by Lauren Runow
“Everything okay?” John asks as he places his hand on my shoulder.
I turn to get him off of me. “It’s nothing. Is everyone else coming?”
I’ve known John my whole life and he moved to Mason Creek shortly after I did. He’s only seen me like this a few times, and those times, he knew not to push me, so I’m hoping he does the same now.
He mumbles something under his breath as he walks away from me to set up himself.
As Timmy and Donny arrive, John is quick to motion that I’m not in the mood. He’s right. I’m not in the mood, and whoever gets in my way might regret it.
“You guys ready?” I ask once everyone is set up.
“Yep, let’s do this.” John smacks his drumsticks together, and we all begin the first song in our set.
As I play, every idea she put in my head slips out of my mind. The music becomes my doctor and my therapy to calm my frustration. After we make it through the first song, my adrenaline is flowing, and I’m feeling alive again.
On the third song, I trip up on a chord but skip right over it, hoping no one noticed. By the third time I mess up, I stop completely, not able to hold the strings down with the way my hand is trembling suddenly.
They all stop playing but stay silent, giving me my time to work through whatever is going on in my head. The problem is, I don’t know what’s going on. I’ve ignored it, fought the idea that something is wrong. That’s why I got so mad when Justine mentioned it. I felt if I ignored it, nothing was wrong. Hearing someone else say they’d noticed what I’d been dealing with was a punch in the gut. And one I didn’t want to take.
I clench my hand over and over again before removing my guitar from my neck and walking away from the guys, leaving the location completely. I know it’s fucked up and childish, the way I’m acting, but what am I supposed to say? Sorry, guys, I can’t grip my guitar strings. And, oh yeah, I’m also having all these other crazy things happening that I don’t understand, and I just can’t hide it anymore.
“Fuck,” I scream and hit the steering wheel, knowing that even though I’m driving away from them, I can’t drive away from my problems.
My job. My music.
How can I make love to Justine if my hands are fucked up and my legs quake with spasms that have been coming and going for awhile but only getting worse?
I got mad at her because I knew what she was saying was right. Last night, as I made love to her, I kept seeing double. As much as I loved the sight of her underneath me, I knew something was wrong.
Blasting the radio, I try to forget everything that’s going on, but every song that plays does nothing to calm the rage, fear, frustration, and mostly, the unknown, in my head, so I turn it off completely and see if quiet will do the job.
As I drive toward the lake, I think about what’s been going on. It started as just little twinges I felt here and there, but I’d be lying to myself if I said it hasn’t gotten worse. It’s not just more frequent; it’s been in more places and even painful at times.
I know trying to ignore it isn’t the answer, but sometimes, when you know what’s wrong, it’s like your head plays tricks on you and makes everything seem worse. Mind over matter has worked for this long, and goddamn it, I was going to make it work forever.
I know Justine came to me with her research because she cares, but this is exactly what I was afraid of. You let someone in, and they pick you apart, good and bad. I’m around Beau at work and the guys in the band all the time. None of them have said shit even though I know they’ve noticed something’s up.
Yes, I’m being stubborn, not wanting to face what’s happening, but that’s my prerogative. It’s my life.
After I pull up to the lake, I kill the engine and head to the houseboat. Thankfully, no one’s really around, so I’m able to walk in peace and not have to pretend to be nice to anyone as they pass by.
Once on the boat, I grab a beer and sit on my back deck with a huff. With my head tilted back, I stare at the night sky that’s just starting to appear with the setting sun.
I open and close my hand that’s not holding the bottle, feeling the sensations run down my arm like pins and needles.
With a huff, I close my eyes, not wanting to come to terms with what’s happening.
Not yet anyway.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Justine
I couldn’t sleep last night. I texted Tucker once, but he never responded. Now, it’s almost two in the afternoon, and I still haven’t heard from him.
Out of all the days this could happen, of course it had to happen when I have my scheduled call with Adam and Sarah. When we set this date on the calendar, I was over-the-moon excited, and now, I know I’m going to have a hard time focusing. This is a big opportunity though, so I need to not think about why he’s not calling me back.
With both of my parents home, I decide my mom’s car is the best place for me to do the interview. I know it’s crazy, but there’s a reason you see all of those videos people post from their cars. It’s quiet and comfortable. What more could you ask for? Especially since I can hook my phone up to her stereo, so I have both hands free to take notes.
Once I’m settled in, I take a deep breath and pick up the phone to call Adam.
After a few rings, he answers, “Hello?”
“Hi, Adam. It’s Justine from Living Now.”
“Hey. Yeah, I have you on speaker.”
“Hello, Justine,” I hear a female voice say.
“Hi, Sarah. Thank you for taking the time to talk to me.”
“And I’m here too!” a little girl says.
I hear them both laugh.
“Do I get to speak with Cailin as well?” I ask.
“I hope that’s okay. We normally don’t have her on calls like this, but we thought since you knew Tucker, it would be fine,” Adam replies.
“Of course. Cailin, I’m honored to be your first interviewer.”
“She’s super excited,” Sarah says.
We spend the next hour talking about everything from how they met to where they are now. The fact that Adam—the lead singer of the biggest rock band around, called Devil’s Breed—was able to keep that he had a five-year-old daughter from the world is still a shock to me. Add in Sarah’s past with the music scene in New York and how they met only because she was Cailin’s kindergarten teacher, and I know this is going to be a long, in-depth story that I can’t wait to write and share with the world.
Learning everything about Linda and how much of a difference she made in Adam’s life just makes me love Tucker more. He obviously came from a great family, and I can hear a lot of Tucker in the way Adam describes Linda.
Once I feel I have the whole story, I close my notebook, even more excited about this piece than I was before. “I really can’t thank you guys enough for taking the time to talk with me today.”
“No problem. My management kept telling me we needed to do a big interview to set the record straight on everything, so this was the perfect time,” Adam says. “Tell me, how’s Tucker’s playing going? Is he still only singing those ’90s cover songs?” he asks, his voice giving away a hint that it’s something he must tease him about.
“Sure is. I was introduced to him as somewhat of a local legend around here.”
He laughs, and it makes me smile as well. “Tucker Simms. A local legend. Well, look at him. You know, he’s one of the reasons Linda gave me that first guitar. Thank God she was more into rock than country,” he says, inflecting his voice to make a point.
Imagining someone like Adam Jacobson potentially becoming a country singer versus the hard-core rock star he is makes me giggle to myself.
“Have you guys ever played together?” I ask, trying to envision the two of them side by side, Tucker with his acoustic and Adam with his signature black guitar slung low on his body.
“Yeah, we’ve jammed a few times when he’s come out here to visit.”
Out of all the symptoms I looked up that he�
�d complained about, gripping things is his number one issue, which makes me wonder. “Hey, do you ever have issues gripping the strings and holding the notes?” I ask, hoping maybe I’m totally wrong and reading into things too much with Tucker.
Maybe this is normal for guitar players, as I can imagine that holding up the guitar and pressing down fingers while you grip the neck of the guitar can be wearing on your hands.
“No. Not really. Why? Is Tucker still having problems doing so?”
Shit. There I go, opening my big mouth. But wait. He said still …
“You’ve seen him have that issue?”
“Yeah, last year, when he came to visit. He blew it off as carpel tunnel or something. Did he ever get that checked out?”
I sigh, not sure what to say. I don’t want to get in his business any more than I am already, but hearing this issue was going on a year ago makes me worry even more. From everything Adam told me about Linda in his interview, I know they are not like some families, where they are only family by blood, not by the true meaning of the word.
Tucker is Linda’s brother, and this is what family is for. To support you in any time of need. Or to smack you across the head to get you to think straight, which might be more likely in this situation.
“What’s going on with him?” Adam asks when I don’t respond.
I take a deep breath and decide to tell him, praying I’m not doing something I shouldn’t. “I hope I’m not overstepping my boundaries, and who knows? I might be off my rocker and wrong on my thoughts, but I just …” I bite my lip and close my eyes. “I think Tucker needs to go to the doctor for some symptoms he’s been having, but when I brought it up to him last night, he got pretty mad, and to be honest, he hasn’t spoken to me since.”
“What other symptoms are we talking about?”
“There are a few different things. He’s had trouble gripping things and even walking at one point, tripping over seemingly nothing. When I researched all of them together, they led to the same diagnosis. Multiple sclerosis. I could be totally wrong, but I just think he needs to get it checked out to make sure.”
“Oh man,” Adam says in disbelief.
“Are his symptoms severe or just mild?” Sarah asks, surprising me since I completely forgot she was on the line, which makes me feel even worse.
I know I shouldn’t be spreading his problems, but I’m worried.
“They’re not too intense, but that’s the thing. I’m just afraid if it goes untreated, it will become more of a problem. When I mentioned going to see someone about it, he made it pretty clear that he had no intention of doing so.”
Adam lets out a small laugh. “That sounds like Tucker all right. Linda used to say there was no one as stubborn as her younger brother, so I could be all the pain in the ass I needed to be because she was used to it.”
I smile in relief. “Yep.” There’s a pause between us all, and then I continue, “I’m not sure if I should have said something. It’s just … I know if it were my family who didn’t live near me, they would want to know.”
“I’m glad you told us. It actually means a lot. It’s nice to know he has someone looking after him. I know after everything that happened with his ex-wife, he became kind of a recluse on a personal level. I’m glad to see he’s letting you in. Well, as much as Tucker lets anyone in. I’ll talk to Linda and see what she thinks.”
“Thank you, Adam. And thank you too, Sarah. And, Cailin, I didn’t forget about you either.”
“I’m still here,” Cailin shouts out, but I can tell she’s a little farther away from the phone now.
“Thank you, Justine, for wanting to cover our story. It’s nice, knowing the personal connection when you’re doing things like this, as you never know what the writer’s full intentions are or how they’re going to twist what is said. It was refreshing, not having to worry about that,” Adam says.
“I promise I would never do anything like that. I’m honored to cover you guys. I think it’s an amazing story, and I want the world to know.”
“We appreciate it,” Sarah says.
We say our good-byes, and I hang up, hoping I didn’t just lose Tucker completely. I guess only time will tell.
I pick up my phone, deciding to text him.
I’d love to talk if you’re ready.
He doesn’t text or call back.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Tucker
I left my phone in my truck today. I didn’t know what was worse—being pissed off at Justine or wanting to call her. It felt like a never-ending cycle of being mad at myself and then at her and then at myself. And of course, my damn legs had been in so much pain that I tossed and turned all night.
What if she’s right?
What if I do have something wrong with me?
I shake off the notion and get back to work, focusing on gripping the wrench and putting mind over matter.
After work, I head out to my truck, and even though I keep telling myself I don’t care, the first thing I do is pick up my phone and see what I missed for the day. I scroll through the notifications from the guys in the band, checking in on me, and my sister calling until I see that Justine texted me again.
Seeing her name does ease the pain I’ve had all day, but I’m not sure if that is a good thing or a bad thing. I shouldn’t want her meddling in my life. I don’t need a woman to take care of me.
I laugh to myself as I see the notifications from Linda both calling and texting all day long. I guess I’ve always had a woman looking after me with my older sister since our parents passed away.
Not having really made up my mind about Justine, I pick up the phone and call Linda, putting it on speakerphone as I start the engine.
She answers right away. “There you are!”
I laugh. “Yes, sis, I’m here. I’m not in trouble, am I? I promise I wasn’t doing anything wrong.”
“Ha-ha,” she deadpans. “I’ve been trying to reach you all day.”
“I’ve been at work. I promise I wasn’t avoiding your calls. My phone was in the car.”
She takes in a breath, and I know her too well. She’s about to scold me about something.
“Give it to me. What’s wrong?”
“Adam called me today about something. I’m worried about you, Tucker. Tell me what’s going on.”
“What’s going—” I stop mid-sentence.
Justine has Adam’s number. Did she call him? I think long and hard on how I feel about this. I can’t believe she would say something to him.
“I know what you’re thinking, and you can’t be mad at her.”
“Oh, I can’t?” Because I am.
“No, you can’t. She only told Adam because she cares. And Adam said he noticed it last year, but you blew it off, saying it was carpel tunnel.”
“There’s nothing wrong with me,” I state firmly.
“Of course you think that because you’re stubborn to all high hell. But tell me, are you having trouble gripping things or problems with your eyes?”
I close my eyes and finally admit out loud, “Yes.”
“Then, why won’t you go to the doctor? Multiple sclerosis is treatable.”
Multiple sclerosis …
The thought hits me like a wrecking ball but I try to keep my strong façade in place.
I try to think of what to say. I know because I don’t want to won’t fly with her.
Do I have a better reason?
“Tucker,” she sighs. “It’s just going to the doctor to be sure. What’s the harm in that?”
“Because.” What if Justine’s right and I do have it?
Yes, I’ve felt this stuff before, but it’s always gone away. I just figure I have pinched nerves or it’s just part of getting old. I was raised that you don’t go to the doctor unless you’re bleeding out or you broke a bone. Explaining I have these symptoms that don’t really stop me in my day-to-day life just makes me feel like a whiner.
And I’m no whiner.
/> “If she’s right, then you should be thanking her for pointing it out. I’ve been researching it all day long. It’s not a death sentence. There are treatments, and you’ll still be able to do all the things you already do. If you don’t start getting treatment though, then it could turn into something. That’s why it’s important to get it checked out.”
I nod even though I know she can’t see me.
“I think I’m going to book a flight out to see you.”
I scoff, “That’s not necessary.”
“I don’t mind. I don’t think you should do this alone. I know you have Matthew, but this is a heavy topic to drop on him. You should wait until you have more details before you get him involved. I looked into flights. I can come out—”
“Really, Linda, you don’t have to. I have …” I trail off. Yes, I was about to say Justine, and I didn’t even think twice about it.
“Yes, you have Justine. She obviously cares about you if she told us what was going on. And let me guess … you’re pushing her away now, aren’t you?”
“I’ve been busy.”
“Bullshit. Give her a call. If you don’t work things out with her, then I will be on the next flight out there to take you to the doctor myself.”
I laugh because I know she will really do it. “Okay, Linda. Don’t worry. I’ll make an appointment. Just for you.”
“No, Tucker. For you.”
“I love you, sis.”
“Love you too, bro. Even when you are a stubborn ass.”
We both say our good-byes as I rest my head against the back of my seat. I’ve never been good at groveling, but I guess I’m about to try.
After putting the truck in drive, I head straight to Justine’s parents’ place.
I don’t take the easy way out by texting her. Instead, I walk up to the door and knock. Then, I step back, not even sure if she’s home.
Her dad opens the door, and I want to chuckle to myself at how I feel like I’m sixteen again and facing my girlfriend’s father.