Thin Air

by Storm Constantine

‘You don’t look very happy, but you do have a handful of booty.’

  ‘I think you know that the cupboard was bare.’ He shook the tapes in her direction. ‘These are just crumbs.’

  Jay frowned a little, an expression blurred by the effects of alcohol. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘There are no new tapes, and the computer files are empty. Dex’s recent work just isn’t there.’

  Jay’s pale face seemed to bloom with grey. She sat upright abruptly, although her gaze became unfocused. ‘You know what this means?’ she whispered.

  ‘Yeah, I’m in deep shit.’

  She looked up at him with the eyes of an old woman, her fingers involuntarily kneading the fabric of the sofa. ‘No. He must have planned this. Even before he left home, he must have known...’

  ‘Of course he planned it!’ Michaels snapped. ‘What else did you think? He fell over, bumped his head and lost his memory?’

  Jay put her face into her hands. ‘When did he decide, when?’ She expelled a groan.

  ‘Don’t blame yourself,’ Michaels said stiffly. ‘I’m sure it could have happened at any time. Dex was always unstable.’

  ‘Get out,’ Jay said dully. He left.

  No body was ever found. There were often sightings: Dex was in New York, playing in a punk band; someone else reported meeting him on a train in France; while yet another claimed he was living as a down and out in the netherworld of London. Jay didn’t believe any of these stories. If Dex was alive, he’d have contacted her somehow by now. It came to the point where her own grief seemed meaningless. Dex had abandoned her. Was she going to sacrifice her own life to him too?

  Gradually, she regained the ability to function, if only through sheer will, and opened her door to the world again.

  Gina was first across the threshold. ‘By God, girl, look at the state of you,’ she said cheerfully, and Jay could almost hear her friend’s knuckles cracking at the prospect of sorting her out. For a while at least, Jay allowed Gina to take her in hand.

  With Gina’s help and encouragement, Jay did all the things she supposed other people in her situation did. She rang help-lines and hostels, seeking a genuine sighting. She gave interviews, hoping that Dex would read her pleas for him to get in touch, just to let her know he was alive and all right. But, if he was alive, he clearly didn’t want to be found. Occasionally, she dreamed of him, the worst times being when she dreamed of waking in the middle of the night, the police hammering on her door. They’d take her identify a body in a stark, subterranean room. Dex would be lying on a slab, beautiful, but bleached of life.

  Dex’s band dispersed, and most drifted out of Jay’s life. She still maintained a close friendship with Gina, whose support carried her through the dark days of depression that occurred with less frequency as time went on. Gina’s husband Dan formed a new band called ‘Planet’ and secured a contract for himself with Sakrilege. The record label put a lot of money into ‘Planet’ and they found success remarkably quickly, which would have surprised Jay, had she been more aware of what was going on around her. Sakrilege appeared to make a point of not beefing up Dan’s prior connection with Dex. That was most uncharacteristic.

  Jay could not work for nearly a year, but once she emerged blinking into daylight, her old friend Grant Fenton, gave her a regular feature spot in ‘Track’, the style magazine he now edited. It took all her energy just to reach that one deadline every month, but Fenton was patient with her. They went back a long way. Eventually, the pain began to ebb from her heart, and Jay was able to take on more work, freelancing for several publications. She was not blind to the fact that her role in Dex’s life had enhanced her desirability as a writer.

  Sakrilege released an album, called ‘Silences’ of the unknown songs Zeke Michaels had found in Dex’s work-room, and subsequently a retrospective double CD called ‘Turn Around’. Both went platinum. Jay was not surprised. Her own dark prophecies came true. Dex became an icon, his haunted face emblazoned on T-shirts, although there was no grave that could become a shrine. Now, it seemed his shadowed eyes had harboured a secret. Jay tortured herself because she’d never known it was there, never mind what it might have been. Why had he disappeared? Had he been murdered? She had to resign herself to the fact that she would probably never know.

  Chapter Three

  On the third anniversary of Dex’s disappearance, a documentary about his life appeared on TV. Jay was hurrying around the flat, getting ready to go to a gig, where she planned to interview the band. One of her favourite boots had disappeared. As she cursed and rummaged through a pile of un-ironed washing in the utility room, a voice bellowed from the sitting room: ‘Hey, Jay! Come and look at this.’

  ‘Can’t!’ she called back.

  ‘No, really. C’mere!’

  Reluctantly, Jay obeyed the summons. Her partner of eighteen months was sprawled on the floor in front of the sofa, a remote control in his hand.

  ‘What is it, Gus? I’m really late.’

  He gestured at the screen. ‘Lover boy’s in the news again.’

  A ripple of cold went through her body. ‘What do you mean?’ She knew, of course.

  Dex’s face stared at her from the TV; a familiar photo, with his hair falling over his inscrutable eyes. In the memory of the world, he would be forever young. For a few electrifying moments, Jay thought he’d been found. She sat down on the arm of the sofa. ‘What’s happened?’

  Gus cast her a shrewd glance. ‘Thought you’d be interested.’

  His tone needled her. Dex was a topic of which she normally steered clear. Any mention of him triggered unwelcome responses in Gus, who could not conceal his jealousy about her past relationships.

  There was footage of Dex’s home town, which Jay had never visited, and his sister, Julie, whom Jay had never met. It seemed odd to think he’d had that other life, long before she’d met him. Dex had never liked speaking of his family; he’d shed that life. At the beginning of their relationship, Jay had wanted to meet Dex’s people. She’d wanted to share all of him. But Dex had been cool and firm in his refusal. Jay imagined he’d fallen out with his parents and siblings. She didn’t push the issue. After a while, it no longer seemed important.

  The sister would not speak to the documentary film crew. She looked hard and tight-lipped; a terrier of a woman who had not belonged in Dex’s career world.

  The commentator’s voice, relishing the words, drifted out into the room: ‘...and to this day, no-one knows the true story behind his disappearance.’

  These words conjured a tingle of relief in Jay’s heart, as well as disappointment. The documentary covered all the supposed sightings of Dex around the world. There was even a blurry photo from Peru, where it was claimed he ran a bizarre religious cult.

  ‘I thought you were late,’ Gus said, after Jay had sat hunched up for ten minutes, staring at the screen.

  She roused herself. ‘Oh, yeah.’ She would say nothing more. She didn’t want a row tonight.

  The documentary left her feeling unsettled. She had to sit in her car outside the flat for a few moments to compose herself. There were no photographs of Dex around her home; she’d discarded all mementoes, but for a bundle of old snaps and articles she kept in a sealed box at the top of the wardrobe. She supposed she might look through it one day, when she was very old and the final stings of Dex’s disappearance had been pulled. Three years ago, she’d thought she’d never recover from his loss. The depth of her grief had shocked her; she hadn’t realised how much she’d loved him. She’d taken his presence for granted, and couldn’t help punishing herself for not sensing something had been deeply wrong with him. If it wasn’t for the fact his work had disappeared, she’d have been able to think his escape had been spontaneous. But she couldn’t think that. She’d had counselling, and that had helped, although rum and Gina had done more to aid her recuperation. Just the smell of rum now made her feel anxious.

  Then Gus had come into her life. She’d met him backstage after a
gig. He was a sound engineer, one of the best, who could pick and choose the bands with whom he worked. Jay’s friends, relieved to see her with any man, insisted she and Gus were an ideal couple, and in many respects this was true. Gus wasn’t the showbiz party type, but he’d made lots of interesting friends through his work, and now Jay’s social life revolved around dinner parties and luxurious weekends at the country estates of ageing rock stars. Gus could be possessive about the past, although strangely not the present (she never had to be careful where her eyes were roaming across a room), but other than that, he was dependable, affectionate and reliable. She had a good life. It was steady and certain, yet spiced with exciting events and foreign travel. If some still backwater of her heart moored the thought that something vital was missing, she ignored it. Dex would always be a sore point for Jay, so she could hardly blame Gus for feeling the same. Their friends knew better than to mention Dex’s name in either of their company.

  Jay pressed her forehead against the steering wheel, expelling a satisfying groan. She didn’t want to cry, it wasn’t that, she just had to squeeze out the welling of emotion that seeped from her memories. She shouldn’t have looked at the TV. She should have shrugged, made a sarcastic remark, and left. Now she was late and in a state. It wasn’t good.

  Shaking her head, she started the car and backed out of her parking space. Would there come a day when she could bear to see his face on TV or dare to play his music? She had to admit she’d never really liked it, not in the way his fans did, yet she couldn’t stand hearing those familiar songs now. She had nailed a lid down over her feelings, but still had to avoid any confrontation with evidence that Dex ever existed. She feared the corpse beneath the lid could very easily be reanimated and rise up to haunt her.

  At the gig, she felt as if she’d half stepped out of the world. It was difficult to take the event with any seriousness. Posturing men unfurled their egos about the back stage area like so many peacock tails. The mere sight of them irritated Jay to extremity. You are nothings, she thought, followed quickly by: Why am I here? But it was a job she had to do. ‘Kill Force’ were a big name, and ‘Track’ wanted an in-depth interview with them. The only redeeming aspect of the evening was the vocalist, Jez, with whom Dex and Jay had had a close friendship, years before. Still, his band was mouthy, full of themselves and confrontational. Even before they went on stage, Jay’s jaw was aching from the instinctive gritting of teeth.

  Subsequently, the interview after the show was a battle rather than an exchange. It was made worse by the fact that the drummer said, ‘You were Dex’s chick once, right? No wonder he disappeared.’

  Fortunately, she still had enough wits to freeze her expression, raise her brows and say, ‘And he’ll never be found, believe me.’

  Afterwards, Jez tried to make peace by taking her for a meal. It took some persuading, but eventually she relented. She and Dex had once stayed with Jez and his family on one of the rare occasions Jay had accompanied Dex on tour. It had been a hedonistic couple of days.

  Over tandoori, in a red-lit restaurant in Soho, Jez said - American and into self-development - ‘You’re such an angry woman.’

  Jay tensed, stirring lumps of Plasticine-red meat round her plate. ‘Oh, come on, Jez, this world is shit. It’s all so phoney. Don’t tell me you take it all seriously.’

  ‘Are we talking about music, or the world in general?’

  She narrowed her eyes at him.

  He grinned; he had a very wide mouth. ‘OK. Musicians are mostly fuck-ups with identity crises. So what? This world is only as real as any other. You’ve milked it enough.’

  She sighed and drank some wine. ‘Maybe I’ve had enough of it. None of it matters, really. It’s all about money, and ego, and dross.’

  ‘Some of us say it’s about creativity too, and reaching out.’

  Jay laughed. ‘Ah, the sweet smell of sanctimony!’

  Jez’s expression took on a pious hue. ‘You should let the past go, Jay.’

  ‘Oh, shut up! It’s not about that. I watched you tonight, singing all about the kids and their anger and how they should fuck the system. Then you trot off to your stretch limo, five star hotel and life of privilege. It’s a sham, Jez. Get real!’

  He nodded thoughtfully, clearly determined not to let her offend him. ‘Yes, I hear you, but I was part of the audience once, you know. I understand where they’re coming from.’

  ‘But they’re not going to where you’ve arrived, and never will. Write songs about your swimming pool in L.A. Then I might respect it all more.’

  He raised an eyebrow. ‘So what’s bitten your tail tonight, then?’

  Jay clawed her fingers through her hair, pulling her eyes into an Oriental squint. ‘Bad day. Hormonal or something.’

  ‘Bullshit. What’s up? Talk about it.’

  She glanced up at him. ‘You’re so tolerant, Jez. You make me sick. Why don’t you go and trash some hotel rooms or something? You’re unnerving me.’

  He shrugged. ‘You know I went through that phase four years ago. I have now moved on and intend to write a book about my experiences in the near future.’

  Jay warmed to him: an American with a sense of humour. Despite her sniping, she knew he had integrity and wasn’t one of those needy, greedy people that seemed to comprise the greater part of the music world. Jez was in a minority, however. ‘So, how are Ellie and the kids?’

  ‘Fine. Anna’s learning the piano now.’

  Golden children in a golden life. ‘Are you happy?’

  ‘Are you trying to make me feel guilty for saying “yes”’?

  ‘Not at all. I envy you.’ She paused. ‘Dex was never happy.’

  ‘Aha,’ said Jez slowly, clearly not daring to say more for fear of invoking the fight or flight response.

  ‘I’ve not spoken about this for a long time, but... well something reminded me of Dex today. And before you start lecturing me about letting go of the past, I have. Mostly. It’s just the unanswered questions, Jez. I had no idea he was in a state.’

  ‘You and Dex had a very... atypical relationship,’ Jez said carefully.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Now, don’t get pissy about this, but well, Ellie and I noticed. It was like you were a picture of a woman to him, perfect and remote. You never saw what he was like because he never let you. When he was with you, I think he was just acting.’

  ‘That’s a horrible thing to say!’

  He shrugged. ‘I know. But would you rather I lied to you?’

  ‘I’d rather you told me what you based that opinion on! You didn’t see us together for long.’

  ‘We didn’t have to.’ He leaned forward a little. ‘Tell me something, did you ever fight?’

  Jay frowned. ‘No, hardly ever, and if we did, it was over stupid things like forgetting to buy milk, or something.’

  Jez leaned back again, toying with his wine glass. ‘Ellie and I have blazing fights, but then we can both be hot-heads.’

  ‘And that’s better is it?’

  Jez shook his head. ‘That’s not what I meant. Dex fought continually with everyone. Why did he never fight with you? It’s what he was. Remember, I went on tour with him. He was a nightmare. But I couldn’t believe the way he behaved with you. He was like a different person.’

  Jay put down her fork with a clatter, abandoning the pretence of eating. ‘Can’t you just let me think that I was good for him, then? Why does it have to be sinister?’

  ‘I’m just saying there was more to him than you knew, or perhaps less. I don’t know. He was trying to create a marshmallow life with you, perhaps because he believed it would change him, but it didn’t.’

  No-one had been brave enough to say this to Jay before, but sitting across the table from Jez, she realised that other people must have thought it. Some of them must have resented her, too. What had she got that they hadn’t? How come she could tame the beast?

  Jez leaned forward again over the table. ‘I don’
t know whether you know about this, but Jez called Anton from Surf Sharks a few days before he disappeared.’

  ‘So? Anton was going to produce a couple of the songs on the album.’

  ‘Dex told him not to bother. He said the album wouldn’t get made and that he might be retiring. He said any payment for the songs would be blood money. Anton made some enquiries and Sakrilege just said that was Dex being Dex, and not to worry about it. Money was involved. Anton was asked to keep it to himself, and he did.’

  ‘But he told you.’

  ‘Only a few weeks ago, and I suspect just because he was stoned.’

  ‘He’ll probably tell others, then.’

  ‘I don’t think so. To be honest, he seemed kind of superstitious about it, even nervous.’

  Jay laughed. ‘Oh, come on, Jez. This is beginning to sound disturbingly conspiratorial!’

  ‘All I’m saying is that Dex did drop hints to other people about the disappearing act. I’ve no doubt you could unearth others. If you want the true story, Jay, use your skills to find it.’

  ‘Oh Jesus, I’ve woken up in a TV series! The police tried to find the true story, and so did the record company. If there is one, Dex hid it too well. I can’t waste time looking for it. As you pointed out, I need to let go, not become more obsessed.’

  ‘Perhaps part of letting go is knowing the truth. Anyway...’ He leaned back in his chair, ‘I’m curious myself.’

  ‘This meal wasn’t just about smoothing my ruffled feathers, was it?’

  ‘Mainly. I hadn’t decided whether I’d speak to you about this or not. I was waiting to test the water.’

  Jay reached out and squeezed one of Jez’s hands. ‘I do appreciate your concern, but, well, I can’t go clawing up the past. I don’t think it would be good for me.’

  ‘You know best,’ Jez said.

  It was past three when Jay got home, and even though Gus had an early start in the morning, he was still awake as she crept into the bed-room. She was glad it was dark, because she had to smile when he demanded, ‘What time do you call this?’ The Dex episode earlier must have got to Gus more than she’d guessed.