by Carian Cole
“You just have to sit with him for a while, and talk to him, and look into his eyes. And suddenly, his name will pop into your head. It’s like special dog telepathy.”
I glance at them in the rearview mirror, and Lyric is smiling, totally buying Blue’s theory.
“Did Acorn tell you his name?” she asks.
“Yup. Exactly like that.”
“Is that how you got your name, Blue? Did it just pop into your head?”
He turns his head to look out the car window. “Yeah. One day I woke up with wings and I could sing, and suddenly my name was Blue.”
His words sound poetic—like the words from his songs. And I can see that Lyric believes them as such.
But something deep in my gut is telling me they’re not just words at all.
Chapter Forty-Three
2012
“When are you coming home?” I press the phone against my shoulder and finish rubbing the lavender moisturizer over my arms. This particular blend is supposed to enhance sleep, and if I had known he was going to call I wouldn’t have climbed into bed and started putting it on.
“Um… next week? The week after, maybe? I don’t really know, babe, it’s like crazy o’clock here and I don’t have a calendar in front of me. I don’t even know what day today is.”
Disappointment sets off a burn in my stomach and a heavy weight in my chest that’s been growing heavier and heavier over the past few weeks. I’m afraid it will suffocate me soon.
I let out a breath that was intended to release the pressure in my body but instead takes on the sound of an irritated sigh.
“Piper…I know you’re pissed, and I am too, but this shit is outta my control. Vic lined up some live radio interviews, and that late-night TV thing. I don’t even fucking know anymore, I just go where I’m told.”
“I know,” I say. “I know it’s not your fault. I’m not pissed.” What I am is lonely and aching to have my fiancé home. I’m desperate to see his smile and feel his hands caressing me. I want to breathe him in and fill my lungs with his masculine, comforting scent. Nothing else has the power to get this weight off my chest.
“I miss you and Lyric. I fucking hate this. You have no idea.”
Oh, I do have an idea, because I hate not seeing him just as much.
“I miss you, too. We both do.”
“Do you? Or are you just finally getting sick of me and all this crap?”
“Of course I miss you. Lyric and I both miss you. And so do Archie and Mickey. It’s just…” I choose my words carefully. “…hard to be without you for so long. We haven’t seen you in what, a month?”
He groans. “Christ, has it been that long?”
“Yeah, it has. “
“Fuck, Ladybug. I’m sorry. I’ve got no sense of time anymore. All these different time zones fuck me up.”
“I know. It’s okay, hon. Really.”
He coughs and I hear him taking a sip of something. “It’s not okay.”
I twirl the engagement ring on my finger, turning it so it’s straight. The stone is so heavy it always tilts to one side of my small finger, but I refuse to have it resized and made tighter. I never take it off. It’s this symbol of promises that keeps me going—our wedding. Our forever.
It’s just taking way longer than I had hoped.
“Are you all right, Blue?”
“I’m tired, and my throat hurts, that’s all. And I wish I was in our bed and not this hotel. I’ve got two places to live and I still feel homeless. The irony of my life is a scream.”
“Don’t say that.”
“It’s true. All I want is to be home with you. I wake up every night reaching for you, and when I realize you’re not here, I lose my mind. I miss making you pancakes and I miss your giggles and your sexy little moans. Living like this is fucking painful and I don’t even know why I’m doing this anymore.”
“Because you were born to sing and bring music into the world. And that world loves you.”
“Well I’m not loving the world. I love you and my daughter and those fuzzy creatures that get to sleep with my girl every night in my bed.”
I’d give anything to have him in our bed right now. I need him to be here, in person, so I can look into his beautiful blue eyes and say all the things I’ve been waiting to say for weeks.
“Hopefully you’ll be here soon and you can rest and recharge. I think you’re just overtired.” Every time the band travels overseas he gets agitated and depressed. I think the time difference and the erratic sleep patterns really mess with him and stress him out.
He coughs again, and the snap of his lighter follows. My heart sinks when I hear him inhale. Two months ago he quit smoking cigarettes. I’d bet anything the stress of this tour is what caused him to start up again.
“Ya know what, babe? I think I just want to be done.”
My heart jolts. “What do you mean, done?”
“With the band. It’s like a vampire, just bleeding me dry and I don’t have anything left to give. I’m so fucking tired. I love to write and play but I’m not even doing that anymore. I’m like a robot half the time. The only time I love what I’m playing is when I play for you.”
“Are you saying you want to quit the band?”
He inhales, pauses, exhales smoke.
“Yeah. I think I am.”
“You’re really going to have to think about that,” I say. I can’t deny I’d love having him home all the time and not being pulled in eighty directions all over the world, but he is No Tomorrow. There’s no way they could replace him. His voice is too unique, his presence too charismatic. I don’t think the fans would ever accept someone else in his place. It just wouldn’t work.
But I also don’t think the rest of the band is going to let him go without a huge fight. While Reece has expressed getting tired of it all as well, the other band members and their manager are loving the fame and fortune. They can’t get enough of it.
“I’ve been thinking about it for a while. I’m just so fucking tired I hurt, Piper. I can’t even explain it. I just want you in my arms every night, listening to the rain. That’s it.”
“I want that too,” I say faintly. I’m almost afraid to verbalize the words for fear it’ll jinx any chance of it ever happening.
“What are you doing now?” I ask, unsure if it’s morning, noon, or night where he is.
“Just hanging out in my room. I wanted to take a nap before I have to head out but I can’t get my brain to turn off. I miss you too much.”
I reach for the sound machine next to the bed and pull it closer to me. I switch it to the rain setting and put the phone on speaker.
“I want you to get in bed, get all comfy, and listen to this. I’m going to be right here in bed with you. Just close your eyes, think about us, and the rain, and nothing else. Okay?”
The sound of sheets rustling and the creak of a mattress lets me know he’s getting into his bed.
A deep sigh comes over the line. “You’re amazing, Ladybug. You know that? I don’t know what I’d do if you didn’t love me.”
I smile in the dark, and the pressure in my chest eases up just a little.
“You don’t ever have to worry about that. My heart doesn’t beat without yours.”
I stay on the phone listening to his breathing, and after a few minutes I can tell he’s fallen asleep. I keep the phone and the rain station on his pillow next to mine, and I drift off to sleep, too.
I dream that he’s home, and he wraps me up in his arms and I’m finally able to tell him we’re having a baby.
Chapter Forty-Four
I call her cell phone for what must be the fiftieth time.
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
“Hi, you’ve reached the voicemail of Piper Karel. Leave me a message and I’ll call you back as soon as I can. Thanks!”
“Babe, it’s me. Where are you? I’ve been calling you for hours. Not sure what’s goin
g on. Call me when you get this. I love you.”
My hand shakes erratically as I end the call. Ashes spill off the cigarette I’m holding and sprinkle onto the hotel carpet.
I hold the butt to my lips and suck it like I’m syphoning for air. I hold the smoke in my lungs. Let it fill my hollow void, then let it out.
I pace the room. Exactly six steps to the balcony. Exactly six steps back to the edge of the bed.
Six.
Six.
Six.
Piper always answers my calls. She’s a creature of extreme habit—always at the same place at the same time of day every day. She’s the one and only thing that doesn’t fuck with me or confuse me.
It’s five p.m. there.
It’s ten p.m. here.
I woke at six a.m.
Didn’t I? What day is it?
Does that even fucking matter?
Where is she?
Ladybug, have you finally flown away from me?
I light another cigarette. Now I’ve got one in each hand.
She’s gone.
No more soft voices. No smiles. No love. No more hope.
No more peace. No more normal.
The silence is maddening, thrashing in my brain like a wild animal.
The emptiness is turning my blood to liquid ice.
I’m shivering from the cold.
She left you.
They all left you.
No.
Drink. It will melt the ice. You need the warmth and the heat in your veins.
No.
The drugs will cure you. You’re sick. It will numb the pain. Silence the silence.
No.
No one will know. You’re alone. You’re always alone. You only have me. I won’t tell.
No. They love me.
You disappoint them. They deserve better. They’ve run away. To hide from you.
They wouldn’t do that.
Evan, you dumb fuck. They already have.
Go away. Please just go away.
Fly away from it all. You know you have wings. Use them. Come with me. Stand on the balcony. Just six steps. Fly with me. You’ll never hurt again. You’ll be free, just like me. Watch me fly. Do what I do.
No. I don’t have wings.
Shhh. You can sing and fly just like me. I won’t let you fall.
No. You’re not real.
I snatch up the phone again and smash my finger on the speed-dial for Piper’s house.
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
“Hi, we’re not home right now. Leave us a message. Thanks!”
Fuck.
What. The. Fuck.
I struggle to use my calm, sober, I’ve-got-it-together, nothing-to-worry-about-here voice.
I’d probably have an easier time singing the fucking National Anthem right now.
“Piper…I need you, baby. Where are you? I can’t find you or Lyric. Please don’t do this. I’m better now. I love you. Please come back.”
I pace again.
I walk.
Out the door and down the stairs.
So many fucking stairs, I can’t even count.
Every time I tell them don’t give me stairs and yet, they still give me all the fucking stairs.
I’m walking.
Out into the night, into the cool, open air.
My heart is aching, my fingers are numb.
My vision is blurred at the edges like a burnt photograph. Everything is fading away.
I walk.
Step. Step. Step. Step.
One, two, three, four…
Every step grounding me. Clearing my mind. Moving me forward. Away, away, away from the voices.
Walking.
For as long as it takes, as far as it takes.
As long as I’m walking, I’m not able to fly.
Chapter Forty-Five
The doctor’s words are still ricocheting around in my head, even though I’m sure a full five minutes has passed since she spoke them in her soothing voice.
“I’m so sorry, Miss Karel. There’s no heartbeat. It appears the baby stopped growing at approximately nine weeks.”
Three weeks ago, my tiny baby left me.
I didn’t even know.
How could I not know?
And Blue, my love, never knew that a baby was waiting for him to come home. A baby that I wanted to surprise him with, in person, so we could do it right this time. Together.
A baby that he was never supposed to miss a moment of.
Gone.
Pain ripples through me and I shake my head as tears spill down my cheeks, and I hug myself, clutching my stomach.
My sobs are muffling the doctor’s voice, drowning her words as she continues to say things no mother should ever hear.
“Are you sure?” I ask desperately as the nurse helps me sit up. “I’ve been fine. Totally fine, actually. I haven’t been sick or had any cramps or bleeding or anything. I think it’s a mistake. Or maybe the baby is tiny? I’m very petite, and so is my daughter. She was just barely five pounds when she was born. At full term.” I gulp and try to catch my breath. “Can you check again?”
Dr. Powell offers me a sympathetic shake of her head, snapping off her purple latex gloves.
“I’m sorry, Piper. There’s no doubt. I know how devastating this is for you, and I’m so very sorry.”
I’m wracked with waves of nausea, lightheadedness, and an overwhelming sense of detached reality.
At home, an itty-bitty black T-shirt with Blue’s band logo on it waits for him next to the bed.
If I could just get this ridiculous paper robe off, get out of here, go home, and call Blue. I can tell him all about the baby, and none of this will be happening.
I can make it stop. I can bring him back.
It’ll all stop. Our tiny one will be safe, nestled in my womb, waiting to come into our world and wear its little T-shirt.
Blue will be so happy. He’ll tell me the baby will name itself—and I’ll believe him.
Lyric will play lullabies on her harp next to my stomach.
It’ll be a boy. I can feel that in my soul. Son of a rock legend who would follow in his daddy’s footsteps.
Another kickass kid, Blue would say with that sexy, confident, proud grin of his that turns me to jelly.
I can see our baby so clearly, so vividly.
He’s real. He can’t be gone.
If only I had begged Blue to come home, if only I had flown out to London to see him when he asked weeks ago.
If I had not kept the baby a secret, if I had let Blue—or anyone else—know this tiny life existed, maybe this wouldn’t have happened. Maybe he would have felt how loved and wanted he was by so many, and he would have stayed.
I’m admitted to the hospital for a procedure later this afternoon that will take my baby away forever.
I call Ditra, and we cry together like we’ve done many times since we were little girls, but this time is the hardest, the worst, the unimaginable.
Ditra takes control, arranging to stay at my house tonight to keep my daughter and my pets company. Tomorrow she’ll take Lyric to school, then she and Billy will come get me and my car and take me home to recover.
Honestly I don’t think I’ll ever recover from this.
How does anyone?
I should call my mother, but I don’t. I can’t. I’m not ready to talk to anyone. I refuse to share my loss with anyone else until I can talk to Blue.
I have no idea how I’ll find the words to tell him we lost our baby, and for a few moments I grasp at the idea of never telling him at all. I can protect him from this heartache, save him from more distress that will only add to everything else he’s dealing with in his life right now.
Something awful like this could send him right over the edge again, back into the seductive arms of drugs and alcohol.
Do I dare risk all that?
Yes. I have to.
Taking a deep breath, I decide I’ll call him in the morning when it’s all over. My cell phone is dead in my purse, anyway, and his hotel info is saved on it. If I call him tomorrow, he won’t have to worry about me all night.
We can survive his addictions again if we have to, but I don’t think we’d ever survive deceit. I’d lose him forever. And that, I cannot and will not risk.
Chapter Forty-Six
As soon as I’m home I call Blue’s cell phone, and it goes directly to his voicemail.
Shit. He always forgets to charge his phone, so it must be dead.
I leave him a message: “Hi hon, it’s me. Give me a call when you can. I miss you, and I love you.”
I dig my cell phone out of my purse and plug it in, waiting for it to have enough power to turn on. When the screen finally lights up, I’m shocked at the notifications I see on my screen.
One hundred and twenty-eight missed calls.
Twenty-five voice messages.
Ten text messages.
Holy hell.
All but four of the voice messages are him breathing, or the sound of the phone clicking with a disconnect.
The four actual messages range from sweet to what sounds like an all-out meltdown.
I’m better. Please come back.
Those familiar words he used to say so often when things were bad between us and he was fighting his demons. Somehow he got there without even knowing the truth yet, and now I’m petrified. What happened? Did he freak out when he couldn’t reach me and just assumed I left him?
I hunt down the hotel information saved in my phone and call his room, but there’s no answer. According to the email he sent me a few days ago, he should still be staying at this hotel. Immediately I call the front desk.
“Hello, can you tell me if Mr. Von Bleu in room 4032 has checked out? I’ve called his room and there’s no answer. This is Piper Karel, his fiancée.”
“One moment.” I hear the receptionist clicking a keyboard on the other end. “I am showing that Mr. Von Bleu is still checked in. Would you like to leave us a message at the front desk to forward to him?”