Page 88 of Follow the Rhythm
She nodded before leaving to wake Claire. I put the kettle on to boil.
Claire emerged in her dressing gown, her eyes worried. They were Michael’s, through and through. “What’s wrong, pet?”
They sat across the kitchen table from me. I didn’t have time to sugarcoat things. “I owe you an explanation and an apology. Someone leaked the album we recorded before Michael died. And some things in them might hurt you.”
Claire’s mouth tightened. “Hurt us how?”
“The songs are… dark. Michael said it was just a character, a continuation of the story from the last album. But now that we know how badly he was hurting, they feel much more like cries for help. And I didn’t hear them.” I wanted to defend myself somehow, but there was no defense. I was his brother, and I should’ve seen it.
Of course, Michael’s mums knew the overdose wasn’t accidental. But instead of the truth, that I couldn’t bear for the darkest parts of Michael’s soul to be on display for the masses, I’d told them the album wouldn’t release due to label issues. I didn’t want to hurt them.
“And you kept this from us?” Claire demanded into the silence. Deb slid her hand into Claire’s, and they felt like a united front against me.
“Yes, I’m sorry. In hindsight, I shouldn’t have. But I wanted to protect you.”
“Your damned hindsight doesn’t do me any good now, does it?” Claire spat. “Where did it leak? Who leaked it?”
“I don’t know. I just found out myself,” I said, absorbing her anger.
“Who?” she repeated, her voice raised and shaking. With anger or grief, I couldn’t tell.
“It was probably Ellis. I don’t know who else it would be. But I’m heading back to Fairview to take care of things. The label could sue us if they think we leaked it. We don’t own the rights to the songs.”
The kettle whistled, and Claire jumped a little. Deb stood to make tea, as if by reflex. We sat in silence for a few moments.
“How could you hide this from us?” Claire asked quietly.
I didn’t have a sufficient answer. A year ago, when the grief was fresh, it had been unthinkable to let them hear those songs. And as time went on, it was easier and easier to tell myself I’d made the right choice. Now, looking at Claire’s expression ofbetrayal, I wish I could go back. “I thought I was helping. I’m sorry.”
Deb set down two mugs. There was no cup of tea for me. I felt the dismissal.
“I have to go do damage control, try to keep a lid on things as much as possible,” I said into their stony silence. “I’m sorry.”
I made it to the door before Claire caught up with me. She tugged at my elbow until I stopped.
“I’m furious with you right now, but I still love you. And I love Ellis, too. So, whatever you’re going to do, remember that.” She gripped my elbow tightly.
I nodded and gave her one more hug.
I had no idea what to do or if I could fix things. But I had an eight-hour flight to figure it out.
Chapter 27 - Charlie
Thanks to Ellis, being in the same house as my dad, and one dinner with my overbearing half-sister, was surprisingly bearable. Anytime I felt overwhelmed, I could disappear with Ellis for a few hours to talk and exchange kisses that meandered but never progressed past a certain, unspoken threshold.
We were being careful with each other, like whatever was happening between us was too delicate to withstand anything more than sweet embraces and making out like teenagers.
Sleeping next to him was an interesting exercise in self-control. The first night after our kiss by the waterfall, I’d pulled him into my arms and buried my face in his neck, breathing in his orange and cinnamon scent until my head went light. We’d slept that way, his body perfectly fitted with mine. But my hands remained firmly above his hips, even if my thoughts strayed elsewhere.
I’d also successfully avoided spending any time alone with my dad, but I could tell my luck was about to run out.
He looked better than the last time I’d seen him, when the stroke was still relatively recent. He’d been so angry then, at his body and the world, but I think he was even angrier with me for being there when it happened. I wouldn’t forget the image of him collapsing onstage, ever. One moment, he’d been fine, in the middle of “Devil Don’t Care”, and then his face had gone slack as his left leg crumpled beneath him.
The North Portal reunion tour had been contentious, and his stroke felt like the climax of the building tension. All four members of North Portal were opinionated men in their late sixties who wanted to relive their glory days, and I’d had to put out fires constantly and sometimes literally.
It probably would’ve been better if my mother had come along, but she stayed home with Kristopher. Touring had never been her favorite, even before she met her pack and stepped back from performing.
For the first time, I wondered if she wished she’d made a different choice, if Kristopher and my father had pressured her into leaving Porchlight Choir at the height of her success. I’d never ask Jess to give up something she loved.
