by Daisy Allen
Chapter Nineteen
Emily
Every sound during the night wakes me. Ben’s morphine wears off and he spends the night alternating between moaning softly in his sleep, calling out for me, and waking himself up whenever he tries to turn. With his arm slung up in the air to keep it still for the next twenty-four hours while his cast sets and everything settles, it’s hard for my baby boy to get comfortable.
Needless to say, when the sun rises, I’m awake to greet it.
But blaming my sleepless night on Ben and the hospital is as unfair as it is untrue.
It was Brad. Brad with his promises, Brad with his declarations, Brad with his way of making things right. Brad, with his eyes that barely need to glance at me to know what I’m thinking, how I’m feeling, what I’m wanting, needing. I presume it’s why the one night we spent together was so amazing. Even at eighteen, he knew how to touch me, when and where and how.
Now, as an adult, I can only imagine what he’d do to me if I let him.
And those are the thoughts that kept me awake.
“Mommy, is Brad coming to visit today?” Ben pipes up, as if hearing my thoughts, as embarrassing as that would be.
“Yes, sweetheart, he is. But he probably won’t be able to stay. He’s very, very busy. It was very nice of him to be here yesterday, but he will probably have to go back to work soon.”
“Ooh, do you think we can visit him there?”
“Well, let’s get you well first, okay?”
“I’m okay, Mommy. I feel better than I did last night. I don’t want to stay here much longer.”
“Well, we’ll see what the doctor says, okay?”
“Okay. I wonder if he’ll let me have ice cream again, if I’m a good boy.”
“You and your ice cream!” I ruffle the tuft of hair sticking up at the back of his head, my heart almost bursting with love for my little creature.
“Did someone say ice cream because…oh…wait, what? What is in this bag?” We hear a deep male voice call out to us from the room entrance.
“Brad!”
“Hey there, Benny Boy! How are you feeling today?” Brad asks, strolling into the room like he owns it. Confidence oozing from every pore. I can smell his cologne from across the room, and I wonder if they’ve approached him to advertise for them, because if every woman reacted to men like I was reacting to him, they’d make a freaking fortune.
“I’m super great! The doctor says the nurse is going to give me some markers today so I can get everyone to draw on my cast. Will you write something?” I hear Ben chattering away to Brad when I turn my attention back to them.
“Of course—it probably won’t be as good as what your mother writes, but I’m sure I can think up something. Now, weren’t you helping me get something out of that bag?”
Ben pulls a container out of the bag Brad puts in his lap. “It’s…oh! It’s…what does that say, Mommy?”
I lean over and read off the label. “It says…Dippin’ Dots.”
“What’s ...deepy dods?”
Brad’s laugh fills the room. “Dippin’ Dots, just the best ice cream ever. And the salesperson even told me it’s extra good for growing broken bones. So, you better eat up, quick! Or else the doctor might find out, and he’ll want you to share with everyone.”
“Oh, that’s okay, I’m happy to share if it’ll help the other kids around here too,” Ben says.
“Dude. What crazy, well adjusted, mature, kinda kid did you give birth to?” Brad asks me and I can’t help but beam proudly.
“Brad? You wanna know the worst thing about my broken arm?” Ben asks.
“What’s that, kiddo?” Brad pats him on the head.
“I can’t pick my nose anymore, which is probably good, ‘cause Mommy says it’s yucky and I shouldn’t.”
It’s almost a minute before Brad stops laughing and tells me, “Never mind.”
We watch TV with Ben for a few minutes while he eats his Dippin’ Dots and then Brad motions to me.
“You going to be okay in here by yourself for a moment, buddy? I just want to talk to your Mommy. We’ll go outside so we don’t disturb your Pokémon, okay?”
“Okay,” Ben says, eyes still glued to the TV.
I follow Brad out the door, cursing him as I notice how handsome he looks, as if he wasn’t affected by yesterday’s goings-on at all. “Stupid, sexy fucker,” I mumble under my breath, then accidently bang against his back, not realizing he’d stopped walking.
“What?”
“Um, nothing,” I say, although I can feel a hot flush rising up my neck and onto my cheeks.
“How are you?” he asks.
“I’m…I’m okay. I didn’t sleep much, but Ben seems to be doing pretty well. When the doc said that he can leave in a few days if he eats all his food and gets strong, he ate all his breakfast—even the yogurt, which he hates.”
“He must hate being all cooped up in the bed like that.”
I nod. “I don’t know who it’s worse for, him or the nurses!”
“So…let’s get him out of that bed soon, what do you say?” Brad says, and there’s a glint in his eye.
“What are you saying?” I ask.
“I’m saying, once he gets the all-clear, let’s really let him stretch his legs. I want you to take him on tour with us.”
“Us, who?”
“Us, the band, and you,” Brad clarifies.
That’s the last thing I expected him to say. “Brad, I told you last night—”
“I know what you told me, bossy britches. But now I’m telling you. You’re coming back on tour, and you’re bringing Ben and we’re gonna have the best fucking time ever. Like, Dippin’ Dots galore fun.”
I can’t help but burst out laughing, even with the ridiculousness of it all, the image of the three of us twirling around while Dippin’ Dots fall from the sky is too funny an image not to indulge in.
“Is that a yes?” Brad asks, his eyebrows raised, his mouth open, a look of hope on his face.
“The hell it is. I was laughing at how crazy you are. I wasn’t even going on the tour myself! What makes you think I’m going to take my injured five-year-old?” I shake my head at his gall.
“Because. Because name one reason why the fuck not?”
“Er, because he has a broken arm in three places and probably needs to be near someone who can care for that sort of thing; because he has school; because he is five years old and shouldn’t be gallivanting around the country like a groupie; because I need to work, or find a new job because I’m probably going to be fired from this one; because you and I can not be in the same damn room together without kissing; because…”
“Whoa, overachiever, I said name one reason. And anyway, none of those are valid,” Brad interrupts me. “Yes, he has a broken arm. Well, people have had broken arms before, and we will make sure he has the care he needs. I wouldn’t jeopardize his health for anything. And school? He’s five. He can take a few weeks out and not have it affect his application to Oxford, and this is more of an education than anything he’d learn in school.”
I open my mouth to argue but Brad’s hand comes up to cover it as he continues.
“And groupie? Hello, we have a cupboard of board games on the boys’ bus. I think you have a very distorted view of just how we live. And if you get back on tour with us, you won’t be losing your job. And as for the kissing…are we kissing right now?”
“Hell no.”
“Then, see? No problem! I can totally not kiss you.”
“Brad!”
“Just, okay. Sit down. Sit! Jeez, it’s like blood out of a stone.” He waits until I’ve sat before he sits down next to me, his lecture continuing. “You need to do this, for you. Your time to shine remember? This isn’t about us. This is about you, You, you, you, you, you. This story is going to put you on the map. And I want to be a part of it.”
When he sees me not arguing, he hands me a business card. “This is a number of a nanny agency
that Dennis has gotten in touch with. Meet with a few of them, pick one, and they’ll be coming with us to take care of Ben, 24/7.”
“I can’t afford that,” I tell him, embarrassed to have to admit it.
He tilts his head and looks at me like I’m mad. “Yes, you can. Because you’re not paying.”
“What?”
“Dennis and Phil have done their ‘your people talk to my people’ thing and between your paper and the band, we’re going to cover for it. I mentioned that you’re a stubborn mule-ass and won’t accept the money, in which case Phil has decided that you will be getting a very substantial raise for the duration of your time with us. They’d rather you did it their way of course, tax things blah blah, I tuned out, snore. But anyway, it’s all taken care of.”
Has he really organized all this for me?
“It’s four weeks. Doing what you love, having the person you love most right there beside you,” he concludes, saying the exact right thing.
I don’t know how to respond. Am I really considering it? Am I crazy?
Brad looks at me, his top front teeth digging into his lip, waiting for my answer.
“It does sound like a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Ben would have a fucking ball, and after his accident, there’s really no chance I could leave him,” I think out loud.
My time to shine.
Maybe it really is.
“Brad…what about us?” I have to ask.
He thinks for a minute, and I appreciate that he does. That he doesn’t just have some prepared answer. “Ball’s in your court. I will do whatever you want, leave you alone, or be on call for 24/7 orgasms, and everything in between. I don’t want what’s going on or not going on between us to affect your decision. I don’t want it to be the reason you say no.”
“Okay.”
“Wait, are you—” His eyes widen and he searches my face for clues.
“Wait.” I hold out my hand.
“You’re considering it?”
“Maybe…”
Brad jumps up and runs into Ben’s room, pulling something out of his back pocket. I follow him, confused.
“Hey Benny Boy, do you know what this is?” He waves something in front of Ben’s face.
“Sure! It’s a helicopter, is that for me?”
“Sure is, but I’ve got something even better.”
“Ooh.”
“How do you feel like going for a ride in a real helicopter?!” Brad asks him. And I realize I’ve lost this battle.
“I would love it!”
“Then convince your mother.”
“MOMMY! Can we go in a helicopter ride, can we? I’ll eat more yogurt! Please Mommy, please!” Ben begs me, TV forgotten.
“You bastard.” I glare at Brad.
“I said the ball was in your court. I didn’t say I wasn’t going to smash it there,” he says, victory written all over his face.
I sigh and stroke Ben’s hair. “You really wanna go?”
“YES, MOMMY!” Ben insists excitedly, almost jumping out of bed.
Brad is watching me when I face him. I say one word. “Fine.”
“Is that a yes?” he asks, his voice almost as excited as Ben’s.
“It’s a ‘fine,’” I say, refusing to give him too much.
“I’ll take it!”
***
I must be crazy. Certifiably, freakin’ out-of-my-mind bonkers to be agreeing to this. But in the moment, my brain couldn’t rustle up an argument that he hadn’t thought of. I just couldn’t bring myself to say the words “Because I’m still in love with you but I can’t let you break my heart again.”
I mean, it’s not true, is it? I don’t know.
I only know that when I’m with him, I feel like those words are just right there, on the tip of my tongue.
So, now I’m home, packing clothes for my little boy to join me on a band tour around Europe.
“Mommy!” Ben calls me from his bedroom in our cozy apartment.
“I’ll be right there, sweetheart.”
“How is Fin going to come with us?”
I walk into his room to see him peering into the fishbowl. “Well, um, honey, Fin is actually going to stay home with Grandma. He’s going to help her take care of the apartment for us while we’re away.”
“Oh, he’ll be good at that. He’s always looking out of his bowl.”
I nod. “Yep, you got it. Now come help me pick what clothes you want to bring.
“Look, Mommy look! It’s Brad!” Ben points to the TV.
Brad had texted to say that they expected their meet and greet in the local mall might be covered by Entertainment Tonight, so I’ve had the TV turned on since the afternoon, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. And there he is.
“Stupid, sexy fucker,” I mumble under my breath, again and probably not for the last time.
The camera focusses on each band member for a few seconds at a time, and each time it lands on Brad, my heart rotates like a fidget spinner in my chest.
The video cuts to the guys finishing their set and a bunch of women rushing onto the stage, trying to reach for the guys. They just laugh and stand back, letting their security push the horde back. The knot of jealousy simmering in the pit of my stomach tightens, and again I ask myself what the fuck I’m doing.
“Look, Mommy, look!” Ben yells again, calling my attention to the TV.
Brad appears on screen again. This time he holds his palm out and the camera zooms on the words “Can’t w8 2 c u soon, Butter & Ben!” A red love heart encircles the words. And it’s like a cool breeze washes over me, assuaging the fear.
“What did it say, Mommy?”
“He says he can’t wait to see us soon, baby.”
“That’s so nice, isn’t it, Mommy?”
“Yeah, buddy, it’s so nice. He’s so nice.”
They cut to some footage of the guys performing, and the knot that was in my stomach relaxes to a warm, throbbing heat a little lower, where my hips meet my legs. And I can’t help but wonder what it’ll be like when we see each other again.
Ding dong
The bell rings and I run to it, sliding my feet into the slippers by the door.
“Hello?” I’m greeted by a delivery guy carrying a bike.
“Are you Ben?” the pimply teenager asks, not caring that he has a mouthful of gum.
“Um…do I look like it? What’s this?” I point to his delivery.
“It’s a delivery for, um, Ben…” he says, checking the delivery sheet.
“It’s a bike.”
“You’re about as observant as me,” the little shit fires back.
“Ben’s my five-year-old son. I’ll sign for him.”
“Fine.”
I hand him the signed board and push the bike into the hallway just as Ben wanders in.
“Who was it, Mommy? OHMYGOSH! Is that for me?” His face lights up and he runs his good hand along the handlebars.
“I guess so. Let Mommy read the card. ‘For my brave boy, love Dad.’” My blood runs cold. Who’d gotten in touch with him?
“It’s from Daddy?” Ben asks, crouching down to look at the tires.
“Er, I guess so. I guess he heard about your accident.”
“A new bike! I can’t wait to ride it!”
“Whoa, it’ll be a while yet. You can play with it in the apartment, but no riding until your cast comes off and the doctor says it’s okay,” I warn him.
There’s a ding on my cell phone and I brace myself before reading it.
I just got a text to say the bike’s been delivered.
Yeah, thanks. You shouldn’t have done that. It’s too much, I reply to Ben’s father.
It’s fine, I knew you probably couldn’t afford another one. He’s right. And I hate that that’s the case as well as that he knows it.
Who told you about Ben’s accident? I ask.
Your mom, but it should’ve been you. Can I talk to him?
Yeah, call on the home phone in fi
ve minutes, I tell him.
And you? Can I talk to you?
No.
I turn off the ringer on my phone and put it down, returning to Ben’s room to pack, watching him play with his new bike’s handlebars.
The dread runs through me as it always does when Ben’s father gets in touch. Irrational, maybe, but I feel it nonetheless. Maybe a trip away really is the best thing for us both right now. Get out of London, and out of reach.
The phone in the hallway rings, and I flinch.
“Ben, why don’t you get that. I have a feeling it might just be for you.”
I watch my little boy jump off the bed and run to the phone, his happy jabbering making me smile even through the fear.
Chapter Twenty
Brad
It’s been three days since I left London and met up with the group in Birmingham. Three days of walking the tight rope between elation that Emily and Ben are going to be joining me soon, and sheer terror of receiving a phone call to say she’s changed her mind.
After the show in Northampton the other day I expected her to call or text, but it’s been radio silence. She had mentioned that she was very busy getting everything ready for Ben, what with interviewing nannies and packing and getting her house ready for her mom. But I’ve heard nothing. And I’ve been trying to tell myself that sometimes no news is good news.
“Oi! Get out here, numb-nuts! We’re playing a drinking game!” Jez yells to me from the living area on our bus.
I wander out to see the guys have got a big head start on me and have developed an acquired fashion style of wrapping their ties around their foreheads.
“All right, what are the rules?” I ask them.
“Every time they cut to a commercial, we drink!” Marius explains.
“What the hell kinda stupid game is that? What show is this anyway?” I glance up at the screens.
“World’s Best Commercials!” the three yell out in unison.
“Ah. That explains why Sebastian’s trying to eat that cheese stick with the wrapper still on.”
“Wha?” Sebastian looks up from his snack.
“Where’s your ball and chain?” I grin at him, tugging on his tie.