by Daisy Allen
I let go of his wrist, and reach out to run my hand along his cheek. Again, he doesn’t move.
“He’s not a part of my life and he’s not a part of Ben’s life. I wish he were, but he’s not. He’s not a good guy, Brad. Silas is…he’s selfish and arrogant and frankly, he scares me. I don’t want to be with him and I don’t want him around my son.”
“And me?”
“The exact opposite of everything I just said about Silas. I want you. I want you around. I want to be around you. I want Ben to know you, to know what a good man really is.”
He doesn’t look at me. His hand comes up to cup my hand on his cheek, but he doesn’t meet my eyes.
“Please, Brad. I love you.” At some point, not saying the words became harder than saying them.
“I… I love you too Emily. I need to process this. I need time to think. Time to see if I can really trust what you’re saying.”
“Brad, please,” I say, imploringly.
He gently pulls my hand away from his cheek, but doesn’t let go. “I’m sorry, I have to…I have to prepare for our concert.”
“Brad. Please!”
“I just can’t. I can’t do this right now, Emily. I’m sorry.”
“I-I don’t understand why you can’t believe me,” I tell him, his face becoming blurry in my vision.
“If you had had your heart broken like you broke mine, you might.”
He pulls his hand out of mine, and I wonder if it’s the last time I’ll ever feel his touch.
***
“They’re amazing, aren’t they?” a fan yells to me over the noise of the crowd as the Rock Chamber Boys play their last single, “Cadence’s Song,” the one original they have on their album. There isn’t a quiet mouth in the whole festival. Everyone is cheering, jumping up and down, begging for more.
“Yeah, they’re pretty amazing.”
“Are you a fan? This is the first time I’ve seen them live. I didn’t know what to expect really. I didn’t know how a band would sound without any vocals, you know?”
“And it turns out better than you would ever guess. Um, yeah I’m a fan, but I’m also covering them for a story.”
“You’re a journalist? Oh, you’re the one who wrote that piece in the Journal! That’s a great piece. It’s actually what got me to come along to see them.”
“I’m glad you liked it.”
I didn’t know how to tell her it might be the last thing I write about the Rock Chamber Boys.
***
“Emily! Emily!” I hear my name over the beginning chords of their next song and pivot to the right to see Carrie running toward me.
And then she says the words that make my blood turn to ice slush in my veins. “Where’s Ben?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, he was just there with me in the tent, and then he saw you walk past. Before I could grab him, he’d run out, shouting to me that he was coming over to you. I followed him, but he’s not here. Did you see him?”
“No!”
I spin around, scanning for Ben in the crowd. He’s small but I know I could pick out my son’s form in any haystack. The lights from the show sprinkle over the bodies, but it makes it harder to spot him.
“Oh my God, BEN!” Carrie yells out into the crowd, her voice lost in the noise.
“Where is he? BEN! BEN!” I shout, scanning the sixty feet between me and the tent’s entrance wondering what could possibly have happened to him in that distance.
“BEN!” I hear Carrie shouting, the desperation in her voice almost as stark as mine.
Oh my God, I can’t think. I need to breathe. I need to stay calm, and just find Ben. Stay calm for him. If he’s in trouble he’s going to need you to STAY CALM! I tell myself.
“BEN! Ben, come to Mommy, baby! Not a good time for hiding! Come out, Ben! Where are you?”
Someone bumps into me. He’s laughing and holding a can that’s sloshing in his hand.
“Please, have you seen a little boy, dark brown hair? He’s wearing a Spider-Man T-shirt, have you seen him?” I ask him.
“Sorry mate, I haven’t. Wanna swig?”
“No, thanks.”
Carrie runs up to me, her face is wet with a combination of sweat and tears. “He’s not over there. Oh my God. Where is he? He was just here, I swear. He wasn’t out of my eyesight for more than three seconds!”
“I know. Just, he’s here somewhere. I’m sure he is. You go over to that side and I’ll stay here in case he comes back, and try to get ahold of one of the crew. Get Hank or Hailey, they should be just over there.” I wave my hand in the direction of the huddle of our people watching the show.
I will myself to breathe. Each inhale stings like a swarm of bees in my lungs. But I tell myself I’ll pass out without it.
Where could he be? What if something’s happened to him, what if someone’s taken him?
The dread both sinks like a lead paperweight in my gut as well as rises the bile in my throat.
I spin, over and over, 360 degrees, 720, 1080, scanning every inch of the space around me, where Ben is supposed to be.
“Emily!” I hear someone call me.
“Hailey!”
“What’s happened?”
“We can’t find Ben!”
“Oh no! Okay, where did you guys see him last?”
“He was with Carrie and she said he saw me walk past and before she knew it he’d taken off. She followed but he wasn’t with me. WHERE IS HE, HAILEY? WHERE IS MY BOY?”
She grabs my shoulder. “Don’t worry, you stay here, I’m going to get some help. Just…just don’t go, he’ll probably pop up and you need to be here!”
In the background I can hear the band playing, but I can’t focus on what it is I’m hearing. It’s just noise and I’m trying to block it out in case Ben is calling for me. God, I wish I could hear his sweet voice right now.
Suddenly the music stops and the lights flash on.
It floods the crowd and the stage in a bright, bright light, I can almost see the lines and wrinkles on everyone’s faces around me.
There’s a stunned silence and then it’s like everyone’s speaking at once. The guys bunch up at the edge of the stage and then it’s Brad’s voice I can hear.
“Sorry, everyone! We’ve had to stop because we have a bit of a situation. There’s a lost child, his name is Ben, he’s about five years old, has one arm in a cast, and is wearing a Spider-Man T-shirt. Can everyone have a quick look around and see if he’s near you? Give us a yell if you see him. Come on guys, let’s all band together, okay? We don’t want to stop the show for any longer than we have to, but we’re not going to start up again until we find him. As you can imagine his mother’s a little distraught and frankly, we love the little dude too. Soooo…BEN ARE YOU OUT THERE? CAN YOU GIVE UNCLE BRAD A YELL SO I KNOW WHERE YOU ARE? Everyone else be quiet, please, unless you have him.”
The silence roars in my ears and I have to cover them until the white noise dissipates and I can focus on the sound.
There’s nothing.
I clasp my hands together and press them against my lips. A silent prayer is sent.
Please let my little boy be okay.
“Uncle BRAD! Uncle Brad! I’m here! It’s me, Benny!”
I twirl around in the direction of the sound, catching Carrie’s eye. She seems to have heard it too and it gives me hope that I’m not dreaming.
“Is that you, Benny Boy?” Brad booms into the mic, his voice mirroring the hope that’s rippling through me.
“Yes! I’m over here!”
A spotlight scans over the crowd and finally rests on a small blue-and-red clad figure. He’s waving with one hand, his good hand, as he skips toward the stage, everyone parting to make room for him. And behind him, Silas.
I run through the space in the crowd to catch up to them.
“I was just with my daddy, Uncle Brad. I’m okay! Your concert is super great!” I hear him chatting as he stands at the edge o
f the stage looking up at the band.
I push Silas out the way as I kneel down on the ground and gather Ben up in my arms.
“Oh my God, Ben, Ben, my baby, Ben!”
“Hi Mommy!”
The crowd erupts into applause and cheers and I hear someone play a happy little jig on their instrument.
“Ben! Where did you go? I was so worried. Mommy thought she’d lost you.”
“I wasn’t lost. I knew where I was all the time.”
Still holding Ben, I look up onto the stage. The guys are standing there grinning. Except for Brad. He looks so relieved, I think he might pass out. He’s leaning against Marius, one hand massaging the side of his forehead. I realize then that he loves Ben. I don’t know why, but he does.
He catches my eye and he smiles softly and does a little happy wave with his bow.
“You all right then?” he says to me.
I nod and he says something to the band. They take their places and I stand up, taking Ben’s hand in mine. I give Silas a look as we walk past him and he follows us closely behind. The music starts up around us, and we wait until we’re in the relative quiet of the tent before talking.
“Ben!” Carries yells when she sees him and runs up, taking him in her arms much like I had just a minute ago. “Oh Ben, why did you run away? I was so worried about you!”
“I didn’t run away. I went to see Mommy. Then someone bumped into me and I got caught up in a crowd. I got kinda lost but then I saw Daddy and he helped me.”
I raise an eyebrow at Silas.
“Hey, it’s what happened,” he confirms.
“Are you okay, Ben? Does your arm hurt?”
“A little bit, but I’m okay. I’m thirsty though.”
“Okay, let’s get you a drink.” Carrie looks to me to make sure, and I nod, glad for some alone time with Silas.
“So, you just happened to be there, Silas?”
“What does that mean?” He raises an eyebrow but offers no more information.
“I don’t know, it just seems…”
“You think I was just lurking, in case my son got lost so I could kidnap him...and then bring him back five minutes later. Come on, Emily.”
“I don’t know what to think. You’ve just been…you’ve just been everywhere I turn these last few days and it’s freaking me out.”
“Well, you know what? Maybe you should be glad I’ve been around. Who knows what could’ve happened to him? What are you thinking anyway bringing him here? Bringing him on the goddamn tour?”
“I-I…”
“Maybe it’s me who should be thinking things over.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means, I was twenty-one when he was born. I’m older now. You said maybe things will change at some point. Maybe that point is now.”
“Don’t threaten me, Silas.”
“It’s only a threat if I don’t intend on going through with it. And you should know me better than that. I’ll see you around, Emily. Whether it freaks you out or not.”
The shiver that runs through my body when he pulls apart the tent flap and walks out has nothing to do with the flash of wind that blows through the small enclosure.
I knew it. I knew it would come to this one day.
My fuck-ups are coming back to haunt me one by one.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Brad
The show goes on, but I’m only there in part, mentally. It’s not enough to call attention to myself from the other guys though, and the crowd doesn’t seem to have any problems with our performance at all. But I sit out any optional solos that I might normally do, and when the main set is done and we’re backstage quickly discussing the encore, I’m okay with Marius and Jez going up to do a duet on their own.
As soon as they start their song, I leave my violin with Sebastian and tell him I need to run. He doesn’t bother questioning me, just gives me a nod and tells me to go.
I run down the stairs behind the stage, pushing against the crew and other bands. I barely stop when someone pats me on the back to congratulate me on our performance.
None of it registers.
I just need to get to Ben. And Emily. I need to get to them.
Throwing the tent flap aside, the brightness inside blinds me for a moment.
And I come to a stop. The tableau of Ben sitting on Emily’s lap swinging his legs, while she holds open a book reading aloud to them both makes my chest tighten, then swell like a helium balloon. A warmth spreads over me and the worry of the last half hour melts like cotton candy in my mouth, and what is left is sweet and comforting.
“Hi,” I say. Not sure what else I want to say.
Emily looks up and the fatigue in her eyes tears at me, but she doesn’t begrudge me a smile. “Hey.”
“Everyone okay?”
“We sure are, Uncle Brad! Mommy gave me a lollipop. You want a lick?”
His sweetness does what it always does, steals another corner of my heart to reserve just for him.
“I’m good, buddy. Trying to watch my teeth.” I go over and gently stroke his forehead. “You had a bit of an adventure, didn’t you?”
“Yup. Everyone was really worried! But I was okay. I knew I’d get back to Mommy.”
“We sure were worried, buddy. But we’re glad you’re back now. The guys can’t wait to see you. Now, should we hear the rest of the book?”
“I already know the ending,” he beams.
“Oh, well don’t tell me!”
Emily opens the book and goes back to reading aloud, each word slow and clear, her finger following each word. I kneel down next to them and put my hand on her back. She stumbles over a word, but then continues. I run my hand up and down her spine, and I feel her skin turn from ice cold to warm under my touch.
She knows. She knows that I’m there for her. That I’ll always be there for her.
***
It’s late.
Ben and the rest of the band are in their beds. The day is fading from their minds and their bodies as they rest for what comes tomorrow.
I gently knock on Emily’s door, and she opens it without asking.
Her hair is wet from the shower, and she’s wearing the same nightie she wore the other night. It’s champagne-colored and silk so fine, I can see her silhouette through it.
“Put on a jacket,” I whisper.
“Why?”
“Just do it.”
When she’s done what I asked, I take her hand and she follows me out of the bus.
A black Mercedes waits and she doesn’t speak when I help her into the car and close the door behind her. I slide into the driver’s seat and lean over to kiss her. It’s a soft, gentle kiss. But it says everything she needs to know.
I’m hers.
“You ready?”
“Where are we going?”
“Somewhere special.”
The drive is about an hour and we don’t say a word. She sits, staring outward, her right hand in her lap, her left hand entwined with mine, resting against her thigh.
I can feel her skin through the thin fabric. And in the silence, I remember the last time I ran my finger along the length of that leg, fingertips dipping in the curve, digging into its suppleness.
Most of the drive is watching the car’s headlights illuminate a track barely a few feet ahead. We watch the road turn from city asphalt to country road. There are small mounds of melted snow along the sides, but mostly it is just dark.
She doesn’t ask me again where we are going, and I don’t tell her.
There’ve been too any words between us. Words leading to misunderstandings, miscommunications, hurt feelings. It’s better for now we leave them behind, I think.
We near the destination and the road begins to wind.
Even inside the car, the air seems different. Colder, yes, but fresher. There’s a trail of something that’s been draped in a vibrant seaweed, salty but not fishy. Like the first ever breath of life.
The car climbs higher and the steepness of the road pushes her back against her seat. Her head falls back and the moonlight, brightened by the fresh air somehow, bathes her skin with a luminescence that is so radiant I wish I could photograph it.
Winding, winding, winding.
The road becomes narrower as we climb. There’s nothing on either side. No trees to catch the car’s headlights, nothing to reflect the artificial light back on us, to give her a clue where we are.
And then out of nowhere, a gate. Just up ahead. I slow the car and drive up close. Press a button.
She doesn’t move, still watching straight ahead.
There’s a creak and metallic click. The gate opens and swings toward us. I wait for it to open completely before I drive up the cobblestone driveway, glancing in the rearview mirror, watching the gate close behind me.
There are trees now. Wild, unkempt, unkept trees. Branches swaying in the wind, rooted to the ground by their trunks, stopping them from fleeing to an adventure in the ferocious breeze. I park the car underneath one, its branches bare, reaching out into the night. With a turn of the switch, the car lights die, bathing us in a benevolent black.
We sit in silence again. This time little our eyes adjust to the dark. Slowly, the view forms in front of us. A short gray pebbled walkway leading up to a small cottage peeking out from behind the trees.
Pushing against the car door with my arm, I let myself out then jog to her side. I wait until she turns to smile at me through the window, then I pull her door open, helping her out. The wind whips her jacket open and she grabs the side and holds it tight around her body.
“Come.” I lead her, pressing gently on her back up the path. A soft light comes on as we near the front door.
I dig around in the orange terracotta pot next to the welcome mat and pull out a key. I slide it into the lock and turn it, pushing gently on the door and letting it swing open. The entire cottage lays open in front of us. No doors or walls, just furniture blocking the floor into different spaces.
A living area with two couches and a white sheepskin rug on the floor face the fireplace. A dining room table with eight chairs is set up in front of a large open kitchen. A four-poster bed is laid up against the far wall, facing a window that runs from ceiling to floor. Everything luxurious. Everything promising decadence, but function.