10. Ari #2
A call with Jesse can’t be avoided though. I’d wanted to see him in person before I left, and almost convinced myself I could keep it together, that I could put on the right version of myself to make him believe there’s nothing to worry about.
But Jesse knows me better than that.
Who am I kidding? Everyone knows I’m a codependent puppy with separation anxiety. They have to know just how badly I’m hurting to take this step. But that doesn’t mean I want them to see me like this.
“Hey Ari,” he answers, cheerful but cautious, like he already knows something’s wrong.
“Hey,” I say, and immediately regret not waiting because my throat tightens. “I, uh… I wanted to tell you I’m heading out for a bit.”
There’s a slight pause.
“What’d Will do?”
I huff a laugh, surprised despite myself. “Wow. No hesitation at all?”
“I know you,” he says simply. “And I know him.”
I lean back and stare up at the fluorescent lights. “I just need some space to get my head straight. Feeling a bit stifled, you know?” I know he’ll understand that, at least. It’s not like I can tell him that I’d hate being stifled less if I wasn’t in love with my foster brother.
“That makes sense,” Jesse says. “Take your time to get your shit sorted. But don’t disappear on us.”
“I won’t.”
“We need you,” he adds, quieter now. “The band doesn’t work without you.”
Something warm settles in my chest. Relief tangled with grief.
I’ve given consideration to whether or not I’ll be able to come back from this.
If I could handle it, or if they’d replace me.
It’s not like finding a bass player would be hard for them.
We mesh well as a band, but if push came to shove, I’d be the easiest player to replace.
“I mean it,” Jesse says without missing a beat. “We’re a family, and we do this together or not at all. And I don’t have a whole lot else going for me, so come back to me or I’ll stalk you, tie you up, and brainwash you until you love us again.”
That gets a real laugh out of me.
“Go focus on you,” Jesse continues. “Do that… What is it? Eat, pray, fuck?”
“Yeah, that sounds right,” I laugh.
“Whatever. You get the point. Go figure out who you are when you’re not stuck up Will’s ass, or the other way around, then come back and shove it in his face.”
I grin, wiping at my eyes. “You’re terrible.”
“I’m inspirational,” he counters. “Come back stronger. We’ll be here.”
When we hang up, I feel steadier than I have all morning. Strong enough that when I call Naz next, I’m able to ask him to check in on Will.
“I’ll put some pants on and head over there right away,” he says without question. “Are you alright though?”
“I will be.”
“Okay. I’ll check on Will,” he adds. “Don’t worry about the home front. If we start working on anything, I’ll send you stems or stream it live. You can lay down bass tracks from there.”
“I’m here for whatever, and I’ll be ready to come back when Jesse’s given the go-ahead to move forward,” I say. “I’m not leaving. I’m just taking a break.”
“Take whatever time you need,” Naz says. “We’ll make it work.”
“Thanks.”
“Love you, man.”
“Love you, too. All of you.”
And I do. They’re the only family I’ve ever had. It’s complicated and messy, and right now it feels unbearable. But they’re everything to me.
I just wish I could love Will Kessler less. Or differently. But I’ll find a way to deal with my shit.
Blake calls again just as the flight attendants are getting ready to begin boarding.
“I’m boarding a plane, can I call you when I get there?”
“Security,” he says immediately. “You need to take someone with you.”
“I really don’t,” I argue, lowering my voice. “I’m not Jesse or Will. Or even Naz. I’ve been in a crowded airport all morning and not one person has recognized me. Not even the people who checked my ID and saw my name. It’s a non-issue.”
And thank goodness. I prefer it this way. I could not live the way Jesse does, being bombarded everywhere he goes. He can’t do anything for himself or even go for a walk or anything without a team.
“This isn’t negotiable,” Blake says. “You’re still you.”
“I don’t need a babysitter, if that’s what you’re worried about. I know Francis had a lot of less than stellar opinions of me, but I can actually take care of myself. And my condo building has security.”
There’s a beat of silence, and then a sigh.
“I’m sure you have connections with our building’s management that you can exploit to spy on my comings and goings.”
“Mr. Silvan?—”
“Mr. Holland, I’m boarding now. I’ll check in with you soon.” I hang up before he can negotiate further conditions.
I find my seat by the window and lean into the tiny stream of air conditioning, feeling claustrophobic surrounded by so many people.
I didn’t realize how spoiled I’ve gotten.
But as people file past, walking past me like I’m just another face in the crowd, stowing their overhead luggage and reading the seat numbers to find their place, a sense of peace settles over me.
I’ve been a lot of places, but I’ve never really gone anywhere on my own. Until recently, it never occurred to me that was a problem.
It’s a little daunting, but I need to learn how to be alone. How to sleep alone, how to walk the streets alone, how to cope alone. My eyes water and I take a slow, deep breath.
The seat beside me creaks. I glance over and immediately freeze.
Eric drops into the aisle seat with a carry-on at his feet and a tight smile that tells me he’s expecting me to be pissed.
“You have to be kidding me.”
“Relax,” he says easily. “I promise I’m not here to babysit.”
“You say that, but?—”
“Mr. Holland made himself very clear. I’m not here to report your every move to management like Mr. Tuft would have requested.
I’m not here to have or give opinions. I’m not here to make suggestions.
Or make rules. Or lecture. I don’t care who you sleep with or where you go.
I am only here for protection,” he says.
“And maybe conversation, if you want it. I’m a good listener. ”
I study him for a moment. He meets my gaze evenly. There’s no judgement there, no show of authority. Just a presence, that I have to admit, is maybe a little comforting.
“Fine,” I mutter, turning back to the window.
I look out the window as the plane taxis down the runway, at the last piece of Raleigh I’ll see in a while. Raleigh blurs past, familiar and unwelcome all at once. I don’t know when I’ll be back. I don’t know what version of myself will return.
I just know I can’t stay.
The plane lifts off and as the ground falls away, the fist in my chest loosens just a little. I’m leaving behind the version of myself that keeps shrinking to fit the space someone else made for me.
I can do this.