Torn

by Kim Karr

  He jostles me out of my thoughts when he whispers, “I’m going to miss days like these.”

  “What do you mean?” I have to peer over my shoulder to see him.

  “Us alone. No else one around. Days when it’s just you and me against the world.”

  “We’ll still have that, River. Maybe not as often or for as long, but we will.”

  Unsure where this conversation is headed, I wait for him to say more.

  He kisses my temple and shifts his head down to my neck. “You know I don’t want to do this. Don’t you,” he murmurs into my ear and it’s not a question.

  I need to look at him for this, so I rise up from in between his legs and move to sit beside him. Resting my head on his shoulder, I stay silent a long while. I know he’s talking about the tour, but I feel helpless to assist him in any way. He made his decision and I don’t want to add any stress to the already– large emotional load he carries. Looking up at him, I stroke his cheek with my fingers and say the only thing I can. “I know, River, I know. Why don’t you just tell Xander? Explain to him how you feel.”

  There’s a haunted look in his eyes. “I can’t do that. I promised I would do this and I’m not going to break my promise.”

  I hesitate a minute then ask, “Who did you promise?”

  His body tenses and he inhales deeply. “Dahlia. I’ve never really explained how my dad died. Not that I haven’t wanted to, but more because the memory isn’t one I ever want to relive.”

  One look at his somber expression, and compassion and pain swirl inside me and I fight to keep my own face expressionless. Beyond sympathy for him, for losing his father, I also feel my own remorse. For never having pushed him to tell me how his father died, other than the fact that he died from a gunshot wound when River was sixteen. I’m not sure why I never did; I could just tell it was something he didn’t want to discuss—and that was a feeling I knew well. My eyes lock on his and I give him a look that lets him know it’s okay to go on. That I’m here for him.

  Letting out a long cleansing breath he starts to open up. “Xander and I promised our dad that we would do everything we could to be successful.”

  Cupping his cheeks I say, “Every parent wants that for their child, and, River, you are successful.”

  Sighing, he shakes his head. “No Dahlia, he was always pretty specific. He wanted us to hit it big in the music industry. It was his dream for himself but no matter how hard he tried to achieve it, he never could. He teetered close twice. The first time he cut an album and toured, but low sales and low attendance had him starting at square one. When I was fourteen he got a second chance, but by then he was too far gone. After that he never performed again and our family life changed forever until the day he killed himself and willed his dream on us.”

  A wall of silence forms between us for a moment as my eyes widen in disbelief. Tears sting my eyes and I want to hold him, to comfort him, but can tell he wants to continue so I refrain. “I’m so sorry, River, I never knew. But I’m here. You can talk to me about it.”

  Sniffing and looking toward the water he says, “Like I said, my dad was a dreamer, he always wanted to hit it big, but never could catch a break. I never even knew how unhappy he was for the longest time. He made us his life. Taught us everything he could. He tried to provide for us as best he could by teaching guitar lessons out of our house during the day and performing on the weekends. When I was about ten he started playing local joints at night and not coming home until late. It was about that time Grandpa started showing up secretly to slide my mom an envelope full of cash to buy groceries and whatever we needed. She took the money so my dad wouldn’t feel like what he was providing wasn’t enough. Xander used to get so mad at her for that. He thought she should just tell him, make him stop, but she never would. She wanted to believe he’d see his dream come true.”

  My heart breaks a little more with every word he says and I comfort him in the best way I can. “Well your mom loved him, she wanted to be supportive and didn’t want to hurt him. That’s understandable.”

  “Dahlia, that’s just it. That’s the ironic part, he was hurting all of us and Xander was the only one who saw it. My dad didn’t live in the real world and my mom didn’t make him. He lived in his dream world, a world where he was a star and he had started drinking to forget the reality of his situation. His drinking had gotten so bad that once my mom went back to work, Xander and I would try to sober him up before she got home. One day we came home after school and found him drunk and in bed with another woman. We cleaned him up and got the woman out of the house before our mom came home. My mom loved him and that would have killed her. He always said how much he loved her, too. But that was a funny way of showing it. Xander hated him after that. I loved him, I hated him, but most of all I pitied him.”

  I caress River’s cheek and push down my sadness. “What you felt was only natural. You love your mother and didn’t want to see her hurt.” Not sure I want to hear the answer, but knowing I have to ask the question, I whisper, “What happened to him?”

  Framing my face with his gentle hands, he looks deeply into my eyes. “Promise me that after I tell you, we never have to talk about it again.

  “River, I promise,” I tell him, turning my head to kiss his hand.

  My heart sinks as I prepare to listen to the rest of his story. His eyes sadden and his voice cracks as he tells it. “One day, Xander and I came home from basketball practice and dad was completely tanked. He had picked Bell up from school instead of having her go to her after-school program because he thought she needed more practice on the guitar. As soon as we walked in we could hear him. He was yelling at her, telling her she wasn’t playing the right chords and to do it again. She was crying and her fingers were bleeding, actually bleeding. As soon as Xander saw that, he lost it. He attacked my dad, punching him over and over and my dad didn’t return a single one, but Xander didn’t stop. He yelled for me to get Bell out of there and I did. I brought her to the neighbors, called my grandpa, and by the time I went back, my dad was dead.”

  There is so much pain in his voice already I don’t want to ask him to continue. Tears roll down my cheeks and my pulse is racing, but I know he wants to tell me the rest, I can see it in his eyes. So taking a deep breath, I take both his hands in mine and urge him to go on. “What happened?”

  His voice hitches and he tells me something he has never openly talked about with anyone. “My mom had come home just after I left and pulled Xander off him. My dad told her what happened and she told him he had to leave, to get out. He went in the bedroom and she and Xander thought he was packing his stuff, until they heard the gunshot.”

  Shivering, I hug him as tight as I can. “I’m so sorry, River. I’m so sorry.”

  He straightens his shoulders and pulls away, taking my hands in his. His voice tightens in anger as he talks. “That’s not all. He left a note. It didn’t say he was sorry, or why he did it. Instead it said, ‘I love you all. Boys, take care of Mom, and, Bell, and don’t ever settle for not being at the top, because I know you can do what I couldn’t.’ Xander or Bell never sang or played again after that day. But I never stopped. I don’t know if I kept on for him or for me, but I loved it and was happy doing it until the day Xander came home from seeing my grandfather and told me he wanted to manage my career—to put me on top. I never asked why, but since then he’s been determined to make the band succeed. Dahlia, I can’t let him down.”

  “You owe it to yourself to do what’s right for you now, River. Please think about that.”

  “My father always told us that scars are the road maps to one’s soul. It took me forever to figure out what he meant, but I did when I met you.”

  Touched by his words but heartbroken by what happened to him, and to his family, I tip his chin up so I meet his eyes when I speak. “I love you so much.”

  He sags against me, touching his nose to mine. Then he buries his head in my neck and sighs. After a few minutes he brings
his lips to mine and kisses me with a need I know I can fill. His kiss is deep, powerful, and unstrained. His strong frame hovers over me. The raw desperate need I feel from him makes me surrender to him and I let the conversation drop without further discussion even though I think we should talk about the upcoming tour. He wraps his arms around my back and dips my body down onto the rock.

  We stay like that, devouring each other, until the sun slips through the sky. But once the sun has set on the horizon, it’s time for us to head home. We have dinner plans with River’s family and we’re going to be late. With his arm slung around me and my hand tucked in the waistband of his board shorts, he carries the bucket of shells we found along the shore and I carry my camera and our towels as we head back to the parking lot.

  When we get to the car, he reaches to open my door and I grab his arm to stop him. I push myself up against his smooth bare chest so that our sunburns blend into one. “I had an amazing day,” I tell him as I softly brush against the lips I just spent an hour kissing and still didn’t get enough of. And then I feel the need to tell him something else. I’m not sure why. I run the back of my hand along his cheek, caressing it gently. “Everything you and I did today, Ben and I never did as adults. We never took the time to just enjoy the beach—so thank you for taking the time with me.” I notice him flinch at Ben’s name, but the tension quickly passes.

  And even though we are both barely dressed and our bodies are pressed up against each other, he refrains from making a move. Instead he circles his arms around me and just holds me tight. Resting his mouth on my ear he whispers, “Thank you for that and everything else.”

  Then he opens my door and ushers me into the car. We don’t discuss anything we talked about today on the car ride back to LA. In fact, we hardly talk at all. Instead we listen to a new band that River really likes called Atlas Genius. He wanted his stepfather to sign them but he didn’t. I love their single “Through the Glass”; he prefers their song “Electric.” Both have strong lyrics and as we listen I can’t help but think we are both taking this time to reflect on all that has happened and everything we discussed.

  We are so late that we don’t even take the extra ten minutes to go home and change before going to Charlotte and Jack’s. I’ve been over to River’s mother and stepfather’s house for dinner at least once a week since moving to LA, but tonight feels different now that I know what happened between Charlotte and River’s father. I feel like I understand her more—not that I didn’t before, maybe I feel sympathy for her more now, but I know I shouldn’t. She’s a strong, caring woman who loves her family and she’s happy now and that makes me happy.

  Before entering the house, I reach for his arm. “Did you tell Charlotte and Jack about Ben?”

  He flinches. Then, lacing his hand in mine, he kisses my forehead. “No. I thought you should tell them when you’re ready.”

  “Do you think Xander told them?”

  “No Dahlia, he wouldn’t do that.”

  “So Bell doesn’t know, either?”

  “Hey, nobody knows anything. Okay?” he says, slightly agitated.

  River walks in without ringing the doorbell and we find them all in the kitchen. Charlotte’s kitchen is unlike any I have ever seen. It’s huge and has an old-world feel. The double-stacked ovens are encased in a brick wall, two sinks sit in one island and there’s another along the wall next to the refrigerator, and there are even two dishwashers. A large wooden table seats twelve at one end of the kitchen while the cooking island planks the other end. Bell and Xander are sitting at the middle island in the center of the room. There’s a gorgeous chandelier above it and five barstools wrap around it.

  The smell of garlic immediately assaults me and I know the family’s favorite garlic mashed potatoes are on the menu. When Brigitte, the housekeeper, doesn’t immediately greet us I know she isn’t here and Charlotte must be the one cooking tonight.

  River spots his mother at the stove and heads over to her. I follow behind him, waving to Xander and Bell on the way.

  He kisses his mother on the cheek. “Hey Mom. Sorry we’re late; we lost track of time.”

  “Oh River, your eye,” she says, brushing his hair from his face. “Xander told me you two were playing around and he accidently hit you, but I had no idea it was that bad.” She turns to scowl at Xander and I have to admire how the boys always want to protect their mother.

  River walks toward Xander and Bell, and I kiss Charlotte as well. “Hi, Charlotte. It’s my fault we’re late. I insisted on going to the beach today.”

  She tucks my windblown hair behind my ear. “Stop it. You’re not late. And it looks like the two of you got way too much sun today. Xander, grab them each a water, please, will you, honey?”

  Looking at his watch, then at each of us, Xander says, “Since Loverboy is late, I think he can manage his own water.”

  I look over to Bell, whose sense of style never falters. She’s wearing an orange, off-the-shoulder shirt with army green skinny jeans and her always-present high heels. She rolls her eyes and punches Xander in the arm. “They aren’t that late, just forty-five minutes, and I’ll grab them each a water,” she says, smirking at Xander.

  We walk toward them and she hands each of us a bottle and hugs us. She seems gleeful and I ask, “What’s going on?”

  Biting her bottom lip then smiling a huge smile, she says, “I stopped by Jack’s office today and not only did I meet Zane Perry and hear his dad’s record, I got an internship with Tate Wyatt.”

  River’s mouth drops open and excitement lights up his eyes. “Zeak Perry was in the studio today? Was he cutting a new album?”

  Looks like I’m not the only one jealous that she got to watch Zeak. He’s a musical genius. His music just commands your attention.

  Bell shrugs her shoulders. “I have no idea but his agent Damon Wolf was there, too.”

  Everyone grows silent and River’s gaze darts to Xander in a manner so blatant I can’t help but notice. Then I see that Charlotte’s normally vibrantly glowing face has paled and she excuses herself. I don’t ask why right now but rather, I let it pass. I know Damon has a reputation for being a bit of a hothead agent so who knows whose path he’s crossed? His father is also the head of Sheep Industries, who actually own Sound Music. Hmmm . . . that must be who Aerie was talking about. Strange Damon’s interested in the magazine. Maybe he’s trying to settle down and get off the road. I know that after he proposed to Ivy Taylor she severely cut her performance schedule and actually hasn’t done anything in months. Her music career was on the fast track but she had put out only one album and really hadn’t marketed it. Which was a shame because she has the most unique style—I once dreamed of photographing her. I even had an idea worked up in my mind for an album design . . . she has the perfect face for it. We’ll see.

  Bell puts her hands on her hips and pulls me from my fan-girl thoughts. “All I know is Jack signed him last week. Did you hear what I said about my job with Tate Wyatt?”

  Xander seems distracted when he speaks—his voice is gruff and he avoids looking at anyone. “Who is Tate Wyatt?”

  Bell sighs and throws herself back on the barstool. “Only the top event planner in LA. He has a waiting list a mile long.”

  River looks at her skeptically. “I thought you worked for the band.”

  “You guys are leaving soon and I’m not coming, so I need something to do and Jack had the connection.”

  Xander chimes in sounding annoyed. “Just because we’re not here, doesn’t mean there isn’t work to do.”

  Bell sticks her tongue out at him and says, “The internship is only twelve weeks unless I get a permanent position. Let’s worry about that if it happens.”

  Xander rolls his eyes and Charlotte says, “Xander, this is a wonderful opportunity for your sister. You should be more supportive. If need be, I can help you.”

  Xander nods at his mother, River snickers, and I smile at her, mouthing, “Congratulations.”

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nbsp; The door opens and Jack comes in from the backyard with a platter of steaks in hand. “Oh good, you guys made it just in time.” Motioning to the oversize refrigerator in the butler’s pantry he says, “River, grab yourself a beer and one for me, too, if you don’t mind.”

  River obliges and we all sit down for dinner. I really love his family. I never had a big family so I marvel at their interactions as we eat our way through dinner. I haven’t been hungry and my stomach is in knots knowing that River and I still have to have the Ben conversation, but I do my best to eat and socialize.

  River, on the other hand, hardly touches his food and his relaxed attitude from the beach is gone. He’s bad-tempered with Xander and even short with Bell. Honestly, he’s just moody all the way around during dinner.

  Jack does most of the talking, but then again, he usually does. I actually love to hear him talk about his record label and what new albums are coming out. He tells us about a few smaller companies he has acquired and winks at River when he does, adding, “Whenever you’re ready to pick one up,” and then casually moves on. When he mentions that Denny Harris contacted him about the possibility of the D-Bags moving over to Tyler Records, I get a little excited. I love that band.

  I nudge River and whisper, “Jack might actually sign Kellan Kyle. Did you hear him?”

  River shakes his head and I swear I see the hint of a smirk, but, before he can comment, Bell chimes in, “Oh he’s my ex-boyfriend. That would be so cool.”