"It's my normal color now."
He nods and grins. "I see. I wanted to have a little chat."
"Okay, chat then."
"I want you to finally tell me what happened."
"What happened to what?"
He tilts his head at me. "Your wife."
Sighing, I kick my feet up on top of my suitcase in front of me. "I still don't want to talk about her, Ash. Really."
"I didn't ask if you wanted to."
"It's hard to explain." How can I explain what I don’t even understand myself?
"I think I have the capacity to understand quite a bit. So try me."
"Well, for one thing, this shit with my ear had me fucked up. I was moody with her all the time, and to be honest, I treated her like shit. I was tired all the time. Having sex was hit or miss—sometimes great, sometimes I'd get dizzy and have to run to the bathroom to barf or cling to the side of the bed. It was embarrassing.”
He nods, listening intently. "Okay, I can understand that's hard for you. What else?"
"And then I read her journal, the day before we were supposed to make our decision."
"Tal…not a good move, little bro."
"I know, trust me. She wrote that she never would have married me, and I broke her heart like a million times, and how much I've changed since the MD started. Then she mentioned a guy—no name, just an initial—and being confused about him. I'm pretty sure it was her ex who was trying to get her back. And that same day, I saw her with another guy. She has no idea, but it set me off. I flew into a rage over the whole thing. I couldn’t get my head out of that bad place. I don't think it would have worked, man. I'm not what she wanted, that's all."
“That doesn’t sound like anything she would say or do, Tal.”
“I know. That’s why it fucked me up so bad.”
He stares out the window for a few minutes before he answers. "Ember's journal has been in her nightstand for the past five years. She wrote it in every day. She has several, actually, because she started writing when she was sixteen and I started making them for her every year for her birthday—with a real key to lock and unlock them. She loved them."
"Yeah, I remember that. It was cool. All that parchment paper."
"Yup. I've never once touched those journals, and believe me, Tal, I want to. You have no idea how fucking bad I want to. But I can't. You want to know why? Because there are things in there she probably wouldn't ever want me to read. Thoughts I wouldn't understand. Thoughts she may have felt when she wrote them but didn't feel later. If I read that last one, I'm going to have a lot of questions, and she's not here to give me the answers. I can't do that to myself. If she'd wanted me to know anything that's in there, she would have told me. So I have to leave it alone and hope someday she'll be able to tell me what happened. It's not fair for me to just assume what she was going through or steal her private thoughts away from her."
"Ash, I'm sorry. That's different, though…"
He shakes his head. "No, it's not. I think you made a decision based on a lot of fucked-up assumptions, and you acted out of anger, and you don’t ever act that way. This isn’t like you. I’m worried about you."
I shrug. I’m worried about me, too. "I don't know. I know what I fucking read, and what I saw, and I saw her with another guy who she met behind my back. I just couldn’t get past it."
"Wouldn't it have been easier to just ask her?"
"I guess I just didn't want to hear any lies, or hear that she wanted to leave me. I was so pissed at everything and so aggravated and confused that I just wanted to end it all and be alone."
“Maybe you should try to talk to her? Hear what she has to say? Work it out?"
I shake my head. “I think it’s beyond that now. I did way too much damage. I turned into her worst nightmare.” My chest starts to hurt again, like it always does when I think about her.
"Okay. Just a thought," he pats my back. "I think you’re making a big mistake. She really loves you. I have no doubts."
"It’s already done. I dug the hole way too deep."
He shakes his head at me again. "It’s never too late. And you better stay away from the edge of the stage. I'll put a leash on you if I see you meandering around on the edge, okay?”
"Whatever, man. I'm not falling again. I've got it under control."
* * *
The days of the tour drag. I spend most of the day either sleeping on the bus or puking from feeling dizzy. I have constant headaches and I don't want to eat anything. Even though no one has said anything, my playing is off. Ash has moved me all over the stage trying to help me find a spot that doesn't fuck me up, but nothing makes it better. The guys are all being cool, but I can tell they're not exactly thrilled with my not being on point like I used to be. The groupies love it, of course. Word of my separation has already been leaked, and now they all seem to think they have the golden pussy that will magically make me feel better, if I would just give them a chance. And I don't. I have zero desire for any of these chicks, and I touch none of them.
On the last night of the tour, I fall off the steps of the bus and land headfirst in a puddle, spraining my ankle and giving myself another concussion. The last show of the tour is canceled, thousands of fans are pissed, a picture of me lying in muddy water goes viral all over the internet, and it's pretty clear my rock-star days are done.
Asher and Storm stay behind until I'm released from the hospital two days later, and they rent a van to drive us back home, taking turns driving, arguing, and singing TV sitcom songs, while I sit in the back and fight nausea for 500 miles, wondering what the hell I did to deserve landing in this tenth circle of hell.
Chapter 43
Asia
Keeping my mind busy is the only thing I can do to prevent myself from falling into a bad depression again. For weeks my moods went from crying and missing Talon like crazy to wanting to destroy everything in sight as my anger with him festered. To distract myself I cleaned every inch of my new town house, even though it didn't need it. Then I sewed curtains and blinds to decorate it.
I plunged myself into all the clothes and body and bath orders that still keep coming in. I have to admit, I'm surprised my little business didn't tank with my marriage, but it seems like even more people are ordering since our breakup became known. I'm making stage clothes for three other bands now, and I have a little kiosk at the mall twice a week. Some days, I sell the bath supplies, and on other days, I sell the custom teacup-sized pet clothes I design and hand-sew.
I guess, all things considered, my life could be a lot worse, like it seems Talon's is. When Kat sent me a text yesterday saying she heard he had another accident, I ignored it at first. I didn't want to know. Knowing about him only makes me sad, and I’ve been trying like crazy not to think about him or let myself get more depressed. But curiosity gets the best of me, and I go online to read about what happened. Within seconds, I'm looking at a picture of him lying on the ground, his face in a puddle, in the pouring rain.
ROCKER TALON VALENTINE GETS WASTED AND FACE-PLANTS INTO PUDDLE!
REHAB, ANYONE?
Ugh, that headline. Who writes this shit?
My heart breaks as I look at the picture, and I gently run my finger over the screen, over him. My beautiful man, my Viking, lying on the ground. Being made fun of. Still hiding his disease.
I slam the lid of my laptop down, tears brimming in my eyes. I wish I could go to him and comfort him, but he has made it ultraclear he wants nothing to do with me—for reasons I still don't know. He does listen to Lukas, though, and I decide right then and there I'm going to take advantage of that and take Lukas up on his offer for me to call him if I ever need anything. Right now I do need something—I need him to help Talon get his symptoms under control, and I have a pile of collected research I think can help him. I have no doubt I can get Lukas on board with helping him, and Talon doesn't ever have to know it came from me. All that matters is that Talon gets better and gets off this path of de
struction he's hell-bent on going down.
After all, I'm still his wife. He hasn't signed his divorce papers yet and neither have I, so I am still committed to my vows of taking care of him and loving him no matter what—whether the fool wants it or not.
Chapter 44
Talon
The other side of the bed dips. I open my eyes and blink at the wall, afraid to turn to see who’s there. Someone's in my bed. So either a crazy fan broke in, or a burglar, or maybe Asia came back.
Bracing myself, I slowly roll over.
"Lukas? The fuck are you doing in my bed?"
"I heard about your puddle tumble. I came to see if you want to take me up on my offer to start our own band."
I rub my hand across my face and stare up at the ceiling, which is slowly spinning clockwise.
"Yeah, I think it might be coming to that."
He leans over me and stares down into my face.
"What the hell are you doing?" I ask him.
"Tell me what you see."
"I see you. You're in my face."