by Leslie Pike
“What happened?” He doesn’t take no for an answer.
I load the coffee maker while filling in the blanks.
“I broke it off with Dove.”
There it is wrapped in a nutshell.
He moves closer, to have eye contact.
“What are you talking about? Why?
“Because it’s not going to work. I don’t want to talk about it, okay?”
“No. It isn’t okay. I want to know.”
I turn and lean against the counter. “Coffee?”
The disgust on his face tells me I’m in for it.
“Quit fucking around, Nobel. Was it her idea?”
“No! Why are you saying that? It was me. A hundred percent me.”
“Did she cheat?”
“No.”
“Did you get tired of the sex?”
“No, that didn’t happen,” I say pointedly.
“Does she bore you?”
“There’s nothing boring about the woman.”
“Well what then?”
I take a few beats before telling the story.
“I told you about rerecording the song.”
“Yeah.”
“It went well. Better than they imagined. They have to relocate to Nashville.”
“That’s great.”
“Is it? For them. But for me, it means giving this all up. Changing everything about my life. They are going to be based out of Nashville, probably go on tour, etcetera. I’d be the groupie.”
He looks at me and I know what’s coming.
“I don’t get it. I thought you two were in love.”
“We are. Were. Are.”
“Don’t be so shortsighted, brother. You can’t stay The Invisible Man forever, just because it’s comfortable to hide.”
“You don’t understand.”
“I understand more than you do.”
“Really? Are you the grand wizard of love?”
As soon as the words leave my mouth, I regret saying them. His eyes show the sadness he lives with.
“I might be. At least I’m the wizard of losing it. That makes a man an expert in appreciating what can’t be replaced.”
“Sorry, Aargon. I’m a dick.”
“Don’t be a stupid one. I know what it’s like to have it and lose it. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone, let alone my brother.”
I sit with the thought.
“I can hardly believe you would actually choose it, Nobel.”
I have nothing to add. This headache is pounding like a jackhammer. Aargon sees the mood, and switches topics.
“You know it’s Mom and Dad’s anniversary tomorrow, right?”
“Shit. No. I’m not in the mood for a party.”
“Well, you lucked out. They’re going to spend the weekend in Memphis. I guess that was where they spent their wedding night. I just thought you might want to call them before they take off.”
“Thanks,” I say, pouring a cup of coffee. “Want one?”
“No. I have to go. But I hope you’re going to give the whole Dove thing another look. I think you’re fucking up the best thing that ever happened to you. For nothing.”
“My life is not nothing.”
“It will be if you let her go. Take it from me.”
* * *
Three hours and a million reflections later, I’m trying to put on the best face I can.
“Happy anniversary, you two lovebirds.”
Thank God for FaceTime. The parental units are not the most tech savvy duo.
“Darling, thank you for remembering.”
“Why are you looking like that? Are you sick?” My father always gets to the point.
“No. Just a headache. So you’re going to recreate your wedding night I hear.”
They chuckle with the thought.
“Well, there may be a small change here and there. Nothing your mother will notice. I’m still the virile Frenchman I was then.”
But their laughter tells a slightly different story. She touches his cheek, looks into his eyes and smiles.
“Gaston, you have only improved with the years.”
He chooses to believe the lie and offers a little kiss.
“So what’s happening in your life? How’s Dove?” he asks, pretending innocence.
I call bullshit. I am sure Aargon has told the interested parties about my…stupidity. I’m only using his word.
“I know you know,” I say, cutting to the chase.
Their expressions change. Both begin talking over the other.
“What are you thinking?”
“Call her and say you made a mistake!”
“Stop.”
It is as if I muted the screen. They quiet and wait for me to explain myself.
“I had to cut it off now. If I had waited it would have ruined the best time of her life.”
“Darling, don’t you know you’re the best time of her life?”
The very thought that could be true, makes a compelling argument.
“That’s what love is, son.”
My mother adds another thought. “Think about what you are doing, Nobel. You’re bringing logic and reasoning to the fight, and they are seriously outmatched by your heart.”
“As your father, I tell you I see it all over your face. You’re miserable without her.”
“If you really love her, you’ll be with her. That’s it. Whether it’s on her playing field or yours.”
“And nothing will stop you. Not even your own stupid missteps,” my father adds with emphasis.
I don’t have a witty retort. Hell, I can’t even think of a rebuttal. And that’s the second time someone called me stupid in two days. That must mean it’s true.
“I have to get off. I have a client to talk with,” I lie, and they know it. “Have a wonderful anniversary. Love you guys.”
“Go, go! Take care of business,” my mother sends a not so subtle message.
“Thanks for calling, son! We’re going to check back in a few days. See if you came out of your coma.”
They do not wait for me to argue with the brutal assessment. They sign-off.
* * *
All day long, I work to be in another state of mind. I catch up with the business that has piled up in the last weeks. I make myself a good lunch. I put on background music to work by, but that was a mistake. Everything reminded me of Dove. Whether it was rock or classical, she came into my mind and made the music make sense. I couldn’t handle that.
I wanted to turn off the phone when my siblings wouldn’t leave me alone. Word has spread. The Invisible Man has gone into hiding again and they’re not having it. So basically, I’m ignoring them all. Decline, Decline, Decline.
The house has become lonely. No Dove, no Maudie, just a stillness that has nothing to do with serenity.
So, I sit on the porch watching the sun go down. Wondering where home went. Thoughts have nowhere to go but to her.
Every argument has been made. I’ve used all the tools at my disposal to rationally stand my ground, and they are worthless. I have painfully turned every stone. Against all that she is, my weak arguments fail. It is a proverbial wall I have hit and Dove stands on the other side waiting. There is no going around. If I want to get to her, I need to destroy the barricade I built in life, brick by brick.
“Fuck me,” I say to the trees.
I’m left to become a new man or left to return to what I was before. Shit. Why would I want to be him? Yeah, I was happy enough, and the routine in my life felt like satisfaction. Now I know too much. Her chaos has become my calm. Besides, the man I was is gone for good, whether I go or not. It is impossible to forget who I became loving her.
I stand. Love may be a mistake. But it’s the one worth making.
Chapter 21
Dove
“I’m not going to ask again if you’re sure.”
“Good.”
Deborah watches as I point to the turnoff for the airport.
“Even tho
ugh it makes me nervous you won’t be back in time.”
That’s the real fear. And I understand the hesitation. It looks like I am risking everything. Like I will let the brass ring slip from my hands and therefore the hands of my friends.
“No need to worry. It’s going to work out. I get back at noon tomorrow, you’re going to pick me up, or us up, and no one will be the wiser.”
“Yeah. That’s what your ticket says. But what if there’s bad weather or mechanical issues?”
“Then I will wait for the next flight. We have two days.”
We get in the line of cars inching toward drop off for American Airlines.
“Not really. You have a day and a half till we meet with the attorney. Your bandmates would think it odd if you weren’t there Monday morning.”
“If worse comes to worst, I can say I’m sick. It would buy me a little time. But that isn’t going to happen!”
“I don’t know. Tony and Jimmy are suspicious something is up. They think it’s weird you’re staying in, the first few days you’ve had off in weeks.”
I feel Deborah’s nerves coming to the surface. Her face is pinched, and she’s hardly blinked in the last minute. I am perfectly calm. It comes from knowing this is meant to be. Not that I had a vision, or any kind of premonition. It’s because what I am doing feels right.
She pulls over against the curb.
“Okay, there is no talking you out of this, Dove. Just, no matter how this turns out, whether he’s happy to see you or not, get your ass back by tomorrow night.”
“I will. Promise.”
“And don’t let Arthur know you’re anything but perfectly happy. Fuck. This is a bad idea.”
I look her in the eyes. “No it isn’t. It’s the best idea I’ve ever had.”
She gives up trying to talk me out of it, a deep sigh the final comment.
If I didn’t make a stand for us and let Nobel know I’m a fighter, I deserve to be without him. I’ve given him time to come to his senses. Maybe he needs me to come to mine. I refuse to let this love go, as if it was some shallow thing. I’m going to go get him. And the man is coming back with me, if I have to beg, scream, cry, or run naked through the city. There’s no weakness in my faith.
* * *
All the way from the airport to his house is a practice in staying calm. It’s not nerves or doubt that makes my stomach twist. It’s excitement. That is how sure I am.
The Uber driver makes the final turn onto the property. How strange. It seems like I have been gone for years, not weeks. Like I have arrived in a new world. My senses notice it all. Something is different. Maybe everything. What has made each thing change? The warmth of sunlight on the Sycamores was always there. The way the birds are flying in perfect harmony in the big sky? I’ve seen it countless times. But change has happened. It’s the big picture, all consuming, magical feeling that settles in my heart.
We take the final curve in the road leading to the house, and a car I don’t recognize approaches with someone in the backseat. As we come closer, it slows.
“Wait, driver!”
We slow to a crawl. And as the cars pass, time slows too. Our eyes meet and lock at the exact same moment. He says something to the driver, just as I say to mine.
“Stop!”
There’s a frenzied excitement to get out of the car and into each other’s arms. I throw the door open and slide out. Nobel’s door won’t budge, and he yells impatiently to the driver, who pops the lock. He’s out. Kissing me, touching my hair. Saying everything in a look. His embrace is like slipping a key into the front door. We both have tears in our eyes.
He leans in, holds me close and whispers, “I don’t want to be invisible anymore.”
My lips graze his ear and I whisper back, “You won’t be. I’ve come to wreck your plans and take you home.”
We were born to walk this life together, the two of us. In perfect parallels and intersecting lines.
I kiss the man who fell to earth for me.
Epilogue
Nobel
One year later
* * *
I didn’t know what love was. A clueless stranger in a strange land. But I got educated on what to cling to and what to let go. Now I think I could write the prologue of a book about how it shapes a man. It would be a bestseller. I sound like a fucking fool waxing poetic, and maybe I am. But this past year has schooled me in the art of the beginning.
Dove has schooled me. Just by example.
The woman knows how to love. I feel it when I’m with her and carry it when we are apart. I am sure of it, despite knowing some have come to regret the naïveté of being so certain. Love has fallen apart for lovers where no doubt existed. Smoke getting in their eyes. That’s not us.
We look with clear vision, at both the magic and the mundane. Knowing our love is forever has made me trust the journey. The more I surrender, the further it takes me. I have left all thoughts of the world that was before.
There’s nothing routine about our lives. Never thought that would be a plus. Not when sameness was my previous default setting. Thought it was my comfort zone, right along with solitude. Shortsightedness was the problem. Living in the comfort zone has nothing on living fully in the moment.
I have grown to like the uniqueness of each city. Even crowds of fans can be fun, if controlled. And whenever it becomes too loud or crazy for my tastes, I find a way to quiet. I can be alone anytime I want. Nothing holds me back from doing my own thing. Thing is, I don’t want to that often. To that end, taking a year-long sabbatical from the law has worked great. Next month I start back, and it will feel good to have my own thing to concentrate on again. Allegedly. I will see.
We have come full circle tonight. The return to McCandy’s for the band’s tip of the hat. The club that gave Montana their break was all too happy to agree to a one-night appearance from music’s newest find. There has been no announcement or heads up to the public. That would have been a colossal mistake. Instead, we figured out seating for our friends and families, the VIP’s of our lives, and advertised as if the patrons will be seeing a new group. The reputation of the club tells them whoever appears here is going to put on a good show. The usual crowds are anticipated.
When I peeked outside to see the patrons gathering, I noticed two old friends. The girls that were in line with me that first night are here again. How cool. Only their hair has changed. One sports a pink do and the other blonde. Hope they get inside. If not, I’m going to make sure it happens.
Two number one hits on the pop chart that segued into the country category has changed everything. The Archangel tour last November put Montana on the world’s stage. It was a huge success for them. That was Michael Angelica’s smartest move. It won’t happen again. They are too big. But right before they broke out, he had them as his opening act. That alone is another angel feather in his cap.
Now there’s talk of a national tour next year, but this time Montana will be the headliners. Their debut album is climbing the charts. I don’t see anything stopping plans to perform from San Francisco to New York, and many cities in between.
Dove has become everyone’s golden girl. But she is my woman. It’s weird being photographed as a couple. Funny. The shoot for Entertainment Tonight’s online magazine was a new experience. Getting praised for my looks, an embarrassment. It’s happening pretty regularly now. Aargon, Scarlett, and Van will never let it die. They find it hysterically inaccurate. My birthday cake a few months ago said Don’t Get A Big Head, You Are Forty Fucking Five. The words of my father when the article appeared, and I started getting compliments.
Inside Dove’s dressing room, she dresses and I watch. Love to hang out while she prepares. She likes it too. Regularly, it turns into sex. They all know if the door is a lockin’ don’t come a knockin’. We are as annoying as eighteen-year-olds.
Knock knock.
“Thirty minutes to show,” the backstage manager calls.
“That looks great,
honey,” I say, checking out the new outfit she just climbed into.
“Thanks. Does it make my ass look too big?
“Turn around,” I say, pretending I don’t know the answer. “Your ass looks the perfect size. Not too small, not a watermelon.”
She chuckles and blows me a kiss.
“Not that watermelon would be a bad thing. It’s one of my favorites,” I add.
Another knock.
“Yes?” she calls.
“It’s me. Nobel in there?” Jimmy’s voice needs no further introduction.
“I’m here. Come in.”
The door swings open.
“Hey, can I steal your husband for a minute?”
We have gotten used to being called husband and wife by the band. Even though it is not legally a fact.
I follow him out the door and he heads for his dressing room.
“I have your birthday present. I’m a little late.”
“I thought you did it on purpose. Just because you can be a dick.”
“You are going to feel really shitty when you see what it is.”
How this relationship morphed surprised me more than any other. I always felt an ease with Tony and Oscar. And even ZZ, whose bark is worse than his bite. Jimmy was something else. Because of his history with Dove, we both had our doubts. I initially thought we would never be friends.
But one thing changed, and her name is Polly. Arthur’s receptionist. I’m not surprised at how thoroughly a woman can change a man. After all, it happened to me. But Jimmy, I think that one felt like it came out of the blue.
We reach the door, and he leads the way inside.
“So is this a gag gift or a real one?”
“A gag gift is a real one if you do it right. But no, this one is something you will like. I hope.”
Leaning against the wall is a large canvas with its back to us. He picks it up and turns it to face me.
“Oh, man. God. That’s…it’s perfect, Jimmy. You did this?”
A smile lifts the corners of his mouth and he knows without a doubt he has scored a home run. Maudie’s sweet face stares back at me. Somehow Jimmy captured her soul through the eyes. She is sitting above the River, under the trees, overlooking her kingdom. The wind is in the leaves and against her coat. She lifts her head loving the feel of the breeze.