by S. L. Scott
“Protect their future from me? Protect them from me? You’re twisting this. I care about those boys. I love them. I would never hurt them!” Throwing the SUV in reverse, he backs up around the corner, then turns, heading in the opposite direction from the paparazzi. “I can protect you from them. You just won’t try. You’re protecting your heart so hard that you’re losing the ability to feel anything except numb.”
Unfortunately, they’re right behind us when I peek up and over the back of the seat. My head hurts, my heart is racing, and my eyes have filled with tears. “This is the stress I can’t have in my life. I can’t have you, Dex. I’m sorry. We can’t happen. It’s not good for me. You’re not good for me. We’re not good for each other.”
He struggles to keep his tone steady, but I hear the shake in it. “Don’t make rash decisions, Rochelle. You just got released from the hospital. You’re tired. In the grand scheme of things, this is nothing, but we’re something. We matter.”
I grab either side of my head while shaking it. “Stop saying that. We don’t. I can’t think of only myself and enjoy it while hurting others in the process. It doesn’t work like that.” I look up and add, “Just like now. Just like I’m hurting you. But it’s you or everyone else. That’s how I see it and the only options I have to choose from.”
He makes the block and then pulls up to my driveway and punches in the code. “Are you telling me that you don’t want to date me because it will upset others or because you don’t believe I’ve changed? Because you’ve said both, which makes me think you’re reaching for anything and hoping it sticks.” The gate closes behind him and he parks.
“Don’t belittle my reasons.”
“They’re not reasons. They’re excuses and you know it, but I’m gonna let you go live with those excuses. Just remember these are the choices you made. I was here, wholeheartedly for you.” His breath deepens, a mixture of anger and sadness battling in his eyes. “This fence isn’t tall enough. You should go before they come back.”
I open the door, determined to walk away without damaging him anymore. When I step one foot out, he adds, “Go find this happy-ever-after you’re so desperately searching for that I can’t give you. And maybe one day you’ll see that you’re throwing away that ending before you even realized you had it.”
His words make me panic, worried he’s right. “Dex, it doesn’t—”
“I can’t make you believe in me.” He revs the engine while gripping the steering wheel. Looking away from me, he says, “You either do or you don’t.” He backs up and the gate starts to reopen.
I release a heavy sigh, feeling the anxiety of the paparazzi showing up again and the weight of the pain caused from this conversation. His window is down, so I walk the few feet to him and start to lean in to say, “Pleas—”
“Go inside. This conversation is fucking over. Just like we are!”
The shock of his words coaxes my anger back up as I stand there. He leaves skid marks on the street from peeling out so fast. Pissed, I turn my back and go inside before any photographers show up.
As soon as the door closes behind me I see Beth. She’s sitting on the couch reading a book to CJ and they both look up. “Hey, are you okay?” she asks. “Janice called me.”
“No. I’m not. Can you stay a bit longer so I can clean up?”
“Sure, no problem.”
I kiss CJ on the head. “Hi, Sweetie. Where’s Neil?”
Beth answers, “In his room, practicing on that drum pad Dex left for him earlier.”
Dex. “I’m gonna take a bath.”
“Okay, the boys have eaten. There’s still some casserole in there if you’re hungry.”
“Thank you.”
I stop by Neil’s room on the way to mine. “Hi Buddy.”
He doesn’t look up. “Hi Mom.”
“Did you have fun today at camp?” I ask, seeing the black and grey pad on the floor in front of him.
“Yeah. Now I’m practicing my rhythms. They’re para somethings but I can’t remember, so Dex told me to call them rhythms. He says if I learn these three, I get to start on a song next time.”
“Oh.” Looking into the hopeful face of my sweet son makes my whole body ache. I almost tell him there won’t be a next time with Dex, but I don’t, not wanting to upset him. No need to have all of us crying over Dex. “I’m gonna take a bath if you need me.”
“’Kay.”
I start the hot water on the tub before stopping to look at myself in the mirror. It’s hard though. Breaking people’s hearts is not something I enjoy doing and I feel ashamed for hurting him. I take my clothes off and slip into the tub, hoping to wash away the pain of breaking my own heart in the process of Dex’s.
The water soothes, but it doesn’t relieve. When I get out twenty minutes later, the pain is more than skin deep. It can’t be washed away that easily. I’ll leave it up to time to heal the rest while I focus on my family.
Dear Cory,
I can’t control my heart. As much as I try, the beat goes on. There’s no power in that. The heart holds not only the power over our souls but the key to it.
I had this epiphany at three in the morning. I wish I could sleep, but my brain has other plans like torturing me with too many thoughts, regrets, and memories. Why this doesn’t happen at three in the afternoon boggles my mind. It is what it is though.
XO
By seven, I was tired and a bit delirious. I missed Dex already and it hadn’t even been twenty-four hours. Not only that, but he was right. I was thinking of him fondly. When we let go of the anger, we find clarity in the remains.
Beth was here early to take the kids to camp and I was drinking my coffee before getting dressed for my meetings that got moved from yesterday to today. A trip to the hospital is usually an acceptable excuse to reschedule.
Janice’s voice travels from the living room, calling my name. I put my makeup brush down and go out there. I haven’t called her since the hospital, but I’m still hurt by what she said. When I walk out there, she’s standing near the door, timid. With a half-smile she says, “I’m sorry about yesterday.”
I love this woman, so it’s hard to stay mad at her. Walking to her, I open my arms. When we hug, she says, “You’re a wonderful mother to Neil and Cory Junior. I was upset thinking you were over my son.”
Stepping back, I say, “I will never be ‘over’ Cory. But he needs to live in my heart because he’s not here to live in our home. To be truthful with you, I’m lonely, Janice, and doing something for myself doesn’t make me a bad mother. It makes me human. I can’t wear black for the rest of my life. I still wear the ring, but I’m almost thirty and I don’t want to spend my life alone.”
“Just don’t pick him.”
“Dex?”
“Yes, you have to be careful who you bring around the kids, Rochelle. He’s a bad influence.”
“He’s not. You’re wrong, he’s changed. You’re reading tabloids and gossip magazines and believing them blindly. I know the real him.”
She steps closer and takes my arms gently. “I love you like a daughter. I care about you, but I also know you’re in a vulnerable state and can be easily taken advantage of if not careful. Dex is no good. There’s always some truth found in those stories.”
“Hearing you repeat it doesn’t change how I feel about him. I can’t help who I fall in love…” I stop, gasping. My hand covers my mouth and I turn away from her.
“You love him?” The words hit me in the back like tiny daggers.
The air is sucked from my chest as my own words sink in. “I… I might,” I reply more for myself than her.
Upon this realization, I’m on the move. I run to the front door and slip on my Havianas. “I have to go.”
“Where?”
Looking at her, seeing the shock in her eyes, makes me want to stay, but I can’t. I’ll talk myself out of doing this or she will. “We’ll talk later. I’m sorry.”
I run outside to my car. I�
�m five minutes down the road before I realize I didn’t finish putting on my makeup, but I know he won’t care. I see the way he looks at me. He more than likes me. He practically it said yesterday. I’m not sure I would call my feelings full blown star-crossed lovers love yet, but it sure feels like the beginning of something ‘spectacular.’ I need to talk to him, to talk this through with him, to apologize for everything I said. His plane for the last leg of the tour leaves in an hour, so I know he’ll be up, but I’ve got to hurry.
After tapping in the code to his gate, I park next to a white convertible BMW. Makes me wonder if he got a new car though I’ve never thought of him as a BMW kind of guy. That will throw the paps off his trail for sure. I knock twice before finding the door unlocked. When no one answers, I walk in. I see a martini glass with a few shot glasses on the coffee table and get a sick feeling in my stomach, making me pause at the bottom of the stairs. I ascend them slowly, my gut telling me to go back to my car and call first. I go, my curiosity winning out. When I reach the second level, I walk to his room, finding the door cracked open. I push it the rest of the way open with one finger and my jaw drops along with my heart.
Platinum blonde hair, long, tan legs stretch across his bed, her breast exposed though the sheet does me the favor of keeping the rest of her body covered. Firenza.
Her blue eyes look up from the phone she’s been reading, and she smiles. Elbowing Dex’s back, she says, “We have company, Tiger.”
“Rochelle?” His voice follows me as I turn and run down the stairs, but Dex catches me before I reach the front door. Looking down, I make sure he’s not naked, not needing the gross reminder of what he was doing, which was very clear as he likes to say. “Let go of me, you bastard.”
He has the nerve to be angry with me when he asks, “What are you doing here? You wanted nothing to do with me, so why are you here?”
Like a sucker punch, his words hit me in the gut, making me nauseous. Stepping back, he releases me. When I look up at him, his eyes are glazed and bloodshot.
“I came over here to tell you I was wrong. That I thought that maybe we were meant to be like you led me to believe.”
A different emotion takes over his expression completely, and he says, “Rochelle… please.” He gulps while reaching for me again. “I didn—”
“You didn’t what, Dex?” All the adrenaline, the anger I had a minute before has left, leaving me defeated and deflated. “I thought you were right, but Janice was. Guess a ‘tiger’ can’t change his stripes after all.”
“Don’t do this. You told me you didn’t want to be with me. You said I was bad when all I’ve done is bend over backwards to prove to you that I’m good. You pushed me away.”
I’m tired of crying, but they come anyway. “Not judgment, disbelief that one argument led to this. I stayed home and cried, hurt, confused, but alone. You call a fuck buddy over after telling me ‘We matter.’ We obviously don’t or you wouldn’t have had sex with her, and her of all people.”
“It’s just push and fucking pull with you. I get you’ve been hurt, but you chose to live with the pain than to move past it with me. I’m only doing what you and Cory’s mother say I do. It’s like manifest motherfucking destiny or some shit. So fuck this. I’m done.”
We stare into each other’s eyes, neither of us relenting until a cleared throat grabs our attention and we look up. Firenza stands on the top of the staircase in a tank that looks a lot like one of Dex’s. “Come back to bed, Antonio.”
When I look back to him, the disgust I feel far outweighs my weak emotions that I once felt for him. “And here I thought you were the good guy…”
There’s a shift in his demeanor. I may be physically right here, but he knows my heart is already gone. Reaching for me, his voice wavers when he says, “Rochelle?” Regret colors him. “I didn’t mean…”
Fear takes over in his eyes as I back away. The pain in my chest makes me want to run, but I won’t let them win, refusing to let either of them see me breakdown. I open the door and start to leave, making it halfway to my car before I stop, and say, “As your business manager, I should remind you that your flight leaves in thirty minutes.”
“Fuck!” I hear him yell before the door slams closed.
I get in my car and yell the same thing but for entirely different reasons.
When I open the door to my house, Janice is there and stands from the couch. I thought she’d be gone, wishing she had. I swipe at my eyes, hoping she doesn’t see my tears. “Rochelle? Are you okay?”
“No,” I reply, walking past her and going to my room. I slam the door closed and lay down on the bed, wishing for this day to go away, wishing I could go away for a few hours from myself.
I’m tired of being strong. Curling into a ball on my side, I finally drop the act I’ve put on for everyone else and cry. I give myself an hour to recover, but my heart is refusing the deadline. No matter how much I remind myself that I have to get ready for the meetings, I still struggle to pull myself together. This ache in my chest makes me think I’m mourning more than just the loss of Dex. Cory is always on my mind. I used to be happy. I used to carefree. I used to have a heart full of love. Now… I miss him. I miss the ease of our life together.
I went numb while holding my newborn. I should have gotten to enjoy my sweet baby being born. But that was ripped away from me when I was told of the plane crash. A numbness took over, then anger that welled up inside of me, squeezing the life out of me, making each breath hard to take as if the world was lacking oxygen.
The anger is so easily to identify with, but I pushed it down, not wanting to upset anyone, not wanting anyone to think I didn’t love Cory. I loved him with all of my being. But he left me in a world I don’t feel equipped to live in or maybe it’s just my emotions that are hard to live with. I reach for the framed photo of me and Cory that sits on the nightstand. Taking it in hand, I run my finger over the glass. I see love when it was pure and simple. He made it so damn easy to love him. When I smile, I have a moment of clarity—Johnny, Dex, and Tommy mourned Cory’s death. His family has mourned. Mourning doesn’t mean forgetting… I will never forget him, but I need to mourn him.
Now I’m left questioning whether it was fair to start things with Dex under these conditions. Not being in the right state of mind, I’m in no mood to have to justify my reaction today. We had sex. We made out. We were coupling. That much is fact. So for him to jump into bed with someone else after a fight… I don’t know if I can forgive him for that.
Thinking about him, makes me want to call him. And wanting to call him makes me feel pathetic. I check for any messages, just in case before setting my phone back down. Now I’m even more disappointed that he hasn’t called or texted me. Ugh!
I try to convince myself that it’s because he’s on his flight, but deep down I know it’s not. What pisses me off the most is that I want to hear from him. I want him to tell me this is all a misunderstanding and that what I walked in on wasn’t what it looked like. But I know better no matter how much I try to change the image in my head. He also didn’t deny it. I need to stop being stupid and focus on business.
By the second meeting of the day, I’m bored. “These ideas are unoriginal,” I start in. “I don’t want the band doing the festival circuit. Anyway, I’m not seeing a need for them to tour next summer unless they have a new album out and right now they aren’t due to go back into the studio for three months. Give them another two months to work through the tracks that haven’t even been written and then we might have new music for them to promote. But it’s going to be a hard sell to talk them into it now without tour ideas that wow them.”
Nick is the home base assistant to Tommy. He says, “They’re tired right now. Getting burned out like all bands nearing the end of a lengthy tour. Tommy says we shouldn’t even pitch the idea to them until they’re home and rested.”
“I wouldn’t even broach the subject unless we’re solid with something original,” I say, “Jo
hnny likes real ideas, something he can visualize. We’d need to present it on paper, through art. Also, this tour needs a better concept for the drum kit. Dex…” My heart starts beating heavy in my chest. I clear my throat while looking down. Focus. “Umm… Dex likes his platform rounded and it’s been square the last two tours.”
MaryLee, the set designer, leans forward and asks, “Why does he like a rounded platform?”
I turn my attention to her, trying to hold any personal reaction I might have. “He thinks it shows off his drum set better. The curves highlight the curve of the kit. It’s a personal thing, not something I think makes a difference to most, but he’ll want input when it comes to the drum arrangement on stage.”
She taps a pen against the table, looking to others for additional suggestions. When none come, she says, “What about we highlight Dex on the tour. He can have a sliding stage that moves front and center when he has a solo, then moves back into place?”
Nick agrees, “I like that idea.”
I add, “It can move up and down maybe.”
MaryLee sits ups. “That’s a fantastic idea. We can showcase him.”
Nodding, I say, “Get more ideas going. The album will set the theme, but we need these new concepts to really pull it off and get them enthused to sign on.”
MaryLee asks, “When do you want the concepts?”
“We have time. Two months. I want a model made to see how the platform will work and to show the guys. Thanks for your time. We’ll talk soon.” I get up and leave, restraining myself from rushing to the elevators. As I ride down, I begin to wonder if I’ve screwed up my job now as well by sleeping with Dex. Any idiot would know this outcome was predictable, but I still fell for his act. That’s just it. He said it himself—He was trying to prove how good he was. It doesn’t come second nature to him. That’s why he has to prove it. Good people don’t have to prove it because they show through their every day behavior.
As soon as I’m in my car, I think about the time under the stars—big and little pictures—the details, and the kiss before we were caught.