Blue Saturn

by Jay, Libby

  “Hi Dad,” I answer and as I do I wonder why the hell I’ve answered his call.

  “I saw the show tonight. You have talent son,” he says but I know there’s more coming. “What I don’t understand is why on earth you didn’t use that perfect opportunity to honour your mother’s memory? You couldn’t say one nice thing about her, could you? You couldn’t say how bravely she fought the cancer because she wanted to see her children grow into adults. You couldn’t say how much she smiled through her toughest days. But then again, I guess you had to be here to see her do those things.”

  “Dad, now is not the time,” I say sternly. What I wouldn’t give for a gallon of strong spirits right now. Damn, I want to be numb.

  “It’s never the time with you, Mike. You broke your mother’s heart, you selfish prick of a...”

  I hit the end button. I’ve heard it all before and I don’t need to hear it again. The pain in my abdomen returns with a sudden ferocity and I need to get out of here. I don’t need a room of gossip journalists see me fall to the ground in agony.

  What I do need right now is Lyndsay.

  I’m a mess. I’m panting in desperation. I have the window down on the car, the night air filling my lungs but I want it full of something a whole lot less pure than oxygen.

  “You gonna be all right, mate?” Gavin asks.

  “I will be.” I know I’ll be okay as soon as I see Lyndsay.

  I barely make it out of the car.

  I barely make it into the hotel lobby.

  I barely make it to the elevators.

  I barely make it to the nineteenth floor.

  I’m shaking like a freakin’ lunatic, my hands completely uncooperative as I try to open the suite door.

  My body is drenched in sweat. My breathing is erratic. The pain is gripping.

  The door to the suite opens and the first thing I see is Lyndsay. She is standing in the middle of the suite living room. Her hands are on her hips and her head is cocked to one side.

  She’s angry. She’s not smiling and her body is tense. She saw the photos. She’s angry. Damn it. This is not good.

  “Michael Greene, did you just friend-zone me on national TV?”

  I was not expecting her to say that. “What?”

  “Did you just friend-zone me on national TV? Because it sounds a lot like you just friend-zoned me.” She frowns. “Is friend-zoned a word? I’m not sure.” She smiles and her posture relaxes. “Anyway,” she comes to me and I’m sure she’s about to hug me, but she stops suddenly. “Mike, are you okay?”

  “I will be,” I answer.

  “Are you in pain?” she asks. I know she can see the beads of sweat of my forehead.

  “It’s going away,” I say. “Keep talking to me.” I go to the couch and sit down, wrapping my arms around my middle.

  She follows me to the couch and sits next to me. “I wanted to say thank you,” she says, looking straight into my eyes.

  “Thank you? For what?” I’m not expecting her to thank me for anything, but her strange conversation is distracting me from the pain.

  “For protecting me.” She smiles at me and it’s the most stunning sight I’ve ever seen. I relish this moment because I know this may be the last time I see her smile. “For wanting to keep me safe. That’s what you were doing...weren’t you? When you asked them to take down the pictures?”

  I nod my head. “Yes,” I say quietly.

  “Thank you,” she repeats. She looks down to where I’m pressing against my centre, trying to push away the pain. “What do you want me to do?”

  “Just sit here with me. Talk to me.”

  She nods her head but doesn’t move her eyes away from mine. We sit, our sights only on each other. She slowly moves her hand toward me, opening out her hand and pressing it against my lower chest.

  “Why does it hurt here?” she asks.

  “It hurts everywhere. It usually starts as a headache, and then moves quickly to my entire body.”

  “Then why do you hold your mid section if it hurts everywhere?”

  “I can’t breathe.” I quickly move my hands to hold onto hers. “God it hurts.” I lower my body down, so my forehead is resting on her lap. I want to lie still, but I can’t stop writhing with the pain. I tuck my knees up under me, curling into a ball.

  Lyndsay slips one hand from mine and I feel her fingers in my hair. “Is it something specific that triggers the attacks?” she asks.

  “Most the time it’s stress but sometimes it’s just my body being a total prick.”

  She laughs and her fingers leave my hair, slowly running down the length of my neck. “What is it this time?”

  “Stress. And I spoke to my dad.”

  “What did your dad say?” Her fingers run back into my hair.

  I move my head to the side and look out to the opposite wall of our suite. “I want to ask you something,” I say.

  “Okay,” she asks. Her fingers go back to my hair.

  “I don’t know what you’re feeling at the moment. I don’t know if your fingers in my hair is a friendly-fingers-in-my-hair thing or if it means more.” I take a deep breath and feel my body begin to relax. I straighten my legs out along the couch. “I have no idea whether or not tomorrow is going to be our last day together. But I need you to promise me something.”

  “What do I need to promise you, Mike?”

  “I need you to promise me that if the cancer comes back, you’ll let me know.”

  She must sense the urgency in my voice because her body becomes rigid. “Are you okay Mike?”

  I shake my head. “No I’m not okay.” I turn onto my back and look up at her, my head still resting in her lap, her hand still in my hair. “But I need you to promise me you will call me if the cancer comes back. I failed my mother when she needed me most and I don’t want to fail you, Lyndsay.”

  “Mike,” she whispers and I feel her grip on my fingers tighten. “What are you talking about?”

  “When my mum got really sick, toward the end, I left. I went away. I wasn’t there when she died.” I feel my body heat from shame. “I was too weak to give her the support she needed.” I shake my head. “No I was too selfish. I was...”

  “You were scared.” Lyndsay finishes my sentence.

  I nod my head. “Yes I was. So I ran away, like the coward I was. I will never forgive myself for that. Promise me, promise me you will let me be there for you.” I look into her eyes, so intensely it almost makes my eyes strain. “Promise me Lyndsay.”

  “I promise you, Mike. I do.”

  “I love you Lyndsay,” I say before I can stop the words.

  “Mike,” she whispers. Her single word is followed by a small shake of her head. Tears come to her eyes and she looks away. “Everything is happening so quickly. I don’t know...” She looks back into my eyes and then leans her head back, looking to the ceiling. “I don’t know, Mike,” she says quietly.

  I roll onto my side, wrapping my arms around her robe covered legs. I’ll hold her like this all night if she’ll let me. I’ll cherish every second she’s this close because tomorrow, she might be gone.

  31.

  Damn. What a day. The last eight days have been completely hectic and draining, physically and emotionally. Not just for me, but for everyone involved in this whirlwind tour.

  This morning, we boarded our plane at 6.50 A.M. All of us basically rolled out of bed, threw on some clothes and dragged ourselves to the airport.

  Once we arrived back at Melbourne airport, we went straight to my house. Gavin and Jasmine were very quick to disappear - eight days without having sex must be some kind of record for Gavin - and Lyndsay stayed upstairs while the film crew set up for the interview downstairs. They filmed a few shots of me and Mikey playing together before Mikey joined Lyndsay and I did the interview.

  It was hard, speaking honestly about my past. The journalist interviewing me, Nadine, made it easy by letting me talk at my own pace. She seemed to mix up the questions a b
it, one minute talking about my drug and alcohol abuse and then talking about Mikey. I don’t think she was doing it to try to trip me up, I think she knew it was hard for me to talk about so she didn’t want to dwell on the hard times for too long each time. She told me her favourite song on the record was the last song ‘My Love.’ She asked me who it was about.

  “It’s about a woman I love. A woman I will love for the rest of my life.”

  “And does she feel the same way about you?” she asked with a grin.

  “I don’t know Nadine,” I answered. “But I really hope so.”

  Our day has been so busy that Lyndsay and I have not had more than a few seconds alone together. She’s put that damn wall up again. She went about her day in an almost robotic way. She looks tired, her eyes have lost their sparkle – I bet she hardly slept at all last night – and I know she hasn’t eaten all day; all the classic signs of a troubled heart.

  But I have the cure for it this time. I’m the bloody cure. And right now, I’m minutes away from giving her the cure. God, I hope she takes it.

  The film crew have followed us to Federation Square, where we will be performing to a packed crowd. A camera has been following me around as I prepare to go on stage, so I know I can’t talk to her now.

  I’m in two minds as to whether or not I should proceed with my plan. I haven’t asked Gavin for his advice because I know he’ll tell me it’s a bad idea. Maybe it is a bad idea. But when I asked Mikey what he thought, he told me that Lyndsay needs to smile again and our plan will make her smile.

  God, I hope he’s right.

  The problem with Lyndsay is, she’s strong. Not that that is a problem, but it makes it hard to read her when she always seems so tough and defiant. In the past week, she’s received two doses of distressing news; my confession and then the news of her step-father. She seemed to bounce back from those traumas quickly. But I hope I know her well enough to know that once everything settles down, once everything is quiet and she’s alone tonight, she’s going to crumble again.

  I’m keeping my fingers crossed that my plan works. If it does, she won’t need to be alone tonight.

  The crowd’s applause is deafening. We’ve just finished up our final live performance for this promotional tour. Gavin and the boys are leaving the stage, but I’m still standing out front. I’m putting the microphone back into its stand.

  “Mike, mate. What are you doing?” Gavin asks me.

  “I have one more song to sing,” I answer.

  “What are you doing?” he asks again.

  I look to the right of the stage where Mikey and Lyndsay have been sitting during the performance. “Make sure Lyndsay doesn’t leave that spot, okay?”

  “Dude, what are you doing?”

  “I’m getting my girl back, Gav. Now go.”

  I signal to the sound guys that I want the microphone turned back on. I tap it twice and then speak.

  “This is the part where I would normally run off stage to your thunderous applause. But tonight, I have something I need to do. You see, I have a problem and tonight I’m going to resolve it. Right here, right now.”

  The crowd grows eerily quiet. I look to the right of stage and ask that two stools be bought out, along with my acoustic guitar. I see the roadies go frantic backstage and I continue to speak to give them a few minutes to fulfil my last minute request.

  “You see, the problem is that I’m in love with a beautiful woman. And as much as I want to ask her to be mine, things keep getting in the way. It never seems like a good time.”

  A roadie comes out on stage with two stools and places them next to me. Then another appears with my guitar and a second microphone to put in front of the guitar. While he sets up the guitar, I continue to talk.

  “So I’ve come up with a plan. But I need some help from my little man. Come on out Mikey.”

  When I look to the side of the stage where Mikey and Lyndsay have been sitting, Mikey gets up and grabs his guitar, but my eyes are on Lyndsay. She’s holding her hands over her mouth and nose so all I can see are her eyes. They’re wide with anticipation. At least I hope they are. It’d suck if they were wide with horror and I was about to be humiliated in front of a multitude of my fans.

  Mikey walks out on stage and when he does the crowd erupts in cheers. Mikey, being the natural charmer he is, waves and smiles out at the crowd. He comes to my side, sits on one of the stools and positions his guitar.

  I mimic his position with my own guitar on the other stool. A roadie appears again and adjusts the microphone so that it’s between Mikey and I and we’re ready to go.

  “This is the deal. Mikey and I are going to play a song.” I strum a chord on my guitar. “This song is Lyndsay’s song. And this is the only time I will ever play it in public. I am asking you, Lyndsay, with all my heart and soul to be mine. I know I’ve stuffed up and I know my timing is really bad, but I can’t be without you for another day.” I strum another chord. “If your answer is no, I will understand and I will never again ask you to be mine. But if your answer is yes, I want, no, I need you to come out here and kiss me in front of all our friends here so everyone knows I’m yours and you are mine.”

  It’s killing me not to look at her right now. I’m not even sure if she’s still here. But as they say, the show must go on.

  I strum the opening chords and count Mikey in, and then Mikey begins to sing.

  “The Indsy Indsy spider climbed up the waterspout…”

  This kid is a natural performer. He doesn’t once hit a wrong note, on his guitar or his singing. Once Mikey finishes singing, I strum the final three chords over and over, slowly fading out.

  Mikey stands up and walks back to his chair off stage. Lyndsay is still sitting there, in the exact same position, only now, I can see the tears on her cheeks reflecting the light from the stage.

  I put my guitar down and stand up. And I wait. There is complete silence. I’m beginning to regret my decision to do this when something unexpected happens.

  “Lyndsay...Lyndsay...Lyndsay…” the crowd starts chanting. At least they’re on my side.

  I’m nervous as hell. I don’t know what to do with my hands so I put them in my jean pockets and then take them out again and let them hang by my side.

  I see Lyndsay’s eyes look toward the crowd and then back to me. She lowers her hands from her face and stands up.

  Then…

  She steps toward me.

  She takes another step and another before she is standing in front of me, on stage, in front of thousands of people who are now cheering and clapping and whistling.

  “I’m feeling a little bit of pressure,” she says quietly.

  “No. No, I told you there is no pressure.”

  She looks out to the crowd who are still cheering and she smiles. “There is a little bit of pressure, Mike. And using Mikey like that, that’s just pure evil.” She laughs and looks back to me.

  I relax as soon as I hear her laugh. “Desperate times call for desperate measure,” I say. I take a step toward her and close the gap between us. I cup her cheeks in my hands and look down into her eyes. “Lynd’s, I already know your answer. You already know your answer. Now let everyone else know.”

  She’s deep in thought as she searches my face. I don’t know what she’s looking for but the tears which had momentarily stopped start again. “I’m afraid Mike,” she says.

  “I know you are.” I drop my hands from her face and reach out for her hands. “Please Lyndsay. Let me take your fear away. Trust me. I promise you I will never hurt you again. Let me make you happy. Always.”

  Those beautiful green eyes are searching my face. If she’s looking for any hint that I don’t absolutely one hundred percent utterly and completely mean what I’ve just said, she won’t find it. “I love you Lyndsay. Like before, I will wait for you. We can go as slow as you need.”

  She pulls her hands from mine to wipe her tears and instead of lowering her hands to her side, she reaches ou
t, cups my cheeks, as I did hers, and stands up on her tip toes. “I’ve had enough of taking things slow, Michael Greene.”

  Then her lips are on mine and it is the sweetest feeling in the world.

  I hear the crowd cheer and sense the lights flashing, sending blankets of light over us. I don’t care for any of it though because Lyndsay is kissing me. Her hands have moved from my face and she’s wrapped them around me, pulling me closer to her.

  I instantly respond, enveloping her in my arms, and tilting my head to deepen the kiss. I feel her body relax in my arms and I feel the vibration through her body as she moans.

  The crowd is still cheering when she pulls away from me, just enough so she can talk. “I love you, Mike,” she whispers to me.

  “I love you, too.”

  And then she’s kissing me again.

  And with this kiss, she is giving me her forever.

  Mikey

  Epilogue

  Mum has been looking at that photo for ages. According to her, the day that photo was taken was the happiest day of her life.

  Not her wedding day.

  Not the birth of her first son.

  The happiest day of mum’s life happened twenty years ago at a promotional concern for Blue Saturn’s fourth album release. In the photo, Dad and Mum are standing on the stage, they’re holding hands and they’re looking at each other. You can tell by the look in their eyes how much they loved each other. Heck, they still love each other. It kinda grosses me out.

  Lyndsay isn’t my biological mother, but she’s the only mum I’ve ever really known. I have some vague memories of my birth mum, but most of those memories are sad.

  Lyndsay though, she’s loved me like her own son for as long as I’ve known her. And I’ve loved her too. I started calling her ‘mum’ when I was about seven. I didn’t give it any thought; the word sort of just popped out of my mouth. When I said it, Mum quickly looked up at Dad, but Dad just smiled. From that moment on, Lyndsay was my mum.