Before we get to the good stuff, there are a few things to take care of. Many of you will undoubtedly skip all of this and go right to the story, and shame on you! :)
First, this story is a complete work of fiction. All (and I mean all) of the characters are just that - characters. It is not meant to imply anything about anyone. While a few of the characters are loosely based on people that I actually know, none of them are meant to represent anyone. While we may wish that some of the Backstreet Boys are gay, and while some of them may even be gay, I'm not going to be the one pointing the finger at them.
As usual, if you are offended or made uncomfortable by material concerning sexual relations between consenting adult men, lighten up or go somewhere else. And if you are such a person, what the hell are you doing here in the first place?
Also, if it is in any way illegal for you to be reading this type of thing, please don't. Or do, just don't get caught and feel very guilty.;)
If any of the BSB happen to be reading this (hey, we can dream can't we?), feel free to drop me a line and let me know what you think.
Here's where I usually go ahead and thank certain readers for their comments and support. However, since I always manage to forget someone, I'm going to stop that. Those who are special to me already know who they are, and if you're wondering whether or not you're one of them, chances are you are. :)
I will take a moment to point out the few stories that I make time to read, in between bursts of writing. If you haven't already, check out "Adam, Zach, and BSB" by EG, "Search and Rescue" by Matt, and "Lucky Me" by Lauren. All three are great stories, and all three authors have become good friends of mine. :)
I am going to single out two people. My editors, who both go a long way to restore my faith in humanity when it's shaken. EG has been incredibly helpful with his comments and humour, and is just all-around fun to talk to. :) And I promised JB a very very special thank you if his suggestions for Part 50 turned out well. From the emails I got, I'd say that they did, so here it is. :) He's the first person that I met through this story, and one of the biggest reasons that I'm glad I posted it in the first place. :)
Okay then, enough of my blabbering for now. As always, comments and suggestions are more than welcome. Drop me a line at dls_stories@hotmail.com
Enjoy!
PART 51
I read over what I had written, making sure of every word I put down. Scratching out a few words and sentences, I carefully reworded them until the note said exactly what I needed and wanted it to say. With a sigh, I set about rewriting it neatly.
Dear Brian
I'm leaving. I know that this is the last thing that you were expecting, and quite frankly, I'm surprising myself as well. I would have told you in the morning rather than leave a letter like this, but I was afraid that you or another of the guys would be able to talk me into staying, and I couldn't afford for that to happen.
"Life is a series of little deaths, out of which life always returns." My mother taught me that when I was little, and while I didn't understand it then, I think I finally know what it means. I have experienced several such little deaths, and there are a few that I failed to properly grieve. That is what I hope to do now.
By leaving now, I hope to finally put some of these things to rest and come to the life on the other side, free from the hauntings of the past. I realise that this doesn't make much sense to you, but I have to ask you to trust me a little longer.
You were right about there being something else that Nick and I weren't telling you. Please don't be mad at him for not telling you; I made him promise not to. I've been having some pretty frightening dreams since that first one in Chicago. Knowing you, I'm sure you remember exactly which one I'm talking about. I didn't say anything because I'm not sure why I'm having them, and with all of the other things that were going on around us, I didn't want you worrying over something that you couldn't help.
After I came back to the room tonight, I had another nightmare, and knew that I couldn't go on with this any longer. I thought about it, and the answer finally became clear. Hopefully, taking this time by myself will let me finally get to a place where I can give you what you need and want from me. Right now, I can't do that; I doubt myself, and that can only lead me to doubts about us, and I don't want to see that happen.
I just can't do it anymore, Brian. It's too much. Your mother, Howie, the press, what happened the other night with Nick, and the difficulty you're having with it, the nightmares, the book. I can't keep up. What happened tonight finally tipped whatever fragile balance I was maintaining. I tried to write earlier, and I've never found it harder. You've lost trust and faith in me, and it's starting to affect your relationship with Nick. I won't be the cause of that.
I don't know where I'm going to go, and I can't say when I'll be back. You told me earlier that I could have all the time I needed. I have to hold you to that now, though I know that this wasn't what you had in mind. You also asked me to promise that I'd come back to you. I can make that promise now. As soon as I've done what I need to do, I'll be back.
If you'll still have me.
I love you,
Nate
Folding the letter, I slid it carefully into an envelope from the desk drawer. I wiped away a tear as I set the envelope down unsealed and stood from the desk. I gathered up my luggage and dug in the side pocket of the small bag that I used for my personal affects. Finding what I was looking for, I held it up to the light briefly, watching the light flash off of the sides.
Taking it back to the desk, I slid my father's medallion into the envelope, slipping it between the folds of the letter. I sealed the envelope and turned it over again, writing Brian's name across the front of it.
By now I was crying freely, but I barely noticed. I wandered around the room, gathering my things and packing them away without taking the time to worry about how neatly it was done.
With my few things from the main room packed, I headed into the bedroom and stopped just inside the door, looking at the bed - our bed. Searching for courage, I clenched my fists and walked further into the room. I threw my suitcase on top of the bed and opened it, turning to the closet. Pulling my things from the hangers, I folded them quickly and lay them in the bottom of my suitcase.
I had almost finished packing up my clothes when I came across Brian's midnight blue silk shirt. Running my hand slowly down the sleeve, I felt my heart break a little more.
"What am I doing?" I whimpered. "How can I just leave him?" I took the shirt from the hanger and sat down on the bed, still running my hands over the sleeves. Bringing one cuff up to the side of my head, I caressed my own cheek with it. "No," I said to the empty room, surprising myself with the conviction I heard in my own voice. "I'm doing what I have to do to come back to him."
After a moment of deliberation, I added his shirt to my suitcase. Digging through it, I removed my matching one in green and hung it back up with Brian's things, hoping he'd understand.
Before I could start to question myself again, I grabbed my things out of the dresser and put them alongside my clothes. Closing the suitcase, I walked quickly into the bathroom and took the few things that I kept there. Once they were packed, I took another survey of the room, making sure that I wasn't forgetting anything that I was going to need.
When I was sure I had everything, I picked up the letter from the desk and took it into the bedroom. Setting it on the dresser, I quickly made the bed again, leaving it as neat as Brian had earlier, and set the letter down, leaning it against the pillows in the middle of the bed, where Brian would be sure to find it.
Looking down at the small envelope propped there, I felt the tears coming again and knew that if I didn't leave then, I never would. Gathering up what little courage I still had, I turned my back on the bed and walked out into the main room again.
Picking up my bags, I opened the door and stepped out into the hall, closing the door behind me. Since Brian had the only copy, I knew he would be the one to find the letter. I picked up my things again and headed for the elevator.
When I reached the door of the room that Brian was sharing with Nick, I set down one of my bags and placed my hand on the centre of the door, saying a silent goodbye. Running my hand quietly down the door, I finally moved my gaze back to the elevator and started to walk again, my head down and my feet dragging slightly.
I pressed the button and heard the whirr of the motor as the car started to rise from the main floor. I chanced one more glance back down the hall. It seemed so empty, so cold. I knew that my friends were only a few short feet away, but it didn't make a difference. I still felt alone.
I jumped a little as the elevator dinged and the doors opened. I placed my bags inside and stepped in after them, pressing the button for the lobby. The doors obediently closed, shutting off my view of the hall and making my course of action seem all the more final.
The lobby was all but deserted when I stepped out into it. I could hear my shoes clicking on the tiled floor as I approached the front desk.
"Are you checking out, sir?" the woman behind the desk asked politely, looking down at my luggage.
"Yes, I suppose I am," I said. "I was staying on the same floor as the Backstreet Boys, but I'm afraid I've been called away. I left my room key in the room. One of the boys has a spare. I hope that's alright."
"Yes sir," the woman smiled at me. "The rooms are already paid for, so we'll retrieve the key when the rest of the party checks out. No problem."
"Thank you," I said. "Is there anything I have to sign, or..."
"No sir, everything has already been taken care of by their management. I just need to see some proof of ID so we know that you are who you say you are, Mr..." she looked in the register for the list of people staying on our floor. "Healy?"
I didn't particularly feel like smiling, but I forced myself anyway. "That's me," I said, handing her my wallet so she could check my ID.
"Nathaniel Healy? The author?" she asked, noting my first name.
"Guilty as charged."
"I loved your last book," she said, smiling.
"Thank you... Stacey," I answered, checking the little gold name tag pinned to her vest.
She looked at me for another couple of minutes, then remembered her job. "Okay, Mr. Healy. I'll just make a note here that you've left, and the maid won't worry about your room until the rest of the party checks out."
"Thanks," I said, retrieving my wallet and gathering my bags again. "Would you mind calling me a cab?"
"No problem," she said, picking up the phone from her desk. "Where to?"
That was the question, wasn't it? "The airport," I answered, still unsure of exactly where I was going to go.
Stacey nodded and dialled a number. After speaking for a moment, she informed me that a cab would be outside in a moment. I thanked her and walked to the main doors, noting that it was still raining quite hard.
"Mr. Healy?" Stacey called out before I could open the doors. I turned and gave her a questioning look.
"Was there any message that you'd like to leave for the rest of your party?"
"I left a note in the room," I said, forcing myself to smile again. "They'll get it."
"Okay then," she said. "Have a nice trip."
'See you next fall,' my mind supplied. "Thanks," I said out loud, and stepped outside.
The rain was still falling almost vertically, and there was little wind, so I was able to stay mostly dry under the canopy that ran from the hotel to the sidewalk. My tears were threatening again, and I almost ran back into the building, planning on ripping up the letter and staying after all.
No sooner had the thought entered my mind than that voice in my head that filled in for Andrea spoke up. 'Do you love him?'
"Yes, of course I do," whispered into the night.
'And does he love you?'
"I think so."
'Nate...' the voice in my head said in reproach.
"Yes, he does."
'Then you have to go, and trust that he'll understand.'
I waited to see if there was going to be anything else, but it seemed to have said all it had to say. I simply nodded to myself and ran the back of my hand across my eyes, wiping away the few tears that had fallen and feeling much more sure of myself.
I waited a few moments before a cab pulled up at the curb and the driver popped the trunk for me. He ran from the driver's door and opened it, and I grabbed my things and ran out to meet him.
We quickly put my bags in the trunk and slammed it closed again, then ran to our respective doors. Once inside and out of the rain again, I sighed and relaxed a little in my seat.
"You picked a great night to be travelling," the cabby chuckled from the front seat.
"Tell me about it," I smiled back. "I wouldn't be going if I had a choice."
"Well, I'll have you to the airport in no time, sir," he glanced back at me as he spoke. "Not a lot of traffic on the road this time of night."
"Thank you," I said, sitting back in the seat.
"That's my job," he said simply. "So where you headed?"
"Toronto," I said without thinking. I put my hand to my mouth briefly, until I realised how strange I must have looked, and dropped it to my lap again. 'Toronto?' I asked myself, and heard the confirmation come back. 'Well, I suppose that's as good a place as any.' "Yes, I'm going to Toronto," I said again.
"Brrrr," the driver laughed. "What would take you there?"
I leaned forward in the car a little, checking the driver's name on his licence. "Unfinished business, Stan. Unfinished business. The name's Nate, by the way." I thought briefly of extending my hand, but given the weather conditions, I wasn't sure I wanted him taking a hand off of the wheel to shake it.
"Pleasure," he said, nodding instead of offering his own hand. "What kind of business are you in, if you don't mind my asking?"
"I'm a writer," I answered him. "I've just got a few things to take care of back home."
"Ah," he nodded. "That answers that."
"What answers what?"
"I was wondering about that accent of yours."
"I don't have an accent. You have an accent," I said, laughing a little.
Stan grinned in the rear-view mirror. "Whatever you say," he laughed. "The customer is always right."
"That's right," I agreed wisely, making us both laugh again.
Before long, we were pulling around in front of the terminal. I paid Stan, making sure to give him a large tip. He deserved it for making me smile in spite of myself. He thanked me and helped my get my things out of the car and to the doors.
With a final wave, he pulled back out away from the building and was soon just a set of tail-lights. I sighed to myself and picked up my luggage. At least I knew where I was going. I thought briefly of calling Erron and letting him know that I would be coming home, but decided that it was too early to do that. Erron worked an odd schedule, and there was no telling whether he would be sleeping or not.
I got my ticket for the next flight to Toronto, and found that I had about three hours to kill. I found a small, all-but-deserted cafe and took a seat, ordering myself a coffee. When it came, I sat back in my seat and relished the first sip, as I always did. The combination of bitter and sweet was wonderful, and I immediately felt more relaxed.
I thought briefly of trying to get some writing done, but after the fiasco earlier, I knew that it wouldn't be very productive. Instead, I finished my coffee and walked to a small shop in the airport. I found a book that looked mildly interesting and bought it, returning to the cafe for another coffee while I waited.
The book proved to be less interesting that I had hoped, but it helped pass the time until my flight was called. When I finally heard the announcement, I closed the book and stood from the table. I waved and smiled warmly at the waitress - Dierdre - and she returned the smile. Putting the book under my arm, I picked up my computer bag and went to catch my plane.
PART 52
The take-off was uneventful and soon I was on my way home. I was feeling better and better about my decision to go to Toronto again. Not only had I not been there in a while, but I knew that if I told Erron that I needed to be alone for a while, he would make sure that I got that time. He was one of those people who didn't take offense to being told that they weren't needed at the moment.
Not long after take-off, I abandoned all hope of my book getting better, and asked the flight attendant for a pillow. I wasn't sure if I could sleep after all that had happened already, but I was determined to try. With everything that I had to figure out, the last thing I wanted was to pass out once I arrived in Toronto.
My fears were unfounded, apparently, because I quickly fell asleep. There were no nightmares and no visions about my book. In fact, it was the first entirely peaceful sleep I had had in a long time.
I woke up about an hour outside of Toronto and sat up in my seat with a grimace of pain. I had slept at an odd angle, and my neck had a huge crimp in it. Smiling politely at the woman in the seat next to me, who had noticed my grimace, I brought my hand to the spot where my neck became my shoulder and started to work out the tension there.
By the time they announced that we would be landing, I was enjoying a cup of coffee that the flight attendant had brought, and looking forward to being home again. The woman next to me had started up a conversation as I massaged my neck.
"So what will you be doing in Toronto?" she asked, smiling a little and sipping at her own coffee. She had introduced herself as Mary, and she was a dancer with a Toronto-based company.
"Actually, I'm from Toronto," I said, returning her smile. "I've been away for a while, and I'm coming back home to sort of find myself again." It was close enough to the truth, I thought.
"I see," she nodded. "And what kind of business had you away from home?"
"I'm a writer," I explained with a smile. "I was collaborating with a group of friends on a new project, but it hit a snag. I'm taking a few days to kind of pull it all together again." I was impressed at how closely I could stay to the truth without actually saying anything.
"How interesting," she said. "Sounds like you've got a handle on things."
"I'm trying, Mary. I'm trying." I said, sipping again at my coffee. "Once I manage to put everything back in order, I'm hoping things will get back on track."
"Well, good luck then," she said, holding up her coffee with a laugh. "To holding things together."
I grinned and carefully tapped my cup to hers. "I'll drink to that."
We talked for another few minutes about miscellaneous things. Mostly about living in Toronto, and what we missed most about it when we were away. Eventually, the flight attendant came by and collected our drinks, telling us that we would soon be landing.
After we were on the ground again, I said goodbye to Mary, garnering an invitation to come to one of her shows, and headed for baggage claim.
Once I had gathered my luggage, I left the airport and flagged down a cab. Getting in, I gave him my address and we pulled out into traffic. The driver didn't seem like he was in the mood for conversation, which was fine with me. We rode in silence until he pulled up outside my building.
I paid him and picked up my things, rummaging in my pocket for the keys to the front door. I decided not to buzz to be let in, since I could wake Erron up, and balanced my things in one hand while I unlocked the door and let myself into the building.
Tossing my things in the elevator, I pressed the button for my floor and watched as the doors closed, cutting off my view of the small lobby.
The doors opened on a familiar grey hallway and I managed to get my bags out before they closed again. Feeling a bit strange being back here so unexpectedly, I set my things outside my door and quickly found my key. I put it in the lock and turned it, feeling the bolt slide back, then pushed open the door and kicked my large suitcase in front of it to hold it while I brought the rest through.
Stepping inside, I glanced into the kitchen. Seeing no sign of Erron, I put my bags on the counter and pulled my suitcase inside, letting the door close.
I took myself on a short tour of the apartment, familiarising myself with it again. Glancing in the spare room, I saw Erron sleeping. I smiled at the thought of how surprised he was going to be when he found me there, and carried my luggage into my room at the end of the hall.
Everything was exactly as I had left it. Well, almost everything. Erron had removed the few plants that I had kept in my room. Rather than invading my space to water them, he had simply relocated them. It didn't look like he had stepped foot in my room since.
I smiled at his thoughtfulness and set about unpacking. I didn't know how long I would be there, but I wasn't about to start living out of a suitcase in my own home. Once my computer was set up at my desk and my things were put away in the bathroom, I pulled my suitcase up onto the bed and opened it.
The first thing I found was Brian's shirt, and I started to cry again. He would have found my note by now, and I knew that he'd have a rough time with my being gone. Sighing, I sat down beside the suitcase and let myself cry for a few minutes.
My well-trained imagination had no problem coming up with an image of Brian sitting on our bed in Santa Fe and crying as he read the note, the medallion that I had left with it dangling from his hand.
Wiping away my tears, I banished the image with a little effort, There was no use beating myself up over what was already done. I knew that I was doing what I had to do, and I had to see it through. Pulling out my cell phone, I turned it off, fearing that Brian would try to call and convince me to come back.
I stood up again and started to put my clothes in the closet, making sure to hang Brian's shirt first. Once they were all put away, I shoved my luggage under my bed and lay down for a while, going over the night's happenings in my mind.
I thought for a few minutes about the bit of my nightmares that I had been able to recall, but it didn't make any more sense now than it had then, so I let it drop for a while, figuring that it would come in time.
Instead, I turned my attention to the voices that I had heard on the balcony. Going over them in my head, I closed my eyes and concentrated on the faces of those speaking. I again was filled with a sense of conviction that this time by myself was exactly what I needed.
Smiling and feeling more sure of myself than I had all night, I sat back up on the bed, listening closely for any sign of Erron. After a moment, I heard the tap in the kitchen turn on and he started to sing to himself as he went about making breakfast. He obviously hadn't heard me come in.
I laughed to myself and got up off of the bed. I crept quietly out into the hall and then to the living room, standing in the doorway to the kitchen for a moment. Erron had his back to me as he looked in the fridge for something.
"Hi honey! I'm home!" I bellowed with a laugh.
Erron jumped, bumping his head against the edge of the freezer door. "What the hell!" he yelled, backing away quickly and looking in my direction to find me grinning foolishly. "Jesus Nate, you could give a little warning!"
"What would be the fun in that sweetie?" I had thought that it might be strange calling another man by the pet name that Brian and I had adopted for each other, and was surprised that it wasn't. It was Erron, after all. "Nice to see you too, by the way," I giggled as he rubbed the top of his head.
"You know I'm happy to see you," he smiled. "But a phone call wouldn't have killed you. What if I had someone staying over?"
"You better not," I said, crossing the room and sweeping him up in a hug. "We're supposed to be very happily attached to each other."
Erron laughed and hugged me back. "Yeah yeah. How happy can I be with you gallivanting all around the country with that troupe of hotties?"
"So what? You start sleeping around on me?" I grinned, pulling away from him and pouring myself a cup of coffee. "You really should make more coffee in the mornings, hon. There's only enough for me here," I laughed.
"Well I was only expecting me for breakfast, you little bitch," Erron said, slapping my hand and taking the cup away from me. "You wanna come in here scaring the hell out of people, you can make your own."
"So that's how it's going to be, eh?" I said with a smile as I reached for the coffee filters.
"That's right. You're a big boy. Get yer own."
"You keep this up, and I may just have to leave you for a cute pop star or something," I laughed. I poured some more coffee into the filter and then filled up the machine with water. Once the pot was back in place, I flicked the switch and listened for the first gurgles, letting me know that salvation was on the way.
"Speaking of which," Erron said, sitting at the table. "What the hell are you doing away from him?"
"Long story," I said, looking down at my hands.
"Don't tell me the two of you broke up?"
"Not exactly. I just need some time alone for a while."
"Why?"
"I'll explain it over breakfast," I said. "Providing you've got real food in the house."
"You know me better than that," Erron laughed. "Gotta be prepared in case I actually find a man who can cook."
"And what would you call me?" I asked, opening the fridge.
"Well, you can cook. I'll give you that. But manly? I don't know about that."
"I'm twice as manly as you are, you big fruit," I laughed. I turned and tossed an egg at him. He let out a little shriek and barely managed to catch it. "See?"
"Yeah yeah yeah. You're quite the butch," he said with a grin. "Now are you going to make me breakfast or not?"
"Your wish is my command," I said sweetly, walking over and taking the egg from him before he could toss it back to me. Erron threw even worse than he caught.
"Then I'll have an omelette with toast, bacon, and a bowl of fruit on the side," he grinned. "You'll find onions and peppers in the door of the fridge, and there's some apple butter in there too. Strawberries, blackberries and blueberries are in the crisper."
"Aren't we the hungry one?" I asked with a smile. "Sounds good. Got any cream?"
"Right here, sweetness," he said, coming to the fridge and pulling out a carton. "Always be prepared. I was a boyscout, you know."
"Of course you were," I laughed. "Anywhere there were lots of boys in those cute little shorts, you'd be there."
Erron slapped my arm and went back to the table. "You just get cooking, slaveboy," he smiled, making whip-crack noises.
"Yes sir," I said, saluting sharply. I set out the things I needed on the counter and started to chop up the onions and peppers for the omelette. "Now what have you been up to lately?" I asked. Stepping away from the counter, I picked up three eggs and started to juggle them as I walked to the stove with them.
"Show-off," Erron laughed. "Nothing much, really. Get up, go to work, get home, go to bed. I got the insurance money for the things that were stolen, though."
"That's good."
"Yeah," he agreed. "What about you?"
"You know, the usual. Get up with a hottie, have breakfast with four other hotties, hang out with the aforementioned hotties, do a bit of writing, go to bed with the hottie again. Nothing too strenuous," I laughed, regardless of the fact that I had seriously overused the word 'hottie.'
"Bitch."
"Hey! This bitch is cooking you a nice breakfast. The least you could do is be nice," I said with a grin. I got a bowl out of the cupboard and set about making the omelette.
"You know me better than that."
"Yeah, I remember how catty you are," I laughed, searching for a pan.
"Speaking of which, how's Andrea doing?" he grinned.
"She's good," I said, finding what I was looking for. "Work's going well and all, but I wish she'd find a boyfriend. I don't like to think of her being alone."
"Well she can't find one until I do."
"Hey!" I laughed, indicating myself.
"Call me crazy, but I prefer my boyfriends to come unattached, sweetie," he smiled. "Just one of my many quirks, I guess."
"Suit yourself." I poured the eggs into the pan and went to work on the fruit. The berries, not Erron.
After I had them cleaned and put into two bowls for us, I checked the eggs and started another pan for bacon. Once that was coming along nicely, I got out some bread and put it in the toaster.
"Don't forget the apple butter," Erron reminded me.
"Right here, my dear," I grinned, holding it up. "Everything's almost ready.
"You only made one omelette," Erron said suspiciously.
"Relax," I laughed. "It's for you. I'm not in an egg mood this morning."
Erron grinned and waited as I put the meal together on a plate and set it down in front of him. "There you go monsieur."
"Merci, monsieur," he answered with a grin. "Looks good."
"Good?"
"Looks wonderful," he corrected himself. "Happy?"
"Oh yeah," I grinned as I set a plate of bacon and toast on the table, then went back for the berries and cream.
I sat down and started to fix myself a bacon sandwich.
"You can cook like this," Erron said, indicating his omelette which, if I do say so myself, was perfectly prepared. "And then you sit down to a bacon sandwich?"
"Yep," I nodded as I bit into the sandwich. "That's the way it looks, doesn't it?"
"You're some sort of freak," Erron concluded, taking a bite of his eggs.
"Never claimed otherwise," I laughed. "And don't knock it till you've tried it."
"Hmmm... Apple butter and bacon. No thanks. So are you going to tell me why you're miles and miles away from your fabulously wealthy and gorgeous boyfriend?"
"I missed you?"
"Nice try, hon. Now spill."
Breakfast was long over by the time I was finished bringing Erron up to speed on what had been happening since I joined the boys on tour. "So, I left and came home," I concluded.
"Because some voices in your head told you to?"
"Well, it sounds strange when you say it like that, but yeah. I need to pull it all together and get over a few things before I can move on," I said.
"And you're okay now?"
"Well, as good as I can be without Brian," I said, getting up for another cup of coffee. "You want?"
"Yeah, please," he said, holding out his cup for me. "But you're not going to collapse in the front room or anything, right?"
"Not at the moment, Erron," I laughed. "But I have to figure out some way to get beyond all of the crap in my past. I've got to put it to rest."
"And how are you going to do that? You never even talk about it, let alone deal with it. And look what happened when you did say something."
"That's what I'm here to figure out," I said, setting the cups back on the table. "I've got to find some way past it."
"Then you will," he said confidently. "If there's one thing I know about you, sweetie, it's that that brain of yours can come up with some pretty amazing things when it wants to."
"Here's hoping," I said, taking a drink.
"Well, you can get started right away, at least," Erron said, standing up and grabbing his plate. "I have to be at work in half an hour." He put his plate in the sink and grabbed his coffee. "You've got the place to yourself for the day and half the night. I pulled the overtime shift."
"I'll get the dishes," I said. "And I'll see you when you get home, then."
"You bet. Good luck, hon." Erron gave me a quick kiss on the cheek and gulped down the rest of his coffee before heading out the door.
"Thanks," I called out as he disappeared into the hall. With a sigh, I set about cleaning up the kitchen. Popping the last piece of bacon in my mouth, I started to sing quietly to myself.
"Nobody said it would be easy,
Nobody gives you guarantees.
'Cause a heart can always be broken,
And there can be no lovin', without tears.
Runaway..."
I stopped singing and looked around. 'Well,' I thought. 'There's been more than enough tears already.' I continued to hum along with Cher as she sang a private concert in my head as I finished up the dishes and left them to dry in the rack. Taking a brief look around to make sure that I had put everything away, I decided I was happy with the state of the kitchen and walked into the living room to enjoy my coffee.
Deciding that I was a poor imitation of the real thing, I dug out my 'Believe' CD and put it on the stereo. Once I had the sound adjusted properly (I had long predicted that Erron would be deaf by the time he was thirty), I sat down in the chair by the window and looked out at my hometown.
The ringing phone brought me back to reality, and I grabbed it off of the coffee table. "Hello?"
"What the hell are you thinking?" Carrie practically shouted at me. "You can't just go running around the continent without letting me know where you're going!"
"Whoa, calm down for a minute."
"We had a deal, Nate. You were going on tour with the guys, and you were going to make sure that I knew where you were at all times in case I needed to get ahold of you."
"Carrie..."
"Then you just take off like this, making everyone worry. What's going on in that head of yours?"
'That's what I'm trying to figure out,' I thought to myself. "Carrie, if you'll stop yelling at me for a minute, I'll explain it for you."
"I'm listening," she said. It was obvious that she was more worried about me than angry, but I thought it prudent not to point that out to her.
"I was going to call you as soon as I was settled in again," I lied. I hadn't even thought about informing Carrie about my sudden change of accommodations. "I just barely got through the door and had to explain things to Erron."
"So what are you doing there in the first place? You're supposed to be on tour."
"I had to leave, Carrie. Some things have been happening lately, and I just had to have some time by myself. I've got my computer, and you know where I am now. Don't worry, I'll try to get some writing done."
"Screw the book! I'm worried about you, Nate. What can you do in Toronto that you couldn't do with the guys?"
"Be by myself," I answered simply. "Things got a bit out of hand, and I had to take some time."
"How much time?"
"Are you pumping me for information?" I asked suddenly. "Did Brian call you?"
"No, Kevin did. Everyone's worried about you, Nate. What made you disappear like that?"
"I had to leave, and I knew that if I told everyone I was going, they would talk me out of it."
"I need you to explain this to me. How does being alone help you?" Carrie asked.
"How much did Kevin tell you about why I left?"
"He read me the note that you left Brian."
"Then you know about the dreams."
"Yeah. What little you mentioned in the letter. Nick still isn't saying anything about what you told him about them. Kevin filled me in on what happened to you the night you and Nick talked."
"Those are the two reasons that I left," I said.
"I'm not getting it, Nate."
"Carrie, you know about all of the stuff that's going on with Brian. I have to figure out what's going on in my head before I can deal with everything else."
"And how long is this going to take?"
"Well, I don't exactly have a schedule worked out for complete mental well-being," I said sarcastically. "I don't know how long. A few days at least, maybe more."
"And there's nothing that I can do to help, or convince you to go back?"
"No, and no. I've got to do this, Carrie."
I heard her sigh, probably thinking about having to report defeat to Kevin. "Alright. I'll pass it along. Do you want me to tell them where you are?"
I thought about it for a minute. Surely Brian wouldn't come all this way... no, he would. "No," I answered. "Just tell Kevin that I'm sorry to have worried them, and to tell Brian that I love him and I'll be back."
"Okay," she agreed. "You let me know if I can help with anything."
"I will Carrie," I said with a smile. "Thanks."
"No problem. Good luck."
"Bye."
"Bye Nate," she said, breaking the connection.
PART 53
I hung up the phone and returned to my seat by the window. I could picture Carrie in her office, dialling Kevin's number and telling him what I had told her. I sighed and drained my cup, sitting it on the windowsill.
"Where do I start?" I asked the room. Like most rooms, it didn't have a lot to add to the conversation. "Where in the hell do I start this?" An image of a building suddenly popped into my head, and I smiled nervously. "As good a place as any," I mumbled, raising myself out of the chair.
I grabbed my light jacket from the hall closet, in case it rained or I didn't get back until after dark, and headed out the door.
The city was humming with activity as I walked the streets. People were moving everywhere. Typical of cities just about everywhere, most people kept their eyes cast down at their feet as the walked, trying to avoid running into others.
I turned the corner and felt my breath catch in my throat. Coughing a little, I stood across from the building and tried to calm myself down. It hadn't changed much since I had last been there, and the eerie sense of deja vu that came over me made me sway a little on my feet.
Steeling myself and holding onto whatever backbone I had, I crossed the street and walked across the expanse of lawn in front of the building. Reaching the doors, I opened one and stepped right into my past.
"Can I help you, sir?" A young woman asked as I stepped into her office.
"Yes, I was just wondering if it would be possible for me to walk around a little bit? I went here a while back, and I just wanted to revisit some old memories," I explained, giving her a smile.
"Well, I don't see why not, but you'd have to talk to Principal Davis first. Her office is the second door on the right," she smiled back and pointed to a closed door behind me.
"Thank you," I turned the smile up a notch and backed out into the hall. Taking a deep breath, I walked to the door that she had indicated and knocked.
"Come in," I heard a woman's voice call from the other side.
I opened the door and stepped inside the well-decorated office. "Hello, I was just wondering if it would be alright if I wandered around a little bit?"
"Is that so?" the woman asked with a smile. She looked to be about fifty, with dark hair slowly going to grey. She had a very academic look to her, but the glint in her eyes suggested that she knew how to have fun as well. "Please, have a seat."
I sat down opposite the large desk she was sitting at and folded my hands in my lap.
"Now, why exactly would you like to go walking around? It's a bit of an odd request."
"This was my high school," I said, trying to match her grin. "I just wanted to go for a little tour and try to reclaim a few ghosts I may have left behind."
"Is that so?" she asked again. "And who would you be?"
"Excuse me?"
"Well, I don't want to sound too nosy, but I don't think the parents would like my allowing some stranger to mingle with their children. I'm sure you understand."
"Oh, yes, of course. I could be some sort of lunatic, I suppose. I hadn't thought of that." I continued to smile. "But I assure you I'm not. My name is Nathaniel Healy," I said, pulling out my wallet and passing it to her.
"Nathaniel Healy?" she looked up from my ID.
"Yes ma'am," I said. No matter how old one is, when you're in a principal's office, you're fourteen again.
"THE Nathaniel Healy?"
"Um... I guess so."
"You wrote that book. What's it called... 'Blue Sky'."
"That's me," I said. I knew she wouldn't refuse my request now, but I thought I saw an idea flashing around behind her grey-blue eyes.
"Well, I had no idea you went to school here. This is something, alright," she said, passing me my wallet again.
"Well, my career here wasn't all that illustrious," I said softly, looking down at my hands.
"Nevertheless, you may be the most famous person to have ever graced our halls," she said. She was getting kind of worked up about the whole idea, which made me nervous.
"I wouldn't exactly call what I did here 'gracing the halls' Mrs. Davis," I said, adding a laugh for good measure.
"Doesn't matter, my boy," she insisted.
"Does this mean that I can go for a walk around the school?" I asked, hoping to bring her mind back to the matter at hand and get out of her office before she finished whatever plan she had going.
"Certainly," she said, starting to get up. "I'd be happy to come along with you."
"Actually, I don't mean to be rude, but I'd rather just wander around by myself. I promise I won't interrupt any classes or anything. I was just in the area and thought I'd visit the past a bit."
"Oh," she said, settling back into her chair again. "Well then, let me just write you a note so you won't have any trouble from anyone in the halls."
I started to laugh, which drew her attention. "Sorry," I apologised. "It's just been a while since I've needed a hall pass."
She started to laugh as well and finished writing the note. "Here you go Nathaniel," she said, handing it to me across the desk. "Can I call you Nathaniel?"
"I prefer Nate," I said with a smile, folding the note and putting it in my pocket.
"Of course, Nate."
"Well, thank you for this, Principal Davis," I said, standing from my chair. "I really appreciate you letting me do this."
"No problem at all, Nate," she said, rising as well. "It's my pleasure."
I shook hands with her again, and made my way to the door.
"Oh, Nate?" she called before I could open it.
"Yes?"
"A simply wonderful idea just occurred to me," she said.
'Sure it did,' I thought, suppressing a grin. 'Here it comes.' "What would that be?"
"How would you feel about coming and speaking to a couple of our upper-year English classes?" she asked. "Sort of give them an idea about what the education they're getting can do for them?"
"That sounds like it could be a lot of fun," I said, forcing a smile and thinking that the chances of her getting me back inside these doors after today were next to nil. I didn't want to be rude about it, but I was almost positive that I wouldn't be able to handle returning to the school again. "Let me give you the number for my publishers and we'll see if we can set something up. I'm travelling quite extensively at the moment, so unfortunately I can't do it right now. We'll have to arrange something for the next time I'm in town."
"Excellent," she said with a smile.
I turned a pad of paper around on her desk and borrowed a pen. Writing down the main office number, I jotted down Carrie's extension number and gave it to Principal Davis. "Now you should probably wait until tomorrow to call about all of this. Let me have a chance to tell them that it's legitimate and all that. I don't imagine there will be a problem coming up with something."
"Thank you so much, Nate," she smiled, putting the paper in her desk drawer. "I'll call first thing in the morning."
"That should be fine," I said. "And now if you'll excuse me..."
"Oh certainly," she answered me. "Enjoy your tour of the past."
"I always do," I mumbled. "I'm sure I will," I said louder for her benefit.
"We'll be talking to you later, then."
"You bet." I opened the door and stepped out before she had me providing Nathaniel Healy Writing Scholarships or some such thing. Smiling to myself, and making a mental note to call Carrie and have her stall the school until they lost interest, I headed down the hall to the main foyer of the school. I felt horrible about lying to Principal Davis, but I couldn't outright refuse to do it.
The large foyer was so similar to the memories that I had that for a moment I couldn't breathe. I could feel the panic starting way back in my head and willed it to remain there. I took a few more steps out into the foyer and looked through the large glass doors to the courtyard outside.
There was a gym class doing some sort of sprinting drills on the field beyond the courtyard, and I immediately felt sympathy for them. I had hated gym more than any other class in my illustrious career here. I watched them for a few more minutes, then turned and headed for the first stop on my trip down memory lane.
I walked down a couple of halls, listening to the lectures of the teachers behind the doors. A couple of classrooms were empty and I managed to steal a glance inside. The smell of chalk dust was overpowering and did more than anything else to remind me of my high school years.
Passing the room that I had taken English - my favourite subject - in, I couldn't resist glancing inside. There was a small window set beside the door, and I could see a room full of students looking bored. As I moved down the hall a little, I saw Principal Davis talking to the teacher, who seemed to be feigning interest in what she had to say. She gestured to the hall without looking, and I understood that she was telling him about my visit.
"So I wrote a book," I laughed under my breath. "Calm down, lady."
I hurried past the door so that she wouldn't see me if she did look, and found myself standing at the foot of a set of stairs leading to the second floor of the school. Resting my hand on the railing, I felt my heart speed up a little.
I leaned over the railing so I could see clear up to the landing on the second level. "Oh Jack," I whispered, running my hand back and forth over the railing and trying to keep the tears back.
I stood there, transfixed, until a bell rang directly over my head, signalling the change in classes. I backed up against the wall just in time to avoid being trampled by the stampede of students as they ran out into the hall, eager to get away from one boring subject and immerse themselves in another.
I smiled a little. It seemed so funny to watch. An entire community completely ruled by the ringing of the bell. It told them when to start, when to finish, when to move, when to eat. It was like a twisted version of a Pavlov experiment.
Once the throng of students had passed and the halls were relatively empty, I walked once again to the bottom of the stairs and just stood there, letting the memory come back and trying to embrace it. "Oh...." was all I could say.
I'm not sure how long I was standing there, but once I noticed a passing student giving me an odd look, I knew it was time to move on. With a final glance up to the landing, I passed the stairs and walked down an all-too-familiar hallway.
Brushing my hands against the lockers lining the hall, making the locks jump and rustle a little bit, I came to a stop in front of one. It was red now, but it had been grey then. I ran my hand down the front of it, remembering how often I had come back to it to find little surprises hidden inside.
"Assholes," I muttered, resisting the urge to punch the locker door.
"Excuse me?" I turned to find a couple of women, one obviously a teacher and the other a student, standing behind me. "What did you just say?"
"Oh, sorry," I stammered, blushing. "I wasn't talking to you, I was talking to myself."
"And you would be?"
"My name's Nate," I said, digging in my pocket to find the note that Principal Davis had given me. "I used to go to school here. I'm just taking a little tour." I thrust the note out to her.
She took it and read it over, looking it over carefully. "Nevertheless, I hardly think that is appropriate language to be using in a high school."
When she finished with the note she handed it back to me. It went into the pocket again. "I apologise again, but I hardly think it would be the first time any of them would have heard the word." I gave the younger student a smile, which she returned.
"That is not the point," she said, clearly going into lecture mode. "They hear such filth often enough from their peers. We should be setting a much better example for them than that."
"No offense, ma'am," I said, enjoying how she bristled at my calling her ma'am. "But I prefer to set a real example for people rather than some unrealistic ideal. When they are outside the school, and out on their own, they are still going to hear such things. It doesn't do much good to try and keep it from them." The girl with her was smiling broadly now, obviously enjoying my discussion with the teacher.
"But they must learn that it is inappropriate to use such language."
"Ah, and I'd be willing to bet that most of them already know that. But, as you so kindly pointed out, this is a place where they are among their peers, not their employers or parents. Why not cut them a little slack? Isn't that right?" I asked the student, who nodded enthusiastically.
"It's that kind of thinking that gets people into trouble," she insisted, giving the girl a harsh stare.
"Well, I didn't mean to start a debate about this. I'm sorry for what I said earlier. I didn't realise that there was anyone else around, and I'll be more careful in the future."
"See that you do," she sniffed, turning and walking down the hall again, practically dragging her companion with her. The girl gave me a final wave and a smile as she was pulled around the corner and out of view.
I chuckled to myself and rapped my knuckles on the locker, dragging my mind back to the past again. I continued my walk, still running my hands along the lockers and listening to the sound of the locks slapping back.
My next stop was the cafeteria. It was on the second floor of the school, and was empty at this time of the day. I wandered in, prepared to show someone my note, but there was no supervisor there. Strolling along the rows of tables, I remembered coming here to eat my lunch, always staying at the edge of the room so I could avoid anyone who decided to be an asshole.
I stopped in the rear corner of the room, right next to the back exit. Setting my hand on the table there, which had always been the one I chose if I could, I could practically hear the noise of a thousand students rushing in to eat.
The words 'food fight' came to my ears and I could almost see the flying lunch-bits in the air. I felt a smile come to my lips as I walked back through the table rows and out into the hall again and headed for the one place that I had been avoiding since I had started this crazed blast to the past.
My trip took me past the hall to Principal Davis' office, and I noticed the girl from before sitting outside in the hall. She looked up and I walked over to her. "So what are you here for?"
"The same thing you'd be here for, if Ms. Cole had enough power to do it," she laughed. "I called someone an asshole in class."
I grinned. "Was it one of your peers, or was it Ms. Cole?"
"A peer," she girl smiled.
"Though I think it could apply to both, don't you?" I asked.
"You got that right," she laughed. "And you didn't help her mood any with your little speech back there."
"Well, I'm practically untouchable," I said, brushing my knuckles against my shirt. "What's she going to do to me?"
"Nothing, I guess," the girl grinned at me. "But she could make it tough on the rest of us."
"By the sound of it, she's already doing that. I'm Nate, by the way."
"Susan," she said, shaking my hand. "And yeah, she does make it rough. What are you doing here?"
"Just taking a stroll down memory lane," I smiled.
"You went here?"
"For a while, years ago," I nodded.
"And you liked it so much you had to come back?" Susan laughed.
"Not exactly," I said, looking around. "But something like that."
"Don't think I'll ever come back to this place," Susan said, thumping her feet against the legs of her chair.
"Neither did I, Susan," I responded, forcing a smile.
Just then the door opened and Principal Davis came out, followed by the wonderfully personable and universally liked Ms. Cole.
"Oh, Nate," Principal Davis said, surprised. "I didn't know you were out here. Is there anything I can help you with?"
"No no, I was just enjoying a friendly conversation with Susan here. We met a little earlier."
"Oh. Well, I have to talk to her for a moment. This is Ms. Cole," she said, indicating the woman beside her.
"We, uh, also met a little earlier. I believe that she was bringing Susan to see you."
"Ah," Principal Davis said, noting the expression on the woman's face. "Well, I'm sure you have a class to get back to, don't you Jane? Jane's one of our English teachers," she explained.
"Yes, I do. I'll see you later, young lady," Ms. Cole said to Susan before turning and disappearing up the hall.
"Principal Davis," I said, turning on the charm.
"Yes, Nate? Something I can help you with?"
"Well, I was sitting here with Susan and we got to talking. I know that she's in trouble for swearing in class, but I think she knows that she was wrong to do it. I was wondering if, and this is completely your call, if maybe you could see fit to skip the punishment this time? I was hoping that Susan could walk around with me for a few minutes and talk about some of the changes that have happened since I was a student."
"Well..."
"Susan would, of course, have to promise not to do such a thing again. And you'd do that, wouldn't you Susan?"
Susan nodded her head enthusiastically. "Yes ma'am. I won't do it again."
Principal Davis looked from Susan to me and back to Susan again. "I guess it would be alright. Just this once," she warned, pointing at Susan. "If you think it will help with whatever you're doing here, Nate."
"I'm sure she'll be a big help," I said, giving her another smile.
"Alright then. But please make sure that she gets back to Ms. Cole's class before too long. We'll keep this between the three of us. Agreed?"
Susan and I both nodded our agreement.
"Then I'll get back to some paperwork," Principal Davis said, turning back into her office. "See you later, Susan, and hope to see you again soon as well, Nate."
"Count on it," I smiled, giving Susan a hand out of her chair.
Once we were alone in the hall again, Susan started to laugh and shook my hand again. "How did you pull that off?"
"I've got something she wants," I laughed.
"And that would be?"
"Me." Susan gave me a disgusted look. "No, not that," I laughed. "She wants me to come and do a couple of talks to the English classes sometime."
"Why?"
"I'm an author," I said. "Nathaniel James Healy, at your service."
"Who?" she asked, making me laugh again.
"Good answer," I said.
"So what do you want to see first?" Susan asked.
"Actually, I kind of have to do this tour on my own. You don't have to show me around."
"Then why did you go through all of that?" she asked, pointing back in the direction of the office.
"Well, correct me if I'm wrong, but I have a feeling that Ms. Cole has it in for you. Probably overlooks other students doing things that she nails you for, right?"
"Yeah."
"Well, I know what that's like. When I went here I had more than my share of people out to get me. Just thought I'd lend a hand if I could," I said, smiling at her.
"Thanks Nate," she said.
"No problem. Now you go somewhere and hang out for a little while without getting into more trouble, and then go back to class. Ms. Cole won't know the difference."
"Alright. Thanks again. Maybe I'll see you if you come back to talk to the classes."
"Maybe," I agreed. "Now get going before someone thinks I'm abducting you or something."
Susan laughed and ran down the hall with a final wave behind her. I smiled and watched her until she rounded a corner and was gone from view.
Looking around, I realised that we had come close to where I had been heading before I ran into Susan outside the office. I came to a stop in front of the last place I ever thought I'd come back to.
Steeling myself, I pushed open the door and stepped inside. They had painted it, but it was still the same room. To my eyes, not a thing had changed. One of the stall doors was still hung crookedly, and wouldn't have closed properly if I had tried it, but I had no intention of touching anything in here.
I stared at the tiled floor, thinking about how cold to the touch it would be, and my gaze moved to the far corner of the room, underneath the frosted windows. I spotted some writing on the wall there and walked a little closer to read it. The sound of my shoes hitting the floor started my heart racing again.
Kneeling down, I read 'Tommy J wuz here' written about a foot off of the floor. Ignoring every rational thought I had, I reached out and ran my hand over the writing, skimming the surface of the wall and down across the floor immediately in front of it.
'Tommy J wuz here,' the letters screamed from the wall, and I felt the first tears starting to fall. "So wuz I, Tommy, so wuz I," I whispered. "Hope you had more fun."
I stood up too quickly, and immediately got light-headed. I leaned against the wall, waiting for the floating spots to leave my vision. I wiped madly at my face, trying to dry it, but more tears fell to replace the ones I wiped away.
'What was I thinking?' I asked myself repeatedly as I leaned there. 'This place is dead to me.'
"No," I answered myself, my words creating a creepy echo in the harsh room and sending a shiver down my spine. "It should be dead to me, but it's not. They should be dead to me, but they're not. I've got to figure out a way to make it happen."
I left my leaning post on the wall and walked toward the door again, stopping at the round basin in the centre of the room. I stepped on the rail around it's base and put my hands under the spray of water that was created. Splashing a little on my face to hide the tears, I relaxed my foot and the water lessened, finally stopping altogether.
I took some paper towels and dried myself as well as I could. Of course, they were the cheap brown kind that didn't so much absorb the water as spread it around more, but I did the best I could.
I turned again and walked to the door. Desperate to get out of the room before I shut down completely, I threw the door open when I got there, almost squashing a student who was about to enter.
"Jesus, mister. You look like hell," he said, jumping back as I came through the doorway.
"Sorry kid," I apologised quickly. "Didn't see you."
"No doubt," he said. "You okay?"
"Yeah, I'll be just fine," I said. "Just visiting a few old friends."
"In the bathroom?"
"Something like that, kid," I said. "See you later." I left him standing outside the boys washroom and made a bee-line for the nearest door.
Reaching the courtyard, I glanced around to make sure that no one was looking, and then sat down for a minute on one of the bike racks outside of the school to catch my breath.
The tears threatened again, and I knew that a crying man on a bike rack was bound to gather more attention than I felt like handling, but I just couldn't get the faces and places of the past out of my head. Finally, I thought of Brian. His eyes sparkled in my memory, and my heart slowed it's pace a little.
Remembering why I was doing this made everything a little easier, and I took another moment before standing again. When I had my heart and my tear ducts back under control, I stood and continued to the sidewalk.
Hailing a passing cab, I jumped in the back and gave the driver the address of the apartment. I glanced at my watch and was surprised to find that I had been in the school for almost two hours. How long had I been standing at the base of those stairs? How long was I kneeling there, running my hand over a bare patch of floor in the bathroom? I didn't know, but from the look of it, much longer than I had thought.
'At least that's over,' I thought, sitting back in my seat. The cab passed over a small stream which passed through a large steel culvert under the street, and another memory washed over me. This one I hadn't even thought of when I had told Nick about myself.
Leaning forward, I asked the driver to pull over and wait for me. She nodded, but gave me a confused look. Once she had stopped the car, I jumped out and ran to the edge of the sidewalk, looking down at the running water. There wasn't much of a stream this time of year, and I managed to scramble over the short railing and down to the edge of it without getting my feet wet.
Stepping inside the gloomy culvert, I trained my eyes on the side of the metal tube, searching. I looked for a few minutes before I found it: 'Nathan Healy died today, and no one knew the difference.'
I had written that there years ago, after things had gotten bad, but before they got out of control bad. I reached out and ran my hand over the faded letters, remembering the tears that had coursed down my face as I wrote them, and felt the familiar wetness on my cheeks again.
I stood like that, hand resting against the rippled surface of the metal, for a few minutes while I finished mourning for the person I had been that day. Once my crying tapered off again, I wiped my face with the back of my hand and worked my way back up to the street again.
Glancing around, I cursed under my breath. The cab was gone. The driver must have thought I had skipped out on the fare and left me. I checked my watch and was amazed that I had been under the street for almost half an hour. No wonder the cabby had taken off.
I checked the area and didn't see any other cabs, so I decided to walk back to the apartment instead, thinking that the fresh air might help my get my mind back together again. By the time I got back to the apartment, it was early afternoon and I was starting to lose control again. The more I thought about what I had seen that morning, the less I wanted to think about it, but the harder it was to ignore.
I collapsed onto the couch as soon as I got home, and turned on the stereo. Cher came blasting out of the speakers and I immediately got up to change the CD.
Picking through the selection that Erron had put together from both of our collections, I was surprised to find the 'Millennium' CD. I knew that my copy was back in LA with Andrea, so it had to belong to Erron. I smiled and took the CD out, replacing Cher.
Pressing the 'random play' button on the remote, I fell back onto the couch and curled up, waiting for the music to start.
"Show me the meaning of being lonely," Brian's voice came out of the speakers, catching my attention immediately.
"I saw a few of them today, sweetie," I whispered, laying my head down and closing my eyes. "I don't know if it was a good idea, but I saw them."
To Be Continued...
Well, I managed to avoid a cliffhanger this time, as a few of you requested. ;P
Again, thanks for reading, and thanks to everyone who has taken the time to write. If I haven't answered yet, I'm going to, I just haven't been able to wade through the other emails yet. Patience is a virtue, my friend. I'm not saying that it's a virtue that I have in abundance, just that it is one. :P
Thanks, and I should have another installment up next Wednesday, providing that all goes well. :)
~DLS~