Page 107 of Strum Me

“No, I fucking lived it,” I remind him.

“Well, I can tell you, watching it was no picnic either. She was sad, Ben was devastated, confused...and you. Well, I could do without seeing you look that wretched ever again, thanks. Except, now I’m seeing it every day.”

“But we don’t know why. She must have a reason.”

“What could possibly be worth that, man?” Marius demands.

“You guys are being too rough on her. It’s not like she wanted to leave. You saw how she looked! Something’s going on, we just don’t know what it is yet.” Hailey says, her voice soft, obviously sad for her new friend.

“It’s not the first time—” Sebastian starts.

“Yeah, yeah, we know. Brad boo-hoo sad. A lot’s happened since then. She’s been amazing on this whole tour. Helpful, doing things she doesn’t need to, helping out where she can, not to mention talking you guys up a storm. The last few weeks, everywhere we’ve gone people have mentioned the columns she’s written. Come on, give her credit where it’s due,” Cadence rants at her husband, her arms waving around, emphasizing her point.

“I give her credit where it’s due. But the way she’s treated Brad, is not where that’s at,” Jez counters with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Guys...” I try to interrupt.

“Not to mention, how does Ben fit into all this? He was fucking traumatized,” Marius argues.

“She’s his mother, it’s her decision what’s best for him. That doesn’t always mean they know what it is,” Hailey counters.

“Guys...” I try again.

Marius ignore me and continues. “Well, maybe we would’ve all been better off if...”

“GUYS!” I yell, and they stop, as if realizing I’m there for the first time. “I appreciate all this fighting over my virtue, but all of it is irrelevant. The only thing that matters is where they are, and are they all right.”

“And how do we find that out?” Sebastian raises the vital question.

“I don’t have a fucking clue,” I admit.

We all look at each other, seemingly having the same lightbulb moment at once.

“Let’s ask Dennis!”

***

When I left at the age of eighteen to go on tour with the band, I couldn’t get out of London fast enough. I packed one bag, with three shirts and five pairs of underwear. My violin and bow. And a box of cookies my mother sneaked into my bag.

I left everything. Because I thought I’d lost everything.

My parents begged me to write or call more often. But anything that made me think of London made me think of her.

Now I spend my days looking for things to bring me closer to her.

I moved into her bedroom on the girls’ bus, gathering all the clothes and Ben’s toys she left behind in her rush to leave. I surround myself with them to keep me company on the sleepless nights.

Every conversation, I want to be about her. Every song, something to make me remember her laugh, her smile, her body, the way she felt in those seconds after climaxing and falling into my arms.

I have no wish to distance myself from her, only pretend that she’s not gone.

***

“I’ve found her. She’s with Silas,” my manager tells me after he’s pulled me apart from the band.

“What?” I can’t be hearing him right.

“She’s working for Silas.”