Thin Air

by Storm Constantine

  For their first date, Dex took Jay to a riverboat restaurant on the Thames. She wasn’t sure whether this was because he thought she’d expect something like that or a natural choice on his part. Throughout the meal, he was attentive and amusing. Conversation flowed easily between them. As the evening went on, Jay was conscious of a mounting sense of surprise within her. Dex seemed too good to be true. Could she dare believe in what she was being shown?

  Later, as they left the boat and went to hail a taxi, a couple of kids came running across the road. One of them screamed Dex’s name. Jay wasn’t sure whether they were male or female. It all happened so quickly. The snarl that Dex turned on them was frighteningly loud; the roar of a maddened lion. ‘Fuck off! Give us some respect, man!’ His teeth were bared, his eyes dark with the emptiness of hate. Fortunately, before the stunned fans could respond, a black cab swung to a halt beside them. Dex hustled Jay in through the door. She lay back against the seat blinking, feeling dazed. Dex took her hand, smiled at her. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I just like privacy at times like these. People can’t get their heads round that.’

  She glanced at him. His face was serene, his eyes warm. Should this be a warning sign? She swallowed. Would a time come when she’d be crouched in a corner somewhere, her arms over her head, afraid?

  That night, she seriously considered she should not see him again. She’d had abusive lovers in the past and certainly didn’t intend to have one again. She was too wise for that now. But, the following morning, when Dex called her, she again felt a strong rapport with him. Perhaps she’d been too judgmental. It must be hell to live under public scrutiny all the time. She agreed to meet him again. They were rarely apart afterwards.

  Jay would have understood if Dex had wanted her to remain in the background of his life – permanent women were often seen as something of an embarrassment to stars whose main audience was a host of adoring females – but Dex wanted no such thing. He was proud of Jay and wanted her sizzling in the lime-light alongside him. She knew Dex’s backing band was not wholly happy about it, but no-one would dare voice their complaints. She knew, and so did they, that her presence in Dex’s life had transformed him. There were fewer temperamental displays, and when they did occur, they were not as unpleasant as they had been before Jay had come into his life. The band was really just backing musicians. When Dex went on tour with them the posters never carried anything but his own name. Still, Jay made a point of getting to know the band girlfriends and organised social events that they could all attend. Dex pulled a face about that at first, but Jay explained that she didn’t want to be seen as a pushy rock wife. She was her own person, who could make her own friends. Gina Allen, the wife of the bass player, Dan, was the last to crack beneath the pressure of Jay’s relentless friendliness, but they eventually became close friends. Jay told herself that the friendships which took time to develop were often the most enduring.

  Jay felt that Dex saw his life with her as a sanctuary. He had chosen her deliberately, and had perhaps been looking for someone like her for a long time. Maybe he thought the right woman would hold him together. She managed to influence his appearance to a large degree, realising his scruffiness came from self-neglect rather than choice. They moved into the ranks of the beautiful people, photographed smiling in airport terminals, laden with bags from L.A. During the first year, Jay’s life became a hurricane of activity. Her own work had to be slotted in between media events and rushed trips abroad, but she did not feel it was taking a back seat to Dex’s career. There were just so many good opportunities for travel and meetings with celebrities she could not miss, and anyway she could always write about them for ‘This’ afterwards.

  Every year, Dex scooped up trophies at the MTV Awards and the Brit Awards, as well as other ceremonies in America and Europe. Each time, the spotlight would sweep across Jay in the audience, who would be wearing exquisite designer gowns, her hair a sleek cap curling around her shaded cheekbones. On one occasion, Dex even dragged her up on stage to tell the audience she was his greatest inspiration. Jay kept a firm control over these situations, exuding the right blend of self-effacement and pride in her partner. No-one could accuse her of hogging the limelight, or of using Dex as a vehicle for her own ascension. She made sure of it.

  Every summer, Dex and his band would play at one of the big music festivals. Jay would make one or two appearances back stage, haloed by camera flashes. She spoke to the Press more than Dex did. She knew the ropes, and could appear to speak freely without actually saying much. At home, she was interviewed for women’s magazines, when she spoke warmly of the harmony in her home. Dex might be a wild man of popular rock, but to her he was a loving and considerate partner. ‘But what about his reputation?’ the bravest of the journalists might ask. In their eyes would be the other questions: ‘Doesn’t he drink at home? Doesn’t he throw tantrums? Aren’t you sometimes afraid?’

  Jay would smile tolerantly. ‘You shouldn’t believe all you read in the papers,’ she’d say. Her glance would not even flicker.

  Dex reserved a part of himself solely for Jay, which she loved, but it was only a part, and her commitment and trust were not enough to sustain him. She always knew the cracks were there, even though he tried to hide them from her. People speculated how difficult he must be to live with, but he wasn’t. The problems arose when Jay wasn’t there.

  Twelve months after they’d met, Jay decided the honeymoon period was over, and she would no longer accompany Dex on tour. She did not enjoy life on the road. Hotel rooms held no appeal for her and she found it difficult to concentrate on her writing in them. Increasingly, she found herself yearning for the smoky cosiness of her small office at home. When she informed Dex of her decision, he was disappointed, but understood her feelings. The first time he went away without her, more than one friend asked her how she could bear to let her man travel alone, exposed to the fleshly temptations that lurked in the wings of every stage. Patiently, Jay would explain that she and Dex were not possessive with one another. She didn’t feel she needed to keep an eye on his fidelity. If the occasional indiscretion did occur, Jay didn’t want to know about it. She trusted his heart, which was enough. But despite this faith, Dex couldn’t always control himself. Women were the least of the problems. Sometimes there were scuffles and arguments, punches thrown at photographers, broken furniture in hotels. Music press headlines screamed gloatingly about his exploits. He drank a lot, before and after gigs, picked fights with his band, went on the rampage, sometimes disappeared for days at a time. Only Jay’s presence, during what the band came to view as that one idyllic year, had kept Dex’s less savoury characteristics at bay.

  Jay was used to getting frantic calls from the band’s manager - often in the middle of the night, when she was red-eyed at the computer trying to meet a dead-line - despairing of how to cope with Dex. Only Jay could control him, and she was honest enough with herself to know it wasn’t even that. Her presence merely soothed him, quieted his demons. But Dex was an adult; she could not be constantly at his side like a mother. Initially, she had dropped everything and flown out to deal with the situation, wherever he was. Whenever she walked into the hotel room, or the bar, or the venue, she would find him subdued, sheepish, but grinning. He was always pleased to see her. Jay did this rescue act precisely three times, but knew it would have to stop. She and Dex talked about his difficulties and how he should take responsibility for his own actions. That was the sort of relationship they had. She did not approve of his binges, but neither would she continue to stride in and interfere. Really, his behaviour on tour did not touch her life, for she never witnessed it firsthand. In her heart, she did not wholly believe the stories of mayhem and rage, and thought they were exaggerated. As a writer herself, she knew how the creative mind could shape mundane real events into dramatic fiascos.

  She knew his pattern. When the world Dex moved in became too overwhelming, he would find a bolthole and hide for a few days, getting drunk and smoking dope
with people who were only too glad to take him in. He didn’t always call her, but she never worried, confident that Dex knew his own limitations and when it was time to withdraw and recuperate.

  So, when he disappeared again, late in October 1995, Jay was not unduly concerned. She received the call on a Sunday morning, while Dex was on his ‘Vanishing Light’ tour in the north of England, doing some warm-up gigs for the release of his new album, ‘Songs to the Shadow’ early in the following year. She’d had friends round the night before, who’d left quite early at two a.m. and had then worked through until five on her monthly column, which if it wasn’t delivered by Monday would be late. At nine thirty the phone rang. Jay woke up, groggy, and lay there ignoring it. Presently the answer-phone clicked in and as the volume was turned down, Jay couldn’t hear who was calling. Whoever it was could wait. She put the pillow over her head, and turned on her side, determined to sleep on at least until one.

  The phone rang seven more times in the next half hour. She stubbornly ignored it. It must be the same person trying to get through, perhaps even Dex, although he was never the urgent type. Finally, cursing, Jay picked up the phone on the eighth call.

  ‘Jay!’

  She recognised the cigarette-cracked tone of the band’s manager and her heart sank. ‘Tony, it’s the middle of the fucking night! What do you want?’

  ‘Sorry to ring so early, babe. We’ve got problems.’

  At this moment, some celestial agent should have touched Jay’s shoulder, warned her with a wave of intuition. She reached for her cigarettes on the bed-side table. ‘Oh, for fuck’s sake, Tony! Sort them out yourself. I’m not coming up there, no matter what, so...’

  ‘Jay, he’s gone.’

  ‘He’s always going. What pissed him off this time?’

  ‘He didn’t even play the gig last night.’

  Jay paused. That was unusual. No matter what temper he was in, nor how much he wanted to murder any members of the band, Dex delivered when it was needed. He was not an absconder in that sense. ‘What happened?’ She inhaled unwelcome smoke into lungs that had smoked too much the night before.

  ‘Well, there was a row at the sound-check.’

  Jay groaned.

  ‘It wasn’t the usual row. It was weird. Sammy had let some kids in - fans who’d been hanging about outside, and Dex went crazy - quietly. Not him, right?’

  ‘Sammy’s an idiot sometimes. He should’ve known Dex’d go spare.’

  ‘He just muttered something and walked out. Didn’t even kick down a door on the way. That was the last we saw of him. We had to cancel the show, which pleased multitudes. Jay, this is all going too far. He needs help or something. I can’t afford this prima donna stuff.’

  ‘What do you want me to do about it? Dex isn’t here, Tony.’

  ‘You just talk to him when he shows up, that’s all. And let me know if he calls. It’s every time now, Jay, every fucking gig there’s a problem with him. We’re all treading on egg-shells. We’ve got another show scheduled for tonight and...’

  ‘Then find a new band.’ Jay slammed down the phone and lay on her back, pulling the pillow over her head once more. This wasn’t her problem. She wouldn’t let anyone make it hers.

  She eventually went back to sleep and dreamed she woke up and Dex was there in the room with her. They had a measured conversation about what had happened, and she persuaded Dex to call Tony. Everything was resolved. Jay and Dex made love with exquisite tenderness, then Dex started getting ready to go back up north for the gig. In the dream, Jay lay warm in bed, feeling secure, in control and content, listening to her man moving around the flat.

  She was woken by the phone again at two o’clock, immediately conscious that Dex wasn’t there with her. It was Gina Allen calling. Gina always went on tour with her husband; a man whose compulsive philandering bordered on psychosis. She explained that the band had driven to Manchester where the next gig was booked. So far, Dex had not made a reappearance.

  After discussing the stupidity of men for a couple of minutes, and the fact it was a miracle any male band ever managed to stay friends long enough to achieve anything, Gina said, ‘The thing is, Jay, I think Dex... well... I think there’s something badly wrong.’

  At that point Jay wished Gina was a stupid woman whose remarks she could ignore, but Gina’s stupidity extended only to her choice of men. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘It’s - um - just a feeling. I’ve seen all of Dex’s moods and tantrums – even more than you have. But this time it was different. He’s not that happy with the new material, and he’s blaming the others. I think he’s really run away this time.’

  ‘Not happy with the new material?’ Jay’s mind flashed back to all the long days and nights when Dex had been composing the songs, closeted away in his work-room with banks of equipment, emerging sleepily on occasion to feed and watch half an hour of MTV. Sometimes, he’d stay up for nearly three days, before falling exhausted into bed for sixteen, eighteen, twenty hours, only to wake and repeat the pattern. But he hadn’t seemed disturbed or upset, or even dissatisfied. Jay had listened to some of the tapes, and had helped Dex decide which songs to use on the tour. He always wrote at least twice as much material as he needed. ‘How do you know this?’

  ‘After the gigs - he’s been ranting and complaining. Telling the others they weren’t pulling their weight. Slagging off the sound engineers. Everything. He said it was all just crap.’

  ‘Was it?’

  ‘I don’t think so, but I’m not a musician, am I? The crowds liked it. When someone pointed this out, Dex just said they were all morons.’

  Jay laughed. ‘Nothing new there, then. The album’ll sell millions next year, and he’ll still complain. Don’t worry. I’m sure he’ll show up soon.’

  Gina sighed down the phone. There was a silence that unnerved Jay far more than any words Gina could have said. The room suddenly seemed colder. ‘Spit it out,’ Jay said. ‘Come on, Gina, what else is it you want to say?’ Images flashed before her mind. Could it really be another woman - a serious other woman?

  ‘I’ve watched him,’ Gina said. ‘He’s been so nervous, drinking heavily even for him. I found him... God, this difficult... I found him banging his head against a wall, Jay, like some kind of nutter. It was hideous. He was bleeding.’

  ‘When was this?’

  ‘Yesterday afternoon. I tried to talk to him.’

  ‘What did he say?’

  ‘He just pushed me away and walked off. I told Dan about it, but you know what men are like. He just ignored it.’

  ‘Did you talk to Tony?’

  ‘Yeah, kind of. Tony said he’d speak to Dex, but I don’t know if he did.’

  ‘What has Tony decided to do? Are you guys staying up there or coming back?’

  ‘We’ll stay here overnight. Tony thinks Dex’ll just cool down and turn up here.’

  ‘But you don’t think so.’

  ‘No.’

  It was only once Jay was dressed and drinking orange juice in the kitchen that she sensed Dex was not coming back, ever. She was looking out of the window, down across the park, and the afternoon went so still, as if the whole world was watching her. There was an imminence in the sky, as if it was full of unseen thunderheads. My God, she thought to herself, in wonderment rather than fear or sadness. My God.

  Dex’s disappearance was the talk of the music papers later that week. By that time, the police had been called in. Jay prayed for Dex to call her, make contact. One moment she felt sure he was just about to walk through the door, while at other times, the void inside her felt like a silent scream that went on and on. The rest of the band rallied round her, and it was clear Gina especially thought Jay should not be left alone.

  ‘He’ll show up,’ she said, on more than one occasion.

  ‘I don’t feel him,’ Jay would reply, clawing at her own chest. ‘Not in here. Not anywhere.’

  ‘You don’t know that,’ Gina would say, misinterpreting Jay’s
words.

  Jay didn’t believe Dex was dead, despite the unspoken suspicions that hardened the lines of Gina’s face and the barely-covered innuendoes in the press that Dex had killed himself.

  On the Saturday, his car was found at a sea-side resort, but no-one had seen him there. He had really disappeared into thin air. When Jay was informed, she went utterly numb. No hideous images flickered across her inner eye, no instinctive convictions clenched her heart. She just didn’t know what happened, couldn’t feel it. Even when people visited her, the flat was too still, too quiet. There was a space in it that only Dex had filled. She closed the door on his work-room and told herself she’d never open it again. Only Dex could do that. When he came home.

  Fans kept a vigil at her doorstep. Their silence unnerved her. It felt like a funeral.

  How could he do this to her? Had he lied about his feelings? She wanted to feel angry but could only muster an exhausted bewilderment. Had she been so stupid, so taken in? No. He had loved her, did love her. Something had caused this, something she didn’t know about.

  One night, drunk, she threw open the door to his work-room and a smell of him came out at her like an enveloping ghost. ‘Are you here? Are you?’ She turned on the light. Tapes and papers littered every available surface. It burned her fingers to touch them. She resisted lifting them to her nose. She might find a sheet of lyrics that would explain everything. But the papers were just notes. He’d left nothing personal behind, no hint as to his state of mind.