by Nicky Wells
He held on to my hand as though he was afraid it might vanish, I might vanish, if he let go. With his thumb, he gently caressed the base of my ring finger—where a ring should have been, but wasn’t.
I sighed deeply and suppressed the tears that pricked the back of my eyes. Damn me and my tendency to weep at the slightest provocation. Damn him for noticing that I wasn’t wearing the ring!
“Dan,” I stalled, “now’s not a good time to talk. Can’t we wait until—“
“No, we can’t,” he interceded forcefully. “Now’s as good a time as any. You said you needed time to think about things, to sort things out. You gave me a qualified ‘yes’. Now you’re not even wearing the ring, and it looks as though you’ve made up your mind.”
His tone of voice was at once challenging and hurt. Damn and double damn again. Maybe I should have just worn the ring and not risked exposing my resolution quite so blatantly. Or I could lie and say that I didn’t want the others to ask awkward questions about the same said ring? I toyed with this idea for a moment, seizing on it gratefully at first, and then dismissing it. Dan deserved honesty, even if the timing sucked.
“Dan,” I began again. “You were my dream come true. I would love to be your wife. I would love to marry you. But I can’t. And you’re right I have made up my mind. I didn’t know that I would, that quickly, but…things have happened. And I think I know now what’s right for me. For us,” I added with considerable emphasis.
“You’ve talked to Tim,” Dan posited flatly. “You’ve talked to Tim, or to your parents, and you’ve been told you’re mad.”
I had to laugh despite myself. “I have done no such thing. Why would I do something ridiculous like that? The only person I have talked to is Rachel, and she was most excited. She wanted to be bridesmaid. But this has nothing to do with anyone but us,” I clarified.
Dan was still doubtful. The plane was quiet as the conversation of the others seemed to have died down, or was just drowned out by the noise of the big metal hull swooshing through the air. For all intents and purposes we might have been completely on our own.
“Well then, what is it about?” he wanted to know. Hurt and frustration were written all over his face, and the genuine, unfakeable depth of his emotion made me dither all over again.
“Where were you last night?” I asked by way of counter-response. I hated to go that way, but the question had slipped out before I could help it.
“Last night?” he repeated.
“Yes, last night. After the session finished.”
He didn’t say anything for a few seconds and I could tell he was uncomfortable.
“You didn’t come home until very late,” I observed as matter-of-fact as I could.
“Were you checking on me?” he shot back.
“I wasn’t actually. I’m just curious.”
“I didn’t have you down as the jealous type who goes checking up on people.”
I took a sharp breath. “That’s below the belt, Dan, and you know it. I’m not the jealous type. I don’t go checking up on people. Yes, I could have just walked into your room, but I didn’t. It didn’t even occur to me. But the fact is that you didn’t get back until late, and I don’t think you amused yourself alone all that time, did you?”
Once more, I couldn’t help the challenge in my voice. I understood with complete clarity that I was doing the right thing in letting Dan go. I didn’t like to have this conversation with him, and, had we stayed together, we would have had to have conversations like this. All the time. Like he had had with Irene.
But Dan didn’t quite see it my way yet. For now, he played the injured party.
“I didn’t know you were so suspicious,” he mumbled.
“I’m not, Dan, don’t you see? But staying with you, as your wife, I might easily turn into a suspicious, bitter, bored housewife. I wouldn’t like that, and neither would you.”
“But why?” he wanted to know, completely baffled.
“Because…because of who you are. Because of how you are. Because of the very reasons I love you so much.”
Oops. Well, that, too, slipped out before I could help it. I was momentarily confused. I thought I had decided I didn’t love him? Or did I love him, but just not in that all-encompassing, accepting, thunderbolt-and-lightning kind of way? Yes, I nodded to myself that was it. I loved him, and it would be foolish to deny that, but I didn’t love him unconditionally, and you needed unconditional love for a marriage.
“Because I am what?” he probed.
“Do you want it bluntly? In your own words?”
“Sure, shoot.”
“Well, let’s see…you told me yourself that you are bad news. And that you are…incorrigible, I think is the word you used, when it comes to women.”
Now I had hit below the belt.
“That’s not fair,” he protested. “I promise I’ll change.”
“You slept with someone else last night,” I declared evenly, the power of the stark statement hitting us both in the face. “Why?” I whispered after a pause.
Dan crumpled and raked his hands through his hair in a gesture of defeat. “I don’t know,” he mumbled. “It just kind of happened. But I will stop it, I will change, I—”
“But,” I interrupted, “Don’t you see? I don’t really want you to change. You wouldn’t be you if you changed. You might lose your music, your flair. Liking women is so much part of the fabric of your being…how could you ever do away with that?”
I had his attention now so I thought I would go for the all-out.
“Dan, you are the most incredible man who has ever happened to me. I’ve never known such passion, such excitement. We’ve had the most unbelievable days together. You were my dream come true. I have wanted all of what we just had since…well since I was a teenager. Since I saw you in Edinburgh. Since Darren first told me how to find you all again. I have wanted you, so much. And I still do. Oh, how I do.”
Time for a deep breath and little sniffle. “I am flattered and humbled that you want me to be your wife. I would love to be your wife, truly. I have thought about nothing else for a long time, and I spent all of last night envisaging our lives together. But you know what? It wouldn’t work. As a fling, I can overlook the other women in your life, maybe…”
Dan raised his hand, trying to get a word in edgeways, but I ploughed on.
“As a fling,” I repeated, “I can ignore the other women in your life. Like the girl that came out of your suite on the morning when I arrived in Paris. Or the woman you spent last night with.” I paused briefly, still reeling at having this betrayal confirmed.
“As a fling, I knew that other women were part of the deal. And, totally out of character for me, I didn’t mind. At least not very much. Perhaps I found it even just a little exciting. But as your wife…,” I trailed off miserably. “Dan, as your wife I couldn’t share you. I wouldn’t have it in me. It wouldn’t be right. Plus, I’d always be second to your music. And the tours. And the albums. And I’m not big enough to put up with that. Isn’t that weird? I love you for your music, for what you are, but that’s also precisely the reason why I can’t love you and can’t be your wife. Go figure.”
I paused. That was actually the most succinct expression of my conundrum that I had come up with so far. I loved him for what he was which meant I couldn’t love him and be his wife.
“Go figure,” I repeated. “I can’t and wouldn’t want to change you. Then I’d lose you and your music. Your fantastic music. So, I can’t build a life with you. Every fiber in my being is screaming out against this decision because I would so like to try. But surely, you can see that it wouldn’t work? We would both get hurt? Our kids, if we had any, would get hurt.”
I dug in my handbag for my purse, and then retrieved the ring.
“This,” I announced solemnly, “Is the most beautiful thing anyone has ever given me. But I think I need to return it.” I unclasped his hand and gently deposited the ring in his palm. I wou
ld lie if I didn’t admit that I hesitated for a second, feeling a big twinge of regret. I faced the abyss, knowing I had to throw the ring away but still felt beholden to its magic and its attraction.
Dan was quiet. His hand clasped and unclasped around the ring which he held on his palm. He didn’t look at me, but I could see a muscle working in his jaw. I didn’t know what to do. I was truly spent. I had nothing more to say, nothing to offer that might comfort him. And I hurt, too. How I wished he hadn’t made me have this talk there on the plane, with all the others present. We needed privacy. We needed to be alone. I, for one, wanted to crawl into a little hole and never come out again.
“Can I have a hug?” Dan whispered eventually.
I could barely hear him above the noise of the plane and the gay laughter of the others, who had meanwhile resumed their conversation and cheery banter. He turned to face me and he was eerily pale. Whatever else had been going on, he had been very serious in his proposal and his promises to me. Or at least he had believed he had been. I leant over and we held each other as best as we could.
“I’m sorry,” he managed after another little while. “You are right. I hadn’t been thinking. Somehow…somehow, having women as and when they offer themselves has become such a…normal part of my life that I never thought about it when that girl was in my suite. Or when I went out last night. I…”
He paused, struggling for words to explain. “That stuff just doesn’t matter. It barely registers at all. It’s completely meaningless. It’s like…I don’t know, it’s like going for a burger. You know—quick, accessible, but never quite fills you up.”
I tried hard to suppress a gasp. Comparing women to burgers was a new one on me, and my feminist side wanted to shout out in protest. But I could see that he was trying to make sense of what had just happened, so I didn’t interrupt.
“I…Sophie, you must believe me that I meant every word I said to you. About how you are different, and how you have brought meaning to my life. And to making love. I really would like you to be my wife. I would love to spend the rest of my life with you. And I meant it when I said I would change. I really, truly, did.”
He looked at me with pleading eyes. I noticed that some color had returned to his face and that his eyes didn’t seem as dull any more. He seemed to be recovering from whatever degree of shock I had administered.
“But…” More hesitation as he built up to some kind of painful admission. “But I think you are right. You must be right. How could you not be? Look at me. I’m a sad, old rock star. I had the most precious being in the world within reach; you could have been mine. And without thinking, I just kept on having those…” He couldn’t finish.
“Burgers,” I snorted, suddenly almost hysterical with accumulated tension. “You’re a fast-food junkie, Dan.” I could barely hold back the giggles. My shoulders shook with the effort.
“Don’t cry,” Dan cried in alarm.
“I’m not,” I spluttered, finally succumbing. “I’m sorry. I know it’s not funny. But…maybe it is. I love you.” I said that last bit with conviction and gave him a big smacking kiss.
“You are just…you. And you must have your fix of burgers.” I couldn’t get off that theme now.
He looked hurt again at first, but then he saw the funny side as well. His lips trembled as he tried to suppress a smile, and the skin around his eyes creased into the familiar laughter lines. And—I took a very close look—wasn’t there just the slightest hint of relief in those baby-blues?
Dan took my hand once more.
“Sophie, love, in ten years, you are the only woman who has completely figured me out. The only woman to confess to loving me as I am, and who doesn’t want to change me. I had no idea until you held up that mirror to my face just now. I guess I am a fast-food junkie. And I’m not proud of it, not at all. But meanwhile, I guess you are right. You would have a terrible time being my wife. I would be selfish to insist. And I would be stupid to believe that I can just shed my…burger addiction overnight. Sadly, that means I must forego the best thing that ever happened to me.” Dramatic pause, deep breath. “You.”
I wanted to say something, but this time Dan shushed me. “Look, can we stay friends? Platonic friends if we must, so you can get on with your life? But friends nonetheless? It would mean a lot to me—to all of us—I guess. Will you come and visit us on gigs, or if we’re touring? Will you come and visit me at home, with your new husband, some time?”
His eyes were pleading and I had difficulty adjusting to this turn of events. I was flattered and honored that I clearly meant so much to him, but was staying friends such a good idea? After all, we had resolved at the Royal that men and women could never just be friends. But he was grasping at straws and I didn’t have it in me to take this small measure of consolation or hope away from him. I was awash with relief that he had taken my decision to leave him so well, and who knew, perhaps now we could figure out some kind of modus operandi for a completely platonic male-female friendship?
“That would be lovely. I would be honored,” I agreed whole-heartedly. We hugged some more—and it felt good. Neither of us had used the old, clichéd, trodden words, but there were ‘no hard feelings’ between us.
“Great,” he breathed.
“The only thing is…,” I started, not sure how to proceed.
“What?” he asked anxiously.
“Well, it might be just me coming to visit you at home. I don’t know exactly about when I’ll have a husband. Of any description.”
Dan raised his eyebrows. Now I had thoroughly mystified him.
“But what about Tim?” he wanted to know. “I thought you’d be…well, I thought your decision involved…you know, going back with him?”
I shook my head softly. What about Tim, indeed?
Chapter Forty-Four
Just then, the plane gave a big lurch as we touched down at Heathrow. In all the excitement, we had completely missed the landing process and were amazed to find ourselves on the ground once more.
“Well, I guess this is it,” Dan said with some considerable sadness.
“I guess so,” I agreed. “But I’ll see you at the Arena, and if you’re serious about being friends, maybe we can still have a grand old time.”
“Absolutely,” he agreed enthusiastically. Then he pressed the ring back into my hand. “I think you should keep this.”
I stared at him in amazement. “Dan, I can’t. It’s lovely but…well, I couldn’t wear it. It’s way too expensive to languish in a drawer somewhere. Besides…” I had a thought. “I think you should keep it. As a memento. Or a reminder. Of me. In a roundabout way.”
He looked at me for the longest time and then, with a big sigh, took the ring back. “Okay. I’ll have it back. But don’t think you’ve won that easily…”
Before I could find out what he meant by that rather ominous remark, the cabin crew had opened the doors and we could deplane. As in Paris, there was a huge crowd of press and photographers waiting, and there were more flashlights and questions shouted as the band descended the steps. The guys spent a few minutes courting the paparazzi, but then we all adjourned to a private lounge to say farewell for a few days.
Perhaps to save face or to avoid awkward questions, Dan took my hand again as soon as we were out of eyeshot from the press, and we walked into the lounge together. We didn’t hold each other too closely and we didn’t kiss, but we were obviously on good terms, and there was a palpable sense of relief around the rest of the band that we hadn’t fallen out. The band had five days off to spend with their families and relax before a grand rehearsal at the Arena on Wednesday night. I wouldn’t be attending that rehearsal—I had seen quite enough rehearsals and Jack didn’t think it would be necessary for me to be there. But he did ask me to meet the band in their dressing rooms at the Arena first thing on Friday morning to chart the complete last day of tour and I readily agreed. There were lots of goodbyes flying around as Joe, Darren, Mick, and Dan prepared to go
their separate ways for a few days, and we all hugged and kissed—even Dan and I. It was quite an emotional moment in a way, having to leave each other after so much time spent together, and Joe told me that it always felt odd. I took plenty of pictures and made a few notes. Once more, there was a private side here that I thought fans would be interested in, and Jack agreed that I could work this into the second-to-last installment of my column.
Goodbyes done, we all trundled outside to find that Jack had organized each and every one of us a private car—not a limo this time—to take us to our respective homes. I settled gratefully into the back of mine. Home, sweet home—I just wanted to close the door behind me for a few hours before the second phase of my resolution had to be put into action.
It was fantastically comforting to arrive at home. My little flat in Tooting, my own space, with my lovely muslin curtains and my things and my very own bed. I walked around silently for a few minutes, making myself welcome and apologizing to the space for having abandoned it for such a long time. I had returned to my sanctuary, and I thanked my guardian angel that I hadn’t got around to giving notice on the flat when I had meant to—after I first gotten engaged to Tim. I would be living here for quite some time.
The urge to unpack and bed down for the day was almost overpowering, but I had a lot of things left to do and time was of the essence. I emptied the contents of my suitcase on the kitchen floor and hastily threw on a wash. I had a quick, very hot shower to refresh myself and, while drying off and cooling down, took time to listen to all my messages. Thankfully, there weren’t that many. The most recent message was from Rick and I called him back quickly to let him know that I would submit the penultimate installment of my column by lunchtime tomorrow. Rachel had left a few, but she had also left companion messages on my mobile and so I already knew what she wanted: to meet up, as soon as possible, when I was back. My Mum had left three messages updating me on Dad’s progress—all good news—and inviting me to call her for a chat—“whatever the outcome, whenever you need to.” Bless her. I was tempted to pick up the phone right then, but I restrained myself. Best get it all over with before the big female powwows began.
