I squeezed her hand once.
Truth was, I was angry. I was angry at my management team asking what the plan was for the remainder of the tour—even though I wouldn’t be able to play. They brought up all kinds of different plans that included the guys touring without me, replacing me with another performer for a while, and having me hammer out my voice in intense vocal courses.
The scars on my body were nowhere near healed, and they were already treating me as if I didn’t exist anymore. To them, even after ten years of dedicating my life to them, I was nothing more than a paycheck in their eyes.
“We won’t do that,” Calvin argued. “We’ll wait until he’s better,” my best friend told them over and over again.
“Yeah. Without Brooks we’re literally just The Coo. And who the fuck wants to listen to The Coo?” Oliver said.
Rudolph hadn’t said much of anything. He hardly looked at me. I had the feeling he blamed himself for the accident. What I hated the most was the dark corner of my brain that sort of blamed him too. Each day I was becoming less and less of myself. Each day I was a little more bitter. I hated that Maggie sat there watching it happen, too. I hated that she witnessed my destruction.
When the time came for me to leave the hospital, Maggie and I sat in my hospital room while the nurse went to get a wheelchair. My parents had plans for me to come stay with them for a while. To get a nurse to watch over me, so I could focus on healing. But that wasn’t my plan.
“I’m going back to the cabin,” I whispered, because everything I said came out in a low tone. My voice always sounded hoarse whenever it came out, and I hated it.
Maggie arched an eyebrow.
“I don’t want to go home. I don’t want to sit with people’s pity. I don’t want that.”
No one pities you.
“Everyone does. They act like I’m deaf. I hear them. And they blame me, too. At least the media does. I don’t know. I just need a break to get away. To be by myself.”
I know what that’s like. To be in a crowded room where everyone speaks as if you’re a ghost. I’ll come with you.
I frowned. “No, Maggie. You have a to-do list to get started. I’m in no shape to be able to…” I sighed. To be able to have you. “Why does it feel like our timing’s always off?”
Her head lowered to her board, and she began to write as tears fell against her words.
Please don’t leave me again.
I lifted my left hand to console her and paused, looking down at my hand wrapped in a bandage. I wanted her. I wanted her so much, but I knew where my mind was. I knew about the panic attacks I had at night, remembering the accident. I knew about the panic attacks I had during the day, realizing I was the one holding back my band, disappointing my fans, losing promoters for our tour. Losing hundreds of thousands of dollars because of my idea to force myself out on a boat.
I didn’t want to leave Maggie May, but I knew I had to. She had a lifetime of her own panics. The last thing she needed while she was becoming better was to deal with mine.
“Guess who’s back? Back again? Cheryl’s back!” Cheryl hollered, walking into the house with two suitcases and dreadlocks. It had been a week since Brooks sent me home and gone up to the cabin without me. Everyone tried their best to convince him not to go alone, but he wouldn’t have any part of it. He had his nurses who checked in on him and cared for him each day, but otherwise, he was out on his own in Messa.
Daddy, Mama, and I sat down at the dining room table eating dinner as Cheryl came charging into our house, unannounced. Last I heard she was on some island with her boyfriend.
“Cheryl,” Mama said, surprised, but still happy to see her world traveler. “What are you doing here?”
“What? Can’t a girl come visit her family?” She pulled the chair out beside me and sat.
“Always,” Daddy replied. “But last we heard, you were deeply in love with a boy named Jason, and getting dreadlocks on some sandy beach.”
She shook her head. “True, that happened.”
“Where’s Jason?” Mama asked.
“Well, funny story actually. The woman who did my dreads ended up also doing my boyfriend, too.” Everyone’s faces dropped, and Cheryl smiled. “Aw, come on, now. No sad faces. You know what I always say, when life gives you lemons, find vodka.” She reached for my hand and squeezed it. “And find family, too.”
Mama shifted in her seat and looked at Daddy with sad eyes. Without words, they held a conversation, until her lips parted. “Girls, now that you’re both here, I think this is the best time for your father and me to tell you the news.”
I sat up straighter, and Cheryl did, too. “What’s going on?” she asked.
“Your mother and I…we’re…” Daddy swallowed hard and gave me a tight smile. “We’re separating.”
What?