Page 67 of Hey Girl
I don’t know what else to do to keep my shit together except tighten up every muscle in my body and stay as quiet as possible. I might pass out.
“How much time?” I ask carefully. “And we’ll see what?”
“I - I’m not sure. Just however long it takes to feel like I’m on stable ground again. And we’ll see if I can handle being in a relationship that’s so public, I guess.” She gives an uneasy shrug, tucking into herself slightly.
“So you’re … not coming to the UK, then?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
She gets a troubled look on her beautiful little face before finally shaking her head.
I want to rage all over this porch or throw her over my shoulder and race her back to my lair and keep her locked up in my studio where we continue to stay in our safe little sound-proof bubble, having hot, drum-banging sex and she allows me to use her ass as a set of spare bongos. And yet, I force myself to keep my ass rooted to the swing. That’s not going to make her keep loving me. Besides, she’ll probably find a smart way to escape and then she’ll pack up and move to a monastery where I’ll never find her and the nuns will smite me for even trying.
I hate this, but I know that if I push back, she’ll retreat again, and this time even farther and for longer.
I take a few breaths, timing out each one to a steady beat in my head before finally saying, “Okay,” with a nod, and finally meet her eyes. “Okay, you take some time.”
She presses her lips together as her eyes well up behind her lenses. “Thank you,” she whispers before leaning in to wrap her arms around my neck while I allow mine to go around her lithe little body. I let out a breath as my insides get colder.
After planting a kiss on her cheek, I force myself to stand. As much as I don’t want to be more than two feet away from her, I need to get away before I crumble like a stale graham cracker. Gross. But when I reach the top of the porch steps, I have to turn and ask. “So um…you’ll…?”
“Yes,” she nods from the swing. “I’ll let you know.”
“Promise?”
Her face melts into a heartbreakingly sweet expression before she stands and strides quickly over to me. Taking my face in her hands, her eyes find mine. “I promise,” she vows before planting a sweet kiss on my lips that I return, before she releases me a few seconds later, I clamor down the steps and to my vehicle, trying to figure out what to do with myself now.
I barely remember the drive back to my house, and once I’m there, I pace the kitchen. I open and close every cupboard and fridge door, not knowing what I want or what I’m looking for.
I’ve never felt the need to move so badly in my life. I’ve been accused of never wanting to sit still, but before now, the restlessness never had anything to do with trying to outrun some cold and sinking feeling plaguing my insides.
Finally settling on a few BLASTs and a bottle of vodka, I load them up in my arms and head on down to my drum booth.
Once I’m perched on my stool, I fiddle with my equipment and my phone, trying to put together a playlist for some angry fucking drum pounding. It takes a while, as I don’t usually go for that kind of vibe.
Finding a good mix of legendary classics and obscene death metal, I start pounding out the beats with everything I’ve got, doing the best I can not to think… or feel.
For once,I don’t want to take in the whole world, or vice versa. Despite being in the car on an overcast day, my eyes hide behind a set of shades. I keep the rest of me stock still and silent. Josh grabs my chin, lifting my head, only to scoff angrily when I let it flop back down.
“What the fuck?!” He belts out, blowing out a frustrated breath as he turns to look out the window.
“Just leave him be,” Matt chides from the other side of the limo where one of his hands rests on Melanie’s leg. I can’t see her face, as I’m hell bent on keeping my gaze downcast, but I can imagine it’s one of deep sympathy.
“I’m freaking out, man!” Josh bursts out and I can see him wildly gesturing at me in my peripheral. “He won’t keep his head up. Can you imagine him on stage like this? Our stock will plummet!”
“We have a six-hour flight and then a rest day when we get to Dublin. Plenty of time for him to process and regroup.”
I hear a pause from Josh, followed by “I don’t know man. In all our years, this is a first, this took him down hard.”
“I know,” Matt sighs before I hear him address me. “Chris man… we’ve all been there. Okay well, except for Josh. But we pushed through and did our jobs. We kept playing. I know you can do it.”
I feel the car come to a stop. I’m guessing we’ve reached the tarmac.
Everyone else exits the car while I take a moment for myself, trying to muster up the gumption to make the walk from the limo to the band’s private jet. With just me and our beloved driver in the car, I finally speak, my voice ominous and low.
“Wes, my new theme music, if you please.”
The familiar opening chords start to fill the interior of the car but I already know it’s the wrong one. “The Adam Sandler version,” I correct him, and I hear a sigh followed by the music switching over. Love Stinks starts playing and Wes is kind enough to crank it louder as I get out of the car and march slowly and deliberately towards the plane.
Maybe Matt is right. I just need to take some time to feel my feelings. If I just welcome the grieving process and get through it, the sooner I can get back to my crazy self.