by Shari Ryan
“My last name is Hensen. We’re married. He’s Mr. H, and I’m Mrs. H. Right?”
“I suppose that’s true,” Jean agrees, followed by a soft hum.
“I don’t understand the purpose of this,” Mr. H says. He leans forward and presses the tips of his elbows into his thighs. “This is killing me. Okay? I understand this is directly impacting Dani. I do, but I’m right here, and I’m drowning.” Mr. H’s neck is turning red like it does when he’s angry. His blood-pressure sky rockets from time to time but it’s been under control for a while now.
“What you are feeling is normal, and I appreciate why you disagree with my theory, but the more Dani’s mind works to recollect her memories, the longer the strength will stay intact. Does that make sense?” I wonder if Mr. H finds Jean’s voice as soothing as I do. I wonder if he even likes her at all. He doesn’t seem to get his way in these appointments often, but then again, I am the broken one and sometimes the broken one gets more attention.
“Sure,” Mr. H says. “What happens if she forgets our daughter’s name too. How would I explain that to Alyson?”
“I’m right here,” I speak up to him. “You don’t have to talk about me like I’m not in this room.”
“She’s right. You’re right, Dani.”
“Just because a name is stuck in a pothole somewhere, doesn’t mean I will be gone tomorrow. I will remember. Just give me a minute,” I tell him. I know it’s been two days, but it’s here or in my head, somewhere. I know it. I just can’t say it out loud at the moment.
“Okay,” Mr. H says. “Did any new clinical trials come up this week?”
“No,” I snap. “No more.”
“Not this week,” Jean says, remaining calm, though Mr. H and I are about to brawl.
“Never,” I reply.
“Never say never, Dani. We all want you to get better. You know this,” she says.
How can I get better when no one knows how to fix me? Plus, we all know I won’t qualify. Getting my hopes up is worse than going through whatever cycle of brain cell killing pills they want me to try. “I don’t need an advocate. I’m still here and cognitive. People forget names all the time.”
“I’m your husband, Dani. My name is written in a tattoo on the back of your shoulder.”
* * *
I forgot about that too.
Five
Twelve Years Ago
I WAS 18 YEARS OLD
“Come on, we have to move,” Lexi yells over the crowd’s screams and cheers, demanding an encore from Dividing Oblivion.
“Where are we going?” I yell in response.
“The fans are going to want to rush the stage. We have backstage passes though, so now’s the time to move.” I’ve never had backstage passes before and I don’t know how they work, but I doubt we can go backstage whenever we want. However, we’re at The Sun Shack Theatre, so there may not be any real rules here. Plus, I’d rather take my chances at getting in backstage than being rushed by a bunch of crazy fans.
Lexi leads the way toward the fire exit, but takes a quick turn in through a side door. “How do you know your way around this place so well?”
“You don’t want to know,” she explains simply.
“You’re probably right.”
We pass through a short hallway made of grayish-white walls and torn up linoleum flooring. The ceilings have dark spots made of either mold or damage from the flames that originally wreaked havoc on this place. It’s clear the band hasn’t done a lot to revitalize the place from its destruction, but I suppose a hallway is not on the top of their priority list now. We push through a set of swinging doors and darkness fills the area with only a glowing light in the distance. “Just right over there,” Lexi says.
Now I’m wondering if we’re the only ones with backstage passes. The dark makes me uncomfortable and my eyes don’t adjust until we reach the next door which thankfully leads to a lit space, or so I assume by the glow beaming from beneath the door. Lexi keeps my hand within hers as promised, so I try to keep my breaths under control and move forward.
“Eek, ready?” Lexi, squeaks while knocking on the door.
“This feels weird,” I tell her.
“It’s finnne,” she says, elongating her statement. “We’re fine. Everything is just fine, Dani.”
Lexi doesn’t see the world the same way everyone else does, so what’s fine to her, sometimes makes me wonder who made her think whatever it is we’re doing is a good idea.
The door we’re standing in front of was opened by the guy I recognize as the drummer. “Hey, Johnny,” Lexi greets him with a flirty smile, batting her lashes to make sure he gets the hint.
“Ah, you two are the crazy girls with the backstage passes, huh?” he asks with a coy smile dancing across his lips.
“We are,” Lexi answers. “We’re your devoted Divi-O fans.”
We’re possibly the only devoted Divi-O’s since we’re back here alone, but I won’t complain.
“Well, come on in,” he opens the door a little wider and Lex pulls me into a smaller area filled with house furniture to make the space look like a hangout of sorts. It’s not horrible.
“Guys, these are the backstage passes,” Johnny, the drummer, says.
“Hey! What did you think?” Layne, the frontman, jogs over to us and gives Lexi a hug.
“You guys are insanely amazing,” Lexi responds. “Like, blew us away.”
“Oh yeah?” Layne asks, glancing over at me. Lexi is speaking on behalf of both of us, which gives me a free pass to avoid conversation and just take in the scene, but I feel I need to praise them too.
“You were seriously incredible. I can see why you won that battle.” I just made it sound like they were fighting a war by singing music, but if that’s the worst thing that comes out of my mouth tonight, we should all be so lucky.
“That means a lot, thank you,” Layne says, staring at me as if I look fascinating. Sometimes I feel like my past is tattooed on my forehead and everyone I meet already knows what path I’ve walked along.
Layne shakes his head to the side, shuffling the hair away from his eye. It’s weird that I want to touch his hair. It’s even weirder that he’s been talking to me and I haven’t heard a word he has said. “You okay?” When I refocus on his face, his lip is curled to the side, the side where he has the lip ring.
“I’m so sorry, I think my ears are still ringing a bit. What did you just say?” I ask him, trying to hide the fact that I was too busy gazing at him with imaginary hearts in my eyes.
“I asked how long you and Lexi have been friends?” He combs his fingers through the sides of his hair, pushing the strands away from his face, piercing emerald eyes. With dark brows and lashes, there’s an immediate pull to his alluring stare. He’s stunning and fascinating. He also asked me a question for the second time.
“Oh, um, we have been friends since we were babies, actually. Our moms were part of a parent group together, so we spent many days on the playground, kicking sand in each other’s faces. Then we became inseprable and kind of grew up like sisters.”
“That’s awesome,” he says with a soft chuckle while glancing over at Lexi, who is biting down on her bottom lip, while staring into Johnny’s eyes. How is it, some of us have the natural born instinct to flirt, while the rest of us have knees that threaten to collapse the moment anyone looks in our direction? It’s not fair. I have no game. Not that I need a game because there isn’t a game I could possibly win with my life trailing behind me like a ball and chain. I love Aly, but I could have given her a different kind of love five to ten years from now too. “Damn, I think Lexi has a thing for Johnny.”
“She does,” I tell Layne, ratting her out like an awful friend. I slap my hand over my mouth, “Crap, don’t repeat that, and I hope that doesn’t bother you ... like, I mean, if you have a thing for Lexi.” My foot can leave my mouth now.
Layne’s eyes narrow against his smile, his smile that reveals two perfectly locat
ed dimples by the corners of his lips. As the face of this band, he gives the fans a good reason to sit and watch them, but with the music I heard tonight, all the guys could be hideous and no one would care. It only helps that he’s gorgeous, and he’s probably turned many local women into rock fans. “I don’t think I have to inform Johnny that Lexi has a thing for him. It seems like he’s gotten the hint,” Layne says. I glance over my shoulder again and yup, Johnny got the hint. Their lips are locked and if steam could release from hot bodies, the smoke alarms would be going off. “And I’m okay with it because Lexi and I aren’t into each other like that.”
“Huh, did they already know each other?” I ask Layne. I thought I would know who Lexi has been spending her time with, but I’ve been a little preoccupied.
Layne shakes his head, looking past me, toward them. “Nope, I don’t think they’ve officially met before tonight.”
“Well, I guess when you have no fears, you do what the moment tells you do, right?” I say.
Once again, Layne seems fascinated by the simple little remark I’ve made, and I can’t understand what it is that is so enlightening about my nervous chatter. “It’s funny you say that about fears. I wrote this song about fears, and you totally just hit the nail on the head.”
I know the song. I know it very well. It spoke to me two years ago when I heard it the first time, and it spoke to me again tonight when I heard it. “I think I’ve heard it,” I tell him, trying to sound casual about my love for his music. In fact, the song we’re both talking about is the song that drew me in as a “Divi-O Groupie.”
“You had heard of it before tonight? We haven’t performed here in a couple years.”
“Yeah, I remember it,” I tell him, biting down on the tip of my thumb.
Layne seems frozen within his star-lit smile and unblinking stare. “It’s my favorite of all our songs, but we were following trends and, you know how it goes. Oddly enough, we’ve been talking to a record label about that song, but I am talking too much and shouldn’t have said that to you, so pretend I stopped talking like thirty seconds ago.” He laughs and covers his hand over his face, showing off pen scribbles across his fingers, weaving in and out of the several rings I saw flashing around while he was running back and forth across the stage with the microphone, pouring his heart out of his lungs.
“Your secret is safe with me,” I tell him. “Now we each have something to forget.”
“Thank you,” he says, tugging at a loose curl beside my ear.
I hold my breath when his hand comes near me, but it’s gone just as fast, hanging back down by his side.
Breathe.
“I think you got a little pen on your fingers there,” I point out, looking for a way to change the subject away from our leaked secrets. Seriously though ... a record label? That’s insane.
“Yeah, I’m a sloppy artist,” he says, admiring his smudged artwork. “I have these three or four lines of a couple songs that always seem to slip my mind so I write them on my hand, but then I end up sweating them off during the show. I think the actual method of writing the words down helps me remember though, so it became a habit.”
Okay so he’s not just drawing on his hand for the sake of looking badass, which is sweet. My heart is already flopping around in my chest like a fish out of water, but I have to toss it back because I can’t take part in this type of lifestyle. Of course, I can’t exactly go anywhere now either since Lexi is still playing tongue tag with the drummer.
“Dude,” the bassist yells over, pointing at Lexi and Johnny.
“That’s Sal, he’s our bassist and loudmouth—they go hand in hand, and that guy over there, the one screwing with his guitar, he’s Devin. Devin doesn’t usually sit down unless he’s taking something apart, so be prepared to see his guitar in pieces soon.” Sal and Devin look like opposites. Sal is a big guy, bald, and covered in tattoos, and Devin probably weighs the same amount I do, but is a foot taller with long blonde dreadlocks, and a bunch of facial piercings.
“You guys must have a fun time together,” I say, trying to think of something to say because I must have absolutely nothing in common with this guy, and if I do, I wouldn’t know what it is, but I bet it isn’t a baby.
“Yeah, we do, but it’s work, ya know? Whenever a passion becomes work, it can take on more stress than anticipated.” I think he’s nicely saying that they’re probably all on each other’s case while they find their way to fame, or at least I think that’s how it would be if everything suddenly went from fun to serious overnight.
“That makes sense.” I officially can’t hide my discomfort. My hands are in my back pockets and I’m rolling from heel to toe in my black Chucks.
“Sorry, you seem uneasy. Can I do something for you?” He reaches over and places his hand on my shoulder, attempting to make an endearing gesture.
For anyone else it is only a hand on a shoulder, but for me, it’s like fifty bees swarming me at once. I jump back, tripping myself to the ground.
“Shit, are you okay, Dani?” He remembered my name. I’m no one and he remembered my name after telling me he has trouble remembering his lyrics.
The cracked wooden floor bouncing beneath my fall broke up the ten-minute-long kiss between Lexi and Johnny, and she’s by my side faster than I’ve ever seen her move. I don’t want to remind her that she promised not to leave me, even to go across the room, but I would sound as ridiculous as I look.
“I’m so sorry,” she says. “I’m so sorry, Dani.”
I hate how remorseful Lexi sounds.
I hate how fragile I am.
I hate that I can’t flirt with this guy like I should be able to, and I hate that I can’t enjoy a simple human touch without feeling like I’m being stabbed.
I avoid looking past Lexi, scared to see the expression on Layne’s face, but I can’t stop my gaze for spotting him. His lips are closed, stretched into a thin line, and his eyes are wide as the bulge in his throat looks stuck. He doesn’t say anything out loud, but he holds his hands up with caution and takes a few steps toward me before leaning down to his knees. “Hey,” he whispers. “I didn’t know.”
He didn’t know what?
What could he have known?
I’m having a hard time breathing. It’s like there’s stale smoke flooding the air around me and suffocating my lungs. I shake my head, trying to figure out how to tell him he doesn’t know and won’t know, but I can’t talk. Lexi tries to help me up to my feet, and Layne reaches his hand toward me with caution, waiting for me to give him my hand if I choose. Without hesitation, I do because I want him to see I’m not some kind of freak that can’t be touched when asked, as opposed to be touched by surprise. He helps me up to my feet and I brush my hands against my pants as if I fell into a pile of dirt, but I’m trying to shake away my pain—the feelings associated with a man’s touch.
“She’ll be okay,” Lexi says. “It’s not you.”
“I know,” Layne says. He doesn’t know.
“You don’t know,” Lexi says, gently, but assertively.
“I do. I’ve seen that look on a friend’s face. I’m sorry, Dani.”
Now, I’m mortified for no good reason and I want to leave. “I’m sorry guys, we’re going to head out for the night. That was a hot show. You’ve really made it. Congrats,” Lexi says.
“Don’t leave,” Sal says, sounding uneasy. “Can we do anything to help?”
“It’s this girl’s eighteenth birthday, and I promised her cake, and if she doesn’t get cake, she gets weak, and she could pass out,” Lexi continues. I don’t know how the hell she just came up with such a ridiculous story, but it’s dumb enough to distract everyone from what happened. Plus, I do love cake.
“Wait, it’s your birthday?” Layne asks.
“It’s just a birthday,” I tell him, sounding like a swallowed a rusty nail.
“But, we all love cake, so birthdays are our favorite thing ...” he replies.
“Okay, that sounds
as lame as Lexi’s story,” I tell them, feeling laughter gurgle through my throat.
“Sage?” Layne asks Lexi.
“That was my plan,” she says, looking over at me to confirm what I would like to do. “Do you still want to go to Sage, Dani?”
“I want cake.” Sage is the best bakery in the area. “You guys should come if you want cake too.” That just sounded super uninviting, or like my mom just told me I had to invite everyone or no one to a party.
“We want cake,” Layne says on everyone’s behalf. “We’ll meet you there in like a half an hour or so, okay?”
“We’ll see you then,” Lexi says, pulling me back toward the dark area behind the door.
We don’t speak until we reach the dim hallway and the noise from the general area grows to a low humming roar. “Oh no, are you okay? I am so so sorry. What happened?”
“I’m fine,” I tell her.
“Did he touch you?”
“He just placed his hand on my shoulder. It’s not a big deal.” It’s a big deal, and she knows it’s a big deal.
Lexi squeezes my hand then wraps her arm around my neck. “I’m sorry,” she says again.
“Please stop apologizing. You’re feeding it ...”
“I know, I just—argh,” she groans.
“So, Johnny looked like a nice kisser,” I say, glancing at Lexi out of the corner of my eye.
“Oh my golf balls, Dani, that kiss was like the first second a tart candy touches the tip of your tongue. You know when your eyes roll back into your head just before everything becomes numb and delicious.”
“What kind of tart candy are you eating?” I ask.
“The real sugary-sweet kind,” she says with a mischievous grin. “Now, I realize things didn’t go smoothly, but you can’t deny the sparks between you and Layne. I could sense those vibes a mile away.”
“Hmm,” I hum. “Maybe his kisses taste like tart candy too.”
Six