by L. V. Lewis
I most certainly wouldn’t have agreed to be Brody’s best man if I didn’t feel I could take care of myself at their wedding retreat for a couple of weeks. It’s been almost a year since I’ve seen him, and while fighting for my life I cut him and all of my friends, both old and new, temporarily out of my life. No one needed to witness me at my weakest, least of all the first and only woman I’ve ever felt as if I were falling in love with.
Alyssa has been on my mind almost daily since the last night we spent together in that hotel in Dallas. Joining Savage and Skylar on their tour for a brief time was awesome, but what was most satisfying was the time I spent with Alyssa, getting to know her. She’s a tough cookie, but underneath the resilient exterior she shows to most of the world is an extremely talented musician, and caring woman whose gritty, inflexible personality intrigued me in ways no woman ever has.
I find Alyssa to be much like Kimberly Heart, but without the elaborate stage props and the drug addiction. At some point when The Savages were climbing the ladder of rock superstardom, every one of us except her brother Stephen, of course, had a crush on Kimberly, but Savage won her heart without much effort because he had the pipes and played lead guitar like a man possessed. It was a no-brainer for him and Kim to get together, and we all stepped aside because there were plenty of chicks to go around. That was the nature of the beast.
Like Alyssa, Kim didn’t take any shit when she was clean. You had to get up early in the morning and have been born way earlier than yesterday to get one over on Kim. Alyssa had that attribute in spades and she was only a social drinker, so nothing impaired her impeccable judgment. Alyssa was as straightforward as they come and it could be intimidating for a guy who didn’t have his shit together. In fact, my seven-year younger self wouldn’t have lasted fifteen seconds with her. She would’ve seen through my bullshit and called me on it without blinking an eye.
Shortly after meeting Alyssa I wrote a song that described her perfectly. She isn’t your average girl, not by a long shot. She is Exceptional, like the title of the song in her honor. While recovering from Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma, or NHL for short, I had little else to do, but tinker around with my instruments, write music and puke my fucking guts out, and not always in that order. Early on it was all puking my guts out all the time, so it felt good to finally get to a point where I could do other things, like write more songs inspired by Alyssa.
My cell phone rings and I pick it up so I can see the screen clearly. For months, I’ve screened and denied most of my calls. I sent my closest friends texts so they would know I was still alive, but I didn’t share what was going on with me. They thought I was on a hiatus hammering out new songs, and that was half-true. Little did they know I was actually fighting for my life.
Brody is calling me now, and since I’ve agreed to be his best man in a couple of months, I suppose I should answer his call.
“What’s up Sav?” I say after clicking the green phone icon. “Or should I say soon-to-be-hitched Mr. Brody Kent?”
My Mom smiles, I’m not sure if it’s because I actually answered my phone, or because of my upbeat demeanor.
“I’ll answer to either for you,” Brody says. “Hey, are you in Seattle or DG?”
“Downers Grove. Why?”
“I don’t know. I thought if you were in Seattle you could drive down to LA and hang out with me and Sky this weekend.”
“If I was in Seattle, I would man, but I’m hanging with the ‘rents for a minute.”
My mother takes the basket of clothes and exits the den, presumably to take them to my room, but I know she’s just giving me some privacy for my phone call. I turn my attention back to Brody.
“If that’s the truth, it’s cool,” he says, “but you do know you’ve made some flimsy excuse every single time I’ve invited you here since last year.”
“Listen, dude. My excuses may sound flimsy to you, but I’m not avoiding you guys or anything. And I have accepted your request to be your best man. We’re going to spend two weeks together in the Maldives, or have you forgotten that little fact?”
“No, I haven’t,” he breaths a labored sigh. “It’s just… you left a clusterfuck when you did your little number on Alyssa, man. I told you that girl is Sky’s best friend and you’ve made things shaky as fuck between them right now.”
Damn. I had no idea I’d made as much of an impression on Alyssa as she’d made on me. I had hoped, but my plan now that I’m in remission, is to feel her out during the wedding; to see if we can begin again. This turn of events has me re-thinking my game.
“You want me to bow out of the wedding? Because if my presence is going to cause Alyssa, or Sky for that matter, any pain I can do that.”
“You know I don’t want that. You’re the oldest friend I have, and I know I disappeared on you guys first, but I’m trying to extend a long-assed over-due olive branch here. I’m in a better place now and I want you guys to feel like I’m there for you again, because I’m finally able to be here for myself, if that makes any sense.”
“I understand where you’re coming from, and if I could fly out to LA this weekend, I would but there are other reasons I can’t do that right now.” Chief among them being I’ve been working with a nutritionist and a personal trainer to get myself in the best shape I can be for the wedding. Right now, I still look like a cancer patient. But I can’t say that to Brody because he doesn’t know about it. No one does.
“Hey, did you ghost Alyssa over another piece of ass or something?”
“No.”
“So, what? You finally figured out you were a commitment-phobe just before you dumped her?”
“I never committed to one woman because being the drummer of The Savages made it easy for me not to, not because I was a commitment-phobe.”
“Then you should never have stepped to Alyssa, man.”
“She’s the first woman who made me feel like she was worth it.”
“So you just made a dick move on her for nothing? You’ve just been fucking around like you always do?”
“I haven’t hooked up with anyone since Alyssa. Hand to God.”
“You’re shitting me.”
“The only chicks I see these days want nothing to do with me. Believe me.” The nurses at my Oncologist’s office, are for the most part married, and the younger fuckable ones are strictly professional. My nutritionist is hot, and probably the closest to being my type, but I wouldn’t dare fuck that up, because I need her expertise to get me healthy again. They’ve all recognized me, but they don’t even ask me for an autograph or anything.
“They want nothing to do with you because they probably all know your M.O.”
“What part of ‘I haven’t hooked up with anyone since Alyssa’ did you not understand?”
“So…so you were really into her?”
“Yes. How many fucking ways do you want me to say it?”
Brody sighs. “Listen, If she knew I was telling you this, she’d rip my fucking balls off, but Alyssa was really into you, too man.”
“That’s all I needed to know. That means I’ll have a chance when I see her again.”
He scoffs. “I don’t know about that. She had a fucking meltdown when she found out about the vacation before the wedding in the Maldives. First time I’ve ever seen Alyssa cry, and man that scared the fuck out of me.”
I chuckle. That’s my fucking girl! “I promise. When I get to the Maldives, I’ll explain everything to her, and I hope she’ll give me another shot.”
“What about explaining everything to me right now? I know you usually do all the fucking damage you’re going to do and offer no explanations. Make no apologies. But I think I’ve earned one or both.”
Fuck. Sav really knows how to lay a guilt trip on a dude. I take a deep breath. “Brody, I’ve been recovering from cancer.”
“Get out! Are you fucking serious?”
“Yeah, man.”
“What kind?”
“Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphom
a.”
“That’s just…no wonder you wouldn’t take my calls, or text me back half the time.”
“Yeah, I didn’t want to burden you guys with it, and really I could barely handle the idea myself.”
“When did all this happen?”
“I got the news shortly after I brought Alyssa here to DG to meet my family and I stopped following you guys on the Tour.”
“That explains a lot, but I’m low-key PO’d with you for not even telling me.”
“You’re one to talk.”
“Yeah, you’re right. I did the same damn thing when I went into rehab, and kind of extended it out for a few years. I’m an asshole”
“Tell me something I don’t already know.”
“You’re planning to be at my wedding, so you’re good right?”
“Yeah, I’m not dying. I’m actually in remission. My oncologist tried to reassure me it was one of the most curable kinds of cancer, but all I could think about when I heard cancer was I was going to fucking die, and I hadn’t done near enough of the shit I planned to do. You know?”
“I hear you. I feel like I’ve got a new lease on life since I met Sky, man. She makes staying sober easy.”
“That’s great, Brody. I’m really happy for you guys. But you know, before I got the news about this shit, I was ready to go all in with Alyssa, man. She really seemed to get me, and I definitely got her. I hate that cancer derailed every damn good thing I had going in my life for the first time.”
“That’s why you need to tell her. There’s no way she would hold it against you.”
“No!”
“What do you mean no?”
“I don’t want to get her back out of pity.”
“You obviously don’t know Alyssa as well as you think you do. There’s no way she’d not understand why you disappeared.”
“No, but I wouldn’t want her to give me a fucking pass because I was sick either. I want to know that her feelings for me are genuine without the cancer giving me a leg up or some shit.”
“I get it. You want to own either winning her heart, or fucking it up without the cancer playing a part in that. But dude, do you know just how hard that shit’s going to be? Alyssa’s going to eat your ass alive.”
“Then she’s going to have to bring it, because I’m going to get as healthy as I can before I fly out to the Maldives so I can fight for my woman.”
“Your woman?”
“Well, my future woman. I’m not gonna lie, it scared the shit out of me when I began to feel like I wanted more from her, but I was ready to double-down until the big C showed up.”
“It’s going to scare you even more when the little A takes your ass to task about dropping out of her life without so much as a goodbye.”
I blow out a breath. “Yeah, I know I’ve got some big time groveling to do, but I’ve got a plan.”
“Okay, my friend. I certainly hope this plan of yours works. In the meantime, what do you want me to tell the girls?”
“Nothing. Especially not Alyssa. I want to say all that needs to be said to her myself.”
“But you’re still not going to tell her you had cancer?”
“Not until I’m sure she’s willing to give me another go.”
“You promise, because, dude I don’t know if I can keep this shit from Sky. She’s really all about honesty in our relationship, and this is huge. When she finds out, I might be in the dog house before I can even get married, depending on how long it takes you to tell Alyssa.”
“I wouldn’t do that to you guys. If Alyssa is as stubborn as I think she is, it’s going to take the whole two weeks in the Maldives to get her to come around.”
“You’ve got that right. Good luck, my friend. You’re going to really need it.”
Three
Hollywood, CA
ALYSSA
I am so many sheets to the wind when Sky comes down, I could fill all the clotheslines in my grandmother’s backyard down south, but I still drain the pitcher into my glass. I hold my glass up as if in a toast to her. “Sky, you know I love you, right?” I announce as if this is the only pertinent thing I need to tell her at the moment.
I’m not as angry as I was, and this is weird because I’ve stopped cursing both in my mind and audibly. Both my parents were college-educated intellectuals who very rarely swore. My foul mouth grew in direct proportion to the chip on my shoulder when my mother died, and my father became addicted to booze and gambling.
Sky joins me at the wet bar and sits on the stool next to me. “Have a margarita,” I say, then remember I’ve already drained the pitcher. “I can make some more.” I move to stand, but Sky stops me.
“It’s okay,” she says. “Della’s almost got lunch ready. You should join us.” Della is Sky’s narrow little Cajun cook and head housekeeper. We’re cool with one another most of the time because we were both born in the south, but Della is just about as ornery as I am prickly. With everyone except Sky.
“I could eat, since all I had to eat this morning at my place was eggs and pop tarts.”
“The breakfast of champions,” Sky says with decorum.
“And you know, eggs give me gas, but I totally love them.” I don’t know why I’m going all TMI with Sky right now, when all I really want to do is apologize to her for being such a bitch. I allow myself that one curse word because it more than aptly describes what I was when I showed up at her house earlier, and just a little while ago to Brody. I hope he doesn’t hate me now.
“I think that might be why we stopped sharing hotel rooms on tour,” she says. “You didn’t want to give up eggs, and I didn’t want to be exposed to your silent but deadlies.”
“I didn’t tell you that taking Gas-X solved my problem, because I liked having a room to myself, especially when I wanted to watch Scandal and you didn’t.”
“Now you might have to share a room with me and Brody on tour.” She teases.
“Not likely since I overstepped some major boundaries with him a few minutes ago. He might hate me now.”
“Brody could never hate you, Alyssa. I love you, so ergo, he loves you, too.”
I gaze into her eyes as steadily as I can after having consumed a pitcher of Margaritas (with double shots of top shelf liquor per pint of mixer) on my own. “I’m sorry, Sky. You are nothing like your mother. It’s possible you got all your redeeming qualities from your father. Asian people are generally less bitchy than us Americans.”
“I beg to differ. Have you seen Crazy Rich Asians? Those Chinese Mean Girls operate on a Godfather tip. They make the American version look like unhappy toddlers. Apology accepted,” she says. I’m surprised she didn’t call me on my sweeping generalization, but Sky never really does. She’s the one person who accepts me as I am with zero judgment. I’m a November baby and my default setting for most people stays on “mildly annoyed.” Except for her and a select few other people in my life.
“We’re gonna have to watch that together. Bet?” I say. I hop down off my bar stool and go in for a hug and a sloppy kiss on the cheek. Sky indulges me, even though I know she prefers PDA from Brody, not her drunk best friend, who’s been a mess since Dylan Castle made me think there was something real between us. I met his mother two months after we met for goodness sake, and the man really knows how to lay pipe. Oh my God! I promised myself not to think about how great the sex was between us, but the mind wanders when it’s impaired by alcohol.
“Bet.” Sky agrees. “Come on. Let’s go see what Della’s cooked up for us, hmm?” She takes my hand and leads me out of the den and into the kitchen. Brody joins us a few minutes later, and we sit down to the best lunch I’ve had in days.
The food at Naveah wasn’t all that, but I didn’t turn it down, because I was trying to be polite. And they preferred I didn’t take Jacob out to eat, because he was kind of on house arrest until he got his assigned person to shadow him everywhere. I think they were afraid he would be tempted to order a drink if we went out somewhere.
“Brody,” I say after we’ve eaten silently for a few minutes. “You know you don’t have to listen to your girlfriend’s best friend when she’s trying to tell you anything, especially when she’s drinking a whole pitcher of margaritas, right?”
Brody chuckles. “If that’s your sad attempt at an apology, accepted.”
Sky does that thing where she’s sharing unspoken communications with him across the table. I put her out of her misery and answer her unspoken question.
“I said some stuff to Brody that I shouldn’t have about giving up on performing, and I’m sorry, especially because he didn’t ask for my opinion on the subject.”
“Oh,” Sky says. “You’ve been in rare form today.”
I take another bite of whatever it is Della has prepared us for lunch. I can’t identify it, but it’s good. “Yes. I have, and when I’m done eating, can I sleep in my guest room tonight? You know I’m not like Jacob. I’m not a worthless drunk, so I won’t drive when I’m drunk.”
“Yes, of course,” Sky says. “Your regular room is always ready.”
“Okay.” I say, and I eat every bite on my plate. Only then do I allow Sky and Brody to help me up the stairs. Although, I am tiny by average standards, I can hold my liquor, so there’s no fear that I’ll be worshipping the porcelain god in the wee hours of the morning, but I will likely have a nice hangover.
Brody discreetly leaves us alone when I plop down on my designated guest bed so Sky can help me out of my clothes. The bed is a welcome respite for my travel-weary, heartbroken soul. Visiting Jacob always takes it out of me, because although I know he’s probably going to disappoint me yet again, I always adopt a stance of muted hope. Truthfully, my bender was only partly about Dylan, but it was the largest part. Even though drinking helps me forget him in my waking hours, Dylan always invades my dreams, and I am barely into REM sleep before he does just that.
Four
Flushing, NY / Bronx, NY