This One’s For You

by Holloway, Taylor

  I woke up to learn that in addition to a broken left leg, I’d lost several of my teeth in the accident and had undergone reconstructive dental surgery to put the ones they could find back in. I also had one hell of a black eye and was now missing half my left upper incisor and my entire right upper canine. I did look like I’d been in a fight, which, in a way, I had. I’d gotten into a fight with a Ford F-150 traveling fifty miles per hour. Unsurprisingly, I’d lost.

  The three of them looked guilty for teasing me.

  “Sorry, man,” Tom said.

  “We’re really glad you’re okay,” Jack added.

  “Don’t worry,” Jason told me, “I know someone who can fix your teeth.”

  Jason had grown up without dental care of any kind (his family was super poor), and he had paid the price for it as a young adult. Thankfully for him, money can buy you a pretty fantastic set of new teeth. The man had better teeth now than nature could have ever given him. I smiled at him, and he winced.

  “That bad?” I asked. I hadn’t actually looked in a mirror yet. I wasn’t sure I wanted to. Thankfully, perhaps, Vanessa had been asleep when I rolled myself over in my wheelchair to check on her against the instructions of medical staff. Her friend Faith, a nurse, had been with her. It had just about killed me to see her lying motionless in a hospital bed, but Faith assured me that she was okay and then insisted that I couldn’t stay in there with her. I hadn’t liked that much, but Faith made me leave, insisting that we follow hospital protocols. It probably wasn’t an ideal way to meet Vanessa’s friend, but at least I knew she was being well cared for.

  “No,” he lied poorly. “You look great.” I laughed weakly. “Maybe brush your hair or something before Vanessa sees you, though.”

  “Too late.” A familiar voice said. The four of us looked toward the door.

  Vanessa was wearing a hospital gown with jeans, and pulling an IV, but she seemed otherwise okay. She was walking, which was more than I was up to, at the moment. My pulse rate leapt.

  “They said you were okay,” I said, sitting up painfully and reaching for her. “You’re hurt.”

  She came over to perch on the side of my bed and Jason, Tom, and Jack quickly made themselves scarce. I held her hand in both of mine.

  “I’m not,” she promised me. “Just a couple of scratches.” Her expression shifted. “You look much worse.”

  I sighed. “I’ll be fine. They said my femur was broken, but it was easy to reset it. The teeth are the worst part.”

  She looked curiously at me and I opened my mouth to show her.

  “It’s not bad. They can fix that,” she said pragmatically.

  I nodded. “Yeah.”

  “How long before your leg heals?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. A couple of months.” It would heal. I’d broken a leg before. It was unpleasant, but not disabling. The worst part was the smell of the plaster cast coming off, if I recalled correctly. Then again, I wasn’t as young as I used to be. I didn’t heal as quickly.

  Vanessa’s expression was sympathetic, and it drew me back to worrying about her. I didn’t like those scratches on her arms. “I’m so sorry,” she told me. “Did they tell you what happened?”

  I shifted uncomfortably on the lumpy hospital bed. “Yeah. Some idiot blew through a red light.”

  The driver, a seventeen-year-old driving his dad’s truck, had been distracted by his phone and not noticed that approaching stoplight. He was absolutely fine, of course. His giant truck had pulverized my car, but at least neither one of us were seriously maimed. Or dead.

  “We were both really lucky,” she said. I nodded.

  We were lucky in so many ways. Lucky to survive the traumas that first brought us together at the damn support group. Lucky to meet again at South by Southwest. Lucky to have this second chance now. We were maybe the two luckiest people in the entire world, and I wasn’t going to let anything stop us now.

  “Vanessa, I—"

  The sound of someone clearing their throat made us both look up. A white-coated doctor was standing at my door next to petite, dark-haired Faith. Both were wearing expressions of obvious annoyance.

  “We found her,” the doctor said over his shoulder. “Call off the search.”

  Vanessa frowned at him.

  “Search?” I asked.

  “Vanessa was supposed to go up to Radiology, but she slipped her nurse chaperone,” Faith said disapprovingly. She glared at Vanessa. “You’re supposed to be getting an MRI to rule out traumatic brain injury.”

  Vanessa rolled her eyes in response. “This was more important, Faith.”

  I squeezed Vanessa’s hand. It definitely wasn’t. The fact that Vanessa cared about me was the best news I’d heard all day, but I still agreed with Faith and the doctor that she shouldn’t have done it. “You snuck out to come visit me?”

  “Yes,” Faith replied first. “And now she’s going to go get her MRI to make sure she doesn’t have a big bruise on her brain.”

  I gave Vanessa a disapproving glance of my own. “You should go get your MRI,” I told her. “I’m alright.”

  She leaned her forehead against mine and I pushed her soft, but tangled red hair back behind her ears. “Are you sure?” she asked. “I don’t want to go.”

  I nodded and kissed her. “I’m sure. We can talk afterwards. Go get checked out.”

  I could see indecision on Vanessa’s face, and I squeezed her hand. Reluctantly, she rose and made her careful way out of the room, looking back over her shoulder at me. Faith closed the door behind her, and I was left alone in my hospital room with only my worries to occupy me.

  There was still a lot I needed to tell Vanessa. We might be out of the woods physically, but emotionally, it was a very different story. I still had to convince her that it was her, and not Axial Tilt, that was the key to my happiness. Otherwise I might lose her forever.

  50

  Vanessa

  Hospitals might not feel efficient from a patient perspective, but they are. Rationally, I knew that the reason I was waiting for hours to get my damn MRI was because there were other, much more seriously ill patients that needed the attention, but practically, I feel like they could have left me in Ian’s room without compromising anyone else’s care.

  I waited for what felt like forever. Eventually, someone came by and brought me some very gross lunch that would probably get billed like it was a five-star steak dinner. I only ate the blue jello. The sandwich looked like it was ten years old.

  Then I waited some more, and I couldn’t even use my phone because it wasn’t allowed and there was no goddamn free WiFi. By the time I finally got my damn test done and made it back down to the floor where Ian was, hours and hours had passed.

  Unsurprisingly, I had nothing at all the matter with my brain. I knew getting an MRI was a standard procedure after a bad concussion, but I couldn’t help but resent Dr. Koels, Brandon, for making me go through it. He might be a good doctor, but he was kind of a pain in the ass.

  MRI’s are creepy, loud, and claustrophobic, and you have to stay entirely still inside the machine while the testing is going on. It made me feel a little bit like I might pass out. But I knew if I freaked out, it would take longer to get back to Ian. That was more than enough to keep me obedient, still, and silent. I didn’t want to do anything that would delay me any more than I already was.

  At least when it was over, I’d been allowed to change back into my own clothes—well, the ones Faith loaned to me since I’d come in wearing the red dress. I was wearing a pair of her jeans that were about three inches too short and a black T-shirt that I had a feeling belonged to Eric and not Faith because it was too long for me. I probably looked a bit rough around the edges in my odd outfit, smeared makeup, and messy hair. At least, however, I wasn’t wearing either a sexy red dress or a hospital gown. That was an improvement.

  I was just putting the final touches on the best braid I could possibly manage without a hairbrush when a knock on m
y door surprised me. I looked over expecting Ian. It was Don.

  “Hi, Vanessa,” he said, coming inside and standing awkwardly. “I wanted to come by to check on you and say how sorry I am.”

  I smiled weakly at him. After our really unpleasant exchange in Ian’s hotel room in Atlanta, we’d only spoken for work related reasons. He’d made his request that I complete my work by email. I got the feeling that he felt bad for the way things had gone down.

  “Hi, Don,” I replied with as much politeness as I could manage. “Thanks for coming by. I’m doing okay.”

  “Are you going home?” he asked.

  “Tomorrow,” I replied. “They could probably let me leave, but they just won’t. Apparently, they want to evaluate me longer.”

  “Why?”

  “I had a concussion, so they were doing some tests.”

  “Did the kid that hit you get in trouble?” he asked.

  I shrugged at him. “I heard he got a ticket.” I secretly hoped it was a very expensive ticket, but, in all likelihood, it wasn’t. I hoped he learned to put his fucking phone away next time.

  “That hardly seems like enough of a punishment for the little twerp.”

  “I’m sure he feels bad. Maybe his parents will ground him or something.”

  This conversation was going nowhere. I hated small talk, and I got the bad feeling that Don was working up to something. I wanted to get back to Ian as soon as I could. That meant getting past Don and this awkward exchange.

  Don sighed, clearly sensing my desire to wrap things up. “Vanessa,” he told me, “I wanted to come by to tell you that I’m sorry for the way all of this has gone down. With Thornton and everything. I made a bad call.”

  I blinked at him. I had not expected an apology to be the thing Don was working up to. He was more decent than I gave him credit for. “It worked out in the end. I don’t have any hard feelings. Don’t worry about it.”

  It was true. I didn’t really blame Don. He’d been trying to make the best business move for the band. It had screwed me over a bit, but that’s the nature of the industry. I knew I needed to have a thick skin to make it in this business, and Don had helped me to begin to do that. I ought to be thanking him.

  “I’m also sorry that we’re going on tour,” he added. My heart started to pound. “I know you and Ian have just started to get serious, and it’s going to suck for you two to be separated for nine months.”

  “Nine months?” I gasped. “I thought it was just going to be a North American tour?”

  “That was before the video release,” Don explained. “While you and Ian were almost getting killed by some idiot kid, we were shooting up the charts. ‘This One’s for You’ is in the top five on the Billboard chart and headed right for number one. The international results are looking amazing as well. We’re now planning a full, world tour.”

  Nine months.

  No.

  I stared at Don, open-mouthed and heartsick. My heart was going crazy in my chest. Maybe, maybe I could have handled three months. But nine months was an eternity. And Ian wouldn’t just be traveling around North America. He’d be all over the place. Places that we couldn’t even easily talk on the phone. There was no way I’d be able to handle something like that. We were too new.

  “Have you told Ian about this?” I managed to stutter. My hands, which had been working to braid behind my head, lost the pattern. I dropped the braid and felt it unraveling. I was unraveling too.

  Don nodded at me. His voice was gentle and his expression was genuinely sympathetic. “Yeah. I just finished showing him and Ryan the video’s success and giving them the download. Ian’s excited.”

  My stomach sank. Of course, Ian was excited. Who wouldn’t be excited to know they’d finally succeeded after a decade of failure? “This is his dream,” I heard myself saying. I could feel my heart breaking in my chest.

  “It is,” Don agreed. “He’s wanted this since he rejoined the band.”

  “Longer than that,” I told him. “He’s wanted it since before he got kicked out the first time.”

  Don appeared a bit surprised, but he nodded after a moment. “I guess that makes sense. He never did get to tour for the first album. That was right after Jen died, and well before my time.”

  What kind of a monster would I be if I stopped Ian from achieving the goal that he’d been after all this time? He’d waited a decade for this.

  “When will you leave?” I asked Don.

  “Soon,” he told me. “As soon as we can. I mean, now we’ve got Ian’s left leg to worry about. We may have to wait until Ian’s leg heals fully, or maybe he’ll be able to play somewhat with the injury. It’s up in the air.”

  “Thanks for letting me know.” My voice sounded flat to my own ears.

  “Sure,” he replied.

  Don turned to go, paused, and glanced back at me over his shoulder. “You could come with us, you know.” He seemed like he regretted telling me all this, which only made me feel worse. “It’s not like it’s unheard of.”

  I shook my head at him. “I’ve got my own work,” I heard myself saying. “I’m not a groupie, or the type that just follows a man around because she’s got nothing better to do.”

  He nodded. “Feel better, Vanessa.”

  51

  Ian

  Vanessa never came back. I waited and waited in my godawful hospital room, but there was no way an MRI could take fourteen hours. As for me, I was more or less immobile, so it wasn’t like I could go after her. I was trapped and hope started draining out of me by mid afternoon. It was late that evening that I finally realized she wasn’t going to come.

  Seemingly, everyone else I knew had been by to see me, including a lot of the bloodsucking leeches that had been at the party last night. I had so many visitors that the hospital started getting annoyed by their appearance and cut me off. They ended up telling me that I needed to leave the day after next, when they ordinarily would have kept me another few nights. I was fine with the prospect of going home, of course. It’s not like anyone wants to stay in the hospital longer than absolutely necessary. Especially when their maybe-girlfriend isn’t answering her texts or calls.

  Don and Ryan had been by my room in spite of the ban.

  “I’ve got some great news,” Don told me, setting a laptop in front of me and pressing a button. “Read.”

  Axial Tilt’s new single, the one I’d written for Vanessa, was already a hit, but since Vanessa’s video dropped, it was now a mega-hit. We were crawling steadily up the charts in a dozen countries, crushing previous personal records and reinstating Axial Tilt as the world’s biggest band. There may have been doubters before, people who thought that our best days were behind us, but they were shutting their stupid faces now. Because we were back.

  I’d been almost too stunned to say anything. Between suddenly being catapulted into superstardom and the fact that I’d been in a face-shattering, bone-breaking accident in the past twenty-four hours, I was a bit beyond having regular reactions.

  I just sort of stared from Don’s smiling face to Ryan’s smiling face and felt surreal. Nonplussed. That’s the word for what I was. I was non-fucking-plussed. Not a plus in sight.

  “So,” Don told me. “Given all this, we’re looking at expanding our plans.”

  “Oh?” I was still too dumbfounded to form sentences. A single-syllable response was actually an achievement.

  “Instead of just a North American tour, I think we need to go worldwide. We can start in Australia and work our way back.”

  “Australia?”

  “They love you in Australia,” Ryan said.

  “They do?”

  “Yes,” Don said. “I’m not sure you realize it yet, but this is big.”

  “Yeah?” I was still reduced to terrible, single word replies.

  “Yeah, Ian.” Don shook his head at me. “I guess you need some time to let it sink in.”

  I did. A few months ago, I’d been shocked to realize that I
might be playing a single show with Axial Tilt. After the failed attempt at a tour a couple of years back, I’d honestly believed that we’d never play together again. I thought that my time had passed me by. I’d almost made peace with it.

  But I’d been wrong. Opportunity came knocking again. We had a chance to develop some new material and play that secret show at South by Southwest. Then, we went on the six-city tour. All of it had felt utterly surreal. It felt like I was being given a second chance to live the life that I’d sabotaged for myself ten years earlier.

  And now, there was a chance that I’d be going on a worldwide tour to support a new album and a huge, multi-national hit single. I should have been ecstatic.

  Don left and Ryan stared at me for a full five minutes as I attempted and failed to process what was happening.

  “Ian, are you okay?” he finally asked me.

  “No,” I told him. Clarity was starting to emerge and it wasn’t at all what I expected. “I don’t want this. I don’t want any of this.”

  52

  Ian

  Vanessa never came by to see me. I waited and waited. Then I waited some more. My patience dwindled down to nothing, but I couldn’t do anything with my broken leg and orders not to move until it was casted properly. Vanessa, with her two working legs, was right down the hall but never came over. The only possible explanation was too troubling to consider, so I resisted considering it.

  At least I had plenty of hospital drama to observe from my current, pathetically prone position in my bed. It wasn’t much, but it gave me something to do. It seemed that I had found myself in the middle of a love triangle amongst the hospital staff.

  Vanessa may not have ever come by, but Dr. Koels did, checking on my leg and refusing to answer any of my many questions about Vanessa.

  “I can’t tell you anything about Vanessa Evans’ medical condition,” he replied, “not even to confirm she’s in this hospital.” He was poking away at me like I was a particularly interesting puzzle. I hated doctors. I hated being helpless. And I really, really hated being bored.