.
When he finally said my name it was less a sound, and more a low rumble I felt through his chest. “You made it.”
“I made it.”
He took my hand and led me to the other side of the tent. He found an area that didn’t have anyone else sitting in it and pulled me into his lap. I registered that this tent was basically a large room, it had been set up with industrial fans and what felt like a portable air conditioner unit. It was quite comfortable inside, and not hot like the outdoors. There were upholstered couches, and folding chairs, and a few long tables with food and buckets full of ice with drinks. It looked like there were a few different bands and support staff in there. In one corner, I’m pretty sure it was a band that had just finished, they were sweating profusely, and people were fawning over them and bringing them drinks. A few adoring young women tried to wiggle their way in close. As soon as I was back in Ares’s arms, the world faded away.
Our gazes locked. I was where I belonged, with him. He shook out the ponytail I messed up, and let me run my fingers through his hair without getting tangled. He brushed the side of my face with the back of his knuckles. After being lost in his eyes, I leaned in for another kiss. This time it was soft and slow. I pressed ever so gently against his lips, then I licked slowly across his lower lip. His mouth covered mine with a fierce hungering need, and his tongue plunged into my mouth. We consumed each other, sucking on tongues, and barely coming up for air. When the kiss finally ended, I was breathless and in dire need of more.
“I’m so sorry. I love you. I’m so sorry,” he said leaning his forehead against mine.
“I’m sorry too. I’ve missed you,” I said back. “How much time do we have?”
“Not enough to do anything properly before I have to be on stage.”
“That’s not what I meant, exactly,” I chuckled through tears, mostly because that thought had occurred to me too. “I meant, do I get to see you more than just tonight and here? When do you leave?”
“The bus heads out tonight, the guys really didn’t want to hang out here, it’s Atlanta a day early. The show there isn’t until Monday night.”
“Can you stay? Would you want to? I could drive you to Atlanta tomorrow, or even Monday morning. What time do you need to be in Atlanta?”
“Let’s find out.” He stood up, placing me on the ground as he did.
We found Gunter and Steve discussing something in depth and with a little heat, Something or someone pissed Steve off. I sat on the far edge of a couch while the three of them discussed this option of letting me drive Ares to Atlanta in two days. Clearly Steve did not like this idea. He gestured aggressively at me with his drumsticks whenever he needed to make a point. I rested back into the couch and tried to not be too anxious, there was a very real possibility this would not happen. I let my eyes wander away from their discussion to take in the rock’n’roll lifestyle I got to witness for the first time. The tent wasn’t as smoky as I realized I thought it was going to be. It was smoky, just not overly thick with it. I guess more singers realized that smoking was not exactly good for their vocal cords. There was plenty of beer drinking going on, as well as wine, and booze. I noticed there were less of the crazed groupies than I expected, and no one obviously doing drugs, mostly it was just people getting ready for a different type of work.
That’s when I made eye contact with Kris Kinney. I couldn’t think of him as just Kris, it was always both names: Kris Kinney. He was pretty much exactly what someone thought of when they thought of a rock star, egotistical, drank too much, smoked too much, too many recreational drugs, and a different woman or two a night. And case in point, I made eye contact with him while he was getting a blow job, in the middle of a rather well populated tent. He winked. I cringed. And, probably blushed as I quickly diverted my eyes.
While I understand that even a crappy blow job can feel fantastic, and I certainly liked the noises I could coax from Ares with a few strategically placed licks, this just didn’t seem the time or place. Then again, it was backstage at a rock festival, maybe it really was the time and place. Mostly, I just did not want, or need that image seared into my brain.
I tried to focus back on Ares, the discussion with Gunter and Steve escalated. I really did not want the other members of his band to dislike me. I knew everyone wouldn’t always like me, but I didn’t want someone to actively dislike me. And from what I was picking up, the idea of me taking Ares to Atlanta was not a popular one, at least not with Steve. I leaned forward to ease myself into the conversation. I managed to get out a, “Hey.” That was a mistake.
Steve turned on me with an intense fury I had no idea I deserved. “Look, bitch, you need to stay out of this.”
Ares pointed a long menacing finger right in Steve’s face. His demeanor was calm, but the ferocity behind his tone was unmistakable “Do. Not. Speak. To. Her. Like. That.” He spit out between clenched teeth.
“Do whatever you want, but if you fuck this tour up, I’m blaming her.” Steve pointed his drumsticks at me, then slammed them on to the ground as he stormed off to the other side of the big room.
Ares strode off in the other direction and out the door. They both needed to cool off. I didn’t need to try to do anything— clearly, I had already done enough. Not sure if I should go after Ares or stay put, Gunter assured me I should just chill while they got their heads out of their asses. He leaned back into the couch, picked up a tablet I hadn’t noticed, and started reading.
I thought about playing with my phone, then realized I left it in the car. Instead, I sat there playing with my fingers. After about five, maybe ten, minutes of examining my cuticles, a nubile bikini-clad girl crawled into my lap and began kissing me
. She was quite an aggressive kisser. She had a firm grasp on one of my breasts and kneaded it maniacally, while trying to worm her tongue into my mouth. I was in shock, and had yet to figure out how to respond. Was the polite thing to kiss her back, or should I freak out and try to push her away? She was lifted from me before I managed to make a decision.
“Sorry, honey, but this one is mine,” Ares said as he set her down.
With a pout, she turned to Gunter, who just shook his head while stifling a laugh at my situation.
I stood, brushing off the invisible cooties she left behind. “I can’t do this.”
Ares tried to put a hand on my shoulder, but I shrugged into myself and away from him. “No, I can’t.” I turned. “I can’t do this,” I said as I walked from the tent. I tried to not run, but I’m pretty sure I was moving with speed. “I need to leave.”
Ares was right behind me, and he caught me just outside the door. “What do you mean you’re leaving?”
“I can’t do this,” I said, gesturing back into the tent. “I can’t be backstage. Your drummer hates me because I want to spend time with you. Kris Kinney was in there getting a blowjob. Some chick just tried to stick her tongue down my throat! I can’t do this.” I managed to walk a few feet away, and when I turned back to face him, Ares appeared deflated, smaller.
“So you’re going to just leave me now, before I have to go on?” His tone was low and broken “What a fucking head job, Lizzie. Why did you bother to show up at all? Did you plan this? You could have broken up with me at any point over the phone. So what, you waited until you knew it could do the most damage? Did you need to see my face to do this? I just defended you in there, and now, BAM, good-bye, so long?” His voice went from being broken to full of anger and rage.
He turned and slammed his fist into a lamp pole. “Fuck!” He snapped as he shook out his hand.
“Sweetie, calm down, you’re scaring me.” I tried to keep my voice soothing, but this was the first time I had really seen Ares get mad and it was frightening.
Ballad Ares Page 17
