Chapter 31
Angus
My grandfather’s funeral is harder than I thought it would be.
We were close when I was growing up, then we grew apart in my teenage years but found our way back to each other when I got to college. Our last conversation weighs heavily on me and I’m so disappointed that I never called him back. Never had a chance to talk to him one last time.
Now he’s gone.
And I’m never getting a chance to right any of the wrongs.
The worst part is that my father tried to use his father’s death as a way of dragging me into the fold, with guilt and other manipulative tactics, but it wound up having the opposite effect on me.
I have dozens of aunts, uncles, and cousins who showed up, but I haven’t had relationships with them since I was a kid. And now that my grandfather is gone, I want to be around my family even less. Abe is okay, and I’d like to foster the relationship with Alden, but my sister is turning into my mother, and my mother… well, she’s always been problematic. Frankly, other than Alden, the only one I really care about is Uncle Alex.
He’s the one person who seemed genuinely happy to see me this morning. I’ve always enjoyed my quirky uncle’s company. He’s the opposite of my father, laid-back and easy-going. He has a meaningless job on the board of directors for Holland-Burke, basically getting a paycheck to show up at bi-annual meetings. He’s a consummate bachelor, but always has girlfriends, and never had any kids.
I’ve always wanted to ask him why, but those aren’t the kinds of things we talk about in my family.
Maybe it’s time to change that.
My grandfather’s death has reminded me how short life is, but it’s also made it clear that there are truly only a limited number of people I want to surround myself with. My parents aren’t part of that number.
Meeting with my dad yesterday just solidified the fact that I need and want to distance myself. My mother has been extraordinarily rude to Ryleigh, which pisses me off, and I can’t wait to finish lunch and get on the plane to meet up with the band.
“You all right?” Ryleigh asks quietly, sliding her hand into mine.
“Just sad. And a lot more self-aware right now.”
She cocks her head. “Self-aware?”
“I’ll explain later.”
She looks like she wants to say something but just nods instead. “Whatever you need, babe.”
“Thank you for coming. And putting up with my mother last night. And all of this today. It means a lot to me.”
Our eyes meet and hers are soft, filled with worry and support and… love? Is that what I’m seeing? Because fuck, it’s what I’m feeling.
I’ve come so close to saying it a few times.
Maybe it’s time.
Not now—definitely not here—but soon.
“To be honest, I was expecting worse. And Alden is great—you should adopt him and be his dad instead of his big brother.”
I chuckle. “Believe me, I’ve thought about it.”
“Abe and Candace were very polite. And… your Uncle Alex is interesting.”
“Total black sheep of the family,” I murmur. “But I enjoy him the most of everyone other than Alden.”
“Then maybe you cut ties with everyone.”
“In a way I already have.” I look around the table, suddenly wondering if this is the last time we’ll all be together like this. Maybe not ever, but probably for a very long time, and it’s odd because I feel more relief than sadness.
“What are your plans, Ryleigh?” my mother asks her as lunch starts to wind down.
“I’m working on my article for the magazine,” she replies. “And then I’m not sure. My plans will change depending on whether they offer me a full-time position.”
“This is what your degree is in… journalism?” There’s a note of condescension there that makes my skin crawl and I can’t help but interject, even though Ryleigh seems perfectly capable of taking care of herself.
“She’s really talented,” I say. “If this job doesn’t work out, maybe she’ll freelance for Rolling Stone .”
“I have a buddy over there,” Uncle Alex says. “If you need an introduction, let me know.”
“Thank you.” Ryleigh smiles sweetly. “I’ll see what happens with this job first.”
“And August… when is the tour over?” Mom asks me.
“Halloween,” I reply. “But management is trying to add on dates. Madison Square Garden in November and New Year’s Eve in London.”
She pauses. “How… exciting.”
“It is.” I glance at my watch—the Rolex my grandfather gave me for my eighteenth birthday. “Looks like the car service will be here any minute. We have to get going.”
My mother stands and reaches out to cup one of my cheeks. “You’ll come home when this tour is over, right? You’ve gotten this rock star thing out of your system?”
“Mom.” I really don’t want to argue with her here, but she’s leaving me little choice. “This is my career. It’s not a hobby with an expiration date.”
She purses her lips. “How are you going to become?—”
“I’m not,” I interject against her ear as I pull her in for a hug I’m sure she doesn’t want. She’s not a fan of public displays of affection. Or any affection really. I don’t think I’ve ever seen my father touch her. “Mom, I’m not going to work for Holland-Burke. Ever. Please don’t make a scene on a day that’s already difficult enough.”
She stares at me, displeasure on her face. “You disappoint me, son.”
“I guess that was inevitable.” I reach for Ryleigh’s hand. “Everyone, we have to get going to catch our flight. I have a show tonight.”
“I’d like to see you play,” Uncle Alex says to me. “If there’s a show that’s more convenient than another, let me know.”
I’m surprised but nod. “I’d like that. Maybe New York?”
He nods and pulls me in for a hug, something he hasn’t done in years. Meanwhile, my father’s busy on his phone, basically ignoring me.
“I want to come to another show too,” Alden says. “Now that you don’t have to be ashamed of me.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m not ashamed of you, buddy. The timing was just off.”
“If you don’t invite me, you know I’ll show up anyway.”
I laugh. “Any time, kid. Any time.”
There are a few more handshakes and hugs, all while my mother watches with evident displeasure, and I say my goodbyes.
Luckily, I don’t have to deal with most of them after today.
* * *
Ryleigh’s quiet on the flight, tapping away on her laptop.
I peek over at what she’s writing a few times, and notice my name, Crimson Edge, Jonny Gold… but just a few partial sentences that don’t tell me much. And honestly, I don’t want to read it until she’s finished. I know I’d be self-conscious if she started peeking at songs I’m in the middle of. Sometimes they’re nothing more than broken sentences or groups of words that wouldn’t make sense to anyone else until I make them into something presentable.
She might have a similar process so I leave her to it.
“You okay, babe?” I ask when we land and start gathering our things. “Was it overwhelming?”
She’s quiet for a minute.
“Yeah, it kind of was. But I’m glad I got to attend, meet your family, and get a feel for where you came from.”
“Was it disappointing?”
She hesitates thoughtfully. “Yes, but not anything to do with you. Just how your father treated you, and how cold your mother is. I would kill for my mom to hug me one more time.”
“I would kill for my mother to willingly hug me—for the first time.”
Our eyes meet, and I see a wariness in hers I’ve never seen before.
“You miss your mom, don’t you?” I ask gently.
She nods. “I miss my dad too, even though he wasn’t around much. But he did have a presence in my life, and at least he liked me, told me he loved me. It hurt me to see the way your family treated you.”
I smile. “Now you understand better why I’ve distanced myself from them.”
“I do.” She’s staring at me so intently it almost makes me uncomfortable.
“Something’s wrong,” I say finally. “Are you going to tell me what it is?”
“I will, but it’s very, very complicated,” she admits. “And it’s not the kind of thing I want to talk about where someone might overhear us.”
I frown. “Are you going to dump me?”
Her eyes widen and she slowly shakes her head. “I think there’s a better chance it’s going to be the other way around.”
“Why?” I ask, suddenly on edge. “What did you do?”
“Like I said—it’s something private and complicated—definitely not a topic to discuss here in a cab. But once we’re alone, either at the hotel or the arena, I’ll tell you everything.”
“This is about the article you’re writing.”
“This is about way more than just the article.”
“You’re scaring me, Ryleigh.” I search her face, and the wariness in hers is unmistakable.
“Believe me—I’m scared too.”