Ties That Bind

by Neeny Boucher

  He felt haunted by them and they’d reverberate in his mind creating pressure. He tried to ignore them, argue with them, or push them away, but it made little difference. They whispered their poison, taunting him, and disrupting his peace of mind. It was obvious: he couldn’t hide from them. They were him and they needed to be confronted or exorcised.

  Riley wrote poetry for hours and Jed let him. When he needed a break, he helped Jed with the house and then went back to his writing. It was like a tap had been turned on and mania took over.

  At first, they were raw, full of anger and pain. Childish and bitter, but over time he started modifying. In this process, Riley acknowledged that he’d been depressed. Depressed. He ran the word around his mouth.

  His mother used to call him ‘melancholy’ and he always had a tendency to get down, especially in the winter months, but he’d never fallen this far. It felt like the color had bled out of the world and he didn’t think he’d ever be happy again. He put all of his feelings into his work with no holds barred and his head started to clear. Clearing the darkness gave him the ability to see the light.

  As time went by, the poems started to be more contemplative and evocative, filled with longing and regret. After two weeks, he’d filled his notebooks and needed more. Riley started editing and fine-tuning his work, watching it take shape in front of his eyes.

  Even in draft form, Riley knew he was onto something, but he didn’t know if there was much interest in angry poetry. He was onto his third notebook when a light bulb went off in his head. “Huh,” he laughed, making Jed look up curiously. “I’ve just realized something. These don’t really work as poems, but they might work as songs.”

  **********

  “Alright, do it,” Jed groaned. “Call him. So long as this isn’t some kind of torture, then I’ll agree to it. But if this gets odd, I’m telling the old man to leave.”

  Riley nodded. “It’s not what you think, Jed. This isn’t about her anymore,” and to his own surprise, he realized it was the truth. “We’re done. I get that now. We were done the first time, but I wouldn’t let her go. This is about trying to decide what I want to do with my life. I’m nearly twenty-five and I’m tired of drifting, waiting for something. I put all my hope for a future in a stupid kid’s romantic dream. Now, I’m working out what I want to do from hereon in.”

  It took Riley a week to convince Jed they needed Jack Martin’s expertise, not just on the house, but also for his creative work. When Jed finally relented, Riley placed the call to Jack asking him to come. Listening to Jack’s familiar voice on the phone, a lump formed in his throat.

  He had missed Jack more than he acknowledged, and when he’d lost Christina, he thought he’d lost them all. If there were such things as spiritual fathers in the world, Jack Martin was his. After Riley requested his presence, Jack agreed to make the trip without hesitation.

  “Jack,” Riley breathed. “Can you drive here? You’ll need all your tools.”

  “Sure,” Jack agreed. “Is there anything else you need?”

  “Your guitar,” Riley answered nervously. “And maybe some recording equipment? Nothing fancy, just something we could record demos on.”

  For the first time in a long time, Riley felt happy and upbeat. He didn’t know where this journey was taking him, but he didn’t care. It was heading toward the horizon and not marooned in no man’s land.

  **********

  Riley, The Past, Medford, Wisconsin, November 2007

  Jack arrived at the end of November in his old red van and when it parked in the driveway, Riley went out to greet his ex-father-in-law. The two men looked at each other and Riley saw tears well in the old man’s eyes. He would forever remember Jack Martin, not just as Johnny’s, Gabby’s, or Christina’s father, but the man that gave him encouragement when very few other adults did.

  Coming forward with his lopsided grin, Jack wrapped his arms around him and held on tight. No words were spoken and none were needed. The two men loved each other, even though they’d never say it out loud.

  The day after Jack arrived, Jed made his excuses to leave. “Where you going?” Riley asked. “And do you need company?”

  Jed shook his head, but a strange gleam lit his eyes. “No, brother. I’ll be fine. I don’t want you to know where I’m going, but I won’t be alone. I’ll be back as soon as I can and you’ll tell everyone I was always here.”

  Riley laughed as his friend climbed onto his motorbike. “I wish you luck,” he called out as Jed put his helmet on. He hoped Jed would be okay, but he respected Jed’s wishes and he couldn’t leave Jack here alone anyway.

  “I’ll be fine,” Jed grinned. “The other guy? Not so much.”

  Alone in the house with Jack, they worked for hours until Riley plucked up enough courage to show Jack his work. The old man read in silence with a pen in his hand, making notes in the margins. Riley hovered over him intently; he could never remember being this nervous.

  Frowning, Jack drummed his fingers on the table to music only he could hear. If Jack knew what the songs were about, he didn’t say anything. Riley didn’t welcome that conversation.

  All the songs were about Riley and Christina. It was their history: relationship, love, pain, loss, and outlet for his anger in words. It was years later, before Riley could admit, even to himself, they were both angry love letter and apology.

  Jack got up without a word, grabbing his guitar. He’d witnessed Jack do this countless times, the image making him misty eyed and nostalgic. The old man started playing chords, stopping only to underline something.

  Riley couldn’t take it anymore. “Well,” he prompted sparking Jack out of his reverie. “What do you think?”

  Jack blinked and his eyes came back into focus. “Some of these… well, they’re a bit angry,” the old man nodded. “They need work, but they’re good and we can work on that. Some of these lines are bloody brilliant and we. This has real promise.”

  Riley’s eyes opened wide at the praise and he felt elated. Jack was a kind man, but a tough critic, especially about music. He had exacting standards and if he thought something was ridiculous, he had no problem in expressing his ‘musical opinion’. “We?” He asked. “You and me? You want to do this with me?”

  Jack nodded. “I’m not joking. I haven’t worked in music for a long time, but I miss it. If you want my help, you have it, but I think we should put some music to them and get Johnny. The band’s music is fine for what they want to do, but their lyrics are rubbish. It sounds like they’ve been written by teenage boys who can’t stop wanking.”

  Riley’s head rocked up. Ewww. He didn’t want a masturbation conversation with Jack, but it looked like their relationship had reached a whole different level.

  **********

  Riley, The Past, Medford, Wisconsin, December 2007

  “Yeah, boy!” Johnny grinned, wrapping his arms around Riley in a bear hug. “Good to see you man. I’ve missed you.”

  The band arrived two weeks before Christmas in a beat up van to spend a few days with Riley and Jack. They’d been playing small gigs at festivals and bars around the country, trying to make a name for themselves. By the look of them, they were pushing the proverbial up hill and living rough.

  Johnny was so thin that Riley could lift him into the air with ease and the two wrestled before walking inside with their arms around each other. “I’m sorry, man,” Johnny whispered, his eyes concerned. “About you and Dina… I really am.”

  “Yeah,” Riley nodded, trying to ignore the ache in his chest. It was the first time someone had mentioned her name since he’d been in Medford. Now he was surrounded by her family, he supposed he better toughen up and get used to it. “Me too. Shit happens, I guess?”

  “Show me these songs,” Johnny grinned his lopsided smile. “The old man can’t stop raving about them. High praise ‘indeed’,” he mimicked his father, making Riley laugh.

  Wolf-whistling over his shoulder, Johnny beckoned the rest of the
band to follow them. Johnny introduced Sam and Lexi, two blonde, dreadlocked, tattooed, pierced, alternative, and obviously stoned rockers to Riley and Jack. As the band set up, Riley noticed there was an obvious person missing. “Where’s Dave?”

  “He’s gone to spend a few days with Mandy,” Johnny shrugged. “He finds touring… challenging, especially in an old van where sometimes we have to crash. You know Dave. He has champagne tastes and we’re on cheap wine wages.”

  As the band set up, Riley’s heart lifted. In the midst of the darkness and in the solitude of Medford, he’d found his purpose, and calling. He’d always wanted a creative life and it suddenly occurred to him that he might just get one. It wasn’t in the way he’d imagined it: being in the band and with Christina, but he didn’t want that anymore. He wanted this.

  **********

  “How much of this stuff have you got?” Lexi asked, chewing a sandwich at the kitchen table and flicking through Riley’s notebooks. The invasion of privacy irritated him, especially when he saw she was looking at pictures of the women he’d slept with.

  Riley closed the book, but she stuck her hand in between the pages. “I like this one,” Lexi pointed at a song, smearing grease marks on the pages. “It’s raw. Misogynistic and angry, but you can tell it comes from pain.”

  She had a tiny, reedy, little girl voice and her musical chops weren’t much better. She was mean on a guitar though and certainly looked the rock chick part, but her stoner obliviousness aggravated him. Clicking her tongue stud, Lexi picked her nose, making Riley’s lips curl in disgust.

  “No,” he snapped. “That song isn’t for public consumption. You’d never get airplay with it and doesn’t that defeat the purpose?”

  It was the harshest work he’d ever done, written at the height of his rage, and pain. He didn’t want it out there and if anyone found out whom it was about, it’d cost him everyone he loved. He’d also probably get sued.

  “What song?” Johnny asked behind him, throwing on a holey sweater. Peering at the grease and bogey smeared page, Johnny grinned. “That is fucking awesome! ‘Ode To A Magnificent Cun-’”

  “Jonathan Adams Martin, you mind your language!” Jack snarled behind them, making everyone jump. “I don’t care how old you are. You won’t be saying that word in my presence. None of you will. It’s filthy.”

  “This is the song, Dad,” Johnny enthused. “It’s the one. It’ll make us notorious and we can release it on YouTube. We do it live and raw, like it’s supposed to be played. We make it mocking and it’ll be an anthem for fuckheads everywhere.”

  After some debate, they shortened the song to “Magnificent” and the c-word wasn’t mentioned in Jack’s presence again. At first, hearing this piece put to music made Riley cringe, but over time, he found it amusing. It was his own personal in-joke: a song about Christina, written by her ex-husband, with co-writing credits to her father, and sung by her brother. It was definitely an anthem to fuckheads and he knew that because he was the biggest one of all.

  **********

  Riley, Seattle, The Past, January 2008

  “I must say you look better than the last time I saw you. Wisconsin must have agreed with you,” Mason mock-shuddered. “It must be the milkmaids.”

  “I didn’t see any milkmaids,” Riley laughed. “I was busy doing other things.” Riley made Mason’s January deadline, but only just. He’d left Jed in Medford two days before Christmas, landing unannounced at his parents’ place who had been, surprisingly, pleased to see him.

  Handing over the house to Jed’s ex and kids provided Riley with one of the best ‘feel good’ moments of his life. The ex-wife had cried and so had Jed, but the kids had made themselves at home, as if they’d always lived there. Encouraging Jed to stay and spend time with his children, Riley had made the slow journey back to Shanwick mulling over the proposition from Mason. Did he take Mason’s offer or leave it?

  He felt like his life was heading in the direction he wanted, but this proposition with Mason intrigued him. In actuality, he wanted to know if he could do it, balancing his creative life with Mason’s more technical one. Riley knew intuitively that a solely creative life wouldn’t be good for his mental health and also, he needed a fresh start.

  Arriving in Seattle on a miserable day in January, Riley met Mason in the city. He’d spent the day following Mason around trying to make sense of his new role and wondering if he’d done the right thing. “So, you ready to party?” Mason leered.

  Riley paused. He hadn’t been in the company of a lot of people for months and he was about to decline Mason’s offer before thinking better of it. A grin broke over his face and he realized that Seattle had a lot to offer. “Yep,” he nodded. “Let’s do it!”

  Over the next year, Riley and Mason’s reign of partying began. He decided he’d been tied down too young and made up for lost time. In that regard, Mason was the perfect wingman, part-friend, and part-competition.

  Beside Mason, Riley appeared less of a reprobate, but appearances can be deceiving. He might have been better than Mason, but only marginally. The two men became notorious for partying and womanizing.

  To Riley’s amusement, establishing a sense of notoriety wasn’t a deterrent, but an added attraction. He enjoyed the women that came his way and his competition with Mason for the challenging ones. They kept score and competed with each other on who could sleep with a woman first.

  In those wild days, Riley cut loose enjoying his bachelor status, new wealth, and power. He felt invincible and was game for just about anything, but still maintained a code of conduct. He didn’t hook up with women who didn’t have the ability to consent or had dark eyes.

  It was, however, the woman with dark eyes that his thoughts returned to year after year in a way that even he acknowledged was unhealthy. As much as he tried to put her behind him, Christina’s rejection of him and ability to move on with her life infuriated him. She was his Achilles heel, his one humiliating defeat in a new life full of victories.

  If he was a better man, he would have just let it go, but he wasn’t, and he couldn’t let it stand. Instead, Riley took revenge through direct and indirect means. He’d promised to break her and he took pride in being a man of his word.

  **********

  As Johnny predicted, “Magnificent” put Collective Pitch on the map after uploading it to YouTube. It became the band’s hook song and the fact it had to be modified for mainstream radio generated more interest. Riley never confirmed to anyone that “Magnificent” was about Christina, but he felt exposed by that song.

  How could he take revenge in the shadows if Christina found out his involvement? As a safeguard, Riley started R.P.M. Productions to protect himself against any potential fallout, insisting his involvement be kept private. As he wanted to maintain his relationship with Jack and Johnny, he made the two Martin men his partners in the company, rationalizing that even Christina might be reluctant to sue her own family. Maybe?

  Riley consoled himself that whether Christian knew or not was irrelevant. He knew and that’s all that counted. If it came to light, he was confident that he could talk Jack and Johnny around by claiming innocence, but this was payback for all the humiliation and pain Christina had caused him over the years.

  As time wore on, Riley had other success with his work, becoming one of the most sought after lyricists in the industry. His pattern of depressive and creative mania, however, became habitual. It was part of his process, but it was also the time his monsters roamed free.

  He’d never had to force his creative process. If anything, it came naturally and he always looked forward to that part of the year when he could release the part of himself he kept under lock and key in a semi-controlled environment. Working with his hands kept him grounded and through the help of Jed and Bianca, he learned to balance the darker part of his nature.

  Although he never fell as far as he did the first time he started writing in Medford, each year took its toll, making it more difficult
to resurface into the light. Riley used his and Christina’s history as inspiration for his darker and more angst-ridden lyrics for the band. After starting a relationship with Bianca, he attempted to put the personal animosity he felt for Christina behind him. Some wounds, however, would never be fully healed.

  Chapter Nineteen: Flake

  Christina, Shanwick, The Present, Friday, January 11, 2013

  “Come on, girl. Let’s go to the farmhouse and see if Daddy’s home,” Christina waved the lead in front of Cartman’s face, taking pleasure in the dog’s excitement. Although she hated physical exercise beyond dancing and getting sweaty in the bedroom, this was one of her favorite times of the day. Walking Cartman gave her time away from the hullabaloo of her home life and the chance to think. And there was plenty to think about.

  It had been seven weeks since Riley’s departure and life had changed for Christina, not just in her exercise regime or the extra pet additions to the house. Her life was structured into a series of commitments 1) her family, 2) the band, 3) the project and foundation, and 4) waiting for Riley. People involved in factors one to three, however, were determined to keep her occupied until four resolved itself.

  On her return to Shanwick, she’d expected a backlash against her for being responsible for Beaumont and Palmer having been run out of town. Unlike her, those two creatures had been part of the fabric of the town, popular, and widely accepted. Surprisingly, the reverse occurred and when people started giving her gentle head nods in town or smiling at her, she’d been somewhat taken aback.

  To an outsider like Christina, overtures of friendliness were cause for suspicion, but as time wore on, she began to get used to it. She put it down to the ‘Riley’ factor, or more particularly, Steven Riley and not ‘her’ Riley. Steven’s support ensured she suddenly found herself considered as one of ‘us’ and not one of ‘them’. She wasn’t sure if she was entirely comfortable with that, in truth she found it disconcerting, but she was learning to deal.