Sheet Music - A Rock 'n' Roll Love Story (25 page)

Michael shook his head.  “Hey, how’s the local talent been lately?” he asked, shooting another glance back toward the stage.

“Not bad.  We’ve got a pretty solid line-up of acts we keep rotating every few weeks and the customers seem to be enjoying it,” Jimmy answered, noticing the disgusted look on Michael’s face.

“Where did you find her?”

Jimmy laughed.  “What’s the matter, you don’t approve?”

“She sucks.”

Michael smiled after the words left his mouth.  It wasn’t like him to be so blunt when it concerned another musician’s talent.

Jimmy smirked.  “I’m not sure what her story is.  She never has much to say.  She usually comes in, does her time, then leaves by the back door.  When she isn’t looped on something or drunk, she’s fantastic.  I guess that’s why we keep her in the rotation.  But you never know what you’re going to get from her.  Every gig is different.”

“Is she local?”

“No, she’s an off-islander.  I think she mentioned something about living near Boston at one time.”

“Oh really?”  Michael gave the girl another sideways look.  “What’s her name?”

“Annie Logan.”

Michael nearly fell off the barstool.  “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, why?  Don’t tell me you know her?”

“You could say that,” he sighed.  “But the Annie Logan I knew didn’t look anything like that.”

“Well, someone told me she was pretty banged up a few months ago in a car accident.  Maybe that’s why she looks different,” Jimmy offered.

Michael rested his elbows on the bar and rubbed his hands together, trying to decide what to do next.  The situation was obviously worse than he had expected.

“Don’t go away, I’m going to take a short break and I’ll be right back,” Annie announced into the microphone.

Michael watched out of the corner of his eye as Annie hopped off her stool, hobbled to the edge of the stage and secured a lone wooden crutch under her armpit.  A few minutes later, she reached the bar and stopped a few feet from where Michael was perched.  It was agonizing for Michael to see.  Close-up her face was pale with dark circles under each eye.  There was no longer a trace of the woman he had fallen so desperately in love with.  That woman was gone and the empty shell of a stranger was all that remained.

“Hey, Jimmy.  Give me a rum coke and make it heavy on the rum,” her faint voice requested.

Michael’s heart was beating so hard in his chest he thought she might be able to hear it.  He closed his eyes and suddenly wished he hadn’t pursued his search.  Maybe it was better to have left things as they were, he thought.  Then he saw her head begin to turn toward him.  In seconds his anonymity would be gone.  There was no turning back now.

“Hey, Annie, how are you doing?” he asked flatly, as if greeting an old acquaintance, not the love of his life.

His eyes were met with the cold, blank stare of a stranger.  If was like having a serrated knife inserted slowly into his heart.  Then acknowledgment quickly registered on her ashen face.

“You bastard!  You couldn't leave things the way they were could you?  Was it
that
important to find me?” she hissed through clenched teeth and headed for the back door.

Michael’s eyes settled back onto the puzzled gaze of Jimmy and he shrugged his shoulders.  “Is she staying out back?” Michael asked, referring to the cottages for rent behind the building.

“Yeah.  Cottage number three - and I didn’t tell you that.”

Michael nodded and stepped off the stool.  “Thanks,” he said, and tossed some money onto the top of the bar.  “I’ll stop back in before I leave.”

Annie hadn’t managed to get too far up the road toward the cottages when Michael finally got outside.  Part of him actually considered getting into his jeep and driving back to his beach house, forgetting he had seen her.  For several minutes he painfully watched her slender frame slowly maneuvering across the ruts in the road until he could no longer take the sight of it.  Pensively, he came up behind her.  She froze and turned around to face him when she heard the sound of his boots.

He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out.  All the weeks of worrying and wondering had led to this moment and now that they were face to face, words escaped him.  Instead he hung his head, not wanting to look her in the eye.

“Go home, Michael.  You completed your mission and found me, now you can leave,” she blurted, emotion making her voice quiver.

“What the hell happened?  You obviously never followed through with the physical therapy.”

Annie turned away and contemplated the placement of her next step.  “That’s none of your damn business.”

“Maybe not.  But I still care.”

Annie turned around to face him.  Anger contorted her face, streaks of tears glistened beneath the glare of the overhead street lamps.  “Then I feel sorry for you.  I’ve moved on and you should have too.”

For a few brief moments they stared, eyes locked in a silent inner war.  Finally, Annie shook her head and turned away.  The pity in his eyes was excruciating to see, almost more than she could bear.

“Go back to Boston, Michael.”

Michael had the feeling she was preparing to flee and took a desperate step closer toward her.  His mind swirled with crazy thoughts of irrational ways to take her back to Boston with him.  Then before he could stop the words, they spilled from his mouth.

“I can’t stop loving you, Annie.  It isn’t something I can just shut off and walk away from.  It’s not that easy.  I thought you were moving back to Grafton.  What happened with that?”

His words hammered at her brain and in the blink of an eye she was on the ground, shaky footing lost to the darkness of the night.  Why did he have to make this harder than it had to be, she thought, watching her wooden crutch roll across the road and coming to rest in a pothole.  One long stride and he was at her side, gently lifting her from the pavement.

“Get your hands off of me!” she screamed, attempting to yank her arms from his.  “I don’t need your help or your pity.  In fact, I don’t need you!  Why can’t you grasp that concept and leave me alone?”

Michael continued to clutch her firmly in his arms.  He could smell the stale booze on her breath.  His eyes bored deeply into hers, praying to see some hidden spark of sanity left in her.  But there was none to be seen.  Her eyes were empty and dead.

“You want me to leave?  Then look me in the eye when you say it.  Go ahead.  Look me straight in the eye and tell me you don’t still love me!”  He shook her in anger.  His voice cracking with each word he spat.  “Say it and mean it and I’m gone.  You’ll never see me again.”

Annie stood frozen.  Tears dripped from her face.  She despised him for finding her but even more because he had seen her in such a broken state.  More than anything, she hated herself.  At that moment, the idea of death seemed like a gift.  With every ounce of resolve she had left, she stood defiant, ready to say anything that would make him turn and walk away.  She stiffened her back and locked onto his eyes.  Taking a long and steady breath, she prepared to drive the last nail into her own coffin.

“I stopped loving you a long time ago, Michael,” she said matter-of-factly and without emotion.  But, inside, her heart stopped beating.  A piece of her soul died.

He stared back at her, his mind digesting her words slowly.  It wasn’t possible that she had truly meant what she had said.  Not after all they had been through and shared.  It was the drugs and booze talking, not her.  Then without warning he pulled her body against his and kissed her on the mouth.  It was quick, hard and fast, like a bolt of lightening striking out suddenly from the center of a storm cloud.  And in the flash of that moment he felt her soften to his touch, like the petal of a flower weakening under the weight of a droplet of rain.  It was all he needed to reserve the hope that someday they’d be together again.  It was a tiny spark of affection, hidden beneath the layers of garbage she had tried to cover it up with; it still lingered there.  It was a small victory for Michael and filled him with a sense of relief.

In retaliation, Annie slapped his face fiercely with her hand.  Instead of turning away from the blow, he smiled.  The elation he felt in his heart far exceeded the sting left from her hand.

“Go to hell!” she yelled.  “I hope the memory of that kiss remains with you because that will be the last kiss you’ll ever get from me!”  Then, grabbing her crutch, she trudged off toward her cottage.

“Don’t be so sure of that,” he mumbled out loud.

He waited until she was out of sight before he walked back into the bar.  Jimmy was waiting for him.

“What the hell happened to your face?” he asked.

“It’s a long story,” he answered with a smile.  “Some other time.”

Jimmy shook his head.  “You leaving now?”

“Yeah.  But if you need me, this is my cell phone number,” he said, sliding a piece of paper across the bar toward Jimmy.  “She’s pretty messed up.  Can you do me a favor and keep an eye on her?”

“That goes without saying,” Jimmy replied.

Michael nodded and quietly slipped from the bar.

It was before noon when Michael got the call from Jimmy.

“The freaking bitch is out cold and no one can wake her up,” he screamed into the phone.

“I’m on my way.”

Minutes later, Michael’s jeep skidded to a stop in front of Annie’s cottage.  Inside the cramped two-room cottage, a half dozen people were gathered.  Jimmy was beside Annie’s bed violently shaking her and demanding she wake up.

Michael pushed himself inside.  “She got a pulse?”

“Yeah, but it’s faint,” Jimmy replied.

“Okay, get her out of bed,” Michael instructed, as he assessed the cluttered room.

“Ah, Mike, she’s not wearing anything under the sheets,” Jimmy whispered.

Michael turned around and faced the spectators.  “Everyone out!”

One girl remained. “Do you want me to call 9-1-1?”

“No!  We don’t have time to wait for the fucking ambulance.  I’ll drive her myself,” Michael answered, trying to remain calm.  “Jimmy, grab a pillow case and load up every pill bottle you can find.  Check the bathroom and kitchen cabinets too!  Everything comes with us.”

When Jimmy disappeared into the bathroom, Michael went to Annie’s dresser, pulling out a pair of sweat pants and a shirt and began to dress her limp body.  Through it all, Annie remained semi-conscious.

At the hospital the doctors loaded Annie’s stomach with charcoal to induce vomiting.  Even in the hallway, Michael could hear the terrible retching sounds coming from Annie’s body.

“Mr. Wade, it’s been a while since I’ve seen you, hasn’t it?” a friendly doctor said as he shook Michael’s hand.  “How’s sobriety treating you?”

Michael smiled when he recognized Doctor Ramos. A familiar face was a welcome sight at this point.  “Twelve years and counting,” he replied proudly.

“Very well.  That’s good to hear,” he answered, peering over his shoulder toward the emergency room where the nurses and interns were still busy working on Annie.  “I wish you could say the same for your friend.”

Michael nodded in agreement.

“Can you tell me what happened?” the doctor asked.

Michael proceeded to give the doctor a brief history about Annie’s accident, recovery, and subsequent addiction to the pain medication.

The doctor rubbed at his face thoughtfully.  “Is it possible she did this on purpose?”

“What do you mean?” Michael asked, his eyes locked onto the doctor.  “Are you suggesting she deliberately tried to kill herself?”

The doctor nodded.

“No way!” he protested, but it was a notion he hadn’t yet considered.  Then again, up until six months ago, he never would have thought it possible for Annie to become an addict either.

“I’m not saying she attempted to take her life, Michael.  I’m just asking if you think the possibility was there.  In any case, you saved her life.  Another couple of hours and you’d be planning her funeral now and not her rehabilitation.”

The doctor gazed at Michael.  “You do realize that is what she has to do now, right?”

“Yeah, I know the drill.”

“The clinic has a few beds open.  If you could get her to sign herself in, we could get this started as soon as she wakes up.”

Michael nodded and shook the doctor’s hand.  A few hours later, he was once again standing vigil in a hospital room waiting for Annie to wake up.  The time slowly ticked by, silent as death, as she continued to sleep. 

Just before dusk, she began to stir.

“Good morning,” he chirped, though it was almost night.

The sudden noise caused Annie to flinch.  She groaned in protest and reached for her head.  Michael stood where he was, leaning against a huge window in her room that offered an unyielding view of the Atlantic Ocean.  When recognition of his voice registered in her brain she forced herself upright, seemingly in self-defense, and leaned against the headboard of the bed.

Let the games begin, he thought, taking a hearty gulp of his black coffee.  How many interventions had he been apart of, trying to get friends off the drugs that were slowly killing them?  He couldn’t remember, or maybe he didn’t want to.

“Where am I?” she asked, rubbing at her eyes.

“The hospital,” he answered quickly.

Annie’s shoulders stiffened.  “You took me back to Boston?”

“Does that look like the city skyline to you?” he answered with sarcasm, pointing toward the receding tide.

Annie glanced above the windowsill from her bed, saw the ocean, and began to cry.  “Then where am I?”

“Martha’s Vineyard Hospital.  I wanted to take you to my beach house in West Chop so you wouldn’t have to wake up in another hospital, I’m thoughtful that way but, Dr. Ramos refused.”

“You own a house here?” she groaned, rolling her sore eyes.  “Funny, you never mentioned that before now.”

“Sorry, I guess I never had a chance to work it into a conversation.  We weren’t together long enough.  But, if that omission upsets you then you really won’t want to hear that I also own the club you’ve been working in for the past several weeks.”