Broken Notes

by Ann Marie Frohoff

  I wondered if it was that smell or the thought of losing Dump making me feel queasy; maybe it was both. My breath caught as I locked in on Dump. I forced myself to swallow the lump forming in my throat, wishing Aly were by my side. I pined for the warmth of her.

  I could see Sienna and Dump through the room’s glass window. It framed them like a still picture from a sad movie. She sat at his bedside, holding his hand. Her head was down, resting on his ink-stained forearm, long brown hair splayed out over the white blanket that covered him. Dump had a ventilator stuffed down his throat. Holy shit – definitely not good. My knees buckled as I went to step away from the wall, toward them.

  “Whoa,” a gentle voice hummed, and a warm hand grabbed my elbow, steadying me. “Are you okay?” My gaze met a set of concerned brown eyes belonging to a short stout woman in bluish-grey scrubs.

  “Yeah. I think so,” I croaked out, quickly glancing toward Dump’s room, not wanting to call any attention to myself. When I turned to face the nurse, still holding my arm, she was staring in the same direction.

  “Do you know how he is?” I stammered, feeling like I was gonna lose it.

  Gloom filled her eyes. “Are you family?”

  I’m his brother. “No. He’s my best friend.”

  Her somber expression made my heart cinch painfully. “You’ll need to talk with his wife.” She patted my arm and rubbed it. “I’ll be over in a minute.”

  She left me standing there, barely. I felt as if all my bones would crumble. Of all the time that had gone by, knowing Dump was really sick, I never felt like I’d lose him. This time was different. All I felt now was grief, like he’d already passed. Without haste, I quickened my pace into his room and placed my hand on Sienna’s back.

  She sucked in a sudden breath, startled, brushing the hair away from her face. Her eyes were bloodshot and puffy, without a hint of makeup. Upon her realization that it was me, tears began to pool in her eyes. I instantly bent to embrace her before one word could come out of her mouth. There were no words necessary. I believed in miracles, and I prayed for maybe the second time in my life as I rocked Sienna against my chest, tears streaming down my own cheeks.

  Someone cleared their throat. It was the same lady from a few moments ago; she was now wearing a white coat. She was a doctor, Dump’s doctor. I released my hold on Sienna and stood, reluctant to speak for fear of hearing the answer. We silently watched as the woman checked Dump’s vitals and the machines surrounding him. Finally, I couldn’t handle not knowing exactly what was going to happen.

  “What’s his diagnosis?” Diagnosis? Who was I? I wanted to throw up. I placed my hand on Sienna’s shoulder, more for myself than for her at that moment.

  “Precarious…dire.” She shook her head, extending her hand to me. “I’m Dr. Levy.”

  “Jake,” I answered sharply. “What’s going on with him exactly?”

  “We have him in a medically induced coma. He has developed sepsis from the severe pneumonia, Pneumocystis jiroveci pneumonia. This type of pneumonia is seen in cancer patients.” She paused, caring, but disheartened. “Victor hasn’t improved.” Dr. Levy’s eyes drifted to Sienna, who was staring at Dump with wet eyes. I wasn’t even sure she was listening to the doctor. “Mrs. De Luis needs to prepare herself, look into potential arrangements.”

  The ringing in my ears didn’t stop until well after Dr. Levy left the room. I don’t even remember saying or asking anything else after hearing – make arrangements. Sienna sat in a wet-faced daze, not realizing she had snot bubbling from her nose. I grabbed some tissues from a nearby box and gently wiped her face. She didn’t move. She was in shock. I wiped her nose, and she finally grabbed the tissues from my hand, finishing the job.

  Sienna’s lips were pale. All the color had drained from her skin, as if she’d decided to die with him. Hopelessness scraped at my heart, tearing it apart. She kept sucking in small breaths, about to say something, shaking her head. She covered her trembling lips with her fingers, her words barely a whisper. “I can’t do it.”

  I nodded. “I know.” I whispered in return, not even sure if she’d heard me. Still standing next to her, I pulled her close and she rested her head against my waist. I held her shoulder snugly.

  “Don’t worry about anything. I’ll take care of whatever it is we need to do,” I assured her, not knowing myself how I’d pull through.

  ***

  There were no theatrics when Dr. Levy removed Dump’s ventilator, until I felt my throat begin to close. Sienna was silent. She was somewhere else, her body present and mind forlorn as we listened to Dump’s labored breathing, a gurgling sound. I watched her, instead of looking at Dump. I didn’t want to remember him this way; weak and deflated…a bag of bones. All she could do was stare vacantly at the shell of her beloved husband and best friend. I couldn’t take it anymore.

  “Sienna. I’m gonna let you be alone with him…”

  “No!” she pleaded. “Please don’t leave me alone.” Her eyes looked wild, desperate as she looked upon Dump. She began to crumble, sobbing uncontrollably, and squeezed her eyes shut. I thought I would pass out, and I began to back away from her, suddenly I darted from the room. Before I realized it, I was running. I ran down the hall, not knowing where I was going, cutting corners and dodging people, finally spotting a sign for the stairs. I pushed open the door to the stairwell like there was fire licking at my heels, pushing at me to run for my life.

  Click.

  The door shut, and there was silence. A crushing grip took ahold of my lungs. I stumbled over to the landing wall, feeling like I had lead in my shoes, collapsing, gasping for air. I felt like I would suffocate. I ripped at the collar of my shirt.

  “Aly,” I whispered. I needed to talk to her, to tell her what was happening. I frantically patted my pants and shirt to locate my phone, digging in my right pant pocket to call her. Fumbling, I dropped it between my legs. As I reached down for it, it rang. It was my mother. Tears began to roll from my eyes. I was blinded by grief and my dead father’s face filled my vision, him lying in his coffin. I shook my head, burying my face in the palms of my hands, rubbing my eyes to erase the morbid memory.

  Thoughts thrashed through my mind: Notting, then Dump and Aly. Aly left me and now Dump was leaving me, forever, just like my dad. My mother – I stared at her glowing name on my screen – KATE. I hadn’t spoken to her since Notting and I were last together, the day my life officially changed. Guilt that I’d cut her off completely overwhelmed me, like I was the one who’d been lied to and cheated on, not my father or Notting or her. But none of it was really a lie, just a weird, fucked-up scenario that people write about, and it was my life.

  I answered the call. “Hello?”

  “Jake?”

  “Yeah?” I could hear her breathing heavily, but she didn’t speak. “Mom. Dump isn’t going to make it.” As I heard the words spill out of my mouth, I really began to cry, and I wished she were by my side. “He’s got fucking pneumonia and sepsis, and that shit took over. He’s not gonna make it.”

  Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

  The only sound I could hear was the calm, steady beat of my heart thumping in my ears. I was so still I could feel the rush of it coursing through my veins. I remained slack, leaning against the wall in the stairwell. I’d sat there, catatonic, for about forty minutes before my thoughts began to have purpose. She already knew. That’s why she’d called. Bobby called her when he arrived at Dump’s room right after I took off.

  All that remained from my episode were the dried trails of my salty tears. I knew I needed to keep my shit together, for Sienna, and for Dump most of all. He’d kick the shit out of me for being such a fucking pussy. I could see him standing over me, saying, “Get the fuck up man! My old lady needs you! There’s no time for your baby bullshit!”

  That thought and the comforting words of my mother that were reverberating in my mind were all it took. I found myself embraced in Bobby’s arms, holding him while he cried and h
e held Sienna’s hand. We were all an extension of each other in that moment. Her head rested on Dump’s chest. Marshall waited outside of the room. I wasn’t sure how long it took us to leave Dump, but we finally did after Sienna asked for a glass of water, she could barely walk.

  Everything looked fuzzy and unclear, as if I were looking through a soft lens or smudged glasses. My eyes felt like I had sand in them. I felt like was floating through my motions, an extension of myself as if I were watching from above. I couldn’t feel the keys in my hands as I went to unlock my apartment door. Bobby and Marshall stood behind me, holding Sienna up, all of us barely breathing, cried out and in shock from Dump’s passing.

  I pushed open the door, and all the aromas that reminded me of Aly hit me, practically knocking the wind out of me. My mouth went dry. I needed her, yet I told her not to come. She begged me, and I told her I was okay, but I wasn’t. I told her that we’d be sending Dump back to California, to his mother, who had no idea her son had died. Would his mother even care? I looked back at my three friends and motioned for Bobby and Marshall to take Sienna to the guestroom. Bobby picked Sienna up, cradling her in his arms as Marshall steadied her dangling head against Bobby’s shoulder. Marshall sucked in a cry, covering his mouth as Bobby disappeared into the hallway.

  “I had no idea he was so sick, sick enough to…” Bobby shook his head fiercely, looking down at his feet. He ran his hand nervously through his now short blonde hair, not wanting to say the word.

  “I know. It came out of nowhere,” I concluded.

  “Oh my God. Sienna. What do we need to do? What needs to happen next? Did you call his mom? Is she coming?” Marshall’s thoughts spilled in a torrent.

  “Marshall, just stop.” My voice was hoarse and scratchy. I held up my hand and tried to steady the urge to scream at him to shut the fuck up. “I need to just fucking think, okay?”

  Bobby padded somberly back into the living room. “How is she?” Marshall asked, going to Bobby, placing his arm around his shoulders and glanced down the hallway toward the bedroom. “Is she sleeping?”

  “Dude what did she take?” Bobby looked at me. “She’s out of it.”

  “I don’t know.” I looked around for her purse. “Where’s her bag, Marshall?”

  He pointed his black-painted fingertip at the coffee table. Her black tote bag leaned up against it. I grabbed it and riffled through it, finding one unmarked prescription bottle. I opened it, pouring them into my hand to get a closer look. I didn’t recognize the several different types of pills.

  “Do you know what these are?” I held up my pill-filled palm to Bobby and Marshall. Bobby grabbed one.

  “Nope.” He shook his head. “Never seen those before. You never seen ’em before?” Bobby asked me, as if I should know.

  I scoffed, “What? Just because I popped pills doesn’t mean I know what every narcotic is. I know it’s not Vicodin.”

  Marshall cleared his throat. “Okay, calm down.”

  “No!” I barked. “You fuckin’ calm down!” I pointed angrily.

  Bobby stepped in front of Marshall to protect him. “Whoa, whoa.” He held up both arms, motioning at me with open palms. “We’re not the enemy here, man.”

  I sat down heavily into the sofa, leaning back. I covered my face, feeling the burn in my eyes. “I’m sorry, man.”

  ***

  The next several days were filled with preparation for Dump’s funeral and transfer back to California. To my surprise and relief, Sienna pulled herself together enough to make decisions on her own. She’d left my apartment late in the day, the day after Dump’s passing. She didn’t tell me where she was headed and walked silently past me while I sat in the living room on the phone. She came back later that night with shopping bags.

  I was sitting in the same place as when she’d left several hours earlier, only now I had a towel wrapped around me. I didn’t expect her return, and was surprised to see her, especially because she’d ignored my texts. She’d plopped down heavily into the chair just adjacent to me. She stared vacantly out the window, looking hollow. I certainly knew how she felt, missing Aly. I felt strange sitting there in my towel, with nothing else on. I got up to go put some clothes on. When I came back, she hadn’t moved.

  I cleared my throat, not knowing what I would say exactly, and noticed she was wearing different clothes from when she’d left. It was mid-October, and fall was begging to make itself known; the cold began to creep in. She wore black leggings with leather patches on the knees and a billowy cream lightweight sweater that fell off her right shoulder. She looked exquisite in her grief. What the fuck? She’s my best friend’s wife and he just died.

  Upon closer inspection, I noticed her hair was tangled in knots, even though it was pulled up in a bun, and she looked unkempt. “Did you go home?”

  She ignored my question, not looking at me, and continued to stare vacantly out the window. I looked at the shopping bags and assumed she’d gone shopping for clothes to change into. “Did you go by your apartment?”

  She sucked in a breath, and her mouth parted. “I’m never going back.”

  I was speechless, and knew that it had to be just the way she felt right at that moment. I probably wouldn’t want to go back either. We just sat there, and I watched the TV quietly. Sienna didn’t stir at all. Her hand still gripped the handles of the brown Barney’s shopping bags.

  I felt my phone vibrate; it was set to silent, sitting next to me. I glanced at the screen, only now seeing the many texts and calls that came through: Bobby, Marshall, Marty, Notting, Kate and Aly…I saw Aly’s name flashing, but I couldn’t bring myself to answer. I didn’t want Sienna to feel any pangs of longing or jealousy if she heard me talking and confessing my love to Aly.

  Sienna would never hear Dump’s deep, raspy voice or loving words from him ever again, and the thought of it made my throat close up. No, I thought and watched Aly’s name disappear from my screen. I wanted to respect the peacefulness and just sit there with Sienna, as I tried to grasp the meaning of our new lives without him.

  24

  Jake

  I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep my latest apartment under wraps for too long. The power of social media and the rumor mill always amazed me. I stared out the window that faced Central Park. The trees were bright orange, red, yellow, and brown, on fire with beauty. Just below the trees, on the old cobblestone-lined sidewalk, fans of our band stood, some of them holding candles. It was dusk.

  RIP Dump!

  You’re the baddest ass angel in heaven, Dump! RIP!

  A huge poster or canvas of Dump with angel wings and a halo, sitting behind his drum kit – seeing that one made my nose burn and eyes sting with tears. I wondered if there were fans in front of Dump’s real apartment. It’d been three days, and Sienna still stood firm on never going back. I couldn’t find it in me to go check on the place either. She’d been shopping every day since, replenishing her wardrobe. I didn’t have the heart to ask her if she was going to look for a new place to live; she apparently thought she’d just move in with me. I’d let her stay, of course. I wanted to keep my word – I would take care of her until she got on her feet. I wouldn’t be home anyway.

  I turned and looked around my apartment, seeing Aly everywhere, wishing she was there. Even though Sienna and I were about to get on a plane back to California, I just wanted her comforting presence next to me. I couldn’t get to her side fast enough.

  My eyes shot over to the urn sitting on the foyer table. It was hard for me to believe that Dump was in that thing. I almost thought the top would fly off at any moment like a Jack-in-the-Box, and his hand would pop out, giving me the middle finger. I could hear him saying, “Later, you motherfucker! See ya on the flip side!” This thought made me smile. I knew Dump certainly wouldn’t want us to mourn with tears. He’d want us to celebrate and party until we didn’t know what day it was.

  It was very quiet, and I wondered if Sienna was ready. Miguel had buzzed us that our car
was there to take us to the airport, and our security had arrived.

  “Hey, Sienna! You ready?” I hollered.

  “Almost.” I could barely hear her.

  Finally, about fifteen minutes later, as I watched the fan crowd stand strong outside, she wheeled her two pieces of Louie Vuitton luggage out. She had shiny, flowing hair, big eyes that were no longer red or puffy, and fine features. It was hard to remember her the way she used to look when I’d first met her, all Gothed out: chin-length black hair, black eye-liner, and red lipstick. Though other than that, I supposed she hadn’t changed in personality that much; she was still sorta shy.

  “Sorry, I can’t seem to move along. I could give two shits what I look like, and I had to pack for another trip. I’m supposed to work a job in Miami in two days. I’ll fly straight from Cali.”

  I had no idea she had to work. She never mentioned it. Maybe she’d just decided. “You sure you’re ready for that?” I worried.

  “No.”

  “Maybe you should cancel.”

  She shook her head. “Dump wouldn’t want me to.”

  “Yeah. You’re right.” I nodded sadly. We stood searching each other’s eyes, until I couldn’t take it anymore. “Lemme call Miguel to come get our bags.” She turned away from me, picking up the black and silver urn, cradling it.

  Then she picked up a manila envelope that held the papers for Dump’s airplane ride. She turned and handed them to me without a word. I accepted them and opened it, looking inside. There was a Ziplock bag and instructions. I informed her that we had to place the urn inside the plastic bag and place the premade sticker on it. She nodded in understanding and went about taking care of it. It didn’t matter anyway, because we were now flying privately, but it gave her something to do.