Unplugged (A Portrait of a Rock Star)

by J. P. Grider

  “Good. And you’ll be happy to be back on stage again. I know you will.”

  “Yeah.” Right. I wasn’t in the mood to argue with Auggie. I had just asked the woman, who had me head over heels, to marry me. And she rejected me. What happened after that held no meaning for me. It was all insubstantial after that. Except, of course, for Mara’s recovery. That was of utmost importance.

  “Why aren’t you ever happy, Taggart?”

  I ceased my piano playing. My dad’s reproachful attitude was causing my indignation. He was so adamant about my following in his footsteps that he was becoming relentless about it. Like I wanted to be some sixty-year old rock star still looking for the greatest lay. That was his life. His dream. If he wanted to live vicariously through me, he should have never retired. He had a better rapport with the guys in my band than I had; I should have just let him take over when he originally made the threat.

  I spun around on the piano bench to face him. “You know what Augustus? You may have never bonded so strongly with someone that no one or nothing mattered in comparison, but I have. And that someone, whom I connect with, whom I love so significantly, is so near death, that I cannot help but die right along with her. And unless she recovers, one-hundred percent, nothing else in my world holds any value. I know you can’t understand that kind of love, flitting from one woman to another, but that’s how it is. I’ll go along with this stupid tour and ridiculous comeback album, because it’s the right thing to do, but my heart is not in it, nor will it ever be. Nor was it ever. So just drop it. Will you? Keep your condescending, arrogant opinions to yourself.” I turned back to the piano and continued Mara's Song.

  Auggie walked out.

  Chapter Thirty

  The next day, I did show up at the studio to continue work on the album. But, like I told Auggie yesterday, my heart was not in it. My heart was in that hospital room with Mara, hooked up to all kinds of machines and bandaged from head to toe. Mara didn’t want me hanging out with her. She wanted to sleep and thought I’d be bored sitting there watching her. Like I’d ever be bored in her presence.

  After recording, I went car shopping and found an appropriate car immediately. Not that Mara’s little Beetle was bad, but it wasn’t fast enough for me. The 2011 Audi R8 Convertible was. Jet Metallic Blue. Cream Interior. I had Ronnie come with me. Since I was paying cash, I was able to take the car home that day. Ronnie followed me up to Oak Ridge. I told Caroline that I’d pick up some books that Mara might like to read when she’s up to it. Caroline also thought she might want her favorite Eeyore pajamas, but I thought the doctors may not exactly recommend that. I agreed to pick it up, nonetheless, along with her pink fluffy robe and fuzzy slippers.

  Ronnie parked Mara’s Beetle at the back of the driveway and plopped himself on her front porch.

  “I’ll get you something to drink, if she has anything.” I asked him.

  “Don’t worry about it, Tagg, if I want anything, I’ll get it myself. It’s nice here, by the way. I don’t get to see many farms down where I live.”

  “No, not many farms down the shore. I’ll only be a little bit.”

  “No prob.” Ronnie put his feet up on the porch railing, crossed his hands over his stomach, put his head back and closed his eyes. As if he hadn’t a care in the world.

  I should be so lucky.

  I unlocked Mara’s door and let the antique screen door swing shut behind me. I gathered the items Caroline had requested and I found a bag to put it all in. On the coffee table, I spotted a familiar book. Her journal. The one entitled, ‘My letters to Brad.’ I didn’t want to invade her privacy and sneak a peek, but I was curious. Similarly to the first time I opened it, I used my pinky to open it. Then I just sat down and pulled it up to my lap. The last entry was Thursday night. Four nights ago. The night before she came down by me. Four nights after our first official date, when we’d declared our love for each other.

  I wasn’t going to sink so low as to read it. Mara trusted me, but I was in a quandary about whether or not to at least sneak a sentence or two, just to get a glimpse of Mara’s true feelings. Her rejection had alerted some doubt in how she felt for me, and the diary may just hold the answer. It was addressed to her late husband and if she were still writing to him, than didn’t it stand to reason that she still loved him? And, if she still loved him, then could she really love me? However, my conscience won over my curiosity. I closed the book and placed it back on the coffee table.

  The screen door creaked open. “Tagg, you almost done?”

  “Yup.” I grabbed the stuff, locked the door and left.

  I put on the radio in my new Audi and pretty much tore out of the driveway. I put the XM radio on classic rock and cranked it up. We had listened to Van Halen, AC/DC, Led Zeppelin and The Rolling Stones before Ronnie said anything. “You’re quiet Tagg, and you look upset. Not that you have a tendency toward happiness much.”

  My sideways glance was meant to give fair warning, but Ronnie had already been laughing at his own joke.

  Ronnie lowered the radio’s volume. “Really Tagg. What’s wrong, besides Mara being hurt and all? Unless, that’s it, but I don’t really think that’s all that’s on your mind.” He paused. I didn’t answer. “Tagg, we used to be best friends. We could talk about anything. I’m still here and I’m the same guy. So, why are you still shutting me out?”

  Since Ronnie had turned the radio down, I concentrated on the sound of my breathing.

  “Fine. Keep it bottled up. Go hibernate for another decade or so.” And then he turned the music back up. To a blaring volume.

  That was fine with me. What was I going to say? ‘My girlfriend doesn’t want to marry me and she still writes letters to her dead boyfriend?’ No. Rejection was hard enough to admit. But acknowledging the fact that Mara was still in love with her beloved Bradley was nearly inconceivable.

  The speedometer read almost one hundred as I accelerated down the Garden State Parkway. I was petulant and the gas pedal was my scapegoat. I thought the faster I went, I’d be able to escape my thoughts, but in a car, no matter how fast I pushed it, that wasn’t going to happen. What I needed to do was run.

  “Tagg, it’s late. Why don’t you crash here tonight? Auggie’s house is another thirty minutes away. You can leave in the morning.” Ronnie offered as we turned down his street.

  “Thanks, but I’m not tired. I can’t sleep anyway. I’ll see you on Wednesday at the Studio. Thanks…Ron?”

  “Yeah?” Ron answered before he got out of the car.

  “When I’m able to talk about it, you’re the first one I’ll come to. I just need some time to think, okay?

  “Just don’t take five years again.” I was able to give him an awkward smile.

  When I got to my Dad’s, he and my mom were having a glass of wine in the kitchen. “Mom, you’re still here?”

  “As long as you are, I will be. I don’t want the two of you killing each other.”

  “Oh. Well then, I guess you’ll be leaving tomorrow. I’m heading back to Sparta after I see Mara.”

  Dad just gave a loaded look at me. He wasn’t going to speak to me any time soon. That was clear.

  “Why, honey?” Mom inquired, obviously searching for my side of the story. She’d probably heard Auggie’s side all day.

  “Sparta’s a lot closer to Livingston than Rumson is. I just want to be where my stuff is, that’s all.”

  “I guess that makes sense.” Resigned, Mom seemed disappointed in my response. She may have had her differences with my father, but she always made sure my relationship with him never faltered.

  I disappeared and reappeared in about two minutes, now dressed in sweats and my running sneakers. “Where are you going, honey?”

  “For a run.”

  “Now? It’s almost eleven.”

  “Yeah, now.”

  “But it’s so dark, Tagg.”

  “I’m aware of that, Mom. I’m just taking a run on the beach. I’ll be fine. I’m a b
ig boy now.” This big boy just wanted to break down and cry again, but he didn’t. “Don’t wait up.”

  ***

  As soon as my feet hit the sand, I took off running. My walk to the beach counted as my warm-up. I didn’t bring my Ipod this time, hoping the breaking waves on the dark empty beach would be a calming substitute. The moon provided all the light I needed. I let the black ocean slip by me as I ran and ran, faster and faster, until I’d reached top speed. I felt the sand kick up at my calves as I let all my thoughts fade away in the distance behind me. With each stride, I let a piece of me go. The rejected proposal. Mara’s letters to Bradley. My resentment toward my father. The dispassion I felt towards my profession. The woman who was looking to murder me. And the biggest thing on my mind, the only thing that really mattered. The one thing I couldn’t outrun. Mara’s broken body. My legs weren’t fast enough to erase her pain. The fire that penetrated her flesh, and her bones, and scarred her forever.

  Not distance. Not speed. Not anything I could do, would ever take away her wounds. And, she had me to blame.

  She gave me life…

  I gave her sorrow.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  I had a couple of meetings this morning in the city, then the rest of my day I was supposed to spend at the hospital with Mara. But the stress of the city and the constant pain in the center of my heart was causing an inevitable detour to the nearest liquor store.

  I know I had promised Mara I’d behave, but, goddammit, I didn’t even know if Mara would recover. And if she did, I already knew she would not marry me. The thought of her still in love with her late-husband was causing brain overload. The obsessive thoughts were making me crazy. I needed something to dim the obsession and numb my pain. Coke was out of the question. None of my immediate friends did that anymore. Pot was not nearly effective enough. Liquor was quick and easy. Not to mention familiar.

  I bought a bottle of Bushmill and a carton of Marlboros and headed up Route 95. No clue to where I was headed. I just could not bring myself back to the hospital. Not yet.

  First, I needed to decompress. Reacquaint with the Tagg Holland I knew so well.

  ***

  With the radio blaring, I drowned out my thoughts with whiskey and Heavy Metal, recklessly making it to Maine by nightfall. Though I had no idea where I’d set out to go in the first place. Stopped, for the second time to fill my tank, I was too exhausted to continue on. The station attendant gave me directions to the nearest motel.

  I checked in and passed out in my room. Barely making it to the bed.

  The morning brought, along with the sun rising, a new headache. And the same. Familiar. Aching. In my heart.

  Though Mara rejected my proposal, I knew she’d be wondering where I had been yesterday. Maybe I was being childish, but I could not bring myself to face her. Sad. I know. Since she was the one facing death.

  I traveled the eight hours back to New Jersey, but instead of heading to the hospital, I went home. Of course, not without stopping first for more Bushmill. I drank away my sobriety and woke the next morning feeling like a train smacked me head on.

  I showered, had a butt, then brushed my teeth. It was time to face reality and visit the girl who broke my heart.

  ***

  I was not prepared, however, for the scene in front of me when I’d walked into Mara’s hospital room.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  She was sitting in a chair alongside her bed. Only one IV tube invaded her frail skin. “Hi Tagg.” Her voice was soft, yet it was smooth and no longer sounded like it hurt.

  “Wow. You look a lot better.” She did. The bandage on the burned side of her face was just a small Band-aid now. And some of the bandages on her right hand and arm were removed. Most of her color was back. “You must feel better, hunh? You’re sitting up, and you’re out of bed? How’d this happen? Not that I’m complaining.” I held up my hand defensively.

  She smiled. “The doctor said it’s a small miracle.” She whispered. “My throat feels a little better and the medicine they’re giving me for the pain is actually working today.” I heard her try to laugh. It was a quiet titter, but her spirits were coming alive. “How are you, Tagg? I’ve been worried about you.”

  “About me? Heck, Mara, you’re the one who almost died.” I didn’t want her to bring up my proposal. It was still too painful, so I tried to pretend not to know what she was talking about.

  “I know, Tagg, but about Sunday. I wanted to explain why I said no.”

  She never actually said no. This was why I didn’t want to talk about it, then I would have been able to say she didn’t give me an answer yet. But now I know. She said no. “Mara, I told you, we’ll talk about it when you’re better.”

  “But, Tagg, I don’t want to string you along, I really think we should talk about this now.”

  “Mara.” I said more sternly than I wanted to, my voice almost mimicking Auggie’s. “Not now.” I know she was the wounded one, but I was so vulnerable these days that I couldn’t handle the truth. I’d rather live in my fantasy world.

  “Fine.” I know I’d hurt her again, but she had hurt me. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her, but her feelings weren’t mutual. I wasn’t being petty or reproachful, just honest.

  “Hey.” I needed to change the subject and the dismal air that was now surrounding us. “Are you allowed out of your room?”

  “I guess. I don’t know. I would love to get out of here.”

  “Okay, I’ll be right back; I’m going to ask a nurse.”

  I came back with a wheelchair for Mara. “The nurse said as long as your sitting in this, I can wheel you around this floor only.” I helped her in to the chair. Her pink furry robe looked oversize on her tiny stature.

  “Where are you taking me?”

  “On our second date.” It was worth a try to keep up the façade that I was not affected by her rejection. But I could feel a landslide coming and I was holding on for dear life.

  She looked up at me with a mocking knitted brow. “In the hospital?”

  I shrugged, but she’d already turned away.

  “Well, not really, but I want you to hear something.” I brought her to the all-purpose room and rolled her next to the piano. The keys felt cool beneath my fingers as I began playing the intro to Mara's Song. I closed my eyes and sang the lyrics to my thank you letter to Mara. My eyes remained closed throughout the entire song. I wanted to close out reality and try to forget my emotions. And I didn’t want to taint the song with a disheartened edge. Mara's Song was my gift to her and it should be given with all the good intentions it was meant to convey.

  Mara’s Song:

  I owe you…

  I owe you…

  Until you came along,

  I spent my days wrapped in darkness

  Moonless nights all alone

  The joke that was my life

  had turned out

  lonely and so very wrong.

  Until I met you

  There were no stars up above

  I lost my way, headed down

  To Hell – a wretched fire

  Burning without love.

  ‘Til I met you…’Til I met you…

  There were no songs

  That played down deep,

  Missing pieces scattered ‘round

  ‘Til I met you I’d never know

  just how beautiful love could sound.

  Now all I had

  In this whole wide world

  I owe to you, my other half

  You brought back sun…

  You brought back life,

  My lonely soul, no longer done.

  I owe you… you are the one…

  Until I met you

  I could not say

  Where I belonged

  I spent my years,

  My life all wrong.

  ‘Til I met you

  There was only dark

  My soul shut down

  Without a sound,

&nb
sp; A long, long way

  From home I was,

  Until I Met You.

  Now all I had

  In this whole wide world

  I owe to you, my other half

  You brought back sun…

  You brought back life,

  My lonely soul, no longer done.

  I owe you… you are the one.

  When my song ended I turned to her and simply said, “Thank you.” However, we were not alone. There must have been a dozen or more people standing in the room now. All applauding. I gave an appreciative smile and said thank you to the small crowd.

  Bobby was standing in the front. “Tagg, I told them that was you. I said, ‘that’s my friend, Tagg. He taught me how to play the piano the other day.’ They all wanted to see the piano teacher.”

  “Hey Bobby. You want to play our song for everyone?” I asked.

  “Wow, really?”

  “Yes, really.” I motioned, with my two fingers, for him to sit down next to me on the bench. “C’mon.”

  All of Bobby’s hospital friends were hootin’ and hollarin’ when we were done with our duet. The nurses all applauded. Bobby beamed. “Can you teach me, mister?” A little girl squeaked.

  “Sure, but how ‘bout I teach you a different song?”

  “Okay.”

  “First, I need to know your name. It’s only fair; you know mine.” I gave the liitle girl’s brown hair a rub. Her face wasn’t as scarred as Bobby’s, but it was clear that she had also been burned in a fire.

  “I’m Alyssa.”

  “Hi, Alyssa. Since Christmas is practically around the corner, how ‘bout I teach you Jingle Bells?”

  She was extremely quick to learn the holiday tune and within minutes, I made it a duet and we were playing Dashing Through the Snow. Every child in the room wanted me to teach them something.

  “How about this?” And I looked at Nurse Betty, before looking back at the children. “How about I give Nurse Betty my available schedule and she can fill those times in with all of your names? This way, you will all have a chance.”