When the two of us finally settled on the couch, I told Dustin about Carson’s call.
“Why didn’t you say something about it before?”
“Because I thought we’d have some peace while we ate.” I sighed. “I’m tired of talking about Nick, tired of thinking about him.”
“He hasn’t been around here again?” His voice was dark.
“No. It was all Carson this time.”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to go to this show tomorrow.”
I knew what he meant. But I’d written about Carson, I’d heard some of what he was going to do and I wanted more. I wasn’t going to be made a prisoner by Nick. I felt involved with Carson, I wanted him to succeed, and for me to be there to cheer him on. But with Nick still on the loose, we couldn’t leave Ian with a sitter. I simply couldn’t take the risk. If he wanted to get to me then through Ian was the perfect way. He’d know that. He had enough cunning. Carson would understand, and there’d be other chances to see him play. Besides, I told myself, I’d probably be exhausted after we’d celebrated the birthday.
Dustin frowned and sat forward, placing his hands on his knees. He looked at me intently, pushing his tongue against the inside of his cheek before sitting upright again. Then he took a deep breath. “Look, I’ve got an idea. How about this? I know you really want to see that show. Why don’t you go and I’ll stay here. Take the cell phone with you so we can keep in touch if there’s a problem.”
“Are you sure?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he answered. “Really. I’ll be here, so Ian will be safe. You’ll feel better and you can have a good time.” Dustin smiled. “And we save on a sitter, too. Besides,” he added, “there’s something else I didn’t say earlier.”
“What?”
“The guy at Elliott Bay has come back to me with a package. Staying home will give me time to do some thinking.”
“How does it look?”
“The same money as before - but maybe a bonus if the store does well. Not as much as I’d make from the publisher. Full medical, 401k. It’s not bad.”
“If you want it, then do it,” I told him and he smiled.
“I’ll still have to do one last Montana trip. There’s no way I can get out of that.”
“Do you think you can put it off until…?” I didn’t need to say more.
“I can try. There’s only so much they can let slide, though. They want me to head out this coming Sunday.”
For Montana, and he’d be gone all week. Leave on a Sunday and return the following Saturday. The last time, Ian had only been a few months old and so I’d been able to cope without too many problems. This time around he’d run me ragged. But the dark shadow hanging over it all was Nick. I didn’t want Ian and me to be on our own for that long while the man was still out there. I’d figure something out, though. Maybe I’d tell May or Carla everything, and ask them to come stay here. We had a spare room. I grinned and put on a brave face.
“I’ll miss you when you go.” I dug him lightly in the ribs with my elbow. “No hitting on MSU girls when you’re there.”
“Scout’s honor.”
“You told me you were never a scout.”
“Imaginary scout’s honor.”
“I bet you never got any of those imaginary badges.”
“You want five bucks on that?”
“Imaginary money,” I told him.
He held out his arm. “See that? A whole sleeve of them. Pay up, lady.”
We started laughing. It was silly but after the last few days it was what I needed. The grimness evaporated.
“I’m sorry about the way I acted when you bought the car,” Dustin repeated. “I was being a jerk.”
“It’s okay. It’s over. We were both on edge.” I looked at him. “Are you sure you’re okay with me going to see Carson play?”
“I told you, it’s fine.”
“Next time he plays we’ll go along together,” I promised.
“You think something might happen for him?”
“I don’t know.” The music I thought should be huge somehow never was. It stayed out on the margins. Even Seattle, which had once been so wide open and welcoming to weirdness, seemed less tolerant as it had grown richer and more famous. If it wasn’t rock, it might as well not exist - except in The Rocket. “You’re absolutely sure you don’t mind?” I asked again, wanting to be certain.
We made slow love that night, starting with kissing and exploring there in the living room and finishing up in bed. We cuddled together when it was all over. Falling asleep in his arms gave me the same feeling I’d had back when we were dating – that lovely sense of being secure and desired.
Sixteen
I woke early, the way I did every single day now. Only 5:07. One year, one hour and forty-seven minutes earlier, I’d brought Ian into the world. First four hours of labor, of pure agony, then he’d come out and started screaming. Lungs like leather, the nurse said. Then she put him on my breast and my whole world had changed.
I checked on birthday boy and then I made coffee, watching the rest of the world come awake. Lights started to go on in houses and soon people left for work. Outside, the birds were singing and there was the promise of a sun breaking through the pale clouds. I stood out on the deck, relishing a smoke. A whole year? It seemed impossible. And there’d be all the other years to come. All the changes, all the adventures, all the sorrows and the joys.
Back inside, I booted up the computer, knowing I had a good thirty minutes before Dustin and Ian would wake. There was time to work on the Irish musician piece. With help from the Trouser Press Guide, I’d cranked out eight hundred words by the time I heard low moans growing louder from upstairs. I saved the document and went up to find my son waiting with a big grin on his face. I changed and dressed him, and by the time we reached the kitchen, Dustin was there, already showered, shaved and ready for work.
“Happy birthday,” he said, tickling Ian until he began to giggle. “Ellensburg and Wenatchee today,” he told me. “I’ll make sure I’m home early.” He gulped down his cup of coffee and kissed me.
“Drive safe,” I called after him, but by the then slider had closed and he was disappearing down the stairs to the backyard. We watched him drive off. “Right,” I told Ian, “you have a birthday to celebrate. Let’s go take a look, shall we?”
Breakfast was a long time coming. First we had to open every package and throw the wrapping paper around everywhere. Then we had open each toy and play with it for a few seconds before moving on to the next one. As the pile of presents grew, his eyes seemed to open wider. He kept looking up at me, beaming with joy, wondering just what was happening here, and I kept encouraging him. He was surrounded by paper, boxes and toys, the happiest little boy in the world as he gurgled and laughed. God, I thought, don’t ever let me forget this. Please.
Eventually I left him to play and made us both something to eat. He’d be too excited for much. Later there’d be cake and a candle- nothing nutritious, but for once I didn’t care. I wanted him to enjoy every waking moment of today.
Later, we drove down to QFC and picked up the cake I’d ordered. Chocolate, with ‘Happy 1st Birthday Ian’ piped on the top in orange icing. A pack of Jell-O, birthday candles, cookies. There would only be three of us for this party, but who cared? Dustin and I would always remember it.
We’d just finished lunch and Ian was starting to flag, ready for his nap, when May arrived. Her hair was brushed to a high gloss, her makeup so subtle that it looked like a professional job. Even dressed down in jeans and a ratty old Sonics sweatshirt, she looked as if she’d stepped out of an ad. I felt frumpy next to her in my baggy Levi’s and old plaid shirt with the holes in the elbows.
She scooped up Ian, kissing his hair and nose and singing ‘Happy Birthday’ in a glorious soprano, so loud that half the neighborhood could hear.
“Come on,” she said, and I followed her out to her car. “What’s that?” she asked Ian, poin
ting at the box in the back seat. “Do you know? I bet you don’t.”
She handed him back to me and wrestled the package out of the vehicle. It was half as big as her.
“My God, what have you bought him?”
“Just something.” She put her arms firmly around it and toted it into the house. I hadn’t told her it was Ian’s birthday. She’d obviously just remembered the date and noted it in her calendar. ‘From Auntie May.’ She cocked her head and looked at him. “Do you want to open it?”
Ian stared at the package while she took out a pocket knife and cut through the cardboard. Inside was a tiny pup tent, already assembled. While he watched, she attached a wide nylon tube, braced with hoops, to the entrance.
“Go on,” she encouraged him. “You can go inside.”
“That’s incredible,” I told her as he began to explore it, crawling around inside. I hadn’t seen anything like this at Toys ‘R’ Us.
“Everyone needs somewhere private - a place to hide from mom and dad.”
“Thank you,” I told her. I was staggered. “It must have cost you a fortune.”
She waved the comment away.
“It wasn’t that much. I had my brother order it wholesale.” I knew he owned a store of some kind down in San Francisco, and how she spoiled her nieces and nephews for birthdays and Christmas. And now Ian. “Are you going to see that country singer you wrote about?”
“Yeah,” I answered, watching a shape wriggle around happily inside the tent. “I think he could be pretty good.” I wasn’t about to tell her the problems with Nick. “Sure you don’t want to come? Some company would be good.”
“Can’t tonight. Maybe next time.”
“Decided anything about the Weekly job?”
Her eyes twinkled.
“Second interview’s tomorrow,” she said. “So keep your fingers crossed.”
“It’s yours,” I told her. “It’s got to be.” She knew music, wrote like a dream and she genuinely loved being out and about in the clubs. She seemed perfect for it.
“Let’s hope so.”
“What about the guy?”
Her mouth quivered mischievously.
“He asked me out and I said yes. Then five minutes before we were set to meet, I called and blew him out.”
“Thattagirl!” I told her.”You want a cup of coffee?”
“I got to get going. I just wanted to swing by with the present. Big party later?”
“Just us. But that’s fine.”
Ian reappeared, just his face with a huge smile at first, then the rest of him. May picked him up and kissed him, then lowered him back to the floor, watching him vanish into the tube again.
“He seems to like it.”
“It’s unbelievable.” It was, too.
“I have to go.”
We hugged and I thanked her again as she left. Good friends were hard to come by. Five minutes after she left, the phone rang. It was Monica from the library.
“It’s that little cutie’s birthday, isn’t it?” she asked.
“On the nose,” I said with a smile.
“Well, shoot, I was sure it was. But I can’t make it over to give him his present today.”
“You shouldn’t have-” I began.
“Not remembered the birthday of my favorite boy?” She made the idea sound unthinkable. “Listen, will you be around tomorrow? I finish at one. I can swing by then and we can take him to the park.”
“Sure.” I’d be glad to see her, and I knew Ian would be overjoyed.
“That’s settled,” Monica said. “You just make sure he has a good day.”
I looked over at him, surrounded by all the new toys like he was in hog heaven.
“Don’t you worry about that.”
Dustin arrived not long after four, smiling and glad to be home. Ian had been too excited to nap, moving from one toy to another and yet another. Dustin glanced at the tent, then turned to me with a question on his face.
“May,” I explained, and he smiled as he tickled his son.
“Where are we going to put it all?”
“No idea,” I said happily. I’d worry about that later.
“Hey, you know you had a flat?” he asked.
“What?” I jumped up and started out the door. He was right: the rear tire on the driver’s side of the Tempo. Shit. It could have been Nick. No, I forced myself to think. It could just as easily have been an accident. I stood still and calmed my breathing. Shit happens. But the timing was bad; I’d need to put the spare on before I went out.
“Just leave it,” he said. “Do it tomorrow instead. Take mine.”
“Thanks, I will.”
I put together a stir-fry, something quick, easy and tasty. Then it was cake, Jell-O and ice cream. The things Ian loved best. He and I blew out the candle together while Dustin took photos. It all became a beautiful mess. Ian ended up with cake all over his face and hands. But he was happy and that was the only thing that mattered. A year, I reflected. Time seemed to have speeded up since he’d come into the world. I loved him, with no conditions, no reservations. I loved him with everything I had.
While Dustin put Ian to bed, I dressed for the evening. A black Cordelia’s Dad tee shirt, black jeans, and my old Docs. I began to rat my hair up a little, then combed it down again. My youth had been fun, but I was a year into being a mom and living now was even better. So I could be myself, with no attempt to go all glam. I was happy in my own skin. I just needed to relax and learn to show it.
I parked in Ballard a little after nine, and walked down the street to the Tractor, looking around carefully for any sign of Nick. But there were only the revelers drinking at Hattie’s Hat and people leaving the gym a block away, with sports bags in hand.
The guy on the door at the Tractor waved me on past the short line, giving me a smile and a wink as I entered. It was a big room, split in two by a waist-high wooden wall. One half was filled with a stage, chairs and a bucket load of sound equipment, the other contained a bar that ran most of the length of one wall, offering a place to stand and talk. Unlike the Crocodile and some other places, people came here for the music, not to see and be seen.
The club had built a solid niche for itself. Much of the week there was Celtic music to draw out the drinkers, sprinkled with some of the new country music inspired by Uncle Tupelo. Roots music on both counts. It was a comfortable, friendly venue, better than most of those rock clubs where I’d been groped so many times. A place for adults, not for those who hadn’t grown up yet.
I bought a Henry Weinhard’s and just stood, looking around. No sign of Carson, but a few other familiar faces. I nodded and said hi to them. There were already forty or fifty people around, so it looked as if Carson would have a good crowd. Shows here began early and finished by ten-thirty, just right for people who had the responsibility of jobs and children. I’d spent too many years leaving bars at one-thirty in the morning, after sitting through a pair of terrible support bands until I felt exhausted and numb by the time the headliner finally took the stage at midnight.
I chatted a little, exchanged a little gossip, then found myself a seat near the stage. This was the part I hated, just waiting for something to happen. I glanced around. No Nick anywhere. At least there was that, so I could relax and enjoy
Then the opening act appeared and I forgot about everything else. Michael Shuler had recently moved up from Los Angeles, but he was much more than simply another California transplant hunting the big time in Seattle. He was a singer-songwriter with a hint of country in his sound and the kind of guitar chops most people would kill to possess. A couple people had mentioned his name to me but I’d never heard him play before. There was depth to his music, polished and emotional. A perfect fit for this place.
He played for thirty minutes and I still wanted more. “When Steel Was King” seemed like an ache for America’s past, while “Box Of Shiny Shells” sent shivers through me. It brooded and menaced while it held on with its nails to t
he edge of emotion, bolted down so hard it threatened to explode. Tomorrow I’d call Tonia at The Rocket; I wanted to write about this guy.
It was over all too soon. He seemed surprised at the applause he received, the look of shock turning to a smile as he ambled away. Then the lights came up and there was soon a crush around the bar.
I kept to my seat, knowing one beer was my limit when I was behind the wheel. I watched people mill around in groups, noticing the animation on their faces as they talked, the urgency and laughter in their voices, a couple huddled together, communicating with quiet tones and gentle looks. A small flyer on the stage listed all the upcoming acts for the rest of April. I stood up and grabbed a copy, and began to search through the names. Some I knew, many I didn’t. Discoveries to be made, old favorites to enjoy, and I knew I probably wouldn’t make it out to see any of them.
I was happier sticking close to home. Back when I was pregnant, I had worried that I’d miss this life: all the hanging out, the buzz that a great band could bring. The truth was that it had just been filling a hole in my life. Now I had Ian, that space didn’t even exist. He filled it all. I still liked music, but I went out rarely now. Each gig became an occasion, carefully planned, something special to celebrate.
I started to play with the label on my beer bottle, edging my nail underneath and peeling it away. I was feeling nervous for Carson. I was hoping they’d like him, that he’d sound as good as he had on the little I’d heard back in his house.
People filed back in and sat down. Jim’s mom hadn’t made it here, I noticed. All around, the anticipation was rising. Finally, just before the lights went down, I managed to peel off the label and stuck it back on the bottle, upside down. Five points. A good omen.
He held the old Martin guitar in one hand, limping but with no stick. A clean shirt, a newer pair of jeans and a shine on his cowboy boots. He’d combed his hair, but whatever he did, Carson would always look grizzled, as though he’d looked life square in the face. He took one of the two chairs on the stage, plugged in his instrument and gazed out at us for a moment.
West Seattle Blues Page 18
