***
I lay on my mother's bed and sunk into her pillows. The smell wasn't the same. I used to come into my mom's room when I was younger. It would make me feel safe, like everything would be okay. It wasn't just hers anymore; it was Notting's, too—yet it gave me the same safe, homey feeling as it did all those years ago.
My mother startled when she noticed me. "Oh geez, Jake!" she gasped, holding her chest. "I didn't expect you to be there. What are you doing? Are you feeling okay?"
Her hand covered my forehead and moved to my cheeks.
"Am I okay?" I gave her a worried look.
A wry grin popped to her lips. "Your temperature is okay." She pulled the hair from her shoulders into a ponytail, wrapping it up into a bun, all the while giving me a long, loving once-over. "I'm happy you're here. I pray every day you'll have another day on this Earth."
My nose burned instantly, and I swallowed the little lump in my throat. Instead of my usual negative outburst or condescending remark, I accepted her love. "I know."
I nodded and bent to sit up. Ouch. My balls were getting squished. I pulled at the waist of the black board shorts I wore, tearing open the Velcro fly closure, loosening the snug fit. I'd gained a few healthy pounds, more muscle from working out. I probably should stop trying to fit into my high school clothes. I hadn't worn a pair of board shorts in more years than I could count, and I hadn't stepped in sand in probably just as long.
"I love you, Mom."
She gave me a soft, crinkly-eyed smile. My beautiful mother was getting older. She'd looked younger than her years for more years than I could count, but finally, the years were knocking. I couldn't help but feel deep guilt for being a pain in the ass. No doubt her worry over me had helped carve the lines on her face.
"I love you, too," she said, and crawled underneath the covers next to me.
"I'm sorry for everything. I know I've said sorry so many times it doesn't mean anything anymore." The words made me think of all the times I told Aly I was sorry, too.
She patted my arm. "I know you're sorry. Let's not dwell. It's taken me a long time to let go of the past, and I just want to keep looking forward."
Me too. "Does Notting always come home late?"
"Not usually, no."
I tucked my arms behind my head. "Mom."
"Yes."
"Did Notting ever tell you that we've talked?"
"Of course, you know that." She rolled over onto her side to face me. "But he never shared, in depth, what was said. Just that you two bonded. It was actually a contention between us for a long time, him keeping your confidence."
I inhaled deeply. My heart began to thump rapidly, and I cleared my throat. "Mom. Did you ever hear that Dad cheated on you?"
Hearing her exhale heavily, I turned my head to see her wounded eyes staring back at me. She bit down on her bottom lip and said, "I'll assume you did, or you wouldn't be asking."
"Did you believe it? Or did you know?"
She tipped back onto her back and bent her knees up. "I knew."
"And you just let him get away with it? How long did you know?"
She pushed herself up and gathered the pillows against the padded cream-colored headboard, thinking.
"I'm sorry. You don't have to answer that. It was a long time ago, and you've moved on, finally." I reached over, rubbing her arm. "I'm happy for you and Notting, no matter what the story is."
Her eyes pooled with tears, and she wiped them away with a swipe of her hands. Her words came out slowly as she pulled her knees to her chest. "I think because of what you're going through with Alyssa, you understand the complexity of what some people go through when being in love. Not everyone has a hard time. They meet someone and it's just that one person. There's no fight from another, no third party, or love triangle. I loved Michael very much, we had a great life together, but in the end I'm not really sure why I chose him. I hate to say it was a mistake."
But it was a mistake. I was Notting's son, not Michael's, I wanted to say. I was riveted by her words. It was the most open she'd been about her life before me, and I wanted to know more—her side.
To my surprise, she remained open, and spoke more. "Are these the things Notting shared with you? Did he tell you about Michael?" she asked cautiously.
"No. Did he know?" I asked pointedly, thinking maybe he did know and that's why he stuck around, waiting for her to find out on her own. But then my dad was killed in a car accident, and I thought she'd never find out. I'd kept that agonizing secret, that ate away at me, for nothing.
"We never discussed it," she shrugged, and her chest heaved with a sigh. "Jake, I have so much culpability in how our relationship came to pass." She reached over, taking my hand, and rested it on her stomach. "You're my greatest accomplishment, and Michael loved you very much. He said the same thing about you." She released my hand and cupped the sides of her cheeks as she attempted to hold back tears. "I didn't know. I really didn't know that you could have been Notting's son. I look into your eyes and see mine. I…but now that you're a grown man…" She closed her eyes and shook her head. "The older you got, I'd see you standing next to Notting…it was so obvious. You're built just like him. You have his hands. I didn't want to think about it, I…I pushed it so far down until I couldn't take it anymore. I just had to know, so I took a paternity test."
Tears dripped from her eyes. "Michael always felt like he'd won. He was proud and arrogant. Notting saw me first. He was so sweet, nothing like Michael, in the Cavern in Liverpool. I was so young. Michael and him were best friends, and…well, everything happened the way it happened." She sank, exhausted from the memories. "Michael took care of me. He dominated me."
"Mom…" I squeezed her hand. "As much as I wanna know. If it's too difficult to talk about…"
"No. You have to know. It wasn't until I had you that I found my voice, and Notting was always there to listen. He was my biggest advocate, and after a while, Michael just faded into his own world. Notting gave me the courage to stand up to Michael." She hugged my hand to her chest and kissed my knuckles. "You don't need to know all the pessimistic details. Here we are. As it should have been."
3
It'd been several months since I last saw Aly. The last time I'd seen her was at Bobby and Marshall's wedding in June, and she'd attended with Nathan. There wasn't much to say about it, other than she looked gorgeous in a cerulean strapless dress. It killed me to spy Nathan fawning over her. I left as soon as I made the rounds at the reception. I didn't even bother saying hello to her, just tried to pretend they didn't exist.
I'd been keeping track of Aly through her brother Kyle once again, just like I did during our three-year separation while Aly was still in high school. My big plans to inject myself back into her life backfired when I found out she would be away playing beach volleyball in some foreign country all summer. Then my new aspirations at a solo career took me back to Britain until right before Christmas.
Six months flew by in a blink of an eye.
During that time, Kyle went and got married in Vegas. Nothing eventful. No one was there, and he'd settled in Hermosa Beach, the next town over. He had a baby on the way. I couldn't image myself with a kid. I was only twenty-five, after all. Who does that anymore? I guessed Kyle did. His wife was the epitome of the sexy librarian. Lacey was her name, and he'd met her at his tech job. She was of average size and had a decent figure, though she hid beneath knee-length skirts and oversized blouses. When I first met her, I'd recognized something bubbling beneath the surface. Her pouty pink lips and almond-shaped green eyes caught my attention. I was stoked for Kyle.
I wondered if my generation was getting married younger than my parents' generation; first Marshall and Bobby, and now Kyle and Lacey, not to mention Dump and Sienna right out of high school. It just seemed so early to choose whom you'd spend the rest of your life with. Yet there I was, ready to marry Aly if she walked through the door and said yes. I had zero interest in a relationship with anyone else.
Sure, I wanted to get laid and have a good time, but nothing else. I pondered the difference between all of us being ready to settle down, versus Aly being against it. My stomach curled with resentment that she was now engaged, ready to marry Nathan. But what did I expect? I put so much bad energy out there, I wouldn't have wanted to marry me either.
There I was back at home, like a teenager, depending on other people to give me rides. Notting was even back into pseudo-managing me.
Full circle.
I kicked my feet up onto the padded leather ottoman in front of me and watched Notting's tattoos dance on his arms as he wrestled with some of my mother's painting canvases. Seeing his tattoos made me touch my own unfinished tribute to Aly. Looking at it, I wanted it finished. The strands of hair needed a blue outline, the same blue that filled the music notes.
"Not, you know this is the first time in my life that I don't feel any pressure. Like zero." I strummed the chords, plucking a tune I'd been mixing with some lyrics. "I think I'm gonna finally finish this tattoo, too," I announced, with one last strum, and then slapped my left bicep.
He swiveled his seat to face me and moved the blank canvas he had between his legs, leaning it against the sofa arm. He'd been screwing in metal wall mounts into the wood of the canvas' frame. My mother was on a new kick. She'd begun painting.
"Life is good, eh?" He smiled, and his handsome face folded together like an accordion. His new reading glasses balanced on the tip of his nose. I saw myself in him. I had his teeth.
I bobbed my head. "So-so, but better than before. There's no struggle." Except for Aly.
He stood and adjusted his black wide-legged sweat pants. "I've been talking to your old booking agent."
I perked up. "And?"
"They're ready when you are."
I held my breath. "Okay." I was nervous, and I found it odd, almost like it would be my first time on stage. I'd played to sold-out stadiums and for millions of people watching award shows, but this was something new. I wasn't sure when I'd be ready. I'd never been on stage without my friends.
Notting looked at me fondly over his rimless glasses with a smile, as if he'd read my mind. "We'll hire a drummer and a bass player and go from there. Simple."