Play With You (Loneliness) (8 page)

One morning, when we are in Atlanta, Georgia, the blokes call me into Tim's room.

"Well then, what's all this?"

"Johanna, we've noticed you seem...depressed. What's it all about?" Tim asks. He wears a look of concern on his face.

"I...I'll try to do better," I promise the guys. I really don't want to admit that I'm missing Marcus so much.

The three of them look at me, each wearing a look of skepticism.

"Okay. Just see that you do," says Linny.

I feign a smile. "I will. It's just an adjustment over here in the U.S. It's hotter here than I anticipated and it's tiring me out," I lie.

"Lie under this blessed air conditioning!" says Laslow with a wide grin.

"I do! Then we go outside and...honestly, boys, I promise, I'll do better," I say. Leaving Tim's room, my smile slides off my face and I trudge back to my room feeling unbearably lonely as I miss Marcus. He's probably finishing his day's writing now. It's something like six hours later for me than it is for him. Back in my room, I gaze at my reflection in my mirror. My eyes are hollow. I smile and it looks...ghastly! So fake! I growl at myself and comb my hair, then brush on some cosmetics so I look like I'm feeling perkier, even if I'm not.

That night, I barely make it through the performance. Back in my dressing room after the concert, tears leak out of my eyes. I start at a firm knock at my door. I'm not looking forward to trying to sleep in my lonely room tonight! I miss him so damn much!

"Go on then," I say, struggling to keep my voice even.

Tim comes in, giving me a deep and searching look. "You okay?"

"Yeah, just tired. I'm looking forward to a good night's sleep," I lie. I stand up, trying to look as though I'm not feeling deadly depressed. A yawn sneaks up on me and I giggle.

"Okay. Just make sure you do sleep. Got that?"

"Yep. I will." Once he leaves, I do the mathematical calculation. If it's eleven-thirty here, it's...five? Five-thirty in England? I grab my things and join the boys so we can get a ride back to our hotel. We leave the next morning for Indianapolis, Indiana. Then, we'll stop in Madison, Wisconsin and St. Paul, Minnesota. Such odd city names! In my room, I connect to Skype and talk to Marcus for several minutes. He looks just as lonely as I feel. It's a very hard job for me not to break down crying. Therefore, I give him our travel itinerary for the next several days. He quickly jots down cities and dates, and then we calculate the time differences for each city.

"Johanna, I'll check online for the time differences and email them to you. You'd better get to sleep. You look...exhausted," he says.

"I am," I tell him. I don't want to admit that, because I miss him so much, I'm feeling so damn depressed. Once we log off, I grab a pillow and hold it against my middle while I bury my face in a second pillow. Only this way do I feel safe, letting loose with my tears. I love him so damn much! I miss him horribly!

A
s we hopscotch across the United States, it becomes increasingly difficult for me to hide my feelings. One day, I just can't get out of bed so I can get to our scheduled practice. By now, we're in St. Louis, Missouri. It's a pretty city, but all I see is Marcus' face in front of my eyes as I miss him. Everything reminds me of him. Finally, I'm able to get out of bed two hours late. But only because Tim and Linny are banging on my door and I don't want them irritating other hotel guests.

"Okay, okay, I'm up!" I yell in irritation. Looking at my reflection in the mirror, I gasp. "I'll be there in thirty minutes! I...overslept," I lie. I hurry into the shower, then, allowing my hair to stay wet, I tie it back and apply a light coating of makeup to my face. I pick a brightly colored top and jeans, with trainers.

I make it through that night's performance, but only just. I scuttle into my dressing room, not wanting the blokes to see my ravaged face.

I hear one of them knocking on my door.

"Yeah, what is it?" I ask.

"We're going out for a burger and chips. You want to join us?" Laslow asks.

"Sorry. I'm really exhausted. I just want to sleep." Now, my problem isn't being unable to sleep; all I want to do is sleep! I don't know what's going on with me. I'm normally an even-keeled woman, able to handle almost anything.

'Okay. Have one of the guys take you back to the hotel - unless you'd like one of us to go with you."

"I'm fine. I'll just get someone to take me back. All I want to do is read or crochet," I tell Laslow through the closed door.

"Okay. We'll see you in the morning - on time this time!"

I wince. "Okay," I say meekly.

In my room, I fiddle with the alarm clock, vowing to buy one I can operate without reading a small novel of instructions. I think I've got it set for the right time - I'll find out in the morning. After figuring the clock out, I connect with Marcus.

"Hey, beautiful! How are you? How'd the concert go?"

"It went well! Really well! I'm actually excited, but I decided to come back to my room so I could chat with you. How was your day?"

"I got quite a bit done - actually, I use work to keep from missing you. I've asked most of my clients to send me as much work as they have available. I should have a banner quarter by the time you come back!"

I choose to look at the bright side and I grin. "That's good! At least, you're setting some good money against those times when you can't find much work. That's what we're doing here - earning a bumload of money - Tim was teasing me the other day, telling me to build up my old-age fund. One of the blokes laughed, saying that I'm a kid and the old-age fund is more their worry."

Marcus laughed. "I can only imagine! So how do your days over there go?" He seems to have a look of worry in his eyes - I'll need to make sure that my face looks normal when I get onto Skype to visit with him. I make a mental note.

"The same as in England, actually. We wake up in our rooms, get ready for our day of practice, and then we leave for the concert venue and perform." No way am I telling him that I couldn't get out of bed for two hours this morning!

What I don't know at this time is that Tim, Linny and Laslow have contacted Marcus, telling him that I'm falling apart out of loneliness for him. His look of worry is something he can't hide, but I think that's because of my physical appearance. After we log off, I roll into bed, crying with misery and sexual longing. I want him here with me!

The next morning, I'm up on time and I get ready for our flight back to Washington, D.C. We're supposed to perform for the President of the United States, Barack Obama, and his wife and two gorgeous daughters. The prospect does excite me, so I grab onto this and hold on for dear life. As we get closer to the nation's capital, I do begin feeling even more excited. Once we land and check into our hotel rooms, we get a ride down to the venue, the Fitzgerald Theatre. At first, I do well during practice. Then, as we're working on the song I composed, I break down. I can't stop - my tears won't stop flowing. I sit down on a chair and try to get a grip on my emotions. I can't. It's useless.

"Johanna, my God, what's wrong? Why...what's wrong?" Tim asks. He's frightened.

"Tim, I've tried. I've tried not to miss Marcus so much, but it's...I can't stop. That's why I've been falling apart. I'm sorry. I'm going to have to leave the tour and go back home. I just can't be without him! I love him!" I wail.

Tim is stunned. He knows what music means to me. I see his feelings reflected on his face.

"Johanna, music is everything to you! That you would decide to fly back to England halfway through our tour ...my God! Lads...hey, you lot! Come here, right now," Tim ordered. "Guys, Johanna's really hurting. Music is...has been her whole life, but now that she's met Marcus, she's fallen in love. She wants to leave the tour and go home," he tells them.

I feel him take one of my hands in both of his warm hands.

"Johanna. We've been picking up on your sadness. Will you stay on the tour here in the U.S. if I tell you that we've just arranged to have Marcus fly in and join the rest of our tour - tonight?"

That gets through to me. More than anything that any of them have said to me since I started feeling so sad, that grabs my attention. I'm stunned that the band is willing to break one of its cardinal rules! For me! As the surprise sinks in, so does the realization that I am about to become very, very ill. Dropping Tim's hands, I bolt for the women's room, barely making it into a stall. I feel bad for the two young women primping in front of the mirror, but I have got to retch! I hear them hastily leave. Several minutes later, my stomach is blessedly empty and my heaving stops. Rinsing my mouth out, I splash cool water over my face and return to the stage, where I enthusiastically tell Tim that I will stay on with the tour. My stomach stays where it belongs for the rest of the day. Now that I know I will have my love with me, my good humor and good health return. We hit our practice hard. Two hours before the concert begins, I hear the knock I've been anticipating. Running to my hotel room door, I fling it open and catapult myself into Marcus' arms, crying once again.

"
I
've missed you so much!" I tell him.

Setting me down, he brings his luggage in then feverishly kisses me, telling me that he missed me badly, too. We make love. Marcus looks carefully at my body, seeming to re-familiarize himself with my body, running his hands over every inch of me. After we experience explosive orgasms, we fall asleep in each other's arms. My sleep is more restful than it has been in weeks. Rousing, I stretch and wake up, looking at the dear, dear face lying on the pillow next to me.

Marcus feels my gaze on him and his intense, green eyes open. Smiling, he stretches. "Aren't you due to perform for the leader of the free world in less than an hour and a half?" he asks me.

"Ohhh, try to scare me, will you? Our practice this morning hit all the high notes - literally. But, yes - we do have to go. Do you have your suit?"

"In my garment bag. Let me brush my teeth and hair, and we'll meet the blokes. I don't want to feel the sharp side of Tim's tongue ever again," says Marcus with a shudder.

Five minutes later, we are the first two waiting downstairs for the rest of the group.

"So, Johanna, how are you feeling?" asks Tim.

"Capital, Tim. Brilliant. Thank you!"

"Hey, the thanks is in the gleam back in your eyes," he says. "Let's go. We have a President to perform for."

During the performance, I see President and Mrs. Obama, along with Sasha and Malia, their adorable daughters. They grin broadly as we perform, seeming to appreciate our music. It's all over too fast, and soon the President and First Lady appear on the stage with us, thanking us for our performance.

In our hotel room, waves of exhaustion hit me. Normally, after a concert, I am up and energetic. This time, though, I cannot stay awake. Stripping my dress off, I hang it up, and then aim myself for the bed. As soon as my head lands on the pillow, I am completely out of it.

The next morning, he wants to make love. I participate in our completely enjoyable foreplay - then, another bout of nausea hits me. My eyes open wide and I push Marcus off me and bolt for the bathroom. After several minutes, I feel somewhat, but not completely, better. Returning to bed after rinsing my mouth, we start making love. Until the rocking, thrusting motion sets off my tummy once more. The air in this country must be making me sick!