Dream Me Off My Feet (Sex, Love, And Rock & Roll)

by Kisner, Stevie

  He poked his head into the master bedroom and saw that Kori’s eyes were closed. “You awake?” She opened her eyes and nodded..

  “I’m gonna take a shower and I needed something from my carryon. I’ll just grab it and let you be.” She nodded and closed her eyes again.

  Wondering why he hadn’t thought of the bathroom excuse sooner, JT closed the door and sat on the lid of the toilet as he fished out the envelope from the inside pocket of the bag. Staring at it for a long moment, he remembered Mark telling him he should read it himself before giving it to Kori. The knowing didn’t stop his feeling like an intruder, but guessing her reaction would be easier if he knew what it said. The flap of the envelope was tucked inside and unsealed, so she’d never suspect he’d seen it first. JT pulled out the folded pages and began to read.

  My heart,

  How do I say the two things I never thought I’d be telling you?

  First by chickening out and not telling you until I’m already gone and you can’t argue. Then I guess by once again applying your advice from so long ago, to just open up and say them.

  Goodbye, that’s hard enough on its own. I hope we had enough time to say that properly before I left this earth and your courageous arms. God, Kori, I never wanted to put you through the hell that this must surely have been, but what I wanted and what I got are two very different things, aren’t they? Or maybe not so much. I wanted you, I got you, I just didn’t get to stay with you. But love lives in the soul, sweetheart, and you’ll always have mine.

  Do not feel guilty. There is nothing you could have done to stop this. We both knew the medications I was taking could wind up killing me, that’s why I had the scans every year. And if I hadn’t taken the drugs, the pain would have made me take my life to escape from it. Staying with you and Zack was worth the risk. The decision was a total no-brainer for me.

  I wanted to grow old with you, watch you pluck out the gray hairs that sprouted until there were so many that plucking would leave you bald. I wanted to watch your smile wrinkles bloom and hope that I was responsible for at least some of them. I wanted to hold our newborn grandchildren and watch them grow. I wanted to pay off our damn house and buy you a new car. I wanted to sit and hold your hand in our twilight years and watch the sun set every night. I wanted to hold you every night as you went to sleep and then hold you all night long. Even if it hurt my old bones.

  Please don’t miss me too much.

  Which brings me to the second thing.

  JT.

  I’m not sure that his lifestyle and career are the right thing for you, but I do know he’s the right man for you. Don’t put down this piece of paper and start to argue with the air; you know I’m right.

  You’d talked about your dreamtime vacations in someone else’s head for years, and after seeing the two of you together these last few months, I am certain his is the head you’ve been traveling to. The two of you have a connection that I couldn’t ever hope to have. Believe in that. Don’t let what you hear and read in the media mislead you. Don’t let what you see with your eyes lead you to wrong conclusions. Believe in him. I’ve gotten to know him and find, much to my surprise, that he’s a regular guy with a good heart and that I actually LIKE him. He’ll be good to our son. He’s caring, he’s kind, he’s honest, and he loves you like I could only have ever wished to.

  It’s not usually a dying man’s option to choose his successor, but if I could, I’d choose JT for you. You fit. Let him be there for you, and be there for him. I had my love of a lifetime; now you can have yours. I know I wasn’t yours, even if we once both believed it. This past autumn showed me the truth. Yours has been waiting out there with an open-wide mind for you to flit into and out of. Flit in and stay.

  Please do not have guilt. You have my blessing, for what it’s worth.

  I will always love you.

  Until our souls meet again,

  Mark

  P.S. I’m going to ask JT to read this before he gives it to you. Don’t be mad at him if he did.

  JT swiped under his eyes as he folded the letter and tucked it back into the envelope, then returned it to the pocket of his bag where it had spent the last few weeks. Well. True, his death was not unexpected. And yes, we’ve received his blessing. Hell, it was practically an engraved invitation. But how do I get her un-numb enough to read this and have it make sense? Or maybe giving it to her will bring her out of it? Nah, knowing her the way I do, it’ll make it worse if she’s not ready.

  Feeling only slightly more hopeful, he reached into the shower stall and turned the hot water on.

  ****

  Unlike his mother, Zach had been mostly his normal self, although he did have his bouts of being quiet and subdued. Not morose, though, and he didn’t seem, really, to be grieving. Having that last ethereal conversation with his dad made dealing with his being gone much easier to incorporate into his life. So it was with acceptance and a touch of excitement that he approached packing for an extended stay in England.

  Thanks to JT typing a letter and getting his mom to sign it, he was on an extended leave from school and would be studying his lessons the same way he had while Slanker Knox was on tour. As he filled a duffle bag with his textbooks, he hoped his mom would be helping him the way she had then. When he stepped up his vision, he saw her colors were so dim, and all the red was gone. They so close around her, just an outline instead of her usual wide glow. He hoped the trip helped, or that JT could do something, because he was out of ideas.

  He looked around, trying to see if there was anything else he might want to have along for comfort. He didn’t know how long they’d be gone, but he thought it might be at least a month, and this time Steven wouldn’t be there to hang out with. He wondered if there were any boys his age in JT’s neighborhood. And then if he even had a neighborhood. Zach packed all of his video games, to be safe, then went to find JT to get Josie Bear down from his high shelf. Just in case he had trouble falling asleep.

  ****

  Guilt may have bound up her tongue, but despite her brooding, Kori took to packing with something close to gusto. She hadn’t put up a fight when JT told her they were leaving (he rather hoped she would, because that would mean she was talking). She wasn’t cheerful by any measure, but she did seem to at least be interested in what she was bringing. Clothes, mostly. The urn of Mark’s ashes nestled within the padding of her wardrobe. A photo album and her big digital camera, plus the little digi for quick shots. I am, after all, still getting that weekly direct deposit and ought to be doing something to earn it. Maybe some shots of JT’s home studio. Or the stack of trunks and suitcases that have already shipped and would be waiting in the garage for JT to unpack when he got home. Just to show the fans that touring isn’t easy. The fans get the shows, the band gets the work and the traveling. The living out of whatever’s portable and fits in the belly of the busses. They’ll never know the inconvenience of finding that you’d accidentally packed something you use all the time into an under-bus trunk instead of in your little personal in-the-bus bag. It’s not like the driver will just pull over and help you unload the entire undercarriage to fish out the paperback you carelessly tossed into your big suitcase.

  Kori did a short tour of the house, checking for anything else she might need that she couldn’t pick up in Yorkshire. All she saw were personal items that she didn’t need to bring. She’d be coming back home soon enough.

  JT had already run the keys to Miriam down the street so she could pick up the mail and water the plants while they were gone. Same arrangement as before. Except that nothing was the same at all, was it?

  Stop. It. Right. Now.

  Kori tried to muster the energy to give herself a swift kick in the mental ass, but in the end just slumped her shoulders and sighed. It’s not like Mark dying was at all unexpected. Or sudden. But I can’t stand that it feels unfinished. We got no closure. Christ, my last words to him were, “We’ll see you there soon, honey. Just hang on for me.” I didn’t
even say I loved him, and he didn’t say it to me, either. Because I wasn’t ready to act like that could be our last conversation, even though I knew damn well that it might be. Stupid, stubborn me.

  ****

  JT and Zach talked and watched the land whiz by through the window on the flight to New York City. Kori reclined her seat and closed her eyes.

  There was a two hour layover before their plane left for Leeds, so JT steered them to his favorite restaurant in Kennedy International. He was going to make Kori eat if he had to force-feed her. Kori actually spoke to the waiter to place her order, but lapsed into silence again once he’d left. And while she did order just a soup and sandwich plate, JT was satisfied to see that she ate nearly all of it.

  The flight to Leeds was nearly seven hours long. There wasn’t any window watching for Zach and JT this time. Miles of endless overnight ocean was not very interesting, and JT was secretly a little anxious every time he made this trip and looking out the window to see nothing but water made it worse. He read, he dozed, he got up and stretched his legs. So did Zach. Except for two trips to the tiny little bathroom at the front of first class, Kori sat back in her seat with her eyes closed. He wasn’t sure if she was napping, but he hoped she was. Uncomfortable sleep sitting upright on a plane was better than no sleep at all.

  Kori drifted in and out of slumber when her thoughts would let her. Would Mark still be alive if I hadn’t taken this job? Did the traveling shorten what time he had left? Would the accident with the ambulance still have happened if I’d told JT to find another photographer because I couldn’t leave home? And where would I be if I’d declined the job and his time was still the same? Alone, widowed, and working for crap wages with no hope for better. Should I be taking this trip? What if JT isn’t the same person when he’s home as he’s been with me these last few months? Oh, now that’s stupid, Kori. He’s the same person you’ve been eavesbraining on for decades. If you’re going to doubt anything, don’t doubt that. His thoughts are as well-worn and comfortable to you as your own.

  Still, if I had refused to work with the band, would I have had the chance to talk to Mark one more time? Could I have had the opportunity to say goodbye? If nothing was different except that I’d called for an ambulance just a few minutes earlier, would he have arrived to the hospital in one piece and had the chance to tell me goodbye, that he loved me, what he hoped for my life? Did we hide our relationship well, JT and I, or did he know and chose to wait to say something to me until near his end, but that opportunity was ripped away? God! I just need to know. And the only person who could answer at least some of these questions can’t answer anything anymore.

  Kori felt the subtle probing at the fringes of her mind, glad that grief had erected a wall around the contents of her head. You’re welcome to stay outside for a while yet, thank you very much. I don’t particularly like what’s running around in here right now, and I will not endure the opportunity to try to explain it all to you. Which is why I’m not inviting conversations, either, and won’t participate in them. What you can’t drill through my skull to get, you’ll try to get to come out my mouth. Uh-uh, not until I have a little peace between my ears first.

  ****

  Normally upon returning home from America, JT had a regular sedan and driver sent to pick him up. He was more often alone than not when he came home and he only flew with his tourbus bag or carryon, having sent the bulk of his belongings by freight courier. For this ride home, he’d arranged for a full-on limousine. It meant that they had to drive a bit slower, but at least everybody’s everything fit.

  As they drove, JT wondered how Kori would react to seeing his house. He was as private a person as being famous would allow, and the precise location of his house was something he held dear, as was how the house looked. And its size. He was not a big fan of mansions, but after paying huge sums for studio time and for a place to stay when the Knox all converged to record, it seemed stupid to keep doing it. So he sold his four-bedroom home (which was still bigger than he needed for just himself and his then-wife) and bought a whomping ten-bedroom palace with so many extra living rooms and game rooms that he could easily convert one into a studio and not miss it in the least.

  Luckily, his ex-wife’s taste was not reflected in the decorating. Neither was his in most of the rooms. He’d bought it from some rich financier who’d sold the furnishings with the house because he didn’t want the hassle of moving it all. The artwork on the walls was JT’s, as were his bedroom furniture, the contents of the piano room, and all of the bachelor-pad mismatched stuff in the studio. As for the rest, he was never home long enough to delve into redecorating. There was always another album to record, more songs to write, sleep to catch up on… and the sofas and tables and chairs were decent enough. Classic. Formal. In shades of wood that were too dark for his liking, and there was way too much brown and tan in all the upholstery. But it did the job, and so he left it.

  During the forty-five minute ride from the airport to his neighborhood in suburban Doncaster, he watched Kori watch the Yorkshire countryside go by. She appeared intrigued, but still wasn’t talking. Maybe he needed to learn sigh-language, because she did seem to be doing an awful lot of that. Zach talked enough to make up for his mother’s silence, noticing that it was far greener than Albuquerque, and wetter (there was a drizzle), but that the houses and buildings didn’t look all that different from home. Until they reached JT’s area of town. Then things got big. Houses, lawns, fences and gates on driveways, all oversized and built to impress. Including the gate on his own. JT got out to punch in the gate code (he never gave it to an outsider), and they headed up the drive. Short by mansion standards but long when measured against suburbia, they worked their way through the leafless trees to the curved drive by the front door.

  Christ, the front yard alone is bigger than the entire lot my house sits on. Once again, I find that I am in over my head. Then the front of the house came into view and Kori lost all coherent thought.

  Ivy clung to every available surface of the biggest Tudor house that she’d ever seen. Three stories of windows towered over the massive lawn and the double front door was big enough to drive a truck through.

  Zach’s nose was pressed up against the window. “Whoa. JT, you really live here?”

  “Sure do, little mate.” JT kept his eyes on Kori’s face. She was still speechless and looking shell-shocked. “Welcome home, Kori.”

  ***

  “Holy fucking shit.” Kori’s mumble echoed up to the pressed tin ceiling of the three-story foyer and presumably down the halls that stretched off both sides of the landings overlooking the entry.

  Their driver was shuttling in the luggage from the trunk, making a sizable pile on the marble floor near the door. Kori turned to go back out and help, but JT stopped her with a hand on her arm. “It’s okay, that’s what his tip is for. Don’t you want to look around, love?” She nodded, worrying her bottom lip and glancing back up at the high ceiling. JT tugged her closer to his side. “Don’t look so frightened, Kori. I won’t make you climb up the railings.”

  “Yeah, c’mon, Mom, check out these big stairs,” Zach said, bouncing on the bottom step.

  “We can check out the upstairs later, Zach. It’s mostly bedrooms anyway. The fun stuff is all down here,” JT said.

  “Like what?” Zach popped off the stairs and headed for the arched doorway on the far side of the foyer.

  “Well, that way is the back of the house. The kitchen, the dining room and the television room are through there. But let’s go this way first.” JT took Kori’s hand and led her through the hall next to the stairway. “It’s one of my favorite places in the whole house.”

  A few steps later, they were standing in the bright afternoon sunlight coming in through a wall of windows. A black grand piano stood in the middle of the space, surrounded by cushy chairs and loveseats. One entire wall was lined with bookcases full of albums and CDs. A complex stereo system stood in a rack in the corner.
“My music room. Feel free to tinker with the stereo whenever you want.” JT sat on the piano bench and took off his shoes. “Oh, man, that is so much better.”

  Kori perused the view through the floor-to-ceiling windows. I’ve looked out these windows. I know this view. Oh so well. Shaken, she swallowed hard. “You have a room just for your stereo?”

  “The stereo and stuff kinda grew around the piano. I like to write in here. But yeah, there’s a lot of rooms in this house. Too many, unless the band’s here and we’re recording. It’s ridiculously large.”

  Kori sank into one of the lowbacked blue easychairs and slipped off her own shoes. As her sigh bled into a yawn, JT said, “Let’s just do a quick tour and then you can pick out your bedrooms and get settled in a bit.”

  Half an hour later, they’d visited the library, game room, den (where JT said she would have her own desk as soon as she picked one out), indoor pool, dining room, kitchen, and exercise room. Kori actually spoke a few more times between yawns, sticking to the safe topic of the house. Feeling rather tired himself, JT asked if they wouldn’t mind waiting to see the rest. With weary nods, they decided to figure out where to sleep and unpack some of their luggage.

  On the second floor landing, JT explained that the entire third floor was taken by the band members, their significant others, and their children. Since they spent several months at a time writing and recording, each member had their own bedroom, furnished and decorated to their tastes, and there were two bedrooms for all the Knox kids. “The second floor has my room and the empty bedrooms. Well, not really empty, they have furniture in them, but they’re not claimed.”