The Problem With Heartache (38 page)

Four years, four months ago …

T
WO LETTERS.
One stamped, with a date. The other hand-delivered.

Lee,

I’m not an idiot. I know what you can offer. And I want the best for Carly. She’s … she’s special, man.

But I can’t stand by and watch you be together. I know she married me, but who knows how long it’ll take until she wants you again? Where’s the comparison? We look the same … but you’re a fucking rock star. And if that baby’s yours … There’s no way I can see that. It just hurts too much.

That’s not to say that I’m not fucking mad at you, because I am. You got everything: the good parents, the upbringing, the proper education, then you got to be in a band with a huge record deal, and have my girlfriend too. Hell, knowing my luck, that kid inside her is yours as well. I wouldn’t be surprised if I had shithouse sperm.

Did I ever tell you about the time I met Carly? I’d seen her at school—she went to the girl’s only one, across the way from mine, and I couldn’t get her outta my mind. I snuck out at lunch one day and picked flowers from all the fancy la-di-da houses down the street, then surprised her with ’em when classes were over. She’d said it was a cheap trick; that I wouldn’t be able to keep it up.

I brought her flowers every damn week we were together, Lee. Don’t for a second think I didn’t deserve her, because I sure as hell did. We had something. I drink, I know I do, but fuck, it’s the only way I’ve been able to cope lately. I’m not a loser. I treat her right.

You, though? If she was that special to you, you woulda fought harder. You wouldn’t have let her marry me. Well, the joke’s on you. You have to live with this now. You have to support her, and the kid. Because I sure as hell won’t be able to from where I’m going.

I’m not afraid of dying. I know this is the only way that kid has a chance of living. Fuck, a trailer home ain’t no place to raise a boy—I’m sure it’ll be a boy—and even if it is, who’s to say Carly won’t one day decide she wants back with you again? I can’t put my kid through anything like what I went through. I want my kid—my kid deserves something good. A solid chance.

A chance I sure as shit never got.

So make sure you look after them. Both of them.

Because I’m bowing out.

Ryan

You knew it was never a good sign when you finished a show and your parents were waiting backstage. Mom and Dad hadn’t been to a show since that fateful night when they’d told me I had a brother; right before my life changed.

A shiver ran down my spine as I walked toward them, handing my guitar to Hamish on the way past.

“Mom, Dad. So glad you guys came.” I gave them both a hug. Dad clapped his arms around my body, a full embrace. Mum carefully placed her hands around me. Awkward. Distanced.

“Wanna … wanna go talk in the dressing rooms?” I asked.

“Yes.” Mom nodded.

We walked through the corridor in silence, and even though the boys and I had been sharing a room that night, I found a private room a few doors down and led my parents into it. Whatever they were here for wasn’t group conversation material.

I closed the door behind them and leaned against a table in the corner. “So what’s going on?”

Mom looked at Dad, then at the floor, then at me, then back at the floor. Then finally, she spoke. “Your father and I … we’re getting a divorce.”

My eyes widened. My heart stopped. “A divorce?”

But these were my parents. My always happy-in-love, still-holding-hands-on-date-nights parents. It was the love I’d always wanted to have; what I’d been so sure I’d someday get. And my dad needed someone. Someone to take care of him. They couldn’t be … getting divorced?

“What?” I asked, because it was the only logical thing I could think of asking.

“These …
events
recently, they’ve put a lot of strain on our marriage,” Mom said, hurt flashing in her eyes, and I bit my lip. She didn’t say the words outright, but it was clear.

I’d done this.

I’d ruined their love.

“Dad … are you okay?” I frowned.

Dad looked at me, and his eyes shone with tears. I couldn’t think of the last time I’d seen my dad cry. He just wasn’t the type. “Son … it’s too … too …”

“We watched our son kill himself, Lee,” Mom burst out, full-blown crying. “He killed himself, and it was all because we re-entered his life.”

She didn’t say it, but the subtext was there. It was because I’d re-entered his life. They were living with the guilt of being the creators.

“If we hadn’t given him away … if we’d tried harder …” Mom sobbed.

“You couldn’t have tried harder!” I protested. “You were kids. Babies yourselves! How could you raise a human?”

“How could you destroy one?”

The words hung in the ether between us. Mom clapped a hand to her mouth, shock widening her eyes. “I didn’t mean that, honey. Honey, I didn’t—”

“It’s fine.” I brushed her away as she stood to embrace me. “It’s nothing.”

Only, it wasn’t. It was everything.

I’d killed my brother.

My parents blamed me, too.

“Things have been … tricky.” Dad nodded slowly. “And we’re h … having some time apart.”

“Right.” I nodded. “Got it.”

“I wish … are you sure you can’t work things out with Carly?” Mom tilted her head to the side. “That’s our grandbaby she’s carrying.”

“I’ve tried calling, but her phone’s always off.” I shrugged. It was something I thought of daily. She might have chosen Ryan, but surely she’d need some support.

“Keep t … trying, son,” Dad said.

“I don’t know what else I can do!” I protested.

“You need to fix this. You
have
to,” Mom said. “We want you to know that we love you very much, Lee.” Hurt was still fresh on her cheeks.

“I love you, too.” My reply was automatic. Like a rifle. Like a machine gun.

I’m a killer like that.

Dear Lee,

He’s dead, Lee. I walked in and found him hanging from the back door of the fucking trailer. Do you know what dead people look like? How their skin is cold to the touch, how when someone suffocates with a tie—a fucking necktie—their lips turn purple and their face, instead of white, it’s blotchy? Red and white?

I sure as hell do.

And I wish to God I didn’t.

The sick thing is, the really sick thing, the first thing I wanted to do was call you, to ask what I should do. But you wouldn’t have helped me. You’re the one who got me into this mess in the first place. If you had just kept your mouth shut …

But you couldn’t do that, could you, Lee? You had to win. You had to have the final say. More than that, you had to ruin what we had. I know we were both drunk, but didn’t you think for one moment that if I’d been interested in you, I would have made a move sooner? I feel like you took advantage of me, Lee. And now my life is ruined.

Mom and Dad won’t take me back; not while I’m pregnant. I still have my job, thank God for that, but how long can you survive pouring beers for while you’re pregnant?

Don’t try and contact me again. I want nothing to do with you. I don’t give a damn if you can offer me financial support, or a bleeding shoulder to cry on—I don’t
need
your brand of toxic presence in my life.

You know what Ryan said to me the night before he did it? “If only you’d never met.”

It’s a sentiment I echo wholeheartedly. You killed my husband, Lee. And I hope you never find happiness again.

This time eight months ago, I had it all. The only thing I didn’t have was the privilege of saving a cat from a tree.

Now, my life is ruined.

Maybe I’m better off joining your brother.

Carly

I called her phone, and got no answer. I sent her text messages, emails, but nothing. She didn’t respond. And that was how I found myself out the front of her family home at the first opportunity I got, desperate to see her, to make sure she didn’t do anything stupid.

I knocked on the door, three firm raps, and waited. Each second ticked past like it was an eternity.

Then the door swung open and her father was there. His expression changed from questioning to murderous in a heartbeat, his eyes livid, his lips a terse line.

“What the hell do you want?” he hissed.

“Is … is Carly here?” I swallowed, knowing full well she wasn’t.

“No. You good-for-nothing scumbag, get the hell off my property.”

He turned to walk away and started to close the door, but I wedged my foot next to the doorframe. I had to help. After I’d ruined so much, I had to at least try to save this.

Because what if Carly died, too?

I couldn’t handle that.

“Please, just tell me where she is,” I begged. He looked at me, really looked at me, and shook his head.

“It’s idiot musicians like you …”

I stayed outside his house all night. I tossed and turned in my car, only waking when the policeman knocked on my window and told me to move on.

Ryan had died. Killed himself, because of what I’d done. I’d only just found my brother, and I’d managed to ruin his life in five short months.

Mom and Dad had broken up, begging me to find Carly and fix things—a promise I just couldn’t make.