Chapter 18 #3
I try to get Sunny to do her homework, but it’s all too distracting for her.
I let her come outside and help Daisy plant flowers in a small box they built just for her.
It starts to get dark though, and we’re all exhausted.
I show them the guest house for a shower, or a swim if they want to cool off in the pool.
I make a dish I remember from the retreat with tofu in it that even Sunny likes.
She asks them a million questions, and they answer each one until I tell her it’s time for bed.
Once I finally get her settled and back downstairs, Daisy has made us all some tea. She hands me a mug.
“She’s a cute kid,” Canyon says.
“Yeah, she is. She was excited to meet you guys. I told her I went to rehab, but I said it was a place like a camp.” I shrug. “I figured it was close enough to the truth.”
Timber smiles. “Close enough.”
“Your place is really far out,” Daisy says. “It’s just the right size for you and her.”
“Yeah, that’s what I wanted.” I look at Canyon and Timber. “How’s Jack and Cloud?”
“They’re good,” Canyon says. “And they’ll be happy to hear you’re doing well.”
“Doesn’t always feel that way sometimes.” I sip the tea. It’s got an earthy taste. It’s good.
“How’s Austin doing?” Timber asks.
My tea almost goes down the wrong pipe. “Austin?”
“Yeah? Don’t you both live here in LA? Did you keep in touch?”
Oh, we kept in touch, all right.
“Yeah. For a little while.”
That’s all it feels like now. Just this starburst, brilliant and bright, then faded to nothing. Canyon’s got no idea that his little punishment forced me and that man to settle our differences once and for all. So we’d be able to like each other. Then love each other.
And I can’t see him ever again. It hits me like a freight train. And there’s nothing I can do. An old man and his geek might paralyze me. Or worse yet, do something to Sunny. And all for what? A reputation? An image?
And money, of course. Tale as old as time. The Precinct will make them all rich. Austin will move on to a perfect life. Without me.
“Are you okay?” Daisy says gently, placing a hand on my arm.
I don’t realize there are tears in my eyes until one falls down my cheek and leaves a dark spot on my jeans. “Yeah. I’m okay.”
“You sure?” Timber asks.
“I just really miss somebody,” I say quietly.
“Sorry to hear that,” Canyon says softly.
“Is it Austin?” Timber asks.
I glance over at him.
Timber smiles. “We had our suspicions.”
I laugh and brush away another tear. “Guess we weren’t as slick as we thought. Sorry, I don’t mean to be getting like this.”
“It’s all right,” Daisy says.
“Like I always told you fellas,” Canyon says. “It’s best to get it all out.”
“I’m okay.” I sip more tea. “I wrote him a song. Actually, a couple of songs.”
“You did? That’s far out,” Timber says.
“Can we hear it?” Daisy says.
I look at each of them and it occurs to me I’ve never had this before. I’ve had people to go out with, party with, and sleep with. But not to talk to. Not to help me build a garden.
Not like friends.
I get my guitar—well, it’s still really Judd’s guitar—and we all go outside so we don’t wake up Sunny. I haven’t sang this in front of anyone who wasn’t Judd or George, or in a recording studio. So, I don’t really look any of them in the face until I’m finished, and when I do, they’re all smiling.
“Wow,” Timber says. “That was great!”
“You’re really talented,” Canyon says. “You should be proud of yourself.”
“It was beautiful,” Daisy says. “I loved it. And if he ever hears it, he’ll love it too.”
It warms my heart and makes me nervous at the same time. I’m just not used to this. Kindness. Generosity. Praise. It’s a whole new world for me to navigate. I don’t know how to react to it.
We talk for a while, and I tell them a little bit about the music stuff. And a little bit about Austin and me. Not everything. Just the gist, and definitely nothing about Phil.
“Hey, man,” Canyon says. “It’s not over till it’s over.”
“Pretty sure it is,” I say.
“I don’t think so,” Timber says. “I saw you guys together. It’s a beautiful thing to see two people who are meant to be.”
I’m not sure what to think, but what they say does give me hope. However small.
The next day, they help me plant a few things, set up a way to water everything, and then they say they need to be on their way.
They wait until Sunny is home from school before they leave to say goodbye to her.
I get misty-eyed watching the nicest people I’ve ever met get back into their hippie van and drive off.
“I hope they come back to visit,” Sunny says.
“They will. They said so.”
“I want to plant daises to give to Daisy when she comes back.”
“You do? Well, let’s go find some.”
Later in the day, Judd calls me to tell me to turn on the radio, and I hear my voice, my song. I’ve been on the radio before, but this is different. This is really me now. My words. My voice. All of it. It feels like I’m sharing my entire heart with the world. It’s vulnerable. Scary.
“Listen,” I tell Sunny, turning up the volume. “That’s me.”
I’m grinning when the last note fades away and the DJ cuts in. “That was ‘My Angel’ by Harvey Laden. Sounds like he’s gone in a different direction with his music, and I can really dig that, can you?”
I look at Sunny. “Do I still sound like Fozzie Bear?”
“Nuh-uh,” she says, thinking. “You do kinda sound like Barry Mandible, though.”
“It’s Barry Manilow. And come on. That guy?”
She giggles. I ruffle her hair, then I make us some dinner.
Much later, after I’ve put Sunny to bed, all the accomplishment from the day fades away when I turn on the television.
The first thing I see are the opening credits for The Precinct.
Brad gets introduced first; a handful of action clips and a freeze frame on his face with his name below. Then there’s the same sequence with Austin. When they freeze frame on his face in that cop uniform, he looks stern, serious. Nothing like his grinning Boy Next Door days.
I feel a jolt of happiness before it turns into sadness. Frustration. Guilt.
I don’t have the volume up too loud, so I can’t really hear the dialogue.
The expressions on his face are enough for me to know what’s going on, though.
I always thought it was fascinating how he could just pretend to be a different person.
I don’t think he was ever pretending with me.
I got to see the real Austin Rivers, without all his masks.
The one nobody else has seen. And I got to fall in love with him.
It’s almost like I had no choice.
And right now is no different.
I turn up the volume a little when he comes back in the next scene. Todd and Sergeant Bailey discuss a murder they’re investigating. He’s really made it now. He’s doing well then. He’s got what he wanted. I’m not in his way, dragging him down with my heavy Bad Angel wings.
I watch the entire episode. I probably would have even if Austin wasn’t in it because it’s that good of a show. The episode ends on a cliffhanger, one of the policewomen chasing a criminal down a highway, and his car flips.
The end credits roll, and there’s his name.
Not Austin’s.
Produced by Phil Baxter.
His name is bigger than all the other names, even the other producer’s name.
He might still have someone checking up on me. Wouldn’t be hard to find out where I live now. Property records are public.
I shut off the TV. I pull down every shade, close every curtain in the house, check on Sunny, and try to go to bed and get some sleep.