The song ended and the band launched into one I hadn’t heard before, about riding a Greyhound bus into New York City, trying to catch a break and make it big. The second verse contained lines about wanting to “escape the eyes of a one-horse town, escape the ghosts who drag me down.” And something changed in Hence’s voice when he belted out the third verse, about escaping the palm of his father’s hand and the devil in his face. By then I was sure he’d written the lyrics. He looked down at the ground as he sang, barely acknowledging the crowd, as though the words still had the power to hurt him.
I wondered: Had my mother ever heard this song? It seemed to answer all the questions she’d had about Hence’s past. Maybe she was hiding out in a one-horse town herself, listening to Riptide’s one and only CD and wondering what had ever happened to her old love. I smiled to think of it. Just then, Hence looked up, his eyes trained in the direction of my window. I caught my breath and ducked, sure for a split second that he knew I was watching. But of course he couldn’t know. When I could breathe again, I let myself return to the window.
When the song drew to a close, while the crowd whooped and cheered, Stan jumped out from behind the drum kit to clap Hence on the back. I thought that might be the end, but Hence returned to the mike. “We’re going to play one more,” he said. “A new one.” He lifted his hand to start strumming, but he froze. “The lyrics were written by, uh…” A funny look crossed his face. For a moment, he seemed lost for words. “Somebody I used to know. I’ve hung on to them for a long time—since I was eighteen, when Riptide was getting started.”
A man in the crowd shouted “Hell, yeah!” and there was a smattering of applause.
“And just this week, someone… something moved me to finally set them to music. I… um… hope you like it.”
And the song began, a slower one this time. He didn’t have to say her name for me to know who had written the words. Had Cooper known about this? If so, why had he kept it from me? But a moment later, those questions didn’t matter. I struggled to catch every word, but I missed a lot:
If the shadows sweep me from the table,
crumbs upon your floor
will you gather me like something
something out the door,
will you cup me in your hands
and carry me away,
keep my name upon your lips
to whisper when you pray?
I’ll something something press you
like a violet in my book,
and something something something
in the music of the brook,
something something something something
blankets that we share
long after you have left me
to these four walls blank and bare.
Had Mom written those words when they were happy together, or in that time when she knew she’d have to choose between Hence and the future she’d dreamed for herself? The song—its lyrics and its tune—was so sad it made me ache for her… and for him.
As I listened to her words in Hence’s deep, mournful voice, I kept forgetting to breathe. And when the song drew to a close, I jumped down from the table and fought my way out of the tangled wires I had forgotten were there. What I was about to do was borderline insane, but I couldn’t stop myself: I burst through the door and past Cooper, who looked completely surprised to see me. Though I was risking his job and Hence’s wrath, I couldn’t seem to stop myself. I ducked into the main room, through the milling crowd, working my way toward the stage. As Hence stepped down into the shadows, I needed to be right in front of him, so I was.
What I had to say rushed out before I had time to think better of it. “There’s something you have to know,” I shouted, desperate to be heard above the applause. “About what you thought you heard my mother say. On the steps of Jackie’s house. When you ran away from her.”
At the sight of me, Hence looked utterly shocked. He opened his mouth as if to speak, then shut it again.
“What you heard wasn’t what she meant,” I shouted.
Hence gave me an urgent look, as if I were telling him I’d found a ticking bomb in the back room. Ignoring the fans who waved for his attention, he led me by my elbow through the stage door and into the back of the club, hurried me into the relative quiet of his office, and locked the door behind us. I sank to the chair in front of his desk, but instead of sitting, he stalked back and forth.
“You should have stayed to listen to the rest of what she had to say,” I concluded. “You should have let her explain.”
“How could you know about any of that?” In the fluorescent office light, Hence’s face looked as white as paper. He couldn’t have seemed more rattled if I’d told him my mother’s ghost had come back to tell me the story of their beautiful relationship and its ugly end.
“I found her journal.” I told him about the hiding place in the hollowed-out book and how I’d been afraid he would take it from me before I could finish reading it. Of course I was still running the risk that he’d confiscate it, but somehow that didn’t matter as much as setting the record straight.
Why hadn’t I realized it before? This was what my mother would have wanted me to do.
“She tried to tell you,” I concluded. “She looked everywhere for you, so she could explain. She tried to file a missing persons report. She even lit candles in church. And when she did find you… you know.” I couldn’t finish that sentence, but the look of shame that crossed Hence’s face told me he knew exactly what I was talking about.
“Please,” he said in a choked voice. “You can’t know how I wish I could go back and undo what I did to her. I’ve wished it every day since it happened.” He looked at me with something like hope in his face. “Would you show me the journal? If I promise not to take it away from you?”
How could I trust him? And yet, I wanted to. I dug for it in my pack, thinking quickly. “First, you have to know that Cooper had no idea I was in the building. I sneaked into the club this afternoon. Just now, when he saw me, he tried to stop me….”
“You’re a terrible liar.” Hence didn’t sound angry. He took the journal from my hands and brought it up to his face, inhaling deeply, as if he could smell her on it. “I remember this,” he said, wonder in his voice. “Catherine brought it with her everywhere she went. When the band was recording, I’d look up sometimes and find she’d slipped away. She’d be curled up in a corner, writing furiously.”
“You can read the whole thing later,” I told him. “For now… let me show you.” I flipped toward the end. “There.”
He let me read over his shoulder as he devoured each page. When he’d read as far as I had, I stopped him. “So you see. You should have listened.”
“I know,” he said. “At first I was too angry to think straight. And by the time I realized my mistake, she’d married your father. They’d had you…” He stopped, his voice cracking as though the wound were still fresh.
I waited for the rest.
“I sent her that postcard. I was going to make it all up to her. Then I got to The Underground and she was just… gone.”
Disappointment swept through me. I’d been so sure I was telling him something new and life-changing. I gestured toward the book. “I guess this doesn’t mean anything to you, then.”
Hence looked down at the open book, then back up at me, baffled, as if I were speaking some alien language and he was trying to pick out familiar words. “Of course it does. It means… a lot. It’s like getting a piece of her back.” To my surprise, he shut the book and put it in my hands “What happens next?”
“I haven’t reached the end yet. I’ve only got a few pages left.”
“You finish it first,” he said. “I’m afraid of what I’ll find in there.”
“I’ll bring it to you when I’m done,” I said. “It shouldn’t take me long. It’s a matter of making myself finish. I don’t really want it to be over.”
“I know,” he said. “It’s all we’ve got le
ft.” He got to his feet and started toward the office door. For a few minutes, I had forgotten about the world beyond that door, about the last of the customers finishing their drinks and heading out into the night, about Stan and Rat Behavior and even Coop.
“Are you going to say good-bye to your friends?”
“I can’t talk to them right now,” he said. “You can tell Cooper I’m not angry. Have him tell Stan I’ll be in touch.”
“But where are you going?”
“For a walk,” he said. “To think.”
As I watched him go, a thought occurred to me: Maybe I should be worried. He might be about to do something rash—throw himself off a bridge or a rooftop. But why should I even care? What was he to me, anyway? Some guy who wished my father had never married my mother. And yet, as messed up as it was, I did care.
“I’ll come with you.” I scrambled to my feet.
He looked at me absently, his mind already elsewhere. “No,” he said. “You stay here.”
Okay, so he didn’t want me tagging along. “I’ll get Coop,” I said. “He’ll go.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t do anything crazy.” He hit the light switch.
“You’re sure?”
He nodded, and my hand shot out to grab his arm. “Wait. I have to ask you something. When did she write that song?”
“She meant it to be a poem,” he said. “I don’t think she saw it as lyrics. She wrote it toward the end of our time together. It was a birthday present for me. She even baked me a cake—chocolate with caramel frosting.” His smile was rueful. “It was the best cake I’ve ever tasted.”
“But that song was so sad.”
He nodded. “After I ran off, I thought it had been her way of telling me she was planning to leave me. I was glad I’d beaten her to the punch.”
“What happened to the one you wrote for her? The one you named after her?”
“I could never finish it. At first there weren’t any words that could capture how she was. How amazing. And later I was too hurt and angry.”
“But you don’t have to be angry at her anymore,” I said.
Hence dug his hands into his pockets. “No, I guess I don’t.”
Suddenly I felt awkward. “You’ll tell me more about her? I really want to hear more. Everything. Anything.”
He hesitated.
“I don’t mean right now,” I added hastily. “Will you, though? When you’re ready?”
He nodded and was gone.
I lingered in the hallway, unsure what to do next. That’s how Cooper found me. “What just happened?” He was pale with worry.
“It’s okay,” I said. “He’s not mad at us.”
“He’s not?”
“I showed Hence my mother’s journal,” I said. “Now he’s going for a walk. Can we sit down somewhere?” Exhausted, I followed Coop up to Hence’s apartment, sank into his deepest armchair, and accepted a can of ginger ale. “Do you have any chips? I’m starving all of a sudden.”
“First tell me what got into you. Hence could have freaked out.”
“I know I shouldn’t have, but when he sang my mother’s song, I couldn’t help myself.” I filled Coop in on the details of how Hence had heard only part—the worst possible part—of my mom’s heart-to-heart with Jackie, and how he’d paid her back. “I tried to tell Hence I sneaked into the club all by myself. He didn’t believe me, but he isn’t mad….”
“I’m not mad, either,” Coop said.
“You’re really not?”
“You did the right thing. He had to know the truth.”
Relieved, I followed Coop into the kitchen, where he dug through the cupboard and came up with a box of oyster crackers. I tore into them. “You should have seen the look on his face when I ran up to him.”
Coop grinned. “I can imagine. Are you going to share those?”
I handed the box over. “There’s hardly any left.” I followed him out to the living room and we both stood at a window that looked down on Houston.
“I wonder where he is,” Coop said.
“He promised he wouldn’t do anything drastic.”
Coop looked doubtful.
“He’s okay,” I told him. “He has to come back to read the rest of the journal, right?”
Coop sat down on the couch and I collapsed into the love seat across from him, hugging the nearest throw pillow to my chest.
“If he does come home, he’ll find you here with me,” Coop observed.
“And accuse us of the high crime of being alone together?” I put my feet up on a nearby ottoman. “I don’t think he will. Not after tonight.”
“Neither do I.” Coop shut his eyes but kept talking. “I’ve been thinking. Before the show I talked Hence into giving me the day off tomorrow. Of course I didn’t tell him what I needed it for—”
“Really?” I interrupted. “That’s fantastic.”
“But wait.” Cooper held up a hand. “I was thinking maybe we should tell him where we’re going.”
“Why would we do that?”
“As long as you’re coming clean with him, why not tell the whole truth? Maybe he would want to come with us.”
“Come with us? Why would we want that?”
“Quentin doesn’t sound like the most stable guy in the world. Did you ever think he might not be thrilled to see us?”
I grabbed another throw pillow and rested my head against it. “He’s my uncle.”
“He could be dangerous.”
“He’ll be happy to see me.”
“Right. Maybe he’ll throw you a party.”
“Besides, he hated Hence. Despised him. He’d take one look at Hence and slam the door in our faces.” I shut my eyes. “Seriously, Coop. Don’t, don’t, don’t tell Hence. Okay?”
“Okay, okay.” Coop sounded sleepy.
What felt like a few minutes later, I woke with a start, scared to find myself in a strange room. Somebody had spread a throw over me. I stared into the darkness until my eyes adjusted and I recalled where I was. That was when I noticed the soft current of someone else’s breath in the room and remembered Coop.
A swath of light from the streetlamp outside fell on the couch, where he lay on his back, blanketless, arms crossed for warmth. I let the sound of his steady breathing calm me, and then I got to my feet and tiptoed closer. Asleep, he looked unguarded, vulnerable, his eyelashes making dark crescents on his cheeks, his lips curled upward as if he was dreaming about something happy.
“Mmph,” he mumbled, crossing his arms even tighter. He really did look cold. I grabbed the throw and covered him with it. He uncrossed his arms, the curl of his lips turning into a full-fledged smile.
While I hovered over him, half praying he wouldn’t wake up and half hoping he would, a crazy thought popped into my mind: What would happen if I leaned in and gave him a kiss? Would he kiss me back, still thinking he was dreaming? What kind of kisser would he be? Rough and clumsy? Or gentle and sweet?
And what would he think if he woke all the way up and realized it was me he was kissing?
Cooper mumbled again and rolled onto his side. I snapped upright, coming to my senses. What was I thinking? I didn’t have those kinds of feelings for Coop, and even if I did, I couldn’t risk acting on them. After all, I needed his help. I couldn’t afford to make things all weird between us.
I knew I should take the train to Jackie’s. But I hadn’t thought to call and tell her where I was going, and she might be furious at me for taking off without leaving so much as a note. It was certainly too late to call her now; it must be at least two in the morning. Was Hence back? Probably not; he’d have woken us if he’d come in. Returning to my love seat, hugging myself for warmth, I willed myself not to worry about Hence, or about what lay before us in the morning. I slowed my breath till it matched Cooper’s and I was calm enough to fall back to sleep.
Catherine
In the days that followed, I worked out a plan. I would leave for Cambridge as soon as I’d tu
rned in my last final exam. There was no reason to stay in New York beyond that. Graduation was for girls with families. Jackie and her mom understood why I needed to go, though they kept insisting their house was my house and I could live in their guest room forever if I needed to. But the narrow little room with its brass bed and potpourri aura brought back a thousand vivid memories of me and Hence together. I’d wake up hopeful and happy from dreams of him, but the knowledge of where I was and why would come rushing back, and my mouth would fill with bile.
Besides, the fact that I might bump into Hence—or, worse, Hence and Nina—on the street made me want to run away screaming. So I stopped going out unless I absolutely had to. I hurried to school in the morning, did my work, and hustled straight back to Jackie’s for the rest of the day.
In the long hours between school and bedtime, I made plans and phone calls. A friend of Dad’s from college had gone on to be the dean of students at Harvard. He pulled some strings and got me into a dorm that would stay open during the summer for students with internships. He even offered to help me find an internship of my own, maybe something in publishing, although I didn’t much care if it was in public relations, plumbing, or pancake-flipping. Anything would be better than staying in New York.
I didn’t see the guys in the band anymore. When I called to tell them I’d found Hence, Stan had handed the phone to Andy, who thanked me for the news and quickly found an excuse to hang up. Hence rejoined the band and they forgave his disappearing act. While I didn’t think they knew exactly what had passed between Hence and me, they knew it had been bad, and, with the possible exception of Ruben, they knew whose side they were on.
I learned all this when Ruben came to Jackie’s house to pay me one last visit. He said he was sorry for how things turned out and that he thought Hence was making a huge mistake and acting like a major jerk. In his zebra-striped jumpsuit, he looked comically out of place on Jackie’s mom’s couch, holding a glass of her iced tea on his jiggling leg, the ice cubes clattering noisily. “That Nina chick is a mess,” he told me apologetically. “He doesn’t really care about her. He’s trying to get back at you.”
Catherine Page 20