My Kind of Forever

by Heidi McLaughlin

  “That night…” I start, but hesitate so I can think about my words carefully. We’ve never spoken about the night he broke up with me. The night that ruined my life, albeit temporarily. “Mason…” I can’t bring myself to say it without choking up. It’s too hard to speak about him because he’s missing so much.

  Liam pulls me to him, resting his forehead against my chest. I hold him there, moving my fingers in and out of his hair. When he kisses my stomach I want to cry for the child we both desperately want, but are unable to conceive.

  “I want to give you a child, Jojo. I’m so sorry I can’t.”

  “You already gave me one,” I remind him.

  “I wasn’t there, but Mason was.”

  When Liam looks up at me, tears overcome me and are matched by his own. Using the pad of his thumbs, he wipes them away as fast as he can, leaving his own to fall onto his bare chest.

  “I saw him go to your room. I waited in the parking lot, but you never came out. I told myself if you did, I’d stay or take you with me, but he showed up instead. Why didn’t you come after me?”

  “I knew it was over.” The finality of my words, even years later, weighs heavily on my chest. I gasp for air and Liam’s face shows concern as he holds my arms above my head until I can breathe.

  “How’d you know when I didn’t even know that myself?”

  “You called me Josephine.”

  “Are you going to miss my baseball championship?” Noah asks, as I rummage through my side of the closet, pulling out enough clothes to last me a while. With Linda, our full-time housekeeper, staying here I’ll be on my own to wash my clothes. It’s a chore I’m not very good at so I figure if I pack enough to last me, I should be okay.

  “Are you going to make it to the championship?”

  Noah scoffs, looking at me as if I’ve asked the dumbest question ever. Confidence is one trait he’s gotten from me tenfold. If he tells me he’s going to walk on water, I’ll believe him. He’s determined to succeed at everything.

  “Of course we will. Nick says we’re the strongest team in the state and have an excellent chance at making it to Williamsport.”

  I want to be a petulant child and roll my eyes at the mention of Nick, but I’ve made promises to my son and wife. I’m playing nice. I’m sharing, even when I don’t want to. I pause and take a good hard look at Noah and conclude that he is light years ahead of where I was at his age in maturity. He has faith in his coach to lead them to the coveted prize of the Little League World Series. And if he does, if Nick comes through with these kids, you can bet your ass I’ll be there.

  “When playoffs start, I’ll be home,” I tell him, but he looks skeptical. He shouldn’t look at me like that even though I know I’ve earned it. Here I am trying to build a life with him and Josie, only to leave when she’s going to need me the most. Noah should remember that the second I found out about him, I wanted to be a part of his life. Has it been easy? No, it hasn’t. He and I walk the line on who’s the boss and how much authority I have. It’s hard to be the mean guy when you’re ten years removed from the situation.

  Noah picks up his acoustic guitar and strums a few lines. When he asked me to teach him to play, I jumped at the opportunity. I also asked him if he wanted to learn the drums, piano, Karate or take dance lessons. The latter earned me a dirty look. I refuse to be like Sterling and make him only play football. Noah’s a damn good pitcher, as well, and it makes me proud that he’s not specializing in only one sport. That’s what Sterling wanted and achieved with me. I think his proudest moment was when the huge sign was perched in our front yard declaring the house as my residence. I hated the sign, but never said anything because it wasn’t my place. I was just a pawn in Sterling’s life, one that let him down completely.

  Since I’ve been back in Beaumont, I have never seen my father. I’m not looking for him either. I’m sure I’ve passed him driving down the street or maybe even leaving the bank. Linda does all our shopping and he wouldn’t dare step inside Josie’s shop. It’s best we never speak. My mom is a different story. She’s been over a few times to see Noah, but it takes her days to build up the courage to actually pull into our driveway. She’s trying to get to know her grandson, even if she can’t look Josie or me in the eyes. My mom also knows that Josie and I are waiting for an apology. It’s not how she treated me growing up, but what she allowed Sterling to do to Josie when she came knocking on the door, pregnant and afraid, that is unforgiveable. She should’ve sought her out and gotten in touch with me, but she cowered in the corner, drinking herself into a stupor instead of doing the right thing. I can easily forgive her for her actions toward me but not Noah.

  I shake my head to clear my thoughts about my parents and focus on Noah. He’s tuned me out, getting lost in the simple chords of She’s Like the Wind. He didn’t ask me to teach him this song but when I heard him practicing it, I couldn’t stop myself from asking if he wanted to take up dancing. It was a low blow, I know. It turns out, Josie used to make him dance with her when she watched the movie Dirty Dancing. He was learning the song for his mom and I had made a stupid joke about it. I quickly learned it so I could teach him and now he plays it better than I do.

  “You’re getting a lot better... you don’t need to look at your finger placements on the fret board as often.”

  “I have a good teacher.”

  I shrug. I’m only as good as my student allows me to be, and he knows this. I could have him practicing every day, but I want him to be a kid. I want him to go outside and get dirty in the mud, race his bike down the street and come home when the street lights are on, exhausted and excited for the next day.

  “Are you going to take care of your mom while I’m gone?”

  Noah stops and sets his guitar down on my bed. From where I’m standing and he’s seated, we have a perfect view of each other. Sometimes when I look at him I see me, other times it’s Josie. It’s hard to fathom that we created him and that I missed most of his life. When I glance at him now, I see worry and trepidation. I put those there in his mind.

  I stop pulling clothes off my shelf and go sit by him. I remember so much at his age. How happy I was playing with Mason, how throwing a football around was fun and how we couldn’t wait until high school. That all changed for me in middle school. For Noah, the change is there, just different. We’ve been performing locally for a while and he came with us on the one tour we’ve done since I’ve been in his life. This time it’s different. This time he’s going to experience what it’s like to be the son of a musician. Most children grow into the role. He’s being thrown in to it.

  “Do you have to go?” he asks, picking at the hem of his frayed shorts. He bought them like that, much to Josie’s chagrin. When I told her it’s the style, she threw her hands up and left the store, muttering something about spending money on clothes with pre-made holes. But his shorts are identical to mine and I think that’s why he wanted them.

  “Yeah, I do. Trixie helped me a lot when I was a kid looking for a place to play. She’d let me play at her club and I slowly started to build a following. If it weren’t for her and my grandmother, I don’t know what I’d be doing right now.”

  Noah sighs, turning, so he’s facing me. One foot dangles off the bed, swinging back and forth, while his other is tucked under his leg.

  “Why can’t you wait until after school is out?”

  Ideally, that’s what we’d like to do but time is of the essence. Not that I expect my son to understand someone else’s plight.

  “The club that Trixie owns has been in her family for a long time and it’s closing because she doesn’t have the money to keep it open. There are a few of us going that started out there, and we’re going back in hopes to help her stay open a little longer. I wish I could tell everyone that we need to wait but, if I do, I’ll be too late. And Harrison and JD are going whether I go or not.”

  “Do you remember when you first came here?”

  “Of course I do.�
�� I’m not likely to forget the two moments that changed my life.

  “Nick was mad that you were at Uncle Mason’s funeral and I heard him telling Mom that you’re never going to stay and raise a family.”

  “Nick’s wrong,” I immediately tell him. “Mistakes were made when your mom and I were younger. So many things could’ve been different, but your mom and I can’t change the past. I’m not leaving you guys behind. I’m going to work. I’m not any different from other dads.”

  This seems to spark a smile out of Noah. “Yes, you are.”

  I shake my head. “No, Noah, I’m really not. Every day I wake up, take you to school and go to my studio to write or work on new music. My job is making me take a business trip, and that means I’ll bring home all these cool presents or whatever it is that us dads do. It’s really no different from when Nick went to Africa and came back with Aubrey.”

  The mention of Nick returning with Aubrey causes Noah’s eyes to go wide. That scenario probably wasn’t the best one to use since he left and came back with a wife.

  “Bad example,” I say, quickly diffusing the situation. “What I mean is parents sometimes have to go away for business, and that’s all I’m doing. The band is going to play a few gigs, help out an old friend and we’ll be home before you know it.”

  “Do you think I could join the band?” Noah picks up his guitar and strums quickly and very out of tune while making a Gene Simmons face.

  I set my hand over his to stop my ears from bleeding and try to fight back the laughter to no avail. My son is damn cute and funny, and he makes me believe in myself.

  “You can be anything you want to be, Noah. I’m not going to stand in your way. I’ll be standing next to you, guiding and offering you all the support that you’ll need. When you succeed, I’ll be the first one to congratulate you unless your mom beats me to it... and if you fail, I’ll be there to pick up the pieces.”

  Dads aren’t supposed to be sentimental, but I am. He’s far too important for me to hold back and not tell him how I feel. My father did that. I won’t. I won’t have a troubled relationship with my son, or be that parent he can’t come to whether it’s good or bad.

  I lightly punch his shoulder and get a grin in return. “Okay, enough heavy stuff. When are you going to play the song for your mom?”

  Noah returns to playing, focusing on the song this time. He hums a few lines and makes it really obvious he really doesn’t know the words.

  “Can I help?” I ask, not wanting to step on his toes or get in his way.

  “Sure.”

  “What if you play and I sing?”

  A thousand watt smile beams on his face as he fist pumps the air. “Mom is going to freaking love this.”

  I quickly pull up the lyrics on my phone and read them over.

  “Hey Dad,” he says, interrupting my studying.

  “What’s up?”

  “Do you think we could go to the studio and pretend like we’re actually laying down a track?”

  Sometimes I just want to reach out, grab him and hold on, never letting go. This would be one of those moments. I’ve learned over the years, though, that too much affection is frowned upon when you’re a teenage boy.

  “I think that’s a great idea. This way, once we perform, your mom can listen to it over and over again and we won’t have to treat her like a crazy fan girl.”

  “Oh, she’s a fan girl all right.”

  I stop dead in my tracks and bust out laughing. There have been times when I’d serenade Josie, only for her to go completely crazy and chase me around the house. It’s all in good fun. Noah doesn’t have a clue about how crazy the fans can get though, and that is something I’m trying to shield him from. The last thing I want is my son to witness women throwing their panties on stage, or cat fighting with security so they can get back stage. My favorite one is the one where they pretend they’re sick and get to use the bathroom nearest the green room. It never fails that they sneak past security and end up waiting for us.

  I’ll take Josie’s type of fan girl over that any day.

  Jimmy tweeted.

  That is the only viable explanation as to why Whimsicality has a line outside the door. I shouldn’t complain, I’m grateful for the business. I’m just not prepared. Tonight was supposed to be about Liam and me. I was going to close the café before dinner and go home to my husband. With the band leaving tonight I need to spend every possible second with him. The last couple of days - actually more like hours - have been crazy. The fight we had, followed by my revelation, has left us both hurting in ways we can’t fix right now. Memories of the night he left still haunt me, and for me to throw it in his face was uncalled for. He’s told me why he left, why things ended for us, and I need to accept it and move on. If I can’t, I’m not in our marriage for the right reasons.

  When Dana, one of my waitresses, called begging for help I knew something was up. While my business is successful, we’re not over the top busy unless it’s an open mic night or the guys are playing. Neither of which were supposed to happen tonight until Jimmy sent out his tweet: 4225 West impromptu gig at Whims before we head to LA! It only took a swipe of my thumb to see what her panic was about.

  And now that I’m here, the panic was well warranted. The band has treated the locals very well. If they’re not playing for free, they’re donating their time and money to different causes. Just last week, they were the hosts of a cancer walk that brought in the most money ever raised in Beaumont. When Liam moved back, and was subsequently followed by Harrison and Jimmy, I thought for sure that the paparazzi would be everywhere. At first they were, but Liam has made it a point not to hide. The only place he, Noah and I are off limits is at home. Anywhere else he’ll smile for the camera or give a quick interview if they ask him to. In turn, they leave Noah and me alone.

  As of late, the photographers and journalists have been few and far between. I hadn’t even noticed until Liam expressed a strong desire to return to Los Angeles to revive their careers. I had become so comfortable in my role as his wife that I hadn’t realized that his career was suffering. His nights spent in the studio, long after Noah and I have gone to bed, haven’t gone unnoticed. I just didn’t know the band was losing its grip on the charts. I’ve been living blindly, or Liam has been sheltering me. Either way, it’s not good for our marriage and it’s definitely not good for his career.

  When we married, I knew what I was getting into. I never asked him to stop, and even if I did, I don’t think he would’ve. Music is his outlet. It’s his release. Liam loves me unconditionally, but his music is what grounds him. It’s really no different from his football days. In front of a crowd, he’s king. Their cheers fuel his body. He needs them as much as I need him.

  I once read an article written by another musician’s wife in which she explained it was only after their divorce that she realized the music was her competition. It wasn’t the booze, drugs or other women, but the music. Her words gave me pause. Her words reminded me that being married to someone like Liam, someone who is competitive, driven, stubborn, and compassionate about all things in life, is like being married to multiple people. Liam, himself, reminded me of that the other night. When he’s on stage, he’s Liam Page: A performer. When he’s with me, with Noah, with our friends and away from the music, he’s Liam Westbury. Accepting one without the other is not possible.

  The shattering of ceramic grabs my attention. My eyes dart around the room, looking for the cause of the commotion. David gives me a sheepish look before he starts to clean up the broken mug. Having started last fall, along with Dana and Sarah, he’s been working here for almost a year. I don’t know what I’m going to do without them come summer. They’ll go home once the college semester is done, and I’ll be rallying Katelyn and Jenna to come in and work. Even if they agree, it’ll only be temporary. Their lives have changed so much in the past few years, and neither of them have to work. Technically none of us do, but I can’t give up the café or the fl
ower shop. They were my dreams, and I followed them, just as Liam followed his.

  A single tear falls from my eye, catching me off guard. I’ve been an emotional roller coaster since Liam said he was leaving. Last time we went with the band, but it’s not possible now. I’m afraid to ask how long he’s going to be gone. By the evidence left in our closet, he’s planning for the long haul.

  It’s hard for me to understand why this woman means so much to him. I get that she gave him a shot, but I can’t help thinking this is a bad case of keeping strings attached. His life is here, with me. I need him here, not gallivanting around Los Angeles playing gigs to raise money for a rundown bar. His big heart can stay here and help Ralph’s, even if it’s running better than ever because of the support the band gives it.

  I have goose bumps on my arms before he even walks in the door. How, after all this time, can Liam affect me like this? He pauses and looks at me. His lower lip is tucked between his teeth and his head is angled just enough to cause the butterflies in my stomach to start fluttering. I take him in, all of him, with his torn up jeans hanging low on his hips, to his button down shirt showing just the beginning of the J of his tattoo. His sleeves are rolled up, adding definition to his arms, but it’s his left hand that catches my attention. His freshly polished wedding band is the focal point. I put that there, and he wears it proudly. I hate that he didn’t shave. I hate that I’m going to miss running my fingers through his stubble tonight and all I’ll be able to do is imagine the feel of his skin against mine. My memory is going to have to be on point while he’s gone and he knows that. He’s standing there while Harrison and Jimmy filter around him, letting me drink him in, allowing me to burn him into my memory for later.

  “God, your husband is hot.”