by Emily Snow
Chapter Thirty-Five
Joss
As I ride in the back of a limousine, fast food restaurants and rundown strip malls flashing outside the windows, I can still see the expression on Mel’s face as she collapsed into the chair with Colin helping her. Her beautiful eyes looked at me like I’d torn her world in two. It occurs to me that my heart is still beating and I take breaths regularly as if on cue. I’m not sure how this is all working. I don’t feel anything. It’s like my whole body has gone numb, and in my head a refrain beats away. Find Walsh. Find Walsh. Find Walsh.
There will be no coming back from today, this I know. Mel and I are over, in a way so complete it’s almost as if we never existed together in the first place. The damage I have inflicted is so extensive it sickens me, yet there is an underlying relief. At last I have finally gotten what I deserve—pain, rejection, self-loathing so intense that I can’t imagine ever looking at myself in a mirror again—all of it washing over me, cleansing me, scouring me until I’m raw and bloody and punished as I should have been the instant it all happened.
These thoughts skitter through my mind, like pieces of gravel being tossed around by the tires of a car, but I force myself to focus on trying to do something right, something useful. And that something is saving Walsh from himself. Luckily Walsh used one of our hired cars and drivers to ferry him around, so I’ve had my driver talk to his and I’m on my way to him. In keeping with today’s theme of utter destruction, he’s at a bar.
We pull up in the parking lot of the place, and my heart races inside my chest at the thought of having to face Walsh, his words, his fists, his broken heart. But he’s here, with abundant quantities of alcohol, and I love him too much to take the easy way out.
Just before I get out of the car I look around. The bar is a honky-tonk surrounded by pickup trucks, and I realize I’m still wearing eyeliner. Lots of it. Fuck.
“Hey, man,” I ask the driver. “You have any Kleenex up there?”
He hands me a box and I set to work, trying to wipe as much of the shit off as I can. I never went through a punk or glam rock phase, so I don’t know much about eye makeup. I’m sure there’s some better way to get it off than spit and tissues, but for now this’ll have to do. I’ve already got a pretty good-sized welt on my face, so if some asshole hits me for wearing makeup, it doesn’t much matter. What’s one more for the road?
My phone’s been blowing up with texts from Colin, and another one comes through as I’m about to walk into the bar. I go ahead and text him the address I’m at, figuring if I can’t get through to Walsh, maybe he and Mike can when they get here.
I walk in and find myself in a cheap prefab building with a concrete floor covered in peanut shells and sticky beer. The place is decent-sized, and country music is blaring from the sound system. The clientele seem to wear one of two types of hats—hard hats or cowboy hats—and almost all of them look like they’ve spent most of the day working outside in the sun.
I stand near the door, scanning the interior as my eyes adjust to the low light. When my view reaches the far back corner of the room, I see him, sitting all alone, staring at a large mug of beer on the table in front of him. God, I hope I’m not too late. I approach cautiously, fearful that he’ll charge if he sees me coming.
When I get about six feet away, he looks up and says, “Took you long enough.”
I reach down and pull out a chair, sitting opposite him. “You were expecting me?”
He snorts. “You may have fucked my fiancée, but you’ve been my best friend most of my life. I know you better than you know yourself.” He pauses. “Besides, I figured Tammy would make you come.”
I nod, watching him as he slowly turns the mug of beer around in a small circle on the tabletop.
“You ever watched the condensation on a cold mug drip down the sides?” he asks. “I used to sit and watch that shit for hours when I was drinking. The way the droplets form out of nowhere then start off sliding down slowly until they reach some sort of critical mass or something and move faster. When they hit the tabletop, they spread in this really particular way, following the arc of the glass or the bottle. Then, because that water can’t work its way under the glass, it builds up all around in a ring.” He shrugs and then just sits and watches that mug.
Finally I break the silence. “I’m not sure what to say, man, but it’s not how it sounded.”
“Really? ‘Cause it sounded like you slept with my fiancée. The only woman I’ve ever loved. Hell, the only woman I’ve ever been with, as you well know. My girl since I was fourteen years old. That’s what it sounded like, Joss.” His voice is calm, but it’s the defeated kind of calm, not the peaceful kind.
I lean my elbows on the table, my head in my hands as I struggle to describe what the hell happened that night.
“That first time we came to see you in rehab—our first group therapy session?”
He nods.
“You were so different, man. I mean, in the span of a few months, you went from Walsh who partied a little too much to Walsh who was drunk off his ass constantly to Walsh who was killing himself with booze. Then we checked you in and that first day we saw you it was—shit, I don’t know—kind of like we’d lost you for good. You were angry and resentful, and there we were, thinking we’d done the right thing for you, but you hated it. You hated us.”
“Damn right I hated you. You’d taken away my crutch. I’d relied on that shit since I was a teenager. You’d be pissed if someone took away your one comfort too.”
“I know you had every right to be pissed, Walsh. I’m only saying that, for Tammy and me, it was hard to see. Hard to understand, and hard to watch.” I pause as he keeps slowly turning that mug of beer. I haven’t seen him take a drink from it yet, but for all I know he had another before I got here.
“After we left, Tammy was a mess. She cried all the way back to Portland. When we got to town, I was afraid to leave her at your house alone so I took her to my place.”
I see Walsh grip the mug now, his knuckles becoming white as he squeezes the life out of that poor glass.
I clear my throat. “It started off as me trying to comfort her. And it went from there. I wanted her to stop crying. It felt like my whole fucking world had been ripped to pieces. After my mom died, Walsh, you and Tammy were all I had. I know that’s probably my own fault. I shouldn’t have relied on you so much. But I did, and then you were gone, and Tammy was left. She was all I had, and I was the only one there to help her. I helped her the wrong way, I get that, but you have to know, it wasn’t premeditated. I hadn’t been lusting after Tammy. I didn’t set out to do it. It—just—happened.”
Walsh leans back in his seat, never taking his eyes, or his hands, off the beer.
“So this summer with Mel? What’s that been about?”
“That has nothing to do with Tammy.”
“Tammy must not have believed it or she wouldn’t have had the reaction she did. Or was she jealous? She still wants you and you picked her sister?” The bitterness in his voice rips a piece from my soul.
“No, dude. You’re the only guy she’s ever wanted. She never cared about me. Hell, she wouldn’t speak to me or look at me for weeks after it happened. Trust me, she’s not jealous. She hates me because of what happened and she didn’t want me to touch her little sister. She knew this would all come to pass sooner or later, and she didn’t want me to drag Mel into it.” I sigh and feel my heart pinch. I press my fist to it, trying to contain the pain before it radiates to the rest of my body. “And obviously her fears were right. I should have stayed the hell away from Mel.”
“You should have stayed away from both of them.”
“Yeah, you’re right.”
“So, why Mel?”
I know the answer instantly, but I pause before saying it. Maybe I’m trying to find some more elegant, complex way to express it, but it’s really so simple that there’s only one thing to say— “Because I love her. I can’t help it. I ju
st do.”
“Yep. That’s the way it works.”
He finally looks up at me. His face is blank as he lifts the beer to his nose and inhales deeply. Then he slowly pours it out on the floor beneath our table. He sets the mug back down firmly.
“And I love Tammy. I can’t help it yet, but I’m sure as hell going to try.” He stands up and reaches back into the corner behind the table. He pulls out his favorite old duffle bag and swings it over his shoulder. “I’ve got a flight to catch. My sponsor’s meeting me and we’re taking a little trip together. I’ll send you an address where you can forward any paperwork about the band. I’ll let you handle the press about the breakup. You were always better at that stuff. Spin it any way you want. I don’t give a damn.”
“Walsh,” I plead.
“See you around, Joss.” He gives me one last look and turns. As he leaves, I see my entire childhood leave with him—my home, my family, everything that I loved— all gone in one blinding moment as he walks from the dark, dank bar into the bright sunshine of the blazing California day beyond.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Mel
“Tammy?” I knock lightly on the door to her bedroom. “Mom dropped off some books and stuff for you.” I push the door open and watch her for a few moments. She’s sitting in an armchair, gazing out at the backyard. It’s a beautiful view.
As tacky as the inside of the house is, the property is lovely. It has a big garden full of all types of flowers, vines climbing trellises, and raspberry and blackberry bushes. There’s even a pond with koi and a waterfall. On sunny days, I make sure Tammy and I spend some time sitting by the pond, listening to the waterfall. It’s got to be therapeutic. I always feel better after I’ve listened to it.
I enter and say cheerfully, “I don’t know where Mom gets this crap, but she’s left you like six romance novels and a huge bottle of fish oil supplements along with…oh, an article on how the fish oil is supposed to cure everything in the world, plus make your hair really strong and shiny. She underlined that part of the article.”
Tammy finally turns to look at me. She’s having a rough day today. It’s only been a few weeks, and they’re saying the meds can take a while to kick in.
“Thanks,” she says dully. “Am I supposed to take the fish oil now?” This hollow replica of my sister does exactly what you tell her when you tell her, and will swallow any medication that’s shoved at her without argument.
“No, sweetie. I need to make sure it’s okay with your doc first.”
She nods and looks back out at the yard. I’m so thankful we’ve been able to stay here. I’m not sure Tammy would be able to make it outside of the hospital if she couldn’t be here in this house that she shared with Walsh. It’s the only thing she has left of him, and she clings to it like a lifeline.
I was sure that we’d have to move her once we came back from California, but lo and behold, two weeks after we returned, a deed arrived in the mail stating that Tammy was the new owner of the house, paid in full by one Walsh Clark. Tammy cried for days after that. I have to admit, when she couldn’t see me, I did too.
The second shock came when a huge check arrived. This was signed by Joss. The form letter with it came from Dave and stated that all the former employees of the band were being given severance packages because of the sudden breakup. The guys wanted to make sure their staff had time to find alternate employment. Tammy’s check was a hell of lot more than any normal severance package, and I suspect that Walsh told them to send his share of the band’s assets to her. The bottom line is, my sister never has to work another day in her life.
“Did you say Mom’s here?” Tammy asks suddenly.
“No, she just left this stuff for you.”
“Okay.” She sits for a minute, her brow furrowed. “Do you know where Walsh is?” she asks.
“No, Tammy. No one knows where he is.” She’s never asked this before, and it concerns me.
“Someone does. Joss does. I’m sure of it.”
“Tammy—”
“No.” She looks at me and suddenly her eyes are lucid. There’s a spark inside them that I haven’t seen in weeks. “It’s okay. I’m not losing it. But I need to know where he is. It’s time.”
I clear my throat. “Maybe we can talk about it with your therapist at the appointment tomorrow?”
“Sure,” she answers.
“Why don’t you try one of these books? It’d be good for you to read a little. I’m going to go start some dinner. Then maybe we can watch The Bachelor tonight. I want to see that trashy blond try to figure out how to shove her boobs in Damien’s face again.” I turn to leave the room.
“Mel?”
I turn back. “Yeah?”
“I know this shit with me has taken up everyone’s energy—Mom’s, Dad’s, but especially yours. Everything’s been about me for so long now, and I’m sorry. I know you lost someone you loved too, and you’ve never said a word. You’ve been the best damn sister anyone could ever ask for. If you get tired of this and need to go back to your life, I won’t blame you at all. I’ll be okay.”
I feel the tears burn behind my eyes. “No, Tammy,” I say, struggling to keep my voice from wavering. “I’ll always be here for you, no matter what. Don’t worry about me. I’m fine. We’re going to get you all better and then we’re both going to go on and have great lives. I promise.”
She looks at me directly and reaches to take my hands in hers. I see a tiny glimpse of the woman my sister used to be peeking out from beneath the flat veneer that’s coated her exterior for too long now.
“He loved you, Mel. He did. And what happened with him and me, it wasn’t love and it wasn’t his fault only. I was there too. The therapist says I need to start taking responsibility for what happened, and I agree. I was there. He didn’t force me, he didn’t seduce me. We both did it. But we didn’t love each other. Ever. He did love you. I could see it every time he looked at you. You might want to do something about that, you know?”
I pull away from her briskly, a phony smile plastered on my face. “Don’t worry about me, sweetie. You just work on getting better and then we’ll figure out what we want to do next. Together the DiLorenzo sisters can take on the world, right?”
Her return smile is sad. “Right.”
I walk out of the room, and make it halfway down the hall before I slide onto the floor and sob silently until it feels like my actual soul is empty.
Those first signs of the old Tammy get stronger and more frequent as time goes by. For several months now, I’ve been taking Tammy twice a week to therapy sessions. She’s been on an anti-depressant, and she’s getting stronger every day. This last weekend we even had a girls’ night out with some of her old friends from high school. Everyone’s heard an official story about the band’s breakup and luckily it doesn’t hint at Tammy’s involvement at all, so I don’t have to worry about her being grilled and having a setback.
It was a huge shock to the world at large when the news broke. I shielded Tammy from the announcement at first, but when she was stronger, I let her see the recordings of the press conference where Joss stood up in front of a room full of reporters and took the fall for the dissolution of an entertainment empire.
The official statement was printed in a special edition of Rock Steady magazine about the worst band breakups in rock and roll history, Lush’s being on the cover of course. I have Joss’s statement pinned to a bulletin board in my room at Tammy’s house:
Thanks for coming today. As a lot of you have already reported, Lush has cancelled the rest of our As Lush As It Gets tour. And yes, the band has broken up. I could give you all a bunch of PR spin, citing things like creative differences, or say we’re “taking a break,” but that would be bullshit. We’ve split, I don’t see that changing, and the reason is simple. I betrayed my best friends, and I’m not worthy of being in a band with them anymore.
Before you ask, no I won’t tell you what that betrayal consisted of, not to pro
tect myself but because it would hurt other people more than I already have. But I want the world to know that it was me—Walsh Clark, Mike Owens, and Colin Douglas are the finest band mates and friends a guy could ask for. And they’re incredibly talented musicians. The entire staff and family of Lush are exceptional, and I love them all deeply. I don’t know what the fuck’s going to happen to me now, but I know they’ll all continue to be involved with making great music because they’re too good not to.
With those words, Joss strolled out of the room, the media went nuts, and no one’s seen him or Walsh publicly since. Every night I read those words and try to picture him standing there saying them, but what I really see is the way he looked at me in Tammy’s hospital room as she screamed, and Walsh walked out. The look that told me everything I needed to know. We could never be together again.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Joss
My phone is buzzing next to the bed and I’m struggling to wake up and answer it. It stops and I slump back into the covers, but it starts up right away again. I finally lurch upright and grab it, punching “answer” without looking to see who it is.
“Yeah?”
“Joss, we need to talk.”
“I really hope this is good, Dave. It’s—fuck, it’s five thirty in the damn morning. That’s early for anyone, not just me.”
“Yeah, well I just picked up a message from Tammy that she left last night.”
“Shit. Is she okay? Is Mel okay?” My heart pumps at about double time.
“She didn’t mention Mel. What she did talk about was Walsh and where the hell he might be. She’s convinced, correctly of course, that you know where he is, and she wants the info.”