“I’m okay, Kit.” I said it as even as I could. Of course I was still rattled, but I liked this plan. I could gain ownership ofthe trailer and destroy it myself. I wanted to watch the metal crumble, to twist and unbind itself so that no one could ever live in it again. It was a plus that my mother would never be able to return to it either. “I promise. Just let me know what you hear from him.”
“Alright, I will. Call me tonight when you get home from rehearsal, so I can prove that you’re okay.”
I couldn’t help but smile back. “Alright, I will.”
“I love you, Alistair.”
My heart soared. We didn’t say that to each other nearly enough. “I love you too, Kit. Thanks again.”
Pressing the end call button, I closed my eyes and leaned against the slate wall behind me. I was going to see that fucking trailer go up in flames, and when it did, I would finally feel like I could return to Phoebe.
Sometimes, you had to make your own closure.
Chapter 12
Spendingthe Christmas holiday on and off the phone with law enforcement, with the occasional drop in to the station, wasn’t exactly how I would have pictured trying to exude the Christmas spirit this year. After talking to Priyanka, I’d decided to not even offload the whole drama that my mother’s phone call had started on her, taking it on myself and calling the authorities to see what could be done.
Which, as it turned out, wasn’t much. They agreed that she had violated the order, of course, but because they didn’t know where she was, more importantly, what state she was in, it was harder to not only convict her for her negligence, but also to know what could be done based on the different state’s ordinances. I’d filed the order in both Tennessee and North Carolina, so I was covered there. But if she was in a different state, there wasn’t much to do. They were looking for her now, but no such luck yet.
Even now, the day after Christmas, I was spending it by attending a last minute therapy appointment, which was needed after all the feelings that had been swarming around my visit to Phoebe when I spent Christmas with Kit and his family. Therapy was the only reason I wasn’t falling apart, both in the past whenI’d first left home and even now, with the phone call looming over me like a threatening cloud, ready to downpour on me at a moment’s weakness.
Since the phone call, Van had been with me absolutely everywhere. Not that I’d been much of anywhere besides the rehearsal hall, my house, and a few visits to the studio to speak with the label execs. His attentiveness hadn’t gone unnoticed. Even Priyanka was checking on me more, making sure that Van was with me. I appreciated how concerned everyone seemed to be. Even the label execs were making sure that I was being taken care of, that my mother wasn’t going to suddenly show up at the studio or worse, my house.
Still, knowing that Van was out in the lobby right now, waiting for me to get out of my session with his nose buried in the latest book he was reading, did comfort me. He’d become a crutch for me the last few days since the phone call, one I would gladly keep leaning on.
“So, what are you next plans?” My therapist asked me, hands folded over one another as she awaited my response.
She was a lovely woman with a background in managing people with troubled pasts. Which was good, because mine was a minefield of trauma and other shit that came from living through a rough childhood. I was pretty sure I was her highest profile patient now, but she never treated me like I was suddenly famous. It was nice to know that someone in the world still saw me as the little Alistair from Phoebe, North Carolina.
“Well, tour rehearsals start back up tomorrow.” I told her, shifting my crossed legs and switching them so they were crossed the opposite way, shifting slightly in the faux leather chair I resided in. “So I’ll be busy again. Tour starts in a week, and it’s pretty non-stop from there. I won’t have much time for anything other than keeping my voice at the ready and making sure my stamina remains the same.”
“Why don’t you do something fun?” She suggested with a feeble smile, tightening the corners of her lips. “When was the last time you did something just because it was fun instead of related to work?”
I opened my mouth automatically to answer her, but no words came barreling out. When the fuck was the last time? I mean, I’d had fun announcing my music video at Periwinkle, but that was inherently connected to work. As I sat there in the silence she allowed to let build, I couldn’t recall the last time I’d been able to do something just for myself.
It had to have been before I started blowing up on social media. So, what, it had been severalmonthssince I’d had fun? Or at least the version of fun that she was referring to.
Fuck, I really did need to get out. I wasn’t sure how that was supposed to happen, though, not with my newfound celebrity. I wasn’t exactly Taylor Swift or anything, but I was more recognizable than someone on TV’s most popular show.
How did one have fun like that without gaining so much attention that it turned unsafe? I guess that was on me to find out the answer.
“I know that might be harder for you now,” She commented. “But maybe you could go to a movie, or to a bowling alley. I don’t know, something lower key.”
“Maybe just grabbing a drink at a bar or something?”
“Sure!” She beamed at my suggestion. “Whatever it is, I think it would be good for you to do something for yourself that has absolutely zero attachment to your work. Get back in touch with who Alistair is at the core, you know?”
I nodded. It wasn’t a terrible idea, especially after what had happened with my mother. I loved the notion of finding something mundane to do, something that I would have easily done before I’d been in and out of studios and letting people hear my music on a daily basis.
We ended the session shortly after that, which I was glad for. We didn’t need to go back over the phone call again, or talk more about my mother or my upbringing, both long discussed topics within the confines of her office. When I stepped outside her office, after shaking her hand and thanking her for her time under such quick notice after Christmas, Van’s head turned in our direction. He closed his book, the titleOf Death & Demonsgleaning under the shift from the fluorescent lights, and stood up as I waved goodbye to my therapist.
“All good?” He offered, tucking his book underneath his armpit.
“Definitely.” I felt a little better after discussing things with her, but I was feeling a little out of practice at being a normal guy.
At my core, I knew I was still a normal guy. Perhaps a normal guy with a very abnormal job, or even an abnormal life, but I still felt like myself. So why was I so dumbfounded by the prospect of doing something fun for myself.
“Should we get you home, then?” Van prompted, gesturing with his hand down the hall of the therapist’s office, where our rideshare was undoubtedly waiting for us. He was getting really good at timing them to arrive at just the right moment now.
