by Chris Myers
“That’s not my mom’s story. She wanted us, not Jonathan. He kept her high all the time so that she couldn’t think straight.”
“There are two sides to every story.”
I throw my hands up in the air, though her words give me pause. “Jonathan’s had eighteen years to get his act together. It’s too late now. Currie and I don’t need him.”
“You may not, but Currie does. He’s been straight for almost three years. And every visit he asks Currie to come and live with him. She won’t because of you. If you go to college, which your dad is hoping you will, she’ll need a home. We can give that to her.” Her eyes plead with me.
Enough of this psycho-babble. “How convenient. You take my family so you can have one. Fuck you!” Another promise to Currie I’ve broken.
“Your dad wants you to move to LA, too, and attend school there. I know this isn’t easy for you, but your dad’s trying. Give him a chance.”
“He never gave us one. I can tell you stories that would make your toenails curl, so if you don’t mind, unlike Jonathan, I have someone depending on me.” I shove past her and stomp inside.
Great, Jonathan’s found salvation. Denage isn’t as smart as I gave her credit for earlier. She’s just another one of Jonathan’s totes, though she didn’t go postal on me like the other ones would’ve for what I said to her. It’s not my style to go off on one of Jonathan’s whores, but I’ve been over him for many years now. And Denage doesn’t get him or our family.
Inside the hospital room, Mom fusses over Currie. It’s all an act, but I never say that to Currie because she eats up the attention. She’s already forgiven Mom.
Jonathan smiles at Denage when she finally enters the room. Her mascara has run. I’d say I felt bad for hurting her feelings, but I don’t. She needs to butt out of my affairs. She’s a newcomer and won’t last long like the others, but at least, he has someone to comfort him during all this.
The anesthesiologist enters the room. “Ready, little lady?”
Doctor Yeager walks in behind him.
Currie shakes her head and reaches for me, so I sit on her bed. “We’ll do this together,” I say. “Okay?”
She swallows her worry down and clutches my hand. “Okay. Sing me that song you used to always sing to me when I was a baby.”
After the nurse hooks up the IV, the anesthesiologist begins the drip to put her under.
“Count backwards from ten, and you’ll be asleep before you know it,” the doctor says.
A freakish pain stabs my chest as if it’s me going to sleep with her. “Little Angel, go to sleep,” I sing. “Don’t let the rain keep you awake. Let it lull you into the clouds. Don’t worry, the sun will wake you.”
I wrote the song when she had nightmares, the first time Jonathan had left us. He watches me and purses his lips because I told him what the song was about years ago, a little girl frightened by the loss of her daddy. I hope it kills him.
I kiss her and whisper, “Don’t forget to wake up. I love you, pumpkin.”
Confused by Her
Words and music by Lennon Tyler
I don’t let girls get to me, but you have dug into my skin.
Your scent, your touch, your skin against mine.
Your voice lifts me, burrows deep into my bones.
Chorus:
Girl, you leave me confused.
I just want one touch, one kiss.
You might fly away. I don’t want that.
Confused, dazed, out of my mind.
When you’re near, I feel something more.
I can’t explain this head rush, but when you’re close to me
I want to hold you tight and take your breath away with mine.
Your laughter brushes my skin like butterfly wings.
Your voice carries me off to distant lands.
You’re driving me insane.
Just one kiss, one touch.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
LENNON
Currie has been in an induced coma for two days now. The nurse gives her antivirals intravenously. Not much has changed. Yeager had hoped for more progress at this point.
I slump in the chair by her bed and read to her, like I did when she was little. She loves books. Denage went to the local bookstore and got several of Currie’s favorites, the Warrior Cat series, Harry Potter, and The Neverending Story.
I brush back the hair dangling in her eyes. I’m ready for her to stop sleeping and for her to wake to her usual precocious self.
Nurse Betsy showed me how to rub Currie’s muscles, so they don’t waste away. As promised, I haven’t left her side. I’ve taken spit baths in her bathroom, so I’m pretty rank, and my stubble itches my chin.
Since she’s been under, I’ve written a dozen songs for Currie and even one for Jinx. I sing them to remind Currie to wake and come back to me.
Mom brings me cafeteria food. “You should eat, Lennon. You’ve lost weight.” She puts down a sandwich and milk.
I ignore her. Food has no appeal right now.
Denage has sat with Jonathan the past few days. At night, they go back to the hotel where he has a suite. They offered me a room, but I haven’t gone. He also paid for a hotel for Mom. She mopes every time she sees them together, which is any time they’re here. I’ve told her several times that she can do better. Maybe this time, she’ll move on and get a real man.
Denage has tried to get me alone several times to give me a pep talk about Jonathan and his amazing recovery, but I avoid her. I’ve heard one too many of the Tyler women’s stories.
Other than Currie’s chest moving up and down, she hasn’t stirred. I press my hands to my temples. I hate this. For every breath she lies unconscious, I die a little more.
Betsy comes into the room to check Currie’s catheter and other bodily functions. She smiles at me. “You are such a good brother. Is there anything I can get you?”
I could really use a blowjob and a keg of beer. “No thanks.” She’s already given me a blanket and pillow for the reclining seat in the room where I try to sleep beside Currie. I’ve gotten a few hours of shuteye but not enough.
Doctor Yeager comes in to see Currie. “Can I have a moment with you?” he says to me.
“Sure.” I follow him to his office. From his stern expression, Jonathan is pissed that he wasn’t invited.
Yeager doesn’t take a seat. “Lennon, her temperature is normal, but Currie’s not responding to the antivirals like I’d hoped. I’d like to try another one.”
“What’s the risk?” I ask.
“There’s always the risk she won’t respond or she could have an adverse reaction to it.”
“What if she doesn’t have the drug?”
“She hasn’t had any brain damage because the rabies was caught early. I want to keep it that way.”
A light blinks in his office. “What’s that?” I ask.
Yeager rushes out of his office down to Currie’s room. I run after him.
She’s convulsing on the bed. Her arms and legs flop around like a fish out of water. I stand out of the way so the doctor and nurses can do their job. I feel my heart beat rabbit fast.
Jonathan gets up. Terror opens his eyes wide. His whole body shakes. “You’re not helping her. You’re killing her.”
I go over to him and slam him down into the chair where I sleep every night. “Stay out of this.”
Denage goes to help him, but I shove her out of the way.
Jonathan says, “Don’t touch her.”
The bodyguards rush into the room, unsure what to do, while my hand pins down Jonathan.
“If either of you get in the doctors’ way, I’ll have you both thrown out of here.”
Once Yeager stabilizes Currie, he asks, “Can I proceed with the other antiviral?”
“Go ahead,” I say.
“What’s he doing?” Jonathan asks, rising from the chair.
I shove him back down. “Don’t act like you care.” A bodyguard grabs my shou
lder.
“I don’t want her to die,” Jonathan says.
For the first time since I’ve known him, tears well in Jonathan’s eyes. He stands abruptly and leaves the room. Denage goes with him then the bodyguards.
As the nurse applies the new antiviral to Currie’s drip, Mom rushes to her side and holds her hand. “Stay with us baby. I’m sorry. I promise to do better. Just don’t leave me.”
I nuzzle Currie’s other limp hand. The shampoo smell has left her hair. An oily sheen has replaced it. She smells of Currie, a child wasting away.
Mom and I spend the rest of the afternoon with Currie. Jonathan has left for the day. When Mrs. Nowak calls, I answer. I haven’t returned any of my messages from the guys or Jinx, though I probably should have. I’d like to hear Jinx’s voice right now.
They’ve sent flowers and stuffed animals to Currie’s room. There isn’t much else they can do, and I have no news to give them.
“How’s Currie doing?” Mrs. Nowak asks.
“We don’t know. They’re trying a new drug. How’s Zoe?”
“She’s coming home. We’ll bring in a tutor and let her finish the school year at home, but the doctors believe she’s out of the woods.”
“Good,” I say, and I mean it.
“I’m sorry, but we won’t be able to get up to Milwaukee. I’m round the clock with Zoe right now to ensure she doesn’t get sick while her immune system is down.”
“I understand.” I thank her and hang up. There’s nothing I can do to save Currie, and the helplessness overwhelms me.
When Mom leaves the room to get something for us to eat, I slam my fist into the wall. It leaves a gaping hole that I know I’ll have to pay for. Betsy hears this and runs into the room.
Betsy doesn’t say anything but bandages my cut knuckles. I want to go home and have everything back to the way it was, just Currie and me, but that’s not going to happen. I can feel it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
JINX
After the mechanic replaces my alternator with a refurbished one, I meet the boys and Susan at the warehouse. Danny insisted we should practice even if we’re not going to play this weekend. It may be several weeks before we will all be together again. I’ll need a job in the interim to pay for my expenses.
Mom hasn’t called me. My life is flushing away. I lost Dad and now Mom. I don’t want to be alone. This brings me back to Lennon. Right now while Currie sleeps, he’s by himself in a room full of people he can’t stand.
“Lennon won’t call us back,” Clive says. “We should go to him. It’ll give Danny Boy the unfortunate opportunity to meet Jonathan Tyler, so you can see what an arse he is for yourself.”
“He can’t be that bad,” Danny says. “The guy’s a musical genius.”
“My dad worked with Tyler several times. He never called him genius. I think tosser is what me Dad referred to Jonathan as.”
Susan rests her head on Danny’s shoulder while he sits by his drums. “Poor little Currie.”
“How long do you think it’ll be before we can play again?” Danny asks. “I can’t go too long. I’ve got bills to pay.”
Clive gives me a nudge. “Let our little bird play the guitar. All of us can sing. Lennon is just better than us.”
My hands go numb with fear. “I can’t play lead.”
“You don’t have to,” Clive says. “Just strum the chords and shake that little arse of yours.”
“That’s a good idea.” Danny flicks his eyes at me. “We’ll give you several lead songs. What about weddings?”
“We can do them, but we’ll have to let them know Lennon isn’t available,” Clive says. “At least for the next month.”
“That’ll cut into our business,” Danny says with a sigh.
“Why?” I ask.
Danny slumps on his stool. “Because he sings classical and musicals, which the old people love, and since they pay for the wedding…”
“When can we see Currie?” I ask. And Lennon.
“Tomorrow’s good. Susan and I have a class in the morning then we’re free all afternoon.”
“I’ll cut classes after eleven,” Clive says. “What about you, bird?”
I hate doing this. I never miss school, but I can’t abandon Lennon. “I’ll pick up Lennon’s schoolwork and see you guys here at eleven-thirty.”
Danny plays a drum riff. “Sounds like a plan.”
* * *
I throw two duffle bags into the trunk of Clive’s BMW sedan.
“Are you packing for a week?” Clive asks as he slams it shut.
You never know. I’m not sure I’ll be able to abandon Lennon after what he has done for me. I’m not ready to have sex with any guy, so it scares me to stay up there with his reputation. Where will I sleep? I don’t have much money.
“Or are you giving into Lennon’s charm?” Susan asks, giving me a nudge.
“Not going to happen in this lifetime,” I say, though I’m not as sure as I was at my party. Everything’s different now.
The supple leather in Clive’s Beamer smells luxurious. I sink into the front seat.
My cell phone honks. Mom has left a message, checking to see if I’m okay. There was no offer for me to come home, so I don’t call her back. I can’t believe Mom would believe Step-monster over me. I’m her daughter. It’s not like I can stay at Rena’s forever.
“We have two hours to kill if we’re lucky,” Susan says as Clive drives away from the warehouse. “Let’s play a game.”
“Name that tune,” Danny says. “Change it to the seventies station.”
“That’s another era,” I say. “I know nothing about that music, other than what my dad loved.”
“You should learn because we play several songs from that period,” Clive says. “We’ll make it easier, name that band.”
I hate losing. This isn’t fair. I squish up my nose like a pig.
Clive grabs my nose. “You look like an elf when you do that.”
Danny and Susan laugh. I join them. I like being a part of their gang.
As the songs roll by, they call out Led Zeppelin, Boston, Journey, Styx. I only know of Led Zeppelin because of my dad. “Stevie Nicks,” I finally yell out.
“Fleetwood Mac,” Clive says.
“No, Jinx is right,” Danny says. “Nicks has an album out with this song.”
I only recognized Landslide because it was one of my dad’s faves, and the Dixie Chicks redid it. I’m surprised when I get several others because of my dad. They make me sad in one way, but happy that I actually know something about him, and that music gave him so much joy in his life.
The two hours go by fast, and we’re soon in front of the Children’s Hospital. I’m nervous about seeing Lennon. I don’t know why. Maybe because Zach dumped Kelly. He came by my locker the last two days to have lunch with me. Why do I feel guilty? Zach and I aren’t dating…yet.
Before we head up in the elevator, I grab my backpack full of books and clothes, and the other is filled with Lennon’s books. My nerves jitter. Why am I so jumpy? I know I’m looking forward to seeing him. I’m not so sure about his family. Maybe, they’re not here. Maybe, he doesn’t want to see me. He hasn’t returned any of my calls.
“Lennon doesn’t have that many classes,” Clive says as he grabs a bag. “Planning on staying little bird? Going to get lucky? You’re like the mouse going into the python’s den.”
Danny gives me a wry smile. Susan looks at me as if I’ve lost my mind. I feel my cheeks heat up to fire-engine red.
“You’re not. Are you?” she asks.
“I’m not sure,” I say. “It seems like someone should stay and fight off the wicked mother and evil dad.”
Susan snickers at that.
We pile out of the elevator. Susan trips, but luckily, Danny catches her. We all laugh as we stumble out. I try not to make too much noise, but we’re clomping down the hall like drunks, still high off each other’s company and the road trip.
Jon
athan speaks in a low voice to Heather just outside Currie’s room. I don’t mean to eavesdrop, but I do.
His hands tremble like the crack-head the tabloids described, and he studies the floor instead of meeting her cool gaze. When he does look at her, he holds back powerful emotion. From his body leaning toward hers, it’s hard for him to restrain himself from touching her.
He’s not just addicted to drugs but Heather. He can’t face her. The pain stretched across his face tells me his words don’t come easy. “Look, Heather. I’m not coming back. I’ve made a new life in LA with Denage. We want custody of Currie, and she wants to come live with us.”
Lennon won’t let that happen. He’ll never give up Currie to Jonathan.
“It won’t last,” she says. “You always come back.”
Heather steps closer to Jonathan so that her breasts brush against his chest. Wow. He takes a step back. She is totally focused on Jonathan. What about Currie?
Jonathan doesn’t look at her. “We’re done, Heather. I’ll always love you, but we’re not good for each other. Our relationship is destructive. This is what’s best for both of us and for our children.”
“What am I supposed to do?” Heather says with both hands on her hips.
“If you need money, I’ll give you some. You can always go back to acting.”
“I hate you.” Heather slaps him then stomps off.
Jonathan deflates, his shoulders sag and his chin sinks to his chest.
I feel a pang of sadness for her. She built her whole life around this man, gave up her career. What will she do? It’s hard for a woman to get a job in Hollywood once she’s old.
Jonathan enters the room just before we do. He’s still studying the tiles when he takes a seat next to his girlfriend.
Lennon glances up from his guitar. He gives us a weak grin. Lennon looks like he just lost his best friend. Dark half-moons shadow his eyes, he’s too skinny, his beard is scruffy, and he’s wearing the same clothes I last saw him in. He looks like shit. The smell hits me when I go over to give him a hug. It’s not good. But that’s not the freaky part, it’s the fact I felt like I needed to hold him.
