Page 82 of Hard Rock Tease
"When my mother fell into a depression, it seemed like the only time she was happy was when we played music together. When we wrote music together. But it never came easily to me. I always struggled with it."
"All artists struggle with their art. It's part of our temperament."
"It's easy to say that but…"
"Why do you doubt yourself so much?"
"I made my mom promise not to hurt herself," I said in a rush, trying to get it out before I could second guess myself. "She promised over and over. Then once morning I went into her bedroom to wake her up for the day. She looked like she was sleeping but there was an empty pill bottle on the nightstand. I knew immediately what she'd done."
Noah's face went soft with understanding. He drew me close and pressed his cheek to the top of my head. "I'm so sorry."
Despite my best efforts to fight them back, tears streaked my cheeks. I pressed my palms to my eyes, trying to stop them from falling.
"My dad was away on business. I had to take care of everything. I called 911. I waited with her until they arrived. I had to go with the ambulance when they took her to the hospital, even though I knew…" I choked back more tears. "I knew there wasn't anything they could do. She was already gone." I pulled the sheets to my chest, curling in on myself. "She promised me. She promised she wouldn't hurt herself. She told me if it ever got that bad, she would come to me and we'd get her help."
"Are you angry with her?" Noah asked quietly.
"I want to be. I wish I could be." I let out a shuddering breath. "If only I could have convinced her to get help sooner. If only I had done something more."
Noah cuddled me to his chest. "What more could you have done?"
I knew he was only trying to reassure me, but the words just brought on a wave of guilt, of self-doubt.
We were both silent for long moments before Noah burst out.
"Fuck, I'm an asshole." His voice was pained. "That shitty comment I made at the party…"
"It's okay." I pressed a kiss to his cheek. "You didn't know. Anyway. I'm over it."
"Are you?" he asked.
"No," I said, my voice still shaking from the tears. "I'm not. But I will be." I turned to Noah, facing him. His dark eyes were open, expressive, reflecting the pain I could feel inside myself. "I think I'm ready to read it now."
Noah titled his head, confused. "Read what?"
I grabbed my purse from the floor. I paused for a moment before unzipping the small side pocket and pulling out the unopened letter.
"I didn't just find an empty pill bottle on the nightstand," I confessed. "I found this letter. It's addressed to me, in my mom's handwriting."
I handed Noah the letter. He took it gingerly. "It's stilled sealed."
"I've never opened it."
He stared at me. "Why not?"
"I'm afraid."
"Of what it might say?"
"It's like I said. Playing music with my mom, writing music with her, was the only time she was happy. And it wasn't enough. I wasn't enough. And I've never been ready to hear her last words to me. Except…" I took the letter back from Noah. "I think now I am."
Noah squeezed one of my hands. I took a deep breath and tore a small line down the edge of the envelope. I pulled out the letter.
Except it wasn't a letter. It was several thin pieces of sheet music. I frowned and turned the papers over. No writing, just lines and lines of music notes.
"Is this a song?" Noah asked, taking a few sheets to examine himself. He scanned through the pages. "This is really good. I can imagine how it would sound live. It's moving." He flicked his eyes to me. "It sounds a lot like you. It sounds a lot like the song we're working on now."
"We were—" I halted, the words catching in my throat. "We were working on a song together. We hadn't managed to finish it before…" I trailed off, reading the first few words at the very top of the sheet. The title of the song.
