Free to Breathe

by K. Shandwick

  “No. This decision isn’t about what happened in court, Maggie. It’s what happened after that guy grabbed me by my balls. It’s about how those fuckers hounded you when your sister wasn’t even in the ground, it’s about my son being kept from me because they listened to a jilted pissed off woman who got pregnant as a way of forcing my hand. But most of all it’s because of the fear I felt about losing you when the story broke about Shona’s emails.”

  “What did Steve say? Why didn’t you tell me what you were thinking?”

  “Steve… I can’t repeat what he said because it was so fucking insulting it makes me want to choke him. You… I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d talk me around to a wait-and-see situation. I’m taking full responsibility for my life for the first time as an adult, Maggie. We get to make the decisions from now on, not those who are self-serving and want to make a buck out of what you wear, how we dress, what fucking furniture is in our homes, or which car we drive. You have no idea how far reaching this shit is, Maggie.”

  “You’re right, I have no idea, but that doesn’t mean you take decisions about our lives without even consulting with me.”

  “What are you saying? You’re no longer interested now that I’m quitting the band? You want to be married to a rock star is that it?”

  I slapped him hard across the face and his hand flew to his cheek.

  “Don’t be so fucking obtuse. How dare you talk to me like that. I’d support you no matter what you do, Noah.” I shouted, enraged he would throw such an insult at me. “I’m going to excuse what you just said to me because I know your emotions are running high, but I will remind you I hated Noah Haxby the rock star, remember? And like you said, I have no idea who he is because I have never known you personally during that phase of your life. Since I’ve been with you I’ve only met the band on what? Four or five occasions in passing, and I’ve never heard you sing live apart from with Molly. So, don’t you dare rant at me like I’m one of your groupie bitches you’ve been with in the past.”

  Eamon stopped the car and turned to address me. “Can you both stop shouting, I’m trying to concentrate here. And Maggie, if it’s any consolation he kept this so close to his chest I heard it for the first time when you did.” I heard how hurt Eamon was when he spoke.

  I stopped and saw the worry etched on Eamon’s face and realized the implications for him. “God. I’m sorry, Eamon, I thought you knew.”

  Noah huffed loudly, slid back in the car seat, and scrubbed his hand down his face like he’d realized how badly he’d fucked up.

  “Hmm. And you wonder why we’re pissed at you? We’re the two closest people who have your back the most in this world and you kept us in the dark about your intentions? Do we even know you at all?”

  “It was precisely because you both know me so well that I never said anything. I’m still going to be famous after I leave the band. We’ll still need protection every day. That shit doesn’t just disappear because I say so. If you’re happy to work with someone who’s not a high-profile artist, Eamon, then I would be honored if you’d stay with me. I’m sorry if you think I took you for granted. It never occurred to me you’d be anywhere else.”

  Eamon didn’t reply and turned to face the front, restarting the engine. Gripping the steering wheel, his fists tightened like he was holding back his thoughts as he began to drive again.

  “Look, I didn’t decide this on the fly. Long before I met you, I was tired of all the shit that went with the band, Maggie. I’ve been making noises for a while and it came as no real surprise to George. Between you and me, he’s relieved I had the balls to draw a line. He wants to do his own thing.”

  “So, he’s going solo?”

  “He wants to. He fits the rock star mold better than I do. Most rockers are highly charged alpha males who get off on cheating or dominating their women, taking me on and doing what they want, and they never apologize for the idiotic decisions they make. I’m not made that way. I’ve pretended to fit in for so long I almost forgot who I really am. You changed that. When I met you… something shifted and made me who I wanted to be… the real me, rather than who others wanted me to be.”

  My eyes softened, and I felt a sudden empathy for his situation. “What will you do?”

  “Write, collaborate, set up a recording studio… maybe even run an independent label or hold masterclasses… hell, there’s a lot of work for a guy like me.”

  A silence stretched between us and although I still wasn’t totally convinced he had made his life-changing decision for the right reasons, I kept my mouth shut.

  The rest of the journey felt slow because the atmosphere between the three of us was heavy after the exchange of words and I felt disgusted with myself for lashing out the way I had, and I acknowledged the possibility that my own emotional state was less than even as well at that time.

  Eamon was quiet but polite when he opened the car door after we arrived home. Noah slid out of the back seat and turned to help me step down. “I never got to say it earlier, Noah, I’m glad about your boy. I know more than anyone how badly it affected you when they said you couldn’t see him.”

  Dropping my hand Noah stepped forward and hugged Eamon, who stiffened then patted his back awkwardly like he wasn’t used to his affection.

  “I’m sorry if what I said today hurt you, Eamon. I’ve had it to the brim with those fuckers. I know I’ve probably hurt a lot of people by the decision I made today, but for my sanity and my family it had to be done. You more than anyone knows what they almost did. You were there and saw me at my worst. I guess unless you have been in the position of knowing you don’t care whether you live or die you may not understand how I feel. Thing is… I do know… and I never want to go back to that. Leaving the band is my way of ensuring I’ve done all I can to keep my life moving forward the way I want it to. When it was just me, I didn’t care what happened to me. Now it’s a case of caring what doesn’t.”

  Stepping back, Eamon broke the hug and looked slightly embarrassed by Noah’s show of affection. He scratched the back of his head and averted his gaze to the ground. “Thanks, it was just a curve ball I never saw coming, although if it’s all the same to you, I’ll stay.”

  “You have a job for life, buddy. No one has had my back the way you have. George… well you know how I love that guy, but he’s a different breed. He and Jason have watched me closely, but you’ve been the one who has pulled me off the floor, shoved me in the shower and dragged me to be wherever I had to be. That’s beyond your scope of responsibility and I’m thankful. There were many times when no one knew the extent of what I’d stooped to because you protected me by covering for me.”

  “Like you said, Noah. You were a good person that had a shit thing happen to them. I would never have let you sink.”

  “And for that reason, I’m eternally grateful. I’m glad you’re sticking with me.”

  Noah stepped in and gave him another hug and this time Eamon’s response was less stilted and much more genuine. “Thanks for keeping me around,” he muttered before breaking free again. Eamon turned and jogged up the stairs to avoid an awkward moment and opened the front door for us. As we entered the hallway, Molly came running with an excited look on her face. “Noah, Mom, you’re back,” she shouted with a beaming smile on her face.

  Chapter Thirty

  Noah

  When the moment came for me to tell Molly the news about the adoption I had wanted it to be as memorable as I could for her. It had been a long time coming to a kid as young as she was, and to be honest it had felt like a lifetime for me as well.

  When she ran toward me bursting with excitement for no other reason than we’d arrived home it had melted my heart to see her so happy. For a second I wasn’t sure I could say the words to her without choking up, but I knew I wouldn’t keep her waiting a moment longer.

  Taking a deep breath, I knelt down to embrace her and held her face in my hands. “Hello, cutie,” I whispered and kissed the end of h
er nose. I could hear the raw emotion in those two words. Molly looked back bashfully at me. “Yep, we’re home, and you know what? I have a little surprise for you, young lady.”

  Shaking her head slowly she stared wide-eyed, her excitement growing with my question. “What?” she asked.

  “Not what, who?” I replied.

  Molly looked confused, narrowed her eyes, and scrunched her nose. “I don’t know what you mean why are you trying to muddle me?”

  “The surprise is who not what,” I repeated.

  “You mean someone is the surprise not the something?” she asked with her hands on her hips.

  Her sassy attitude made me smile. She was chalk to Rudi’s cheese. Where she was bossy and organized, he was messy and passive. The would compliment each other perfectly, and I figured once Rudi found his feet with her they’d be great friends.

  “You know how you keep asking me when I am going to get to adopt you?”

  “Yeeeeeeeeah?” she said accentuating the word, tilting her head, and narrowing her eyes again.

  “Well… I guess it’s time you did what I asked you to… now that I’m your daddy,” I answered with a cheesy grin.

  Clasping her hands together she held them to her chest like she did when she was overwhelmed, and her eyes turned glassy. Turning to look at Maggie, she bubbled up and wailed. Through her tears she sobbed, "Is this true, Mommy?”

  Maggie had teared up as well and nodded frantically 'yes', too choked to speak. I leaned forward and scooped my sobbing little girl into my arms. The name she called me didn’t matter to me, but the sense of belonging I had from seeing her reaction almost did me in.

  Crying through hiccups she took a deep breath and asked, “Daddy? Can I call you my daddy forever now?” Her pleading eyes searched my face waiting for confirmation, and I thought my heart would burst out of my chest with the love I felt for her. “I’d be honored if you called me Daddy,” I replied, my voice husky with emotion.

  “Daddy,” she said again and cried harder as she wrapped her arms around my neck and wailed into the crook of it. I tried to soothe her by rubbing her back and she mumbled, “I asked Santa for a daddy when Mommy helped me write a note, but he gave me a bike instead. Maybe his elves were still making you then,” she reasoned.

  Maggie’s watery eyes softened, and she stepped forward and joined me next to her, “I guess they were because you know Santa, Molly, he wouldn’t give a child a dad unless he knew he was perfect.”

  I grinned at Maggie as Molly lifted her head and smiled sweetly then she looked adoringly into my eyes. “Yep, Mommy that’s right, and you’re a lot smarter than you look.” Both Maggie and I chuckled at Molly’s reply and Molly cupped my chin in her hands and kissed my nose.

  “Don’t worry, I know you’ve never been a daddy before, just like I am new to being a Daddy’s girl. I think we’ll be fine because if we get stuck we can always Google it.”

  Quitting the band wasn’t quite how I imagined it, and I was naïve to think they’d simply let me walk away. Instead there were contractual obligations to consider, and we were halfway through an album. I was leaving because I didn’t want to be a part of the attention Fr8Load attracted, not to leave my friends in the lurch.

  Therefore, I finished the album and a couple of other small but important events, then the band decided to fold. George supported my decision and although the others were more than a little pissed, I knew had it been the other way around they’d have done what was right for them too.

  Once I had left performing behind, my life became more than I ever imagined it could be. Being a father to three kids came to me like it was the most natural thing in the world. My home life with Maggie and the kids was sheltered and sedate in comparison to my time with Fr8Load and I relished in it.

  Initially, Maggie was worried I’d get bored after the lifestyle I’d previously led, but with each day that passed, with us spending it together with the kids, she became convinced I’d made the right choice.

  From the age of seventeen I’d been on the road with the band for most of my career and I had almost forgotten what it felt like to wake every day knowing exactly where I was. Between that and the shit Andrea put me through, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise when my mental health suffered.

  Being able to reflect on those times and how much happier I felt since I stayed home with my family helped me to heal. There hadn’t been one single time since I left the band that I had craved alcohol.

  During the months following my departure from the band, my confidence grew about living in peace and away from the public eye. That’s not to say there wasn’t the occasional mob of fans whenever I went anywhere. However, the fans and the followers of Fr8Load weren’t the issue for me; it was the press.

  It was nice to have the time to stop and chat about music with fans… something I rarely had when I was one of the band being shipped from one place to the next gig on the schedule. I felt relieved to have left all that behind, but I knew if I did nothing before long I’d procrastinate. Fortunately, my brother, Phil, didn’t allow the grass to grow under my feet.

  A few times in the past, Phil and I had spoken at length about building and designing a recording studio, and once he was sure I was never looking back, he pushed again about us going into business together. He was relentless in his pursuit to make it happen and I knew eventually I’d have to do something else with my life so once he’d twisted I agreed.

  A couple of weeks later life got busier as my brother began ordering mixing boards and acoustic glass panels and there were surveyors roaming around the west wing of the house. Next I knew, I’d filled in official papers that Phil had filed then Haxby NP Recording Studios was born.

  Several weeks of upheaval to our household resulted in a working studio and I had to admit Phil certainly knew his shit. The sound was pure, the equipment was sick, and as soon as George clapped eyes on the place he begged us to produce his first solo album.

  Obviously, I was honored he thought we up to producing someone of his caliber but I was a little apprehensive because at that point the most we’d done was mess around and produced a few tracks of mine. It was Phil’s confidence in his own ability that sold me on it and led us to produce George’s first solo album with George’s own money.

  Not that money was an issue for us. It was just that George had plenty, and we figured if he could pay it would leave more in the pot if we ever found a young start-up via the internet that we wanted to back.

  Besides the recording work to keep me busy, I continued to pen some of my own songs. I found the words flowed once the pressure was off. Some I kept for my own collection but others I wrote with artists in my mind. I surprised myself with some of the subject matter; however, I supposed that was what happened when my mind was clear of anything else to think about.

  “We’re number one, we’re number one,” Molly and Rudi screamed when they came bursting into the studio, closely followed by a smiling Maggie with George hanging on her hip. They had been to watch Rudi play in a little league tournament.

  Staring bright-eyed they were overflowing with excitement.

  Reaching forward, I grabbed Rudi around the waist and pulled him in for a hug. Molly, never one to be left out, immediately swooped forward, and made it a group one.

  “That’s fantastic, son. Go, Rudi. You’re a champion,” I shouted loudly, my voice full of enthusiasm and praise.

  “No, Daddy, not Rudi—the song,” Molly’s high-pitched voice yelled.

  I bunched my brow, puzzled at what they were talking about.

  “Free to Breathe, the song we wrote,” she replied impatiently. Molly changed a word and then felt that gave her royalty rights. Maggie named the song after a term we had both used when we’d weathered some heavy shit and came out the other side and it was perfectly fitting. Glancing up at Maggie I kind of knew what they meant, but waited for the full story from Maggie.

  “Almost a quarter of a million downloads since midnight,”
she said accentuating the number like she found it incredible… so did I. Everyone held their breath while I digested the news. Once Maggie’s words sunk in, I stared nervously at my kids smiling faces and prayed to God I hadn’t started another rollercoaster ride with the press.

  I’d forgotten the release date of Junior Sweetman’s country tune. Since I had left the band the one thing that hadn’t changed was losing track of events. I had been working between the studio and home and hardly ever knew what day it was, never mind the date.

  “Seriously?” I asked unblinking.

  “Yes! We heard about it in the car. Straight in at number one in the charts. The man on the radio said you were a genie. You’re such a clever cookie, well done,” Molly said, mimicking the same words Maggie said to her when she was good. I stared at the proud look she gave me, and Maggie drew breath.

  “A genius, Molly,” Maggie said correcting her and chuckled.

  My heart clenched with affection at my kids reveling in my success. George wriggled in Maggie’s arms, stretched his arms out toward me, and began to whine in a way no parent can ignore. Setting him down on the floor she turned him toward me and he ran over, hugged my knee, and grinned before I lifted him onto my lap.

  “Don’t you have anything else to say?” Maggie asked incredulously when my focus turned to George.

  “It’s a good song,” I mused, still concerned that it would bring attention to us as a family again.

  Maggie scoffed, “I’d say a quarter of a million downloads makes it more than a good song, honey. We need to celebrate. What do you say? Should I call the family together for a barbeque?”

  Before I could reply, Molly and Rudi were bouncing on their toes. “Barbeque!” they squealed in unison. “Can Lori Ann come, pleeease?” Molly whined with her hands clasped in prayer. If ever a child could spot an opportunity to use for her own benefit, she was the one. “Can James and Bruno?” Rudi asked, following her lead.