"Hi," he says, his eyes locked and gleaming into hers.
"Hi." She sounds a tad winded.
More of our co-workers stop to see what the ruckus is about, and the jig is up. "You all work together?" Jacqueline ask.
"Yeah," Darla says. "I asked a few people to join us. I figured we all needed a little party."
Jacqueline's posture softens as she caves to the fact she's been set up. However, that doesn't matter anymore because she's had that moment—that magical, elusive place in time that, if this works out, she can gush about to their grandkids. Every great love story should start with a thrill. Jacqueline's is off to a hell of a start.
Fly to the Angels
Today is a critical day in our relationship. My impending actions will hopefully help Rosalyn heal, but in doing so they may rip us apart. I understand that she wanted to be alone last night, but I pray to God she lets me be there for her today.
Jacqueline answers the door. Her cool-blue eyes look itchy and dry after a long night of support for her best friend. Even though Rosalyn has insisted on not having visitors today, Jacqueline has agreed to my plan.
Rosalyn sits on her bed, staring out the window and clinging to the blanket from Joseph's box. "Let me go in first," Jacqueline says.
Jacqueline whispers to Rosalyn while putting an arm around her and smoothing back her hair. Rosalyn shakes her head. Her eyes squeeze shut in an attempt to remove the dam from the river of tears that have long run dry. Jacqueline continues her whispers then kisses Rosalyn's forehead before leaving the room. "I hope you're right about this. For what it's worth, while I want her happy regardless of what it takes, I hope she decides you're what's best for her."
I kneel before my best friend who's also the only love I'll ever need. Swollen eyes and patches of red skin reflect she holds more pain than anyone should endure. Her silken hair is a ratted mess. The poor girl has probably been trying to pull it out all night. "Come on, sweetie. I have some place to take you."
"I don't want to go anywhere. I only want to crawl up in a ball and cry."
Her sniffle sounds dry, yet I reach for a tissue while running the risk of letting my newfound emotions lead the way. "I really think I know something that can help ease the pain. I'm sure trusting me isn't easy, but just know I'm aware I'm taking a huge personal risk by doing it."
Rosalyn spends our entire drive staring out her window. Occasionally I force a smile towards her, but her eyes and mind are understandably elsewhere. The best I can do is keep my hand on her arm. How would it feel to carry a child, let alone love and lose one? I fight back the tears that come with envisioning my angel's moment of terror.
I've accepted we are going to the home of my nightmares. The only thing at the end of this long and winding road is the cemetery. Niles is right. I need to be here. I can't leave my little boy alone today. But if Niles says something stupid, we won't recover, and I don't know if I will either.
The entire trip I've been anesthetized because I haven't allowed anything but the grey of the road to enter my mind. The bile in my stomach splashes as the car pulls onto a gravelly path. "Pull over here," I mutter when we're close. Niles shuts off the engine, and I hate the fact I find relief in his sorrow. As we walk towards the grave I cling onto his arm for dear life. The love that radiates in his eyes and through his touch is the only thing keeping my emotions stable.
I delay looking at our destination by focusing on the ground. Walking like this adds to the dizziness that has been seeping in along with my guilt. Once we stop, I have to stare at my shoes a moment before I can brave looking upward.
My eyes rise with hesitation only to have my fear replaced with the awe of God smiling before me. Beautiful, baby blue carnations and white daisies carpet the ground where Joseph's casket lies. Across the headstone a small banner reads, "I love you, Mom."
My knees hit the ground, my body crumpling along with my emotions. Niles kneels beside me and holds me in tight comfort. "Flowers spring out of love and hope. Those are from Peter and I. The words on the banner came directly from Joseph." I shake my head in disbelief at the little game. If only it were true.
Niles looks me straight in the eyes and seems to pull up a hearty dose of strength from the pit of his heart. "Peter took a huge risk, but he came back with a very important message. Joseph said, 'Tell Mom that God called, and I answered. Her parents are so very proud of her, but they wish their Rose would talk to them more. Most of all, tell her I love her. I could not have asked for a better mom.'"
My river of tears becomes a gusher. Never have I told anyone Mom used to call me her Rose. Not even Jacqueline.
"Rosalyn, I'll never understand the depth of your loss, but at least now I have some idea how much you hurt. Please forgive yourself. It was never your fault."
Niles wipes away my tears and then looks up at a man with long, blond hair who casts a shadow over us. For the first time in two years, the father of my child stands next to me. "Please don't be angry, but you two need to talk this through." Niles helps me to my feet and touches his lips to my cheek before walking away. A few steps later he turns to mouth, "I love you," and visibly swallows before walking on.
Joe's hazel eyes are surrounded in red and frozen on the grave in regret. "Hi, Rosalyn," he says on a deep exhale, still staring downward. "How have you been?"
I want to scream for him to go to Hell and never dare show his face around me again, but Niles is right. I need some kind of closure, and if I flip out, I'll never hear why he left somebody he supposedly loved so much when the chips were down.
"I'm good. As good as I can be." Instead of politely returning the inquiry I wait for him to take the lead. I won't ask any flowery questions to help him stall for time or give him an excuse to leave before saying his piece, but if he walks away without another word, so help me God, he's gonna loose his balls.
Joe stands with his shoulders and hips slightly crooked, like something inside him hurts and he can't right himself. "All of it is my fault. You wanted a SIDS monitor, and I thought it was a waste. Less than one hundred dollars could have saved his life." Joe halts short of wiping his tears on his sleeve. Good, he deserves to feel the burn. "I felt so guilty I deluded myself into thinking if I didn't see the coffin, maybe the whole thing never happened. Maybe you and I never met in the first place. Foolish idiot! I've been trying to figure out how to come back and tell you I'm sorry. Every time I pick up the phone I get to the last digit and then hang up like a coward."
Anger builds, but the pain of the moment keeps me calm. "Why are you here now?"
"Yesterday I got a call from some guy saying if I ever loved you at all, I needed to help you move on with your life. He also said if I wanted you back, this was my last chance to plead my case. After that he was never, ever taking the risk of losing you again. Everybody I know has tried to talk me into doing the right thing, but two minutes on the phone with that guy and I understood my guilt was no reason for you to suffer. Just who is he?"
Niles sits two rows over, looking up and seemingly talking to God. He fiddles with blades of grass, but his calm expression shows he is at peace with himself. Suddenly the reason for a chunk of my pain becomes clear. "I'll never understand why Joseph was taken from me, but Niles is the reason you and I never got married. For once I'm grateful you left. The saga of Niles and I is crazy and complex, but he's changed how I see the world. Once your world view changes there is no going back."
Accepting that my innocent, little boy's body lies under the blooms of love seems a little less horrible now. My darling angel is not dead. He's more alive than ever. "Thank you, my sweet prince. Again you've found a way to bring me joy. I love you, Joseph, and I love you, Mom and Dad. I will see you all again. Meanwhile, we'll talk more often. I promise."
Picking up the banner and clutching it to my heart, I go to Niles. If anything here is dead, it's Joe and I. My child is off thriving. Now it's my turn.
In the distance, the sound of dogs barking is music to my ea
rs. I smile at Niles, take his hand, and start running—not a run of escape, but one towards the hope of all our bright tomorrows.
Wasted on the Way
Precedents, precedents, and yet more precedents. How did I ever survive law school?
As I brush up for a case where my client was wrongfully accused in a blatant display of discrimination, the need for food suddenly strikes. Hmm … French fries. No, too starchy. Still, I want something fried, but it needs to be lighter. Zucchini? No … Fried pickles! Man, that sounds good.
"Oh my God!" Rosalyn rushes in and nearly trips over the clusters of boxes and bags in her way. The sight sends me jumping out of my desk chair to catch her fall.
Our bedroom is an disaster while she finishes moving in. The media room is by far worse. On the flight to San Francisco, nearly three months ago, we started debating if we would merge our music collections. We decided not to, not for fear of breaking up and having to remember who owned what, but because neither one of us wanted to deal with remembering if we put her Kids From C.A.P.E.R. album alphabetically under TV Soundtracks (her system) or C for crap (my system for stuff absolutely no one should own but I can't bring myself to part with). The chaos drives me a little crazy. However, I wouldn't exchange all of the trips, falls, and toe jabs for anything.
"Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God! You have got to see this!" Rosalyn's locks cascade over her nineteen sixties' chartreuse sweater with a zipper in the back as she takes over my computer. How I long to inch that zipper down and inhale her scent that makes my senses go haywire. Tomorrow I'm calling Joy Perfume Industries to have them bottle it to help me through moments where nothing seems right because I am without her.
Rosalyn's autumnal eyes are aglow as she types in a URL with such excitement she keeps making mistakes due to her bouncing. I laugh and place a peck of a kiss on her bicep as she hits return. I draw Rosalyn onto my lap and into my arms, inhaling her luxurious perfume and just being damn overjoyed at the happiness she brings.
A blonde, female newscaster with a lovely English accent reveals, "This morning in Henley, music mogul Benjamin Stoddard was arrested on murder charges in the nineteen sixty-eight deaths of former rock star Peter Lane and his wife Jane."
She did it! I figured she'd go for the divorce, but I dared hoped that she'd go for the gold.
"Isn't that fantastic?"
I take pause. How do I really feel about this? For months I've avoided pondering Stoddard and his impact on Peter's, and now my, existence. Peter's deep love carries through me towards Rosalyn, but what about the hate?
The broadcaster goes on to tell how Anne Stoddard was recently granted an impressive divorce settlement. The remainder of Stoddard's assets have since been seized, pending criminal investigations.
My anger flares when they show our footage of Stoddard confessing his involvement in Peter's murder. That bastard took so much away from so many people. Even if they had caught him when everything initially happened nearly fifty years ago, life in prison still wouldn't be payment enough. He should be forced to come face-to-face with the damage he has done, putting him on the streets and praying for death.
The broadcast ends, and my girl twists in my lap. The warmth of her lips on my cheek is a reminder from above how Peter triumphed in the end. That, and my love for this beautiful creature, are all that matter now.
"Yeah, Rox, it is fantastic." And everything truly is.
"I have to get back to work. In just a few minutes, Jacqueline and I will sign the final documents making Cupid's Stardust a bona fide business. We have everything in place to do the background checks, and I think we've hammered out the best way to verify letters of recommendation from friends and significant others. Oh! We've also created a post-date questionnaire so we can track how well each party represented themselves along with other vital information, such as if they know not to keep you waiting while they text a former conquest." She pops up from my lap with a bounce. "This is so exciting! I can't wait to see the look on people's faces when Darla, Oliver, and I all resign on the same day!"
With a sweet smack on my lips, she skips off.
"Hey, come back." I motion her over and she plops back into my lap. "I've been thinking about our future."
"Three kids!" Her legs start swaying, her feet wiggling with excitement. "And a dog! Wait, make that two kids for sure, and once we see how that goes I reserve the right to badger you for a third."
God, I am such a lucky guy. Please don't ever let me be so foolish as to lose sight of it. "Remember how the seed money for your business came from what of Peter's money I was able to recover from Mrs. Stoddard? Well, there's a lot left. We could move into someplace bigger—"
"Oh, but I love it here so much, and you put so much work into it."
"Or we could add on another floor and buy this." A click on a bookmarked link brings up a real estate page for a quaint cottage in the country. A field with wildflowers grows behind it.
"Is that—Oh, my God, it is, isn't it?"
"It's the place Peter wanted to buy for Jane. When I asked for the money this was the end goal. It would be kind of unreasonable to have such a small place here yet have a summer home across the pond but—"
"But it's perfect! Let's reclaim it. Do we have enough to buy it outright so no one can take it from us? I feel the need to pay him and Jane back for what they gave us. Is that weird?"
"No, I totally agree. We can make sure no one ever touches it."
"Knock, knock," Jacqueline calls as the front door swings open.
"We're in the bedroom," Rosalyn calls back. "You have to come see this!"
Just shy of Jacqueline reaching the door I ask Rosalyn, "You did warn her about our no clothes in the house rule, right?"
"Ha, ha. Very clever, Peter."
Jacqueline enters the room, and Rosalyn motions her over. "Come here and look at what we're buying with the rest of the money! It's the house Peter wanted to buy Jane. Isn't it perfect?"
Jacqueline shakes her head at the screen. "That Peter story is so wacky that I question the level of sanity around me." She hands Rox an envelope. "Here. Every freaking time I see Mom she goes on about what to get you for a wedding present and asks when Davion and I are getting engaged. I decided to spare you another blender and me some of my sanity by putting in a request for this." Rosalyn opens the envelope as Jacqueline continues, "Dad said to give it to you now so Mom will zip her trap. I told him that was nuts because now she won't want to come to the wedding empty handed."
Rosalyn's hand goes to her mouth as she gasps. Her eyes express amazement as she hands me a notarized Transfer Of Ownership document. Effective on the date of our marriage, Rosalyn and I will own the rights to three songs penned by Peter Lane. My gratitude is expressed in what almost sounds like laughter. Soon I'll own the rights to songs I've always loved—songs I actually wrote. "How?"
"My grandfather left them to my dad. Apparently he took a pretty underhanded risk and won them in a poker game. Gramps always hated how so many artists got screwed. He made Dad promise when he inherited the songs he wouldn't allow them to be used in diaper commercials."
A little something inside of me—a voice I can't hear, a vibration I can't feel—something nearly indiscernible—gives me a nudge and a wink. You didn't let me down, Vince. I knew you'd come through in the end. It's a moment of satisfaction made possible by a part of me that was, and always will be, Peter Lane.
"You know, Niles, despite all you two have said, one thing still nags at me. You took some pretty big risks by thinking of Rox as your girlfriend, let alone all the ways the situation with Stoddard could have played out, and that Peter could have been screwing with you. Why were you willing to put yourself on the line?"
I point to the framed sheet out of Peter's notebook that once hung in my sanctuary. Now it's a crown over the bed where Rosalyn and I sleep away the darkness while in the comfort of each other's arms. "Steven popped in while I was considering the purchase of that and told me to always ta
ke advantage of opportunities. It took until after I got home the night we met for it to hit me, but Rosalyn's introduction brought those lyrics to life. Once I learned Steven was Peter's brother, there was no turning back."
Jacqueline steps to the treasure. "Dear, Lord. Rox, this whole thing reads like an omen, starting with the text and ending with the dress you were wearing. Your entire story is right here."
One day I walked into a record store, and I met both my future and my past. I had been praying for a way to put the past behind me and have the doors to the future reveal endless possibilities. Never did I dream those doors were the ones that opened into Warped Records.
When I thought I foolishly spent some hard-earned cash on a luxury, I not only changed my life, but also the lives of others. How many times has one simple action altered so much and I have never been privy to the results?
I give Niles a sweet and simple kiss and then another for Peter. My heart sends a third to my son. He'll be back with me. Maybe I'll find him when I die, or maybe he will be the nurse that befriends me in a rest home when I am old and frail, or maybe he will come back the next time I see a plus sign on a pregnancy test. All I know is that we will be together again, and no matter what happens in this crazy life, or in any of the ones to follow, I will always have my Niles.
"All I ever wanted was someone to smile with. Someday, when our worlds collide, my soul will be complete. Until then I await your simple hello and the colors of pink and purple that will forever flower my world."
- Peter Lane, July 1966
Playlist
Playlists for all of the Rock and Roll Fantasy stories can be found on my YouTube Channel.
Scary Modsters... and Creepy Freaks: A Rock and Roll Fantasy (The Rock And Roll Fantasy Collection) Page 23