Chapter 7 - Visitor #3
When she opened her eyes, she didn’t know where she was — a sensation she’d had more than once since she came to Minnesota.
A movement to her left brought her back.
Robby was standing at her kitchen sink, his back to her.
She sat up and swung her feet over the side of the bed. Robby looked over his shoulder.
“Damn. Did I wake you? I was trying not to.”
“Maybe. I don’t think so . . . So, do rock stars routinely let themselves into women’s houses?”
Robby turned around. “The door was unlocked. I said your name. You were asleep. And, no, we don’t. We don’t have to. Women come to us.”
“Oh my god, Robby. Get off it. That’s not going to work here. How many times do I have to tell you, I’m not interested in being a groupie.”
“Well, you asked.” He wiped his hands on a towel. “You know, you’re impossible. I brought most of supper. I was trying not to wake you. You said you’d missed having someone to talk to. Should I just leave and not come back? Is that what you want?”
Grace hesitated. “No.”
“Well, what do you want, ‘cause I don’t need this. You haven’t cornered the market on trying to get a life, you know.” He looked at her, waiting.
“I want someone to talk to. I’m just trying hard to stay—”
“Focused. I got that. A thousand times over. That and ‘no strings.’ You know, work is not all there is to life. I don’t like saying I’m almost ten years older than you, but I am, and this enforced break, this pandemic, has made me realize there’s more to life than work.
I’m lonely. Having people in your life — people you can talk to, not groupies, not employees — real friends, people you care about — is important, but they do require some of your time.
It doesn’t have to be me, but you should look at the big picture of what you want your life to look like.
Other people need to be in that picture. ”
“I hear you. But how do you balance having those people and a career?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t been very successful with people outside the band. The balance is constantly shifting, but you have to make an effort if you want people in your life.” He put the towel down and leaned back against the counter. “So, what do you want me to do now?”
“Finish what you were doing while I take a shower?”
“Glad to. Do you have anything to season steaks with and make a salad . . . put Charlie’s blue cheese on?”
“I have one tomato, an avocado, some black olives, and spinach. And there’s salt, a pepper grinder, garlic powder, and spicy Montreal Steak Seasoning on that shelf.
Worcestershire in the fridge. I’ll take a quick shower.
I know Jim asked Billy to find a grill and charcoal the day I came, but I don’t know what became of it.
I haven’t grilled yet. Is that what you’re thinking?
I have potatoes. The microwave is tiny, but two potatoes will fit. ”
“I brought potatoes. I’ll find the grill, or if I can’t, I’ll go get the one at my cabin. Go, I’m getting hungry.”
********
Grace wished she’d brought a blow dryer. The cold temperatures were colder and lasting longer than she’d anticipated. She came out dressed, but with a towel around her head, and went straight to the woodstove, leaned over, and started drying her hair with the towel.
“I wonder if that’s what our grandmothers did. It’s weird to think we had grandmothers within miles of each other,” Robby said, from so close that Grace startled.
“You need that bell!” Grace said, standing up. “When did you get back?”
“I didn’t have to go anywhere except outside. Found your grill. Been walking past it all day and never noticed. Can you put your hair up in that big clip and fit it under a hat, so we can go down to the point without you catching pneumonia?”
“I thought you were hungry.”
“I had a PB&J.”
“Oh. Well, I can go down to the point, if you pour me a glass of wine.”
Robby smiled. “Oh, yeah. I can do that.”
“Watch yourself, Romeo. Remember, I’m not an agreeable woman.”
“Not likely to forget that.”
They put on jackets and went out the side door.
Robby had lit the charcoal, and there was a fire burning on the point.
“Robby! That’s what you and Billy were doing?
A firepit?” Grace almost ran the rest of the way.
“No wonder you were tired — this is big! The rocks are gigantic! Y’all did a great job! ”
“Well, it was not the first for either of us, but it was my first in a long time. How ‘bout these chairs Billy found?” Robby was looking at two maroon Adirondacks.
“Oh! I didn’t see them!” Grace plopped down in one. “Thank you so much! This is fabulous!” She smiled up at him. “I’ll thank Billy tomorrow. I’m going to be down here a lot!” She leaned back in the Adirondack and took a sip of wine. “Come sit down.”
“In a minute. I’m going up and check the coals — something else I haven’t done in a while. I’ll be back.”
When he returned, Robby sat down and stared across the fire at the lake. Grace looked over at him. “You look serious. What’s up?”
After a few moments he looked at her. “Living like this feels real, sort of normal. I want to let it unfold, deal with it moment to moment, but at the same time, when this life seems real, I remember my old life. I miss it . . . performing . . . the adrenaline rush when we run onstage to the applause of the fans, yelling . . . on their feet . . . pretty girls pressed up against the stage in low-cut tops . . . the joy when it’s good, when you feel like the top of your head’s going to blow off .
. . sometimes it’s so sublime, it’s almost unbearable.
Like good sex.” He looked off, then smiled.
“I’ve even caught myself missing the road .
. . everybody staggering around the next morning on the bus, thinking, ‘Am I getting too old for this?’ I don’t miss it all the time,” he looked over at Grace, “but sometimes the panic that I might not get it back drops out of nowhere like one of those heavy X-ray capes when you go to the dentist?” Grace was holding her glass on the wide chair arm.
Robby reached over, took it, drank, then put it back in her hand.
“I’ve wondered how you were handling it. I wish I knew what to say to make it easier, but I know better than to give advice on a situation I’ve never been in. I’m sorry it’s happening, though.” She was looking at him, at his profile. He turned toward her.
“Thanks. I didn’t expect to talk about it.” His gaze stayed on Grace until he said, “Let’s fix dinner. The coals are ready.”
**************
Grace was holding her steak knife. “You can still grill. I don’t eat beef often, but this is good. Maybe I needed a protein boost.”
“I can’t remember the last time I did this.
When I was growing up, it seemed like every Friday night our house filled up with people — friends of my sisters, mine, our parents, relatives, and neighbors.
When the weather was good, everything spilled outside – people, food, music.
When the weather didn’t cooperate, the kitchen counter was lined with crockpots and hotdishes, but what I liked was barbecuing.
Definitely not steak. Mostly fish or game.
And because the younger members wanted to play music and smoke weed, we stayed outside and tended the grill. ”
“Sounds like good times.”
“Yeah, not fancy, but a good growing up for some of us — others weren’t so lucky. How ‘bout you?”
“Very quiet and safe compared to yours, I bet, but with the usual angsts.”
“You had siblings?”
“Not really. Not that I grew up with — it’s complicated — but you did?”
“Yes. All sisters. Two older, one younger. Houseful of hormones.” He shook his head.
“When did you start playing music professionally?”
“Do you really want to know, or are you just being polite?” Then Robby’s brows drew together. “Or is this going to appear in print somewhere? . . . I didn’t think of that . . . till just now.” He put his fork down and looked at Grace. “You’re a journalist, and you need money.”
“You’re not kidding, are you?” Grace asked, incredulous, and paused in the act of raising her wine glass.
“No, I’m not.”
“Well, I’m going to take a deep breath and try not to be insulted.” She took the breath. Let it out slowly. “Of course I’m not going to write about you. It’s not professional and we’re friends, or I thought we were.” Grace put the wine glass down and sat up.
Robby continued to look at her, then, “I believe you.” He sat back and was quiet. “Of course you wouldn’t. I don’t know what came over me . . . except I’m wary — learned the hard way. ‘Sorry.”
“Apology accepted.” Grace picked up her glass and took a slow sip, leaning back. “You’ve had journalists interview you without identifying themselves? I’ve heard of that.”
“Oh, yes. And worse. When I was younger, I had women journalists come on to me without telling me they were journalists, then publish whatever came next.” Grace’s eyes widened. Robby continued, “And even if you sue, it’s already out there. Damage done.”
“No wonder you had that reaction.”
Robby pushed back from the table. “Let’s move on to the next course.”
“I can’t eat another thing, but you can have pie.”
“No. I mean let’s top off the wine glasses and go back down to the point.”
***************
Robby was looking at the fire. “I hesitate to bring this up when we’re getting along better, but I still don’t know much about you. You’re able to get information out of me, but I can’t figure out how to get it out of you. Why is that?”
“It’s obvious, isn’t it? It’s my job.”