Page 189 of Reverse

for just a few seconds longer

choose me

I write out the last of the lyrics in my notebook as the band bustles around me. Feeling the burn of the last two words, I take a numbing swig of beer before staring at my phone screen in indecision. In the same time zone, a state away, I note it’s 1 a.m. in Austin, and all I want to do is talk to my wife, who is, no doubt, fast asleep. I pull up her last text.

Wife: I hope you have a good show. I love you.

Even though the message is sincere, it rings hollow for me. The chaos in the room quiets briefly, the sudden stillness in the air credited to my mother, who’s standing in the doorway. Throats clear as she makes a beeline for me. One of our roadies lifts his chin in question, and I nod. In fast response, he starts evacuating the room, as if her sudden appearance wasn’t enough to do so. In seconds, the noise outside the door is the only sound in the room as her presence batters me with hurt.

“Really fucking subtle, son,” she says, her voice shaking.

“Wasn’t meant to be,” I mutter, unsure of how to react to this new dynamic and exhausted from the struggle of trying to figure it out.

“I can’t believe you just walked past me,” she takes a seat next to me on a long, black leather couch. Turning toward her, I feel the same animosity that’s been brewing between us, which never existed before. “Hey, Mom, good to see you. What are you doing in New Orleans?” she snarks before continuing. “Good question. Well, the truth is I came to see my kid play,” she spouts sarcastically, “since he hasn’t answered a single call from me in a week.” She tilts her head in taunt. “Where’s your father, you ask? Well, he’s currently at the hotel because he packed a fucking bag and flew halfway across the country only to take a stand by not showing up, even though he’s dying to see you play. So, on principle alone, he’s refused to accompany me because you two fumbling idiots are determined to be the death of me. Enough of this shit,” she barks, “Easton, I’m serious.”

“What bothers you more now, Mom? That you can no longer order me around or that you can’t control my emotions?” I keep focused on the beer cap I’m flipping between my fingers.

“That’s completely unfair. We both realize and accept you’re your own man. Before, you were apologetic, and now this icy shoulder? What point are you trying to make? Tell me, Easton, I need to know.”

“I’m not changing my mind. I’m not divorcing her. You can’t just snap my happiness away like it’s a toy I’m no longer allowed to play with.”

“We reacted and overreacted the way we did because it was warranted. We never asked you to end your marriage. And where isshe, son? This woman you chose to give yourself to, knowing the damage it would do to your family and hers?”

I lift my eyes to hers.

“Mywifeis currently trying to salvage her relationship with her father, trying to earn back his trust. Meanwhile, we’re both trying to work around all of your fucking collective tantrums and mood shifts. So, where is my wife? In hell, that’s where she is. Blaming herself, punishing herself, because she doesn’t feel like she deserves happiness with me, becauseyour fucking husbandmade her feel like she didn’t—along with her own fucking father, who still doesn’t!”

The first three weeks, we threw ourselves into work, her getting ready for the thirtieth edition of the paper while planning the party to honor him. Instead of rewarding her, Nate’s made it nearly impossible for us to connect. Filling her schedule, he’s sent her as a liaison for Hearst Media to every party, every convention, and everythingimaginable on the East Coast to keep her from joining me on tour. What’s worse? She’s allowed it. His ploy to keep her away from me, a calculated chess move as he forces her to pay penance for loving me. As of a week ago, she’s home. But, he’s kept her scrambling to keep up with his demands, all the while keeping her locked out personally. I have no doubt that right now, she’s only placating her father to try and get back to me while he does everything he can to hasten her future without me—continually driving an axe between us. Something is going on that I can’t place. At this point, I think we’re being polite to protect the other from what’s truly happening in each of our lives. Her more so than me since my accumulating resentment is the only thing I’m withholding.

She’s hiding, and there’s not a fucking thing I can do about it—or I might lose her. Even as we make time to keep connected—every chance we get—I feel the drift, and because she’s allowing it, I’m losing wind.

I can’t fight alone. We’ve fought twice since we got married, and both times ended with her tears and my murmured apologies—even if I felt justified in my anger. She hasn’t so much as tried to come to see me because she believes she can still get through to him.

Every day I ache for her, and every single day she assures me of her returned affection. Though I believe her, I need something more because I feel like I’m swinging in the dark. Thirty years ago, Nate rivaled my father for the affection of the woman he held most dear. History is repeating itself now, and he’s doing it again, but this time he’swinning.

“She’s coming,” I inform my mother. “And when she does, it will beyourchoice to make.”

“This is supposed to be the happiest time of your life,” Mom says, shaking her head, her expression bleak. “I want that for you so much.”

“Yeah, I believe it’s called the honeymoon phase.” I finally look over to her. “Do you know my wife didn’t recognize my body on FaceTime the other night because Benji’s been to two shows and inked me, and I forgot to mention it. Does that sound like a good honeymoon to you?”

“I’m talking career-wise.”

“Having a blast,” I say dryly, tugging on my beer. “Can’t you tell?”

The silence that follows cuts us both as her expression falters and her eyes fill with tears.

“Mom, please don’t get upset.”

“What the hell am I supposed to do? I have no idea what to do here.”

“My fight is with Dad and with my wife’s father. I’m not in a good place.” I roll my head against the back of the couch. “Go back to your hotel, okay? Get some sleep, and we can have breakfast before we roll out tomorrow.”

“You’re pissed at me, too, and taking it out on your father because you’re scared of putting my health at risk. You’ve made a bad habit of doing that over the years. He’s not your enemy.”

“You always hurt the ones you love, right?” My chuckle lacks all humor.

“Easton, you have to understand that what you did was . . .” she shakes her head.

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