by Layne Harper
The last song was too upsetting, so I take a break. A shower is a good distraction from the pain I’m feeling—needing to be cleansed of the demons that haunt him. It’s hard listening to him talk about the pull of his vices, and what’s even harder is admitting that I’m one of them. I don’t know how not to be. It’s not possible for me to walk on eggshells and bend to his every whim to keep him from using. That’s not realistic, and I can’t live that way.
There’s a great old country song my mom used to play in the car. The lyrics are sung by a woman. She says to whiskey if she were a woman, she would fight her and win and remove her from his tangled mind for good. God, I can relate.
Reliving the night I found the cocaine chopped into fine lines on his bedside table, I turn the knob so only hot water pours over my chest. Subconsciously, I hope to burn away the memory and the power drugs hold over him. I want Aaron without his addiction—to be healthy, so Jude isn’t scared to death to lose another parent. So I can be bold and not wilt in his shadow for fear my actions will make him use.
When the hot turns to cold, I step out of the shower. Through the fog of condensation, I picture him sitting on my toilet, eating a bowl of cereal. It grossed me out at the time, but now, I’d give anything to have him here—sober and happy.
The first thing I do after putting on his T-shirt is to check my phone. No messages from the man I long for.
I settle back into bed wondering if I can listen to the final songs. When the album ends, so will my connection with Aaron. There’ll be nothing new anymore, and I’ll have to face the very real possibility he’s left my life for good. Sure. I can Google his pictures and videos, but I’ll be looking at Johnny Knite. I may never have my Aaron again.
With a glass of wine in hand and much trepidation, I hit play. Jazz notes fill my bedroom. It’s the fun jazz played on New Orleans street corners. There are horns and a sax. I love it. The lyrics are about a guy falling in love with the city. He sings about places I went after leaving my job. It mentions a girl dancing with a jazz band in Jackson Square. That’s me! He sings about eating soft shell crab and red beans and rice. It’s an ode to the city I love, and I smile the whole time while listening to it.
The following song is a thank you of sorts. It doesn’t quite make sense, and it’s one that I’ll have to listen to again. There’s a deeper meaning, and it nags at me like an itch I can’t scratch. After listening to it a couple more times, I decide it’s like making homemade bread—you can rush it, but it’s just going to be flat and dense. To fully appreciate it takes time.
One song left. Exhaling, I finish my glass of wine and snuggle against my pillows. It’s now completely dark in my bedroom. Once again, when I spend time with Aaron, it doesn’t play by the rules of physics.
I don’t want the album to end. For the past five hours, Aaron has been back in my life. Hearing the final song will give finality to us. I let the silence and the darkness bathe and support me until I finally feel brave enough to hit play.
It’s Aaron on the guitar, and I soon realize it’s the guitar performance I watched him record in his studio. Hearing it again makes me relive the anxiety of the moment. How angry he was when he smashed the glass. How wild I felt to get away from him, and then, with a swing of the pendulum, how his playing soothed me.
I reminisce about how soft his bed is and his white fluffy duvet, his shallow breathing, and how relaxed his face is in sleep. I want more. It’s not fair it should be over—that his soul is so tortured.
The song is acoustic, just as Aaron and Bobby discussed. His voice begins quietly singing about a girl he can’t get enough of. It’s intimate and rough. He sings about me seeing him naked on my bed, and the feeling of power he had when he knew I wanted him just as much as he wanted me. He tells a story about the beast stealing the prettiest girl away from Prince Charming at the ball knowing all along he could only give her the worst of him. He sings about feeling inadequate because the girl is too perfect, and he’s a broken fragment of his former self. When the guitar wails, tears slide down my cheeks.
Then it becomes clear. Our relationship was never the simple story of a girl falling for a rock star. It was just the opposite. It was the broken Peter Pan falling in love with Wendy, the perfect girl—at least in his eyes—and knowing he would never be good enough to hold on to her, trying everything he could to keep her.
Aaron’s marriage proposal.
Aaron tracking me on my phone.
It was all his way to hold on to what he thought he wasn’t worthy of.
The song plays again, and I listen closely, hearing a line I missed the first time. She wears her scars on the outside but mine are internal and oh so deep.
Sobbing overtakes my body, a purging of sorts. It’s his inadequacies put to music. I was his wings giving him flight, and I never realized it.
Grabbing my phone, I send him a reply to his MyPinkCaddy screen name. Now I understand. Your last song said what you couldn’t.
Staring at my computer, I will him to respond. Something. Anything. Just let me know that somewhere in the universe we are connecting.
I don’t have to wait long. Eagerly, I click on the message. There are no words just a jpeg file. Opening it, I see what I think is the album cover. On a white background, just Aaron’s Adam’s apple to below his ribs are visible. His arms are extended over his head, as if he’s surrendering. My shark tooth necklace rests close to his heart tattoo.
Then I notice it. It’s as clear as day. Breath catches in my throat, and tears threaten to cloud my vision. Swiping at my eyes, I clear them so I can focus on the image. On the fist that squeezes the anatomically correct heart is Jude’s name. The finger below features my name, MK, in a beautiful shade of bright pink. Gasping, I touch the computer screen, tracing the letters. My name is permanently tattooed on his chest. A smile travels from my lips to all over my body. For the first time since he stormed out of my life, I’m happy.
Maybe me ending our relationship over his drug use will be the catalyst for him to do the hard work and get better. I prayed for God to let me know if Aaron is not who I’m supposed to spend the rest of my life with. Maybe his drug use was a sign—a sign for me to force him to get better so we could have a future.
My eyes go to the bottom of the album cover. In the same font Cara used when she sketched on the napkin in the bar on Bourbon Street are the words alis volat propriis. I gasp. He used my mantra as the name of his album. Touching his heart, I thank him for the gift.
I don’t know what his intended meaning is, but just like all the stories I’ve concocted before, I make up one now . . .
The reports are true, and Aaron has sought treatment for his addictions. He wants to get better so we have a future together—so he’s not the beast giving the girl only the worst of himself while Prince Charming lurks in the shadows.
Aaron is still mine. He’s taking the time he needs to work on himself. For some reason, he can’t call to explain this so he shared his unreleased album and cover art as a message for me to stay strong . . . to wait for him until he can be the man I deserve.
This is the hope I cling to, but as I know all too well, so far, not a single one of my stories have been correct.
So now, I wait . . .
Dear Reader,
Thank you for stepping into MK and Aaron’s world. This is the first book in my new series ACE. I know how hard it is to wait for more of their story so I created MK’s website www.NoPinkCaddy.com. You’ll find pictures of the actual places in New Orleans that are featured in this book. I also share the recipes that MK prepares as well as some of my favorite Cajun inspired dishes. Oh! And did I mention there will be teasers for the next book? It’s true. As you witnessed in No Pink Caddy, MK has a difficult time staying off of social media. You can follow her here:
Twitter www.twitter.com/NoPinkCaddy
Facebook www.facebook.com/NoPinkCaddy
Instagram www.instagram.com/NoPinkCaddy
Pinterest www.p
interest.com/NoPinkCaddy
As always, I so appreciate your reviews and recommendations. Most of all, though, I love hearing from you. Email me at [email protected].
Until we meet again . . .
Muah,
Layne Harper
About Layne Harper
Layne Harper is the Amazon bestselling author of the Infinity series. Her first book, Falling Into Infinity, fulfilled her lifelong dream of bringing Charlie and Colin to life. The kid who grew up in a small town in Texas never dreamt that one day, people from six continents would read her words.
Layne is married to her college sweetheart. They have two young children who are so similar to their parents that it’s a bit eerie, one perfect dog, one dog who really is perfect, and a four-pound cat who runs the house.
When Layne isn’t driving carpool, scratching book ideas on the kids’ homework, or volunteering, she’s watching sports, rooting for the Texas A&M Aggies, or listening to music while imagining what the stars’ lives must be like.
No Pink Caddy is the first book in her new series, ACE.