“This makes me so happy. I didn’t know you two were back together. How long has this been going on?” DeDe gushes.
“Oh, uh, we’re…” I look to Riot for guidance.
“Roxy is a big-time writer now,” Riot cuts in, saving me from breaking his mom’s heart. “She has her own column for an entertainment website and she’s working on a story about my new album. You should read some of her work. She’s really talented, DeDe.”
Taken aback by the compliment, I turn away slightly to hide my blush. Riot has read my writing?
“Well, I’m not surprised. She was always a smart cookie. If it weren’t for her, you would have never passed eleventh grade Lit.” She takes both my hands in hers, beaming with pride as she looks between Riot and me. “You have no idea how good it is to see you two together again. After all this time… this has made my heart so full.”
“I knew it would, DeDe,” Riot grins, wrapping an arm around her slender shoulders. “Now, how ‘bout we sit. You need to take it easy, remember?”
“Oh, please. I feel fine,” she clucks, yet makes her way past the queen-sized bed to the sitting area beside the huge picture window. There’s an armchair and a love seat. Naturally, she leaves the love seat for the “happy couple.”
“I know you do. We just want to keep it that way,” Riot assures. “Did you make it to sunrise yoga today?”
DeDe shakes her head. “Not today, but I did work in the garden some. I even had tea with Janice. You remember her, right? You signed those posters for her to give to her daughter?”
“Oh yeah. How’s she doing these days?”
“Not great, but better. Taking things one day at a time.”
I listen intently as the mother and son chat about DeDe’s activities, wondering what could have happened to her to land her here. This place seems like a rehab center, but something is telling me it’s not. Maybe it’s how the windows are sealed shut and tastefully barred so they can’t be opened. And everything seems very deliberate about DeDe’s suite, from the soft, calming color scheme to the furniture. Plus, I can’t imagine DeDe being an addict, but maybe that’s just my silly childhood remembrance of her talking.
“Ok, DeDe, what’s it going to be today?” Riot asks. He picks up an acoustic guitar that was propped against the wall between the love seat and the window.
“Oh! Play my favorite. The one about cupid.”
I lift a brow in Riot’s direction, which he answers with a knowing smile. “Alright. But after that, lunchtime. Deal? Did Miss Yvonne tell you about the lobster mac and cheese? I’ve been waiting for it all week.”
DeDe waves the thought away and clucks, “I can’t eat that stuff. It’ll go straight to my hips and thighs.”
“You look incredible, DeDe,” I chime in, realizing that her issues run far deeper than I imagined. “You always do.”
Riot thrums the pads of his fingers over the guitar strings, drawing our undivided attention. When he plays the first few chords, my head unwittingly rocks from side to side. I remember when he first taught himself how to play guitar. Hell, I remember when he taught himself to play this song. But whatever memory I had of his voice pales in comparison to what he blesses us with now.
I’d always been in awe of the way Riot could take a song from another artist and make it undeniably his. He has this unique inflection in his voice—his signature—and he carves it on every note and lyric, claiming it like the song was composed for only his tongue. I’d always admired him for the way he was able to translate emotion into music. But more than that, I’m enamored by the way he could evoke such all-consuming emotion in me.
He turns and gazes at me while he sings, the words on his lips sweet and seductive, like honey in my veins. He looks so happy right now—much happier than he’s been in the days I’ve spent with him at his home in the city. With a guitar in his lap, playing a sold-out concert for two, he is more himself in this moment than I’ve ever seen him. I smile in response to his smile, swaying with the tempo. And without even realizing it, the music sinks its hooks into my flesh and manipulates my mouth, and I’m singing along with the chorus.
We stay like that for the remainder of the song, staring at each other as two hearts harmonize as one. And when Riot plays the last chords, we’re met with enthusiastic claps and cheers from the woman who has always been our biggest fan and most dedicated groupie.
“That was…” Tears shine in DeDe’s eyes. “That was so beautiful. Reminds me of when you two were just teenagers, sitting on the floor or outside in the grass, with a notebook and a guitar between you. I miss that. Makes me think of better times. Happier times.”
Riot props the guitar against the wall and reaches over to clasp his mother’s hands. “We’ll have those happy times again, DeDe. I promise.”
Her lips stretch in an expression that’s half contentment, half melancholy, and she nods. “I know, my lovely boy. I know we will.”
We spend the rest of the afternoon with DeDe taking us on a tour of the garden. It’s incredible and I can see why it brings so much peace and clarity to the residents that maintain it. Riot gives DeDe his undivided attention between flashing smiles and playful winks my way. He’s so good with her…such a loving, adoring son. However, I notice that his interactions with her are all very careful and thoughtful. Kind of like the way a parent would treat a child. He isn’t condescending, but gentle. Patient. And incredibly understanding.
Understanding. The very thing he was longing for from me.
At lunch, DeDe draws quite the crowd between her animated accounts of our childhood and gushing over Riot and his accomplishments. I listen intently while taking in the other tenants. There are people of all ages and backgrounds here, and on the outside, they look perfectly normal. But I’m wise enough to know that many times, the most painful illnesses are the ones you can’t see. And while these people may share similar socioeconomic status, they’re living proof that money can’t buy the things that matter the most.
It’s just before sunset when we say our goodbyes to DeDe, and I have to admit, I’m sad to have to return to reality. Even considering where we are and the stigma behind it, it has been one of the most serene days I’ve had in a long time. And I got to spend it with two people who helped me to become the woman I am today, for better or for worse.
“Oh, Roxy. It was an absolute treasure to see you. Promise me we won’t let so much time pass again.”
“I’ll see you again soon, I swear. I loved catching up with you today. Thank you for having me.”
She squeezes me tight, moving in close to align her lips with my ear. And then she whispers words I thought I’d never hear. Words I had stopped expecting over the years. I had resigned to put the past behind me and move on. Yet, when she pulls away and stealthily swipes a single rogue tear from the corner of my eye, I find that I’m not over it. If I’m being honest, I never was. And how can I be? When the last twelve years of my life have been shrouded in secrets and lies?
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you where we were going,” Riot begins after we’ve found our way back to the priority road. “But I didn’t think you’d believe me if I told you the truth.”
We’d been riding in silence, but it didn’t feel tense or wrong. It gave us both a chance to digest what today meant—for DeDe and for us.
“I understand why you did. I just wish I would’ve known she was sick. So that’s where you’ve been disappearing to every other day?”
Riot nods, his eyes on the road ahead. “Personal information is a weapon for people like me. If anyone would have found out, DeDe wouldn’t have the opportunity to heal in peace like she needs to.”
“I know. But can I ask… what happened to her?”
Riot heaves out a sigh, but it’s not one of frustration. He knew the question was coming; yet I can tell the subject still makes him uneasy.
“About a year ago, my controlling prick of a stepdad left her. Just woke up one day and told her he didn’t want her anymore
. She was making him breakfast like she did every morning. The cold bastard did it with no remorse. Then he packed a suitcase, left, and never came back. Changed all his numbers and disappeared. She found out a month later that he had a new family. Some chick who’s young enough to be his daughter, and they have a child. A son—his real son. He’s two.”
“Oh my God,” I gasp. “DeDe must’ve been devastated.”
“She was, but she didn’t tell me. I had always sent money to her, because truthfully, I knew it was only a matter of time before he fucked her over. So I sent her checks addressed only to her, and instructed her to open a secret account for herself. But she didn’t listen. And he found out and made her deposit the money into their checking account. I should’ve known she wasn’t keeping the money for herself. I should have been the one to set up a separate account for her. Because when he left, he closed the accounts and took every last dime with him. He controlled everything—the money, the bills, the home. Even what she ate and what she wore and who she was friends with. And when he dumped her, leaving her only with enough cash to last a couple months tops, she had no idea what to do.
“The checks kept coming to the house, but DeDe was either too proud or too scared to show her face to cash them. Then the bank came knocking when the mortgage wasn’t paid. And the utilities started getting cut off. And DeDe…she was done. As cruel as her husband was to her, she had grown to rely on him for everything. She didn’t know how to live without him.”
I don’t have the right words to express the depth of my sympathy, so I lay my hand on top of his that’s resting on the stick shift. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
He nods and continues the story, his voice going raw. “I was filming that damn show, so I hadn’t realized that how much time had passed since I had spoken to her. Until my accountant called, asking me if I wanted to continue sending checks, even though they weren’t being cashed. That was a red flag. And when I tried to call her, the line had been disconnected. So I sent my manager, Jonas, to go check on her. And…”
His voice breaks, prompting me to squeeze his hand tighter. He flips it palm side up and we intertwine our fingers.
“And when he found her,” he continues with tears in throat, “She was unconscious. She had swallowed a bottle of sleeping pills. Jonas got her to the hospital where the doctors said she was in a coma. On top of that, she was so malnourished and weak, her chances of coming out of it were slim. And I had to hear that shit over the phone while filming a fucking reality TV show. I told the producers I quit…told them I had to get home. They wanted to know why I told them to go to hell. And those motherfuckers threatened to sue if I didn’t stay and complete my contract or let them film me after I left. So I did what I had to do so I could be with DeDe. I made them fire me.”
“Oh God, Riot. I’m so… Wait. Get off here.”
“What?” He turns to me, allowing me to see the tears glimmering on his cheeks.
I point towards the lit marquee just off the exit. “Pull in there. Please. Trust me.”
Riot does as I request, his features painted with varying shades of confusion, frustration, and sorrow. But instead of explaining my erratic behavior, I tell him to get out of the car.
“Rox, I’m really not in the mood-”
“Please. Just get out of the car with me.”
The parking lot of the diner is fairly empty, and judging by the rusty, mud-caked pickup trucks, I doubt anyone would recognize him, anyway. Still, he doesn’t move until I open my door and exit. And when he begrudgingly gives in, I’m already at the driver’s side.
“What are we-”
Before he can say another word, I wrap my arms around his waist and squeeze him so tight I can barely breathe. Startled at first, he doesn’t hug me back. But then I feel his strong arms snake around me and hold me with just as much passion and intensity. Hours. I could have stood like that for hours if it would have helped to take his pain away. And even though I know it wouldn’t, I’m tempted to do it anyway, just to make up for all the time I spent hating, and all the time he spent suffering alone.
When we finally pull away, we’re standing beneath a pitch-black sky sprinkled with dazzling stars. And even though we’re shrouded in shadow in the middle of nowhere, for the first time in a long time, I see Riot for all that he is and all that he once was to me. I see all the reasons I never stopped loving him.
THREE DAYS.
It took three days for Riot Blu to break me down.
I pride myself on being somewhat responsible with my heart, hence the reason I hadn’t committed myself to another person in over a decade. Not that I didn’t have the opportunity. There were guys… some great, some regretful. But the second things started going from easy breezy to “what is it that we’re doing?” territory, I always found a reason it wouldn’t work. And each reason always traced back to Riot.
After the day we had and what he shared with me, one would think that jumping back to where we left off would be the next logical step, right? Wrong. Because no matter how I may feel and what DeDe may wish for us, there’s still too many obstacles keeping me from following my heart. And one of them is currently blowing up Riot’s phone.
“Shit,” he curses, looking down at the screen. “Poppy’s been texting all day.”
“She doesn’t know,” I deduce. Riot will share his life with the woman he hasn’t seen in forever, but not his girlfriend. One point, Rox. Poppy, zero.
He shakes his head. “She’s not good with the heavy shit. Parties, shopping, traveling, she’s there. But when it comes to family stuff, less is best with her. Plus, I don’t think DeDe likes her all that much.”
Another point for Rox. DeDe adores me. “What makes you think that?”
“Because DeDe told me she didn’t like her,” he snickers. “Nah, but real talk. Poppy hasn’t taken the initiative to get to know DeDe either. I mean, she’s perfectly sweet and polite, but it all seems very…”
“Fake? Superficial? Rehearsed?”
Riot barks out a laugh, causing me to smile in response. “Obligatory. Like spending time with DeDe is just a task she needs to complete. Of course, that was all before… you know.”
“Yeah,” I nod. “Well, you know your secret is safe with me. And if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to keep coming to see DeDe. Even after all this is done.”
“You would do that?” He sounds surprised.
“Of course, I would. I love DeDe. She was the person who taught me how to pluck my eyebrows and apply makeup when my mom refused to because she said colleges didn’t care how I looked and there was no beauty portion of the SATs. If it wasn’t for her, I might’ve been doomed to a life of caterpillar brows and black lipliner.”
Riot leans back against the car and folds his arms in front of him, grinning up at the sky. “Yeah, I think she enjoyed those times even more than you. She always wanted a girl. You were the daughter she never had.”
“Well, I’m grateful you all moved in when you did. DeDe saved my life. I hate that she’ll eventually learn the truth.”
“The truth?” He looks down at me and frowns.
“About you and me,” I reply, gesturing between us. “She thinks we’re back together. I mean, obviously she’s going to find out you’re still with Poppy. I just don’t want her to find out from someone else or some tabloid.”
Riot lets out a resigned breath. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. It’s just… the way she was today, I haven’t seen her like that in so long. She rarely socializes with the other residents, they usually have to force her to eat, and most days, she won’t even leave her suite. She was happy, Rox. For a few hours, she was the old DeDe. I had my mom back, and she was healthy.”
I nod, feeling guilty as hell. Sure, I want to do right by DeDe, but it will kill her if she learns that we lied to her. I don’t want to be responsible for her regression. And then what she whispered in my ear… I can’t steal away what little hope she has left. Not when she’s barely holding on.
“Is that why you wanted to take me today? Because you thought it would help?”
“What do you mean?”
“When you were talking to the woman at the front desk, you said something about yesterday. Did something happen? Is that why you wanted to bring me here?”
Riot chews his lip before answering. “She had an episode yesterday. Wouldn’t eat. Wouldn’t even drink water. And anytime the staff came near her, she would freak out. They thought I’d be able to calm her but when I arrived, she just cried. For nearly two hours, she bawled in bed, curled up in the fetal position. It was hell to see her like that. After the overdose, she was in a coma for six weeks, and the doctors said brain damage was inevitable considering how many pills she took. Some days are worse than others. Yesterday was a bad day.”
Six weeks. After the big on-camera blowup, Riot’s camp reported that he was entering an addiction treatment facility at an undisclosed location overseas for six weeks. And all along, he was sitting at his mother’s bedside, praying she would wake up.
“Why did you let everyone believe you were an addict? The stories calling you a junkie, a loser, a waste of talent. Saying you were just another dumb, druggie musician who deserved to die. Wouldn’t it have been easier to just tell people you were dealing with a family emergency?”
“No,” he shakes his head. “You know how this business works. Then there would be paparazzi staking out my childhood home and all kinds of ridiculous speculation floating around out there. And I’d rather people think and say the absolute worst things about me than let them believe one single negative thing about DeDe. She didn’t sign up for this. And I won’t put her in a position where she’s forced to stand trial in the court of social media.”
I don’t know why, but I need to touch him. And after our extended hug, anything more would seem presumptuous. So I reach out and playfully punch his arm. Lame. But I can’t flip the script and start acting all sweet now.
“You’re a good one, Riot Blufield, you know that?”
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