“Kingsley, you get your fucking ass back here, boy,” my father bellowed.
A switch flipped in my head. I turned and balled up my fist again. Ready to shut my father up once and for all.
Rose grabbed my other arm and planted her feet on the ground. I could have walked with her easily, but she started to beg. Her voice crackling. Something about her eyes and her voice. She was afraid.
I knew this wasn’t the norm for her. This was normal for me though.
I stopped, out of respect for Rose. My father got to live another day.
I walked back to my truck, shaking my head.
My father calling my name… outside a police station… and inside the police station was the brother I never knew I had…
I didn’t sleep. Rose did. She needed the sleep. Sitting there at the table with me wasn’t going to do her any good. It was just after midnight when Carl told me to check my email. When I did, I saw that there was an offer to write and sell some music. I needed to be on a flight by nine in the morning and I would be gone indefinitely. The biggest chance of my attempted music career.
Carl sent me a flurry of text messages, wanting to know my answer.
I ignored him.
I left my phone on the table, buzzing away, over and over.
I just sat there for hours, staring across my studio apartment to the bed. The shape of Rose’s body, under my covers.
All I ever wanted was to love her. To take care of her. To hold her at night. To listen to thunderstorms pass us by and count the seconds between the lightning and the thunder. Or go out in the middle of a snowstorm, when the streets were closed, and just walk together in the fresh fallen snow, when the world was so impossibly quiet and so beautifully perfect.
From day one, it was always just a fantasy with her. With me. Her father was only able to do so much for me. And even that wasn’t exactly for me, but more for Rose. To keep her out of my troubles. It was easier for Frank to toss me a beer and cook me a meal so that Rose didn’t sneak out and end up getting hurt because she was with me.
I rubbed my jaw and played so much through my head that it started to hurt.
Rhett would probably need me. Then again, he had a father, right? If my father - his father - our father - could stay the hell out of jail for a good while, then things could work out. Maybe it would be better this way. I couldn’t imagine guiding Rhett along a path where I had fucking stumbled and wandered around for so long.
When I stood from the table, I saw the faintest glow of the sunrise through the window above the kitchen sink. A burning orange color that made me stop for a second.
Hey Rose… can we do something fun? I want you to set your alarm. Wake up just as the sun is rising. I’ll wake up with you. I’ll sit in the dark on the phone with you just to hear you breath. Hear the rustle of the covers as you roll around. Hear the soft sighs of your voice as you try to stay awake. I’ll ask you to blow a kiss to the sunrise. Then it’ll be daylight where you are. It’ll be dark where I am. Then the sunrise will start where I am. The colors… your kiss… and we did it. We kissed from far away, Rose.
My heart ached.
That would only work once. Maybe twice. Then it would get old. Really old.
I packed a bag and packed up my favorite guitar. I put them both on the table in the kitchen and walked to the bed.
I sat down and touched Rose’s hair. I leaned forward and kissed her head, smelling her hair one more time.
I get it. I should have waited and talked to her. But this was how it always happened with us. The hurtful goodbye would leave our memories in ashes. My slipping away was easier. Wrong, probably. But it was easier.
Back in the kitchen, I took a notebook and flipped it to a fresh page.
Dear Rose… I’m sorry for this…
29
Here, Take This Right Now
Rose
When I woke up and saw he was gone, the romantic heart that beat inside my chest told me he had gone to get breakfast. That any second now the door was going to swing open and in would come Foster holding some greasy, delicious breakfast and some fancy coffee that would taste good, but not as good as the coffee I sold with Molly.
I stared at the door for what felt like hours.
In reality, it was only fifteen minutes.
I looked at my phone ten times in those fifteen minutes.
Getting out of Foster’s bed and tracking down the mess left for me was going to hurt.
I finally decided to face the day and the reality. The second I put my feet on the floor and stood up, my stomach did four backflips and a set of jumping jacks. I turned and ran right for the bathroom. I made it to the sink and welcomed the day by getting sick.
When the feeling subsided, I went to the kitchen and found a letter waiting for me in front of the coffeemaker.
From Foster. To me.
His scribbled handwriting.
Hey Rose…
Those two words made me think of the song.
Foster was gone. Gone to write music. Gone to record music. Gone to sell music.
Before I could let my heart begin its spiral into hurt, I reminded myself of everything that had happened. This was what Foster did. He would go and think. Normally, he’d just go without warning. I’d be left to find the breadcrumb trail of pain. This time, the note was pretty clear. He was catching a plane. He was going to be gone for a little bit. He hoped my father felt better. He hoped I wouldn’t hate him too much.
He didn’t mention his father once. Or Rhett.
I swallowed hard, feeling sick again at the thought of the situation. Fucking Kevin… having another son and never telling Foster about it. Or telling Rhett that Foster was his brother. Knowing Foster had been giving Rhett guitar lessons.
I read the note twice and folded it up.
I looked around the apartment.
It was trashed.
Foster had slipped off the edge again. Leaving everything to fall apart around him. And he took off. If it was like the times before, he’d be gone for a little while and then come back and pick up where he left off.
At least this time I could get in touch with him… or at least I hoped.
I put the folder down and stood up. The only thing I could do was distract myself. Keep working and keep focused on the day. Stop looking at my phone and stop waiting for Foster to text me. Or call me.
Leaving my office, my mouth felt icky and dry. No matter what I did, I couldn’t settle my stomach. I drank tea. I drank water. I ate a light breakfast and a light snack. It wasn’t a sickness feeling, but just an uneasy feeling. I blamed anxiety. Worrying about Foster and what had happened. I hated myself a little for falling asleep on him. He wanted to just sit there and think. I said I was staying with him. I dozed off and he carried me to his bed. I remembered throwing my arms around him and kissing him. Tasting his lips, his tongue, his breath. Clawing at the back of his head and his shirt. Wanting him.
But sleep won that battle. I had intentions for the morning… they didn’t include waking up alone and finding a note from Foster.
I made it halfway through the office when I stopped dead in my tracks. The same sinking feeling from earlier that morning hit me again and I wasn’t exactly close to a bathroom. Which meant I had to run. Like a fool. Through the office, in front of everyone, needing to find the bathroom. Right now.
I literally made it just in time. Again, hovered over a sink, losing that light snack and light breakfast.
When I was done and looked in the mirror, I wasn’t alone.
I saw Molly in the reflection as she stood there staring at me.
“Sick again?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” I whispered. “Stress, probably. Things have been hectic. You couldn’t believe the night I had. I should have stayed home and in bed.”
“Right,” Molly said.
She looked irritated.
“I haven’t missed any time here,” I said. “Things are on time, Molly. Nothing to worry about. If this
keeps up another week, I’ll call a doctor.”
“There’s something you should do before you call a doctor.”
“Oh?” I asked. I turned and leaned against the sink. “Is this where you lecture me about my relationship with Foster? Or something like that?”
“No,” Molly said. “Part of me wants to tell you to go home and figure your shit out, Rose. You’ve had a hectic little while here.”
“That’s just life, Molly.”
“Yeah, life,” she said. She inched forward. “Don’t hate me.”
“Hate you for what?”
She had something hidden in her right hand. Reaching forward, she put it on the bathroom counter. She gave a quick nod and then motioned for the door.
“I’ll be out there,” she whispered. “I’ll make sure nobody else comes in. Give you some privacy.”
I swallowed hard. “Right.”
Molly left the bathroom, leaving me alone. I turned to face my reflection and saw the red color my cheeks. I glanced down at the pregnancy test on the counter and shook my head.
I guess I had no choice at this point…
There was nothing romantic about the scene. Then again, I wondered if it ever really happened like they showed on TV. Some woman all comfortable in her house, half excited, half scared to death, looking happy as she took the test. There were worse places to have to take a pregnancy test, but there I was, at work, Molly standing outside the bathroom door, and I stood at the sink, waiting to see if another pink line was going to show up.
I glanced over at my phone, wishing for and wanting Foster to call or text. Something. Anything.
It was a matter of… four seconds… that’s how long I looked at my phone.
Then I looked back to the pregnancy test.
There was a bright pink second line.
I’ll be in touch with you, Rose. I promise.
That was the last line of the letter Foster left me. I had the letter on my desk. And right next to the letter was the pregnancy test. The lines so perfectly clear I didn’t know which one had been there to begin with.
Molly was back in her office, keeping her promise to keep things quiet.
I called and made a doctor’s appointment for later that day.
There was no way I would get anything productive done, so I packed up my bag. I tucked the letter away. I hid the pregnancy test.
I left the office and couldn’t stop my heart from racing.
There was only one place I could go to try and calm down.
I went home. Not my home, my apartment. No way. I went home. To my house. To see my dad. To make sure he was taking care of himself.
The second he saw me though, he knew something was wrong. So I told him that Foster had to leave for a recording project and I was missing him.
I hurried to the kitchen to make him something healthy to eat.
I managed a good two minutes alone, basking in the comfort of the house I grew up in. The house where I last saw my mother alive. The house where I fell in love with Foster. The house where Foster and I…
“Rose, I might be slow because of my heart, but I’m not slow anywhere else.”
I turned, holding a healthy sandwich of freshly cut turkey, no cheese, lettuce, tomato, and some special bread that was healthier than regular bread. No chips allowed with the sandwich, but instead, some fresh fruit.
“Here,” I said, sliding the plate across the small island in the kitchen.
“Rose.”
“Dad.”
“I see your face. Foster ran again, didn’t he?”
“No,” I said. “He… flew.”
Dad sighed and put his hands to the island. “What else?”
“What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean,” he asked, always able to see through me.
“Well, something happened with his father. Big shock there.”
Dad shook his head. “I still feel like crap over what happened. I should have never told him what I did. I didn’t mean…”
“I know. He knows. We all know. The thing with Foster is that… one small event changes everything for him. And I hate that. I hate that he goes through that. Still does. His father…”
I hung my head for a second.
Then I gave the quick rundown of the previous night. As I spoke, it made me jittery. It made my nerves twitch and my muscles tense. The fact that Foster’s father knew about Rhett and Foster and did nothing about it.
Dad ended up just nodding. “Typical. What a freaking guy he is. Hopefully that kid and Foster can build something off it. Might do them good to have each other, since Kevin will end up just hurting them both again and again.”
“Except Foster is gone now,” I said. “For now, I should say. I don’t know about Rhett. If he’s out of jail or where he is. It’s just…”
“You’re here in the middle of a work day,” Dad said.
“Yeah, so?”
“You think Foster is coming back?”
“Yeah, why wouldn’t he?”
“Have you tried calling him?” Dad asked.
I saw his face getting a little ticked off.
“It’ll be okay,” I said. “I’m not worried. He’s working. It’s not like…”
Dad reached back and took out the pregnancy test that had been in my bag. He put it on the counter and stared.
I felt like I was fifteen again when he found a pack of cigarettes in my bag.
“What…”
“I knew before this,” he said. “The way you’ve looked. Acted. You’re going to be surprised when they tell you how far along you are, Rose.”
“How do you…”
Dad raised an eyebrow. “I’ve had two daughters. I knew both times when your mother was pregnant. She acted the same way you are. Stubborn to face the truth. And each time we went to the doctors, we were shocked at how far along she was. So… how long have you and Foster been going at this round of your relationship now?”
I tried to track back to that day I ran into him at the coffeehouse. Even then, we didn’t just run to the bedroom. Then again, we didn’t wait very long after that, did we?
I felt myself blushing, knowing there was no denying anything.
Not that it was a bad thing. I loved Foster. He loved me.
The doctor would confirm the pregnancy a few hours later. And, yes, I was left stunned by how far along I was. Meaning that it happened the first time that Foster and I slept together.
I wouldn’t let Dad come with me to the doctors. I went alone. And, alone, I stood in the lobby of the medical building and decided it was time to call Foster.
I looked at a painting on the wall. A green field with a row of sunflowers. Different heights and sizes. A burning sun high in the sky. Peaceful. Serene.
I smiled as I tried to call Foster.
There was no answer.
And there would be no answer.
No matter how many times I called.
His number… no longer existed.
Which meant Foster had disappeared again… leaving me… and an unborn baby behind.
WHEN THEY WERE YOUNG
30
Lock the Door, Hide the Lies
Foster
Love was a tricky word and was sometimes shelled out too easily. For comfort. For pity. To keep things stable. To avoid an awkward conversation that involved the future. Anyone who knew me knew I didn’t take any stock into the future. All I cared about was the next song to write and the next gig to play.
This little club I was playing had a backstage area. It was a glorified storage closet, but it had a collection of old guitars, amps, pieces of drum kits, and smelled like an old music room in the basement of a school. I put my foot up on an amp and drank a bottle of beer. I was getting paid cash for the show and I got to drink for free. To me, it was the best gig of my life.
I played for over an hour and only had about fifteen minutes in total of everyone’s attention. Those fifteen were because I played some cover songs
. The other songs, the ones I wrote, everyone took the time to talk, walk around, get a drink, and completely forget that someone was standing on a stage, playing music, trying to survive.
But that wasn’t on them. That was how this world went.
I ran a hand through my hair and took a deep breath.
Hey Rose… where are you right now?
I shook my head and stared forward.
Why the hell had that thought come to me? That song had been locked away a while ago. I hadn’t worked on it. I hadn’t played it. I hadn’t sung it either.
To my left there was an old acoustic guitar. It wasn’t mine but I reached for it anyway. I quickly tuned it up the best I could, considering the quality of the strings.
I strummed a few chords and laughed. Amazing how songs I wrote years ago were still fresh in my mind.
I started to play the song, feeling the words on the tip of my tongue.
I wanted to sing the song… but…
“Hey, there you are,” a voice said.
I turned my head and saw Jess standing in the doorway. Holding a bottle of beer, wearing black leather pants, a low cut black shirt, her black hair pulled back. She looked like an after party dream and her eyes were locked on me.
“Hey, sweetheart,” I said.
“What song was that?” she asked.
“Oh, nothing,” I lied.
I lied. I always lied to Jess. Our entire relationship was built on lies. Mostly said by me.
“Sounds good,” she said. “You should work on that. I can help you. I would take the-”
“Forget about it,” I said with a grin.
Yeah, Jess played guitar. She fronted a three woman band that had split up a couple months ago. The drummer got engaged and wanted to move with her fiancé. So Jess played solo shows like I did. We met over music and music was the foundation of our relationship. I didn’t plan to end up with her, but after one show and a bottle of whiskey, it turned into a long night that led into the next morning, and things just edged their way along from there.
Let You Go: a heart-wrenching second chance romance story that will make you believe in true love Page 20