She wasn’t moving.
I dropped down beside her, afraid to touch her in case she was really hurt and I made it worse by moving her. I felt someone grip my arm tightly. I think it was Jay. He was saying something to me, but all I could hear was the pounding of my heart in my ears.
“Sydney?” I cried through my foggy mess of a brain.
I prayed then. I prayed so hard. I begged, I pleaded, I made deals, promises, anything at all to keep my worst fears from being true. I rocked back and forth, my hands resting gently on Sydney’s side. This was all my fault. If I had done things differently, if I had been stronger, a better person, a better mother; none of this would have happened. And now I couldn’t go back and change any of it.
I squeezed my eyes shut, then opened them up, willing my beautiful girl to come back to me, picturing it in my mind. And then I saw her eyelids flutter, and her body squirm under my hands. She sat up without much effort and I stared in awe.
“I saw her trip and fall, so I stopped to see if she was okay.” I looked over at the woman who was speaking. There must’ve been something frightening in my expression, because horror filled her face. “Oh my God. Did you think I hit her? Oh, I’m so sorry! Oh, you must be absolutely traumatized right now. How terrible…” The woman rambled on and on, but I ignored her and helped Sydney stand up. When I touched her arm, she screamed.
“Ow, Mama! My arm hurts!” She cradled it gingerly and I noticed that it wasn’t quite bent the right way. I swallowed back the nausea, determined not to let her see me faint on top of all the other excitement of the night. Jay must’ve noticed because he touched me lightly on the shoulder and moved past me to scoop Sydney up in his arms. I got in the backseat of his rental car and he laid Sydney in beside me. We made it to the emergency room in record time.
49
It was three in the morning by the time we got Sydney home and tucked into bed. She had broken her arm cleanly, so they set it and put her in a hard cast, which she already had full of signatures by the time we left the hospital. She was asleep before her head hit the pillow.
Uncle Fred had taken Miranda home hours earlier, once we found out Sydney was okay, so the house was quiet. I pulled Sydney’s bedroom door shut and Jay followed me out to the back porch.
I stood at the railing, looking at the moon’s reflection off the shimmering ocean way off in the distance. It was cold, near freezing, but I didn’t really feel it. I felt almost feverish instead; the events of the night and the nearness of Jay seemed to be heating me from the inside out.
Jay leaned against the rail, his back to the ocean, only a few feet away. He was either waiting for me to say something or he was carefully contemplating his own words. That was the thing about Jay, he never blurted anything out without analyzing it to death first.
The stillness was mesmerizing. There was something so intimate about being awake when everyone else was deep into their dreams.
“I should go. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” Jay didn’t move from his spot. He didn’t look like he wanted to go anywhere.
“I thought I had a thousand good reasons why I didn’t tell you about Sydney,” I said into the darkness. I felt his body turn toward mine; still too far to touch, but close enough to make me shiver. “But the more I thought about it, the more I realized there was really only one reason, and I’m not even sure it was a good one.” I turned to face him. “You hurt me, Jay, and I just needed to protect my heart.”
He took a step closer, his arm flinched at his side as if he had been about to touch me, but changed his mind. “I’m sorry you felt like you needed to protect yourself from me,” he said softly. “I’m sorry about a lot of things, Izzy. But what I’m most sorry about, is that I never said what I should have said a long, long time ago. And that’s that I love you. I’m pretty sure I loved you since that day you narrowed your eyes at me across the table at Cooper’s house when you were twelve. It’s always been you, Izzy. No one else but you. And it just kills me that all I had to do was tell you that, and all of this could have been avoided.”
I don’t know why I froze up. All I had to do was reach for him and we could end this stand off and be where we both wanted. But this moment, his confession, it seemed too big to act in the obvious way. I needed to let his words really sink in, down to the depths of my heart, into places that I had sealed off a long time ago. And that wasn’t going to happen right away. So I just stood there, blinking up at him, my breathing shallow, but my heart rate slow and steady.
He reached for my hand and brought it up to his lips, kissing my palm. Then he turned and walked back through the house. I looked back out over the water. The sky was clear, and the moon seemed brighter than usual. I stood there a while longer, until my teeth began to chatter and my nose was numb. I went into Sydney’s room and crawled into bed beside her, careful not to jostle her injured arm. My brain finally shut down just as the sky began to lighten, and I fell into a dreamless sleep.
50
Jay finished up his last appointment at the rehab center and packed up the last of his things before taking one last look around and flipping off the light. He would grab something quick to eat, then head over to the rec center where he coached basketball three nights a week.
It had taken Jay the better part of a year to come out of his funk after Cooper died and Izzy left. But once he did, he put everything he had into helping kids with drug and alcohol problems. Even at his own personal lowest point, he was focused on this mission. With the money he had made from his duet with Izzy, plus a steady amount of appearances at small clubs - thanks to good old Chad - Jay had put himself through college. And now, after thousands of hours of interning and volunteering, and his own grueling personal therapy, he was a licensed counselor.
For someone who spent his life shutting himself off from everyone by withdrawing into his cocoon of silence, it was not a natural leap that he now made his living talking. But as long as he wasn’t the one exposing all his own feelings out loud, it came surprisingly easy to him. He had helped dozens of kids in real, measureable ways, and intended to multiply that number in the future. Nothing was more important to him than steering these kids away from the bad decisions that would ultimately lead them down a road to nowhere.
And what he’d recently figured out, was that he could do that same work on either coast.
He was sorry to leave the kids he was currently working with; especially the ones that had been making the most progress. It was a powerful thing to watch the transformation from angry, defiant teen to intelligent, self-assured young adult. But he had been working at the center for two years as a licensed counselor, and before that he’d volunteered there. He knew the staff well, and his kids were in good hands.
His basketball league would be harder to let go of. The league was made up mostly of kids who had completed rehab and were committed to staying clean and sober. There were also a handful of kids from around the neighborhood who Jay had personally recruited. They either wanted to help out, or just needed something to keep them out of trouble.
He got to the rec center early. His two longest standing players were there waiting for him. He’d asked them to meet him.
“Hey guys,” Jay said as he walked over and shook each of their hands.
“Jay, what’s up?” said Micah, the taller and more outgoing of the two. Cody just nodded, eyeing Jay warily. Cody had accomplished a lot in the last couple weeks while Jay had been away, but he hadn’t had an easy time of it, and he was still a little mad at Jay for leaving in the first place. He was still staying at the rehab, but had outside privileges a couple times a week. Jay raised a brow at him, and for once, Cody didn’t look away.
“Thanks for meeting me.”
“You’re leaving again, aren’t you?” Cody asked.
“I am.” Jay picked up a basketball and tossed it from hand to hand, giving him something to focus on so he didn’t get emotional. He had started this league more than five years ago, and it wa
s very close to his heart.
“Turns out, I have a daughter.”
Cody and Micah looked at each other, not sure how to respond.
“Yep, she’s six years old, a terrible checkers player, knows more vocabulary words than me, and is as beautiful as her mom.”
“That’s cool, man,” said Micah.
“Yep.” Jay moved away from the bleachers where Cody and Micah were sitting, and began to shoot a few baskets. “So, I was hoping you two would just keep the league going in my absence. I don’t want to make a big deal out of me leaving. I thought you guys could run the practice today. I’ll sit on the sidelines, and later you can just casually mention I’m moving.”
Micah walked over and stole the ball from Jay, tossing it with ease into the basket from just right of the foul line. “Some of the kids are gonna take it pretty hard. You leaving.”
Jay rebounded, and passed the ball to Cody. “Yeah, maybe. But they’ll be fine. You two have been like the team captains for a while now, and sliding into coaching roles will seem natural for everyone.”
“I guess.”
Jay looked over to Cody. He nodded. Jay almost laughed; the boy reminded him of himself – quite a talker, that one.
“So here’s the thing. I’ll check in every once in a while. I expect to hear good things are happening here. But you really have to commit to this or it won’t work. Try and both be here for every practice, but if you have to miss, the other of you should still be here. Never cancel a single night. These guys rely on routine, okay?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Micah said, making another swish without barely looking. “We got it. Give up our social lives to help your kids and blah, blah, blah. We’ll do it, don’t worry.”
Jay smiled. He wasn’t worried. These two may even do a better job than he had. They could certainly relate to these kids better.
Cody got up, and the three dribbled around and shot a few baskets until the first of the group began to arrive. Jay took a seat on the bleachers and had a long drink of water. When he looked up, he was surprised to see Cody sitting right beside him.
“So this big move,” he started, “it’s not just about the daughter, is it?”
Jay looked at him questioningly.
“Sounds like you still have a thing for the mom. You think she’ll take you back? After all this time?”
Jay just stared at him. Freakin’ kid would make a great psychologist. “I don’t know, Cody. I don’t know. But I have to try.”
Cody nodded and looked straight ahead to where Micah was herding everyone into a circle. Then he popped up out of his seat, and started toward the group. At the last minute, he turned back to Jay and said, “She’d be an idiot to turn you down.”
And that was the closest Cody would ever come to admitting he would miss his former mentor. Jay would take it. After all, they spoke the same language.
51
The coffee shop was cozy and quiet. We were having an early snowfall, and the streets outside were empty of cars, a thin white blanket covering the sidewalks and roadways making everything look clean and new. There was a cluster of customers sitting in the far corner, spread out on sofas, sipping coffee and talking quietly. Miranda was home with Sydney and I was sitting at the counter trying to get lost in a book.
I hadn’t seen Jay at all since that night on my porch. He’d texted me the next morning saying he needed to get back to California, but that he would be back soon. Before he left, he stopped by the shop and had a long talk with Sydney. I stayed at home, and when Miranda brought her back, Sydney was quiet, but I didn’t ask her what was said. She was still a little mad at me, and I hoped in time things would get back to normal between us. I wouldn’t allow myself to think anything else.
I knew that when Jay said the things he said to me, it was his way of putting the ball in my court. He expected to be a part of Sydney’s life now, and of course that was what I wanted too; but beyond that, I had no idea what was in store for us. I guess I had decisions to make, but I wasn’t any closer to making them.
I gave up on pretending to read and hopped down off my stool to make myself something comforting to drink. As I rounded the counter, I noticed the voices from the group in the corner had gotten louder. I looked over to see that they were a group of college girls, all clad in Wesley sweatshirts and Uggs. Maybe it was my imagination, but they appeared to be shooting me looks as they giggled over something on one of their phones. I shrugged and set about making a giant frothy café Americano.
I almost jumped out of my skin a minute later, when one of the girls surprised me by leaning over the counter without me noticing. “Excuse me,” she said, flinching when I jumped and spilled hot liquid all down the front of my shirt.
“I’m so sorry! Didn’t mean to startle you.” She walked around and tried to blot the coffee off me with a pile of napkins. I shrugged her off, probably not as politely as I could have. She was only trying to help.
“What can I do for you?” I asked, attempting a bit of improved customer service.
“I was just… my friends and I were wondering. Are you Izzy Delaney, the singer?”
I tossed a coffee covered rag aside and took a deep breath. I had not exactly taken extra measures to live in obscurity since I left California, but my fame from the duet had been pretty localized. I never really expected that anyone would recognize me as that girl I once was. It had been a long time. And we were far away.
I leaned forward, my hands spread wide apart resting on the edge of the counter. “I haven’t been referred to as Izzy Delaney the singer, in a very, very long time. But yes, that’s me.”
“Oh my God, I knew it! Christie, it’s her. I told you guys!”
Christie and company joined their friend at the counter, and I balked. There was a time I would have relished this kind of attention, but I wasn’t that person anymore. This was making me uncomfortable to say the least.
The questions came in rapid fire and for a moment I felt like I had when I was being hounded by the local press, just after ”Don’t” had gone viral. “Why didn’t you record anything else? Do you still know Jay Archer? Is Jay single? Would you play something for us?”
My head rotated from one face to the others, back and forth like I was watching a tennis match.
“Please, please can you play us a little something?” The chatter died down and five anxious pairs of eyes rested on me with expectation. I sighed, glancing outside. No one else was around. It was such a perfect peaceful moment, and these girls were quite persuasive.
I shrugged. “Why not? Let me run upstairs for my guitar. I’ll be down in a sec.”
I ran up to the little apartment, tore off my coffee splattered shirt and threw on the only clean thing I could find – a faded red tie-dye that I had made with Cooper one night in the apartment. I shrugged off the melancholy and found my guitar in the only closet. I sometimes played it up here when I was alone, but it had been a while. When I got back downstairs, the girls had gathered around the tiny stage area where we usually held open mic night. I settled on a stool and began tuning my guitar.
“Guys,” I said, not looking up. “Don’t’ record this, please, or I have to back out. This is just for right now, okay?”
I could sense the disappointment, but they all agreed. I promised they could get photos with me, although honestly I didn’t see what the big draw was. I was a one hit wonder; a has-been, as far as the music world was concerned. I wasn’t even sure that recording me would have been any big deal, but having experienced the negative side of fifteen minute fame, I was not at all anxious to repeat it.
“Any requests?” I asked, looking up with a smile. I was feeling relaxed. It had been too long since I’d played and I missed it.
“It’s a mellow kind of day, so something chill.” The other girls nodded. “But nothing too sad. It’s Friday after all.”
I chuckled. Then I thought of the perfect song for a snowy November Friday. I began playing the opening measures of a recen
t Jack Johnson song, and heard instant approval from my “fans”. Smiling, I really put my heart into that song, then went right into my own original version of Bruce Springsteen’s Hungry Heart, which, not surprisingly, was unfamiliar to these babes, but it was my own secret nod to Asbury Park. I took a few more requests, and finally it was time for the girls to get going. They were going to a bachelorette party later and needed plenty of time to tart themselves up (their words, not mine).
I posed for a couple of photos, as promised, then locked the door behind my little crowd, surprised that I was a bit sorry they had to leave. Not ready to go home yet, I turned out most of the lights, lit a few candles and picked up my guitar again. I made myself a cup of coffee – remembering I’d never even gotten a sip of the ill-fated Café Americano I’d made earlier – and settled on a couch to play.
I never even heard the back door, and I nearly jumped out of my skin when I heard Jay’s voice. “That song’s a little dark for you, isn’t it?”
I whirled around, my hand flying to my heart. “Sorry,” he said. “Back was open.” He stepped closer. “So, I never pegged you for a Reznor fan.”
I shrugged, putting down my guitar and standing. “I am a fan, actually. I just usually prefer a lighter fare. Guess I was craving a little mood music today.”
Jay was standing a few feet away, his thumbs hooked into the front pockets of his battered jeans, which hung low and dangerous on his hips. He wore a thermal waffled shirt covered by a snow-covered hoodie, unzipped. No coat and no gloves; his only nod to the weather, an army green beanie, which he removed right away. His hair was a delicious, disheveled mess, and I had to swallow hard and lick my lips at the sight of him. He was beautiful, and I really missed him.
“When did you get back?” I asked. My voice was shaky, there was no disguising it.
The Duet Page 22
