Chapter 15
My house feels different without Cassie here, and it’s fucking with me.
She’s been gone several hours now, but I can still feel her everywhere. I knew damn well she used my shampoo and conditioner last night, but even still, her sweet scent managed to permeate my senses.
I stand at the kitchen sink, staring at the patterns of the backsplash, and then at the room around me.
On Cassie’s first night here, when she told me she expected a mojo dojo casa house, I almost told her right then how far off she was.
Six months ago, this house was full of touches of Julie but devoid of her.
Her throw pillows were on the couch. The wall colors she picked out.
A painting she bought at a flea market hanging above our bed.
For a year and a half, I couldn’t bring myself to change any of it, yet seeing it every day was torture.
Penny and Josie knew this. One afternoon they showed up with paint swatches and garbage bags, and I knew it was time.
With the help of my parents, we gutted the place in one weekend.
New paint, new furniture, new bed, new art.
Anything I couldn’t bear to look at was donated or boxed up and stored in my parents’ attic.
All except my poetry books. The majority of my collection was gifted to me from Julie. She scoured used bookstores, eBay, antique shops, anywhere that might sell poetry books. And on my bookshelf they stayed.
For about a week after, I hated my house. I kept thinking, What the hell have I done? Then one day I walked through my front door, and for the first time since losing her, my house was just a house. Not a daily reminder of all I’d lost.
So, yeah, Cassie had no idea how far off she was.
In truth, I don’t know how to feel about seeing Cassie in my space, in my bed.
I liked it. Probably too much. When she finished her tea, she said there was a lot to take care of, and I drove her home.
The drive felt normal on the surface. Small talk, easy enough.
But I noticed the way she kept it light, which felt intentional.
That’s the thing about Cassie. It’s hard to hide much from her, even when you’re trying.
And I was trying. I could feel myself putting distance there, brick by quiet brick. Before she hopped out, she reminded me we’re on for karaoke, and leaned down to give Mutt a kiss on his snout.
But now, back in my empty house, I feel rattled.
Something happened yesterday—a sliding doors moment. Cassie curled into me while she napped, the two of us quietly sitting together, scrolling on our phones, her in my bed.
Fuck. It’s not supposed to be this way.
Cassie hates when I smoke, but dammit, right now I could use another.
This morning, when I needed one she didn’t say a word.
Grabbing the pack from the counter, I stride to the patio door and step out into the September sunshine, cupping one hand around the cigarette and flicking the lighter.
I take a long inhale, letting the burn fill my lungs.
This shit is terrible for me. But I already feel less frayed at the edges, my nerves calmer.
When was the last time I dreamed about her?
Three months ago? I don’t even remember much from it.
No concrete details come to mind, just impressions dislodged from my subconscious.
But I knew it was about her. There was a sense of loss, and then the dream was over and it was already slipping through my fingertips.
Dreams are always that way. Like trying to hold onto water.
And the worst part? When I woke up, it wasn’t her I felt I’d betrayed by having Cassie be the first woman in my bed, no matter how chaste it was.
No, my guilt resided in the fact that with Cassie beside me, perhaps the honesty of darkness isn’t so bad.
The mind can be a torturous thing, how without our permission it can bring pain to the surface you thought you’d managed to bury.
I drop into the closest chair and tip my head back while the nicotine stems my frustrations. You’d think I’d be over this by now. Two years is long enough, dammit.
“You should be over this,” I mutter through clenched teeth. “Stop making it so fucking hard.”
Scrubbing a hand over my face, I drag myself back to the present, to the sunshine beating down on my skin and the breeze in my hair.
I don’t want to think about what little I remember from my dream or pull at the thread to see what else unravels.
That door has stayed shut because I fear beyond it lies madness.
Frowning at my half-smoked cigarette, I stub it out in my dick-shaped ashtray and go inside to grab a shower.
I’ll head into town in a bit and grab some nicotine patches and gum.
I’ve tried them before, but who knows? Maybe this will be the time it sticks.
A couple days ago, I told Penny I’d check on some blown fuses at the studio, and I need to do a few run-throughs for an upcoming recording.
Maybe an hour or two there will distract me until it’s time to head to the bar for karaoke.
What I won’t do is sit here and let the past crowd the present.
Not today.
By the time I’m dressed and climbing onto my bike, I feel like myself again.
Hair still damp and skin clean, my nerves no longer hum like exposed wire. I turn the key in the ignition and rev up the engine.
A bike ride is exactly what I need.
I pull onto the highway toward town, letting the September air hit me. Only forward movement, breathing in and breathing out.
The grocery store is quiet this time of day, which suits me just fine.
Heading to the counter, I ring the silver bell to alert the cashier I’m up here.
As a kid, Mom would have to put a hand over the bell to keep me from ringing it over and over, annoying everyone within earshot.
As crazy as it sounds, I feel a similar urge right now, just once for the hell of it.
A guy ambles up to the register and I ask for a box of patches and a few packs of gum.
While he grabs what I need, a Senior Center van pulls into the parking lot, and out pours at least a half-dozen little old ladies, most of them I know or at least recognize.
The cashier is just setting everything on the counter when a tiny presence steps up in line behind me.
Turning, I see silvery blue hair, deeply lined skin, and a dentured smile.
Mrs. Margie Koonce. I’ve known her my whole life.
She cranes her neck around me to see what I’m buying and then clucks her tongue. “Trying to quit?”
Turning, I shoot her a grin. “Yes, ma’am, I’m trying…or about to be,” I say.
Then she surprises the hell out of me with something I never saw coming. She gives a jaunty little wink and slaps me on the ass. The shock of it rattles a laugh out of me, and I shoot her a wink right back causing her to cackle.
“Well, good luck to ya, sugar pie.”
I pay the cashier and leave the store feeling lighter than when I went in, shaking my head as I tuck the bag away in my backpack. Who knew having Mrs. Koonce slap my ass would be the highlight of my day?
Up next is the studio. My solace, my sanctuary.
There are only two places where I feel fully myself.
Out in nature, and sitting in the studio with an instrument in my hands.
Dad’s been in the band since before I was born, so there’s never been a version of me that didn’t include this place.
Even after all these years, it still holds something close to magic for me.
Letting myself in, I flip on lights, illuminating the way until I’m standing in the live room, surrounded by instruments.
I breathe out a slow, centering breath.
We’ve got a few upcoming recordings scheduled where I’m slated to play bass. By now, I’ve already listened to the demo plenty, but since I’m here, it can’t hurt to run through it a couple more times for good measure. I quickly get the fuses changed out on the amp and return to my guitar.
Lacing my fingers together, I stretch them out, cracking each knuckle before strapping the Fender over my head.
When I play, I always do so with my eyes closed.
It’s easier that way. Easier to feel the music instead of thinking about it, to let it settle into me until it stops being something I’m playing and starts being something I am.
When the song comes to an end, I don’t stop.
I tap the screen and start it over. I do this again and again until my transitions come smoothly and I’m satisfied with the sound.
By the eighth or ninth run through I could play it in my sleep.
I let the song loop one last time, just to be sure, a lazy smile lifting the corners of my mouth as the final notes fade.
As I’m setting the bass onto its stand, I glance at the old Coca-Cola clock mounted on the wall and blink.
Shit. Is that the time?
Peeking out into the hallway, the view outside the windows tells me I’ve been here longer than I thought. The sun has set and a huge harvest moon is just rising into the sky. Stepping back into the room, I grab my keys and flip off the amps and lights, ready to head to the bar.
Before I leave though, I pause in the doorway and look back once more, giving a quiet thanks to whatever magic happens in here.
Cassie, Penny, and Josie are probably already at the bar waiting.
I wonder if Penny has the faintest clue what’s happening tonight.
I haven’t talked to Cassie since I dropped her off, so I’m pretty much in the dark, but if I had to guess, I’d say Austin is either already in Singing River, or damn near close.
Even though I just bought patches and gum, out of habit, I light up a a cigarette as I approach the bar.
I can already hear music and voices spilling out into the night air before I’ve even entered, but when I swing open the door, the size of the crowd tonight surprises me.
Taking a long drag, I let my eyes adjust and scan the room.
Then I spot long brown hair standing at the bar.
Cassie is talking to Sheila, laughing at something one of them has said.
Despite the distance I tried to create this morning, I’m drawn to her like a moth to the prettiest fucking flame, knowing damn well what a flame can do.
Each step I take her way loosens the tightness that’s sat like a boulder in my chest all day.
Shouldering my way through the crowd, I’m almost to her, but I’m stopped when someone grabs my arm.
“Holy shit, man! Long time no see!”
I stop to chat, because it’s the polite thing to do, but when the conversation comes to a natural pause, I pat him on the arm and tell him I better be getting to my table.
Cassie hasn’t noticed me yet. She’s still at the bar, completely unaware I’m standing five feet away trying not to stare.
Sheila steps away to take care of another customer and Cassie makes her way back to the table.
I watch as she, Josie, and Penny clink their glasses together and I wonder what they’re toasting to.
None of them have spotted me yet, and I waste no time heading to them.
“Mind if I sit?” I ask, already pulling out the chair beside Cassie.
Cassie’s eyes flick to the cigarette I forgot I was even holding. Shit.
“Only if you’ll put that cancer stick out,” she demands.
Yes, ma’am.
Without a second thought I walk backward, my eyes never leaving her face as I reach for the ashtray perched on the bar. Cigarette stubbed out, I rejoin the ladies. All three of them wear matching smiles, like there’s a secret I’m not in on.
“Care to share with the class? You three look like you’re up to something.”
“I was just saying…” Josie begins, and then she jumps like she’s been kicked under the table. “Motherfucker,” she murmurs under her breath. “All I was going to say is we had so much fun with Cassie the other night.”
Yeah, no. That’s not at all what Josie planned on saying.
Cassie snorts. “You’re only saying that because you were drunk.”
“That too,” Josie admits cheerfully. “It’s been forever since I drank that much. I don’t bounce back the way I used to.”
Penny raises her glass. “Amen.”
Josie grins and points between Cassie and me. “To be fair, the rules weren’t exactly in my favor.”
I frown. “What rules?”
Josie’s smile turns downright wicked. “Take a shot every time Cassie says a certain name.”
Cassie puts her head in her hands, groaning, but my face is pulled tight with a big grin.
Leaning close to her ear, I ask, “Who’s name, angel?”
She lifts her head, delivering a full-on glare to Josie, but it has no effect because her eyes are squinted with a smile.
“I hate you.”
Josie hops from her chair and pulls Cassie’s face to hers, giving her a big kiss on her cheek. “No, you don’t. You already love me.”
Penny and Josie fall into their own conversation and the room narrows to just Cassie and me. She still looks embarrassed from the bomb Josie dropped, but her cheeks have returned to their normal color.
You okay? I mouth over the noise of karaoke.
Cassie nods and leans in for me to hear her better. “Austin and my aunt got some things squared away this morning with Mom. Austin hasn’t given me many details yet, but he and my aunt have both told me things will be okay. All I can do is trust that, right?”
Now it’s my turn to nod. Cocking my head toward the stage where an energetic rendition of “Fergalicious” is happening, I ask, brows raised, “We still on?”
Cassie looks from the stage and back to me several times, her top teeth sunk into her lower lip.
“We can always sing another night,” I add, at the nerves I see written all over her face.
My offer seems to snap something inside of her, because she sits up straighter and throws her shoulders back.
“No. Tonight is the night. Now, get your ass up and let’s go sign up.”