15. Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Fifteen
Axel
E d examined me as I sat at the breakfast bar in our condo, devouring meat lovers pizza. His own Greek vegetarian sat untouched.
“What?”
He tapped the counter as he stood in the kitchen, facing me. “Janessa said a package arrived for you, and you sent it back.”
“Janessa has a big mouth.” She was also my favorite concierge. Or had been. “She’s just mad because she had a big old crush on you, and you’re obviously taken…even if you two haven’t come out publicly.” I returned Ed’s examination. “It’s been more than two months. He’s spending as much time up here as in Portland. Why don’t you, you know, make it official?”
“First, what does make it official even mean? Appear together in public? We do that all the time.”
“Sure.” I scratched my crotch through my sweatpants.
He winced.
“But like, not affectionate and all that. No one would know you’re a couple.”
He selected a black olive off his pizza, popped it in his mouth, then chewed thoughtfully. Finally, he swallowed. “Governments are complicated.”
“You want to move to the States?”
“Fuck no.” He winced. “And break up our band? Hard no. I believe we can be successful as a Canadian act. We don’t need Los Angeles or New York—”
“Or Portland—”
“—or Portland, Seattle, or…” He waved his hand around. “Las Vegas—”
“Oh, oh.” I waved my hand right back. “If Caesar’s Palace offers us an in-house gig for a year, we’re totally taking it.”
He snorted. “Okay, now I know you’re not taking anything seriously.”
“I never do. That’s my superpower.” I took a big bite of my food and, at the last minute, remembered not to chew with my mouth open. After I swallowed, I took a swig of cola. “Are Big Mac and Meg spending Christmas together? She’s got her dog, right?”
Slowly, Ed nodded. “She’s now got full custody of Wren. Her asshole ex met some woman who doesn’t like dogs—”
“Who doesn’t love dogs?”
“—lots of people, and that’s not the point. The point is between that and Meg hooking up with Big Mac, her ex finally realized he didn’t have a right to keep a claim on her by demanding part-time custody of a dog he didn’t love. He might’ve cared for Wren, but he didn’t love her like Meg does.”
“Where’s the dog going to stay when we go on tour in May?” I bit into the pizza again, loving the tang of the spicy tomato sauce.
“Actually, Songbird’s parents expressed interest. They babysat an elderly church member’s dog when she was in the hospital, and they discovered they loved having a dog around for a short period of time. They can take care of Wren and give her back without any huge hassle. Songbird’s mom is teaching the summer semester at the university, so they couldn’t travel anyway.”
“So win/win.”
“Yes. And you’re way, way, way off track.”
“I didn’t know we had a track.” I picked off a slice of peperoni and made a big show of eating it.
Ed winced. A stint in a meat processing plant had put him off all meat consumption forever. Not dick, thank God. Or Thornton would be very disappointed.
“Are you going to Portland for Christmas?” I asked.
“No. Jesus Fucking Christ, Axel. Who was the parcel from? Janessa said a kid dropped it off. Since when do you refuse packages from kids?”
When they’re sent by Hugo Threadgold? I’d made the mistake of opening the first one. Jesus, the gob smacking schlock that had dribbled off the page. Apologies I didn’t want. An explanation that made no sense. I’d shoved the letter back in the envelope, taped it up—badly—then sent it back to his home address. With a three word note.
LEAVE ME ALONE.
That…hadn’t worked. Three more letters and parcels had arrived. I’d sent all three back. “It doesn’t matter, Ed. Trust me when I say, you don’t want to know. Now, Portland for Christmas or Canada? And what do you mean about governments? If you two marry, doesn’t that solve all your problems?”
“It…does not. Things are super complicated, Ed. Family reunification is a thing, and we’d be making a hash of things if we just get married.” He closed his eyes. “If he can get a work permit and then…” He gestured for me to forget about it .
I made a note to check the website for myself. He was acting like he thought I was stupid again. That just pissed me off. “Again…am I planning a party for one or three?”
“You know, we might spend the holiday—”
I shook my finger at him. “Don’t give me that shit. Why are you giving me that shit? Just be fucking honest.”
“Who sent the parcel?”
I dropped the pizza to the plate, slid off the stool, picked up the plate, and moved to round the bar and go into the kitchen. Which would’ve put me in Ed’s territory at the moment, but I wasn’t going to leave a dish out. Especially with food.
“Hey.” Ed snapped.
“I’m sorry, did you say something?” I put a hand to my ear. “I don’t think I heard you.”
“Canada.” He scrunched his face. “Thornton’s family said they’re cool with it. He’s going to spend New Year’s Eve with them. He’ll stay for a few days and then come back early January.”
I slid back onto my stool. “So three or are we inviting everyone? Isn’t Meg going to Big Mac’s family? They’re in Alberta, right?” I winced. “Are they conservatives?”
“Nope.” Ed pulled an onion off his pizza.
Gross. Why doesn’t he just eat it in one piece? What’s going on?
“Nope they’re not in Alberta, or nope they’re not conservatives? Or both?”
Ed ate the onion, then appeared to contemplate his pizza. “They are in Alberta, they live in Edmonton, and generally support the New Democrat Party, and I know you weren’t going to suggest that they might have a problem with Meg’s heritage.”
“Uh…” Shit . “I just…she faces a lot of racism—which is total bullshit—and I’d feel really bad if she got it from his family.” I considered. “So if she was facing that—”
“She’s not.”
“—but if she was,” I pressed on, “Then we could insist she have to come here.”
“Are you suggesting Meg needs us to protect her? That she can’t hold her own?”
“Oh crap.”
He laughed. “I wondered how long you were going to need before you realized what you’d done. Meg doesn’t need us defending her. Yes, people discriminate against her for her Indigenous heritage. People treat us differently because we’re Black.”
“Oh dear…”
“Yeah. You wouldn’t want Meg interfering on your behalf. You can fight your own battles. And you shouldn’t have to. It fucking pisses me off that we still have to.” He picked a chunk of feta off the pizza. “I was hoping if we did the documentary that people would just see us as like everyone else.”
“We’re rockstars, Ed. The fact Thornton’s making a documentary about us kind of precludes us being like everyone else.” I’d waited until he’d taken a full bite of pizza before delivering that retort.
He glared.
I shoveled in the rest of my pizza and chomped away at it. We’d eaten too much of the stuff lately, but he was always out with Thornton and…I didn’t cook. Especially not for one person.
“Pauletta’s bringing Mickey home to meet her parents.” Ed managed to swallow first.
Apparently we were changing the subject.
“How’s that going to go over? Mickey’s…” I considered. Mickey was the director of the documentary. They were also non-binary and plenty of fun. Two things I wasn’t certain Mrs. Magnum would appreciate. She’d been…downright hostile…to Pauletta’s first girlfriend.
“Paulie’s dad insisted. Apparently he’s had a chat with her mom. Maybe he realizes how serious they are about each other.”
“Yeah, they are that. For sure.” I snagged my plate, then slid off my chair again.
“You’re not having another slice?” He gestured toward the boxes.
“I don’t feel like an interrogation. Big Mac and Meg are headed to cowboy country. Pauletta and Mickey are headed to the swanky West Vancouver. Songbird’s going to be with her parents—and undoubtedly playing piano at their church—”
“Undoubtedly.”
“So it’s just you, me, and Thornton.” I eyed my plate. “Fun.”
“Is there someone you want to invite? Because we’d be happy to make it four—”
“No.” I might’ve snapped that.
“We never talk about things anymore, Axel. What’s going on? You’ve been different since we returned from Black Rock.”
“Of course I’m different. Thornton is Kyesha’s brother. We had to revisit her death. That trauma. Of course I’m different. Who wouldn’t be?”
Ed reached for my plate.
I handed it to him. My appetite was a long-gone memory.
He put our plates into the dishwasher, wiped down the already clean counters, and turned to me. “Why don’t we work on that song?”
“Well…”
Coming out from the kitchen, he hip-checked me. “I think this one will be good enough to release as a solo track. It’s angstier than our normal stuff.”
I cleared my throat. “I was thinking as an acoustic. Just me and the guitar. Maybe not even a formal release…just on the web.”
He stopped short. “Yeah?”
“Like a song to whet their appetites. We’ve got the album coming out in April. This might…tide them over.”
“Huh.”
His stare nearly had me losing my nerve. I’d never released a solo song. Everything was always the band or, in the beginning, just Ed and myself.
Never alone.
Yet, in this moment, that was how I felt.
Alone.
Like I was calling out for something and a response wasn’t coming.
Maybe because you keep sending back his packages? Ever thought of that?
Ed yanked his phone out from his back pocket. “Let me talk to Pauletta. She might agree to it. As an appetizer with the main course coming in April—”
“Food metaphor? Seriously?” My stomach, known for being rock-hard, just did a backflip. Can I do this? A song all by myself? Something that’s unlike anything I’ve ever done? Likely Pauletta would veto the idea—
Ed held up his phone on the text screen. “She says we record in a studio. Full professional sound, even if it’s just you and your guitar.”
I blinked. My guitar? Did he understand how much this meant to me? Why it had to be me alone? I certainly hadn’t said something—mostly worried about hurting his feelings. “Just like that?”
He placed his phone on the breakfast bar and pulled me into a hug. “Yeah, just like that.”
Absorbing the comfort was easy. This was Ed.
Figuring out how to move on from the heartbreak was an entirely different thing.