Page 42 of Where You Are

Before the first show, every minute since Melanie vanished has felt like some sort of cold, dark hell. One month, and not a single word. One day she was there with me, happy, and the next day, she was gone without a trace. Her still practically new social media accounts were deleted, her phone deactivated, and most of the things from the pool house were gone. It was like she was trying to wipe all evidence of her existence.

I spent the first two days going out of my mind, worried sick that something had happened to her because that could be the only explanation for her sudden radio silence. I had no choice but to head over to her place. After seeing most of her stuff gone out of the pool house, I finally knocked on her sister’s door to find Sarah looking as defeated as I was about to feel. My relief that Melanie was okay was quickly replaced by the dark shadow that came over my life faster than I could blink. And it has not left me since. It follows me around and only seems to get darker.

The idea that what Mel and I had seemed to mean nothing to her when it came to a job opportunity worlds away extinguished every ray of light in my life. She and I were dreaming up a life together, but she threw it away to chase one she had already lived. I’ve tortured myself, trying to make sense of it, wondering if things were just so deep and intense between us that she got spooked, or if she really couldn’t pass up that opportunity and was too chicken-shit to tell me.

I spent days wavering between dwelling on the loss and trying to get passed it. I busied myself with coming up with just the right set list for the tour, and doing phone conferences with Ron, our manager, organizing the road schedule with appearances between shows. I found that when I stayed busy and driven on work, the ghost of Melanie and me was tolerable, just floating in the background. But between those times, it would seep under my skin and take ahold of my insides.

The hardest part was telling Luna when she came over to spend a last day with me before the start of the tour. Obviously she wanted to know where Melanie was, and I had to tell her that she moved away.

“I don’t like her anymore,”Luna had said with an exaggerated pout. And while I thought I would’ve jumped on the bandwagon with her, I found it sent an unexpected jolt through my heart.

“Why, Monkey?”

“Because she left and made you sad.”

Sigh…

While it would’ve been so easy to agree with Luna, I found myself defending Melanie - only for Luna’s sake. I just can’t take the idea of her thinking someone she really looks up to had let her down.

“She wasn’t trying to make anyone sad, Monkey. She was given the chance for a really good job and she didn’t feel like she could turn it down. Sometimes grownups have to make hard decisions like that, but they don’t mean to hurt anyone’s feelings. I mean, I have to go away all the time for my job,”I pointed out in a gentle tone.“She’s still your buddy, you got that?”I added for good measure and received a trusting smile and nod from my niece that about ripped my heart out.

Now, I’m on the bus trying to come off as nonchalant as I sit back in one of the lounge chairs, pretending to be interested in how Josh is going to try to keep up with his fantasy football league while we’re touring, or how Chris wants to attempt one of those squirrel suit jumps in the Grand Canyon when we go through Arizona. I give an occasional chuckle or whatever expression is warranted in the moment, but otherwise contribute nothing to the conversation.

Fortunately, no one seems to be the wiser when it comes to my inner torment, and it’s for the best. While these guys are my boys, I don’t want to get into it. A small part of me nags to confide in Jack, but I won’t give into it. While I could use my best friend right now, it would make one hell of a mess. Besides, Mel and I didn’t tell anyone about our relationship when we were actually in one, so what the fuck would the point be now?

After about forty minutes, I just can’t take anymore. I mumble a generic sentiment of being tired and head to my bunk. I lie down and try to clear my mind as I stare at the ceiling. I will myself to focus on nothing but the sound of the engine and tires on the highway, and try to let my mind to go blank. But sure enough, thoughts of what it would be like to have Mel here on this tour with me invade my head. I finally give in and allow myself to imagine her in this bunk with me, nestled close because of the tight quarters. The memories of her are so vivid, from the feel of her soft skin, to her sweet, floral scent.

Even if she had decided not to come along, she would’ve flown out for a visit or two, and I had fully intended on making love to her in here. Ideal? No, but definitely a rite of passage.

I reach into my pants and allow myself a few strokes of my dick to the image before thinking better of it. I let out a heavily weighted, defeated breath, before closing my eyes and trying again to slip into black nothingness.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Melanie

I spendthe rest of the afternoon after Sasha’s proposition lost in my own little world of memories, questions, what-ifs, and crossroads. As I wander absentmindedly around the quaint outdoor market with her, I know I’ve pretty much made up my mind to go with her. If I don’t, I’m likely to stay here and let life get stagnant, metaphorically at a standstill until I sink into the ground. I’ll give up. I can’t give up.

I stand listlessly at the checkout stand while Sash pays for some rice, mangos and other staples she likes to keep in the house. My glance drifts over to a post card rack. My eyes immediately land on one with a scene that reminds me exactly of how I had described this place to Matt. Remembering it gives me a harsh pang, just like it does all the other countless times I think of him. My hand reaches for it, plucking it from the rack and bringing it in for a closer look. The sun is giving off a warm and shiny glow, lighting up the four by six card and reflecting off the water that brushes up against the warm sand that spans between several beautifully swaying palms. There’re rocky cliffs on either side, and not a cloud can be seen.

Before I know what I’m doing, I place it down on the counter with everything else and offer Sash some cash to cover my share of our amenities, which as usual, she brushes off. I jam it in the back pocket of her shorts as we meander back onto the street.

On the walk back to her car, I slip back into zombie mode briefly until we walk past a tiny tattoo parlor that I somehow missed on our way into the market. It’s wedged between a bodega and a small wireless store.

The parlor stands out for some reason, like some kind of beacon, and is still nagging at the back of my mind later that night as I sit on the bed in Sasha’s spare room with my laptop. I’ve been reading up on the resort chain and some of the Indonesian islands when my thoughts shift back to it again. I reach back to rub my hand behind my neck where it meets my shoulders and inching my fingers down to where Matt had once marked me with a heart. My eyes start to sting and I close them against incoming tears as I remember the feel of his lips on that very spot. There was so much tenderness and love in that one small act, and my heart floods with it.

Earlier, I caved and looked up Turn it Up on the net to see if there was any news on how their first tour stop went. I lucked out and found an article with a beautiful shot of the whole band at full tilt, right in the middle of their opening show in Vancouver.

My brother was front and center in the photo, of course, gripping the mic with both hands and singing his heart out while his guitar dangled behind him. The sight gave me a flush of joy and I felt so proud of him. The elation was quickly followed by my stomach dropping at the realization that I never got to see them play live. I had a tour full of shows I thought I’d get to attend before Anthony ruined everything.

Trying to shake it off, I let my gaze move over to Matt, just off to the right and back a ways. The sight of him in his distressed jeans while he held his legs apart in a stance that accommodated the vigor he applied to his bass; his black hair was hanging in his face as he looked down at his task and I had the urge to touch my finger to the screen and run it along the scruff on his jaw. I couldn’t detect any emotion but pure concentration in his expression, but seeing him made me yearn for him so badly I could only allow myself a few moments to absorb as much of him as I could before clicking out of the site.

Matt’s picture still clear in my head, I pick up the postcard that’s been sitting beside me, practically haunting me. I flip it over, staring at the blank space where one is meant to drop a few words to their loved one. It’s been killing me this last month, not talking to Matt. I feel like I’d give everything I have to be able to talk to him; about anything. I miss him so much and I wonder if it would be okay to let him know I’m thinking about him. I know I can’t say too much; it would be stirring the pot. Besides, there’s nothing I can say that would make him feel any kind of softness towards me. I’m thinking of him and what we had, and it meant something. It meanteverything. I didn’t just change my mind and disappear, and I want him to know that.

After what feels like hours of deliberation, I decide there’s no good way to word a note where I won’t tip off Anthony or any of his goons, or say anything that would make Matt act. So I settle on a small doodle of a sun with little rays projecting out, sending Matt a tiny bit of sunshine, like he always called me. And if he remembers the talk we had the first night we spent together in the pool house, he’ll know. He’ll know where I am, and that I’m thinking of him. Too bad he won’t know that it’s so much more than that.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Matt

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