A Lush Betrayal

by Selena Laurence

  “But wouldn’t something like this have shown up earlier, Doctor?” I ask. “I mean, I thought teenagers got eating disorders, not twenty-seven-year-old women.”

  “I’ll get you some literature on the conditions and you can read all the background information, but keep in mind that this is one possible diagnosis, and we don’t know enough to be certain yet. Which is why we want to keep her overnight, get her rehydrated, and give her some time to meet with a psychiatrist on staff. Whether she’s got a textbook eating disorder or not, Tammy had the equivalent of a nervous breakdown today. Her body gave out before her mind did technically, but it’s the same thing. She’s fragile and her grasp on things is tenuous. We need to address that before we release her, and we need to make sure that we’ve set her up with whatever resources she needs when she walks out of our doors.”

  Walsh nods and looks at me. “Yeah, whatever she needs,” I say, my mind spinning with the information that my sister, the one who’s taken care of me my whole life, has had a nervous breakdown. It’s surreal.

  The doctor tells Walsh that Tammy can have visitors for a couple of hours before they close down for the night and gives us her room number. We go back and explain everything to Joss, who looks utterly ill from the news but tells Walsh that he’ll go talk to the staff about Walsh staying the night in Tammy’s room. As soon as Joss leaves, Mike, who’s been skulking in the corner most of the evening, comes over and asks how Tammy is. Walsh gives him the basics, and Mike shakes his head as he clasps Walsh to him and says how sorry he is.

  “Whatever you need, man,” Mike tells Walsh sorrow filling his eyes. “Whatever you need.”

  I have to admit that I’m shocked to see this good-guy side to Mike. He can be funny, clever, angry, and cheeky, but I’ve never seen him be kind, and at this moment, I’m so appreciative for that kindness.

  “Right now I’d like to see my girl,” Walsh answers. “Do you want to come with, Mel?”

  “You go ahead. Maybe come get us once she says it’s okay?”

  “Yep. Be back soon,” he replies.

  JOSS HAS made sure Tammy’s room will remain private and gotten Walsh set up to sleep here tonight. Aside from the fact that I know Tammy will be better and happier if he’s here with her, Joss also agrees that it’s safer for Walsh right now. The last thing we need is for him to be out in the world with all that booze as upset as he is. The hospital’s one of the few places we know he won’t come across a bottle of bourbon or a six-pack.

  Walsh visits with Tammy for about fifteen minutes before he comes back to the waiting room and tells us she’s ready to see everyone. Colin’s come from meeting the pizza delivery guy in the lobby, so he carries the pizza with him to Tammy’s room, saying that it’ll give us all something to do while we talk to her. “Make it seem more normal, you know?” A surprisingly astute observation from Spicoli version 2.0. If he knew they think Tammy might have an eating disorder, he’d reassess the plan. I can’t bother to worry about it at this point, so we head down the hall—four rock stars, the little sister, and a large pizza with pepperoni and sausage.

  When we walk in, I’m nearly knocked back by the shock of seeing Tammy this way. She’s hooked up to an IV and a heart monitor, and she seems so small in the big white bed. She’s sitting up, but her eyes are sunken in her face, and her hair is a knotted mess around her head. The room itself is pleasant enough. It’s painted a light blue, has a window looking over the parking lot, and already hosts a bouquet of flowers next to the bed. Something I’m sure Walsh managed to have done while she was getting the tests run.

  Tammy sees me and starts crying, her hands over her mouth. I run and throw my arms around her, sobbing myself.

  “You scared the crap out of me,” I whisper as I hold her.

  “I’m so sorry,” she chokes out over and over again.

  “Shhh,” I tell her. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for. You’re going to get better and I’ll be right here with you no matter what.”

  She nods as she tries to stop crying.

  I hear the shuffling and whispers from the guys behind me. Realizing all these tears are probably making them really uncomfortable, I stand up and paste on a bright smile. “Everyone’s been waiting to see you. Look, Colin even brought a pizza.”

  Tammy smiles and manages a small laugh. “Colin, when I get out of here, you and I are going to have a Mario rematch and I’m going to kick your butt AND eat half the pizza.”

  Colin looks like the sun has just shone for him alone, and gives her a shy smile. “Okay, Tam. I’ll even let you have the pink cart since I know you love it so much.”

  Tammy’s eyes travel around the room until she reaches Joss. Her expression turns sad and she quickly moves her gaze to her hands on the sheet. Joss is standing quietly off to the side, not really entering the circle the rest of the guys have formed around Tammy. I wonder if she senses that he’s not engaging, and it hurts her feelings.

  “Joss, take off those silly glasses so Tammy can see the eyeliner I put on you,” I joke.

  He smiles uncomfortably and removes the glasses he’s been wearing around the hospital to avoid being recognized and causing a scene.

  “Just call me Marilyn,” he says, referencing the kinky heavy metal singer Marilyn Manson.

  “God,” Tammy chokes out. “That’s really awful. You look like a transvestite.”

  Joss gives her a wry smile and shakes his head.

  We each eat a slice of pizza. I don’t think anyone’s all that hungry, but from what I can tell, the guys will eat no matter how tired or upset they are. Tammy isn’t allowed to have any, but she doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest by the rest of us eating and even mentions that it smells good. I find it hard to imagine that she has an eating disorder, but I haven’t read the information from the doctors yet, so what do I know?

  After about forty-five minutes of small talk, stuff about Colin’s cat and the girl who snuck onto the bus while we were at a rest stop in Kentucky last week, I can see that Tammy’s getting tired. She’s been through a lot today.

  “We should probably get going, Walsh,” I say, giving him a pointed look. “Let you and Tammy get some rest.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. I think my girl’s ready for a good night’s sleep so we can bust her out of here tomorrow. Right, babe?”

  Tammy nods.

  “So we’re supposed to fly back to Atlanta tomorrow, and we’ve got the concert in Jacksonville the day after. What are we going to do about all of that?” Colin asks as he picks up the empty pizza box and stuffs it in the garbage can next to Tammy’s bed.

  “Yeah, I’ve got to have a call with Dave tonight, but we’re thinking we may fly a backup drummer out to do the Jacksonville concert while Walsh and Tammy take care of whatever they need to,” Joss says. “Miguel can take over Tammy’s job for now. He knows how everything in the show works, and we can do some of the other stuff ourselves, get our own damn meals and shit. We’re not complete cripples.”

  “A backup drummer?” Mike says, scowling at Joss. “What the fuck?”

  “Just for a show or two, man. He needs time to help Tammy right now.”

  “Yeah, and he should get that time, and the rest of us should be right there to help him, not off performing with some backup asshole as if drummers are a dime a dozen and you can slide anyone with a pair of sticks into Walsh’s slot.”

  Mike has taken a step toward Joss, and he looks at him with such menace it scares me. “Mike,” Walsh says. “It’s okay. Joss mentioned it to me earlier in the waiting room. I’m fine with it, really. I don’t want the burden of feeling like the whole tour has to stop because I need some time off.” He turns to Joss. “I know you’ve got my back, Joss. It’s fine.”

  Mike shakes his head, his body taking on a tenseness I can feel from several feet away.

  “He’s got your back?” he asks, incredulously. “If you only knew how much Joss Jamison doesn’t. Have. Your back. How he couldn’t give a shit a
bout anything to do with you or this band.”

  Joss steps toward Mike. His voice is quiet but very dangerous. “Don’t do it, Mike,” he warns.

  Mike glares at him. “I was there, man. Bet you never figured that, huh? Yeah, I stopped by your place. You didn’t even lock the door you were in such a rush to get to it I guess. I wanted to find out how the visit to rehab had gone. I was worried about Walsh. Looks like I was the only one.”

  “Stop!” Joss orders, his voice too loud in the small space.

  “Or what, Joss?” Mike sneers. “I don’t have a fiancée for you to fuck. What are you going to do to me?”

  You always like to think that at the end of your life you’ll remember those special, delicate moments when the greatest love and beauty you experienced burned strong and true. The day you married the love of your life. The moment your baby entered the world. That special feeling you got when someone told you they love you. But this moment—this brief, flashing minute in my sister’s hospital room— as my mind tries to wrap itself around what my heart has already heard, the puzzle pieces snapping into place with the cold finality of metal gates closing, this is a moment I will pray I forget and yet will never be able to.

  My blood goes cold in my veins, and I find myself gasping for air. I hear an almost inhuman cry come from Tammy. I look at her and see her eyes darting between Walsh and me. Like slow motion, my gaze shifts from her to Joss, who’s motionless, staring at Mike.

  “What the hell—wait. What?” Walsh asks, confusion clouding his handsome features.

  “It’s not—” Joss starts, reaching out to Walsh, but his eyes slide to me.

  “Tammy?” Walsh asks, ignoring Joss and looking at my sister imploringly.

  “Oh, God,” she chokes out.

  Sparks flicker before my eyes and I think I’m going to faint. I reach for the railing of the bed and teeter. I feel someone put an arm around my waist and guide me to a nearby chair. I look up and it’s Colin. He leans down and says quietly, “Put your head between your knees and breathe. Nice and easy.” I do as he says.

  Through the haze in my head and the searing pain in my heart, I hear Walsh’s voice. “You wouldn’t. You didn’t. God, Tammy, tell me you didn’t.” His pain is so sharp and so intense I forget my own for a moment.

  I hear the desperation in her voice as Tammy rushes to answer to him. “I love you, Walsh. I love you. It was an accident, I swear. Please. Oh God, Walsh, please don’t leave me.”

  She’s sobbing and Joss is saying something and then there is the sound of bone striking flesh, and Tammy screams. Walsh bellows, “You motherfucker! We’re done. Do you understand me? All of it, Joss. We. Are. Done.”

  I raise my head to see Walsh charging out of the room as Tammy continues screaming and sobbing. Joss is bent over, holding his face, and Mike is crouched in a ball against the wall, his head in his hands.

  Joss stands and looks right at me, his face bleeding from where Walsh’s fist split his cheek open.

  He reaches a hand out to me but doesn’t seem able to form words, and I just keep breathing, because right now that’s taking every bit of concentration and energy I have. Tears keep rolling down my face as Colin strokes my back.

  “Joss! You have to go after him!” Tammy screams. “You have to. You can’t let him drink. Please. Oh God, what have I done?” she sobs.

  Hearing that Walsh might drink seems to snap Joss out of his coma. He continues to stare at me. “Okay,” he answers her quietly.

  “Go!” she shouts. “Go find him.” Then she breaks down again.

  “I have to—” Joss says to me, desperation in his eyes. “He might hurt himself.”

  I look at him and swallow. Then I turn away. What’s the point, after all?

  I hear him walk out the door, and Colin leans down to me. “Will you be okay?”

  “Yeah,” I say.

  “You and Tammy—I mean, you won’t—”

  I look up at him as he hovers over me. “It’s fine, Colin. I promise.”

  “Okay.” He stands up and looks over at Mike, who is still crouched against the wall. “I don’t know what the fuck you were thinking, man, but this is far from done. Get up.”

  Mike stands with robotic movements. Then he looks at me. “Mel,” he croaks out. “I’m so sorry—”

  He’s interrupted by a nurse who walks in briskly, asking about the commotion. She takes one look at Tammy and starts ordering everyone to get out.

  We file into the hall, where Colin gives Mike a hard look and then turns to me. “I’ll call you later, let you know how everyone is, but we’ve got to go keep them from killing each other.”

  I nod and mumble, “Okay.”

  Mike tries to talk to me one more time. “Mel, I never wanted you to get hurt, I swear. You deserve so much better than him—”

  I look at him for a moment, my head so cluttered and yet so empty at the same time. When it finally sinks in, what he’s said to me, I reach up and slap him across the face. Hard. “I think we all got exactly what we deserved, didn’t we, Mike? You made sure of it.” Then I turn away from him and slump against the wall.

  I hear Colin tell him to leave it and they walk away down the hall. I sit on a nearby chair listening to Tammy cry through the partially open door. Then I remember the promise I made to myself only hours ago. I will be there for my sister the way she’s always been there for me. I take a deep breath, stand up, walk in to my sister’s hospital room, and hold her as she mourns the loss of her love while I bury the loss of mine.

  Joss

  AS I ride in the back of a limousine, fast food restaurants and rundown strip malls flashing outside the windows, I can still see the expression on Mel’s face as she collapsed into the chair with Colin helping her. Her beautiful eyes looked at me like I’d torn her world in two. It occurs to me that my heart is still beating and I take breaths regularly as if on cue. I’m not sure how this is all working. I don’t feel anything. It’s like my whole body has gone numb, and in my head a refrain beats away. Find Walsh. Find Walsh. Find Walsh.

  There will be no coming back from today, this I know. Mel and I are over, in a way so complete it’s almost as if we never existed together in the first place. The damage I have inflicted is so extensive it sickens me, yet there is an underlying relief. At last I have finally gotten what I deserve—pain, rejection, self-loathing so intense that I can’t imagine ever looking at myself in a mirror again—all of it washing over me, cleansing me, scouring me until I’m raw and bloody and punished as I should have been the instant it all happened.

  These thoughts skitter through my mind, like pieces of gravel being tossed around by the tires of a car, but I force myself to focus on trying to do something right, something useful. And that something is saving Walsh from himself. Luckily Walsh used one of our hired cars and drivers to ferry him around, so I’ve had my driver talk to his and I’m on my way to him. In keeping with today’s theme of utter destruction, he’s at a bar.

  We pull up in the parking lot of the place, and my heart races inside my chest at the thought of having to face Walsh, his words, his fists, his broken heart. But he’s here, with abundant quantities of alcohol, and I love him too much to take the easy way out.

  Just before I get out of the car I look around. The bar is a honky-tonk surrounded by pickup trucks, and I realize I’m still wearing eyeliner. Lots of it. Fuck.

  “Hey, man,” I ask the driver. “You have any Kleenex up there?”

  He hands me a box and I set to work, trying to wipe as much of the shit off as I can. I never went through a punk or glam rock phase, so I don’t know much about eye makeup. I’m sure there’s some better way to get it off than spit and tissues, but for now this’ll have to do. I’ve already got a pretty good-sized welt on my face, so if some asshole hits me for wearing makeup, it doesn’t much matter. What’s one more for the road?

  My phone’s been blowing up with texts from Colin, and another one comes through as I’m about to walk into t
he bar. I go ahead and text him the address I’m at, figuring if I can’t get through to Walsh, maybe he and Mike can when they get here.

  I walk in and find myself in a cheap prefab building with a concrete floor covered in peanut shells and sticky beer. The place is decent-sized, and country music is blaring from the sound system. The clientele seem to wear one of two types of hats—hard hats or cowboy hats—and almost all of them look like they’ve spent most of the day working outside in the sun.

  I stand near the door, scanning the interior as my eyes adjust to the low light. When my view reaches the far back corner of the room, I see him, sitting all alone, staring at a large mug of beer on the table in front of him. God, I hope I’m not too late. I approach cautiously, fearful that he’ll charge if he sees me coming.

  When I get about six feet away, he looks up and says, “Took you long enough.”

  I reach down and pull out a chair, sitting opposite him. “You were expecting me?”

  He snorts. “You may have fucked my fiancée, but you’ve been my best friend most of my life. I know you better than you know yourself.” He pauses. “Besides, I figured Tammy would make you come.”

  I nod, watching him as he slowly turns the mug of beer around in a small circle on the tabletop.

  “You ever watched the condensation on a cold mug drip down the sides?” he asks. “I used to sit and watch that shit for hours when I was drinking. The way the droplets form out of nowhere then start off sliding down slowly until they reach some sort of critical mass or something and move faster. When they hit the tabletop, they spread in this really particular way, following the arc of the glass or the bottle. Then, because that water can’t work its way under the glass, it builds up all around in a ring.” He shrugs and then just sits and watches that mug.

  Finally I break the silence. “I’m not sure what to say, man, but it’s not how it sounded.”

  “Really? ‘Cause it sounded like you slept with my fiancée. The only woman I’ve ever loved. Hell, the only woman I’ve ever been with, as you well know. My girl since I was fourteen years old. That’s what it sounded like, Joss.” His voice is calm, but it’s the defeated kind of calm, not the peaceful kind.