Chapter 17 Present
Ry stared at the back gardens of the facility for what he hoped was the last time.
A sun-kissed breeze played on his skin and through his hair.
His jaw unclenched, and he smiled, enjoying the moment.
Yesterday, in his last session with Dr. Rosa, he worked with her to finalize his return plans: including a new lawyer and therapist. Over the last few years, he hadn’t really lived.
He’d missed so much. And yet, his entire life had led him to this moment, with the sun on his face and a sea-salt breeze tugging at him.
He clung to the rising feeling, the purpose, like the day he’d first performed in Portland for a small crowd.
There was something so innocent about that time.
All of his clothes and the few belongings he’d brought waited at the front desk for him to finalize his checkout. The car he’d ordered would pick him up soon.
He was ready. So he bid the grounds and staff a silent farewell.
“Checking out,” Ry said to the front attendant. “I’ll miss this place. Does that happen a lot?”
“I’ve heard that many times,” she said with a smile, looking up his discharge information. “We say it’s the people here, but I think it’s the grounds and the weather.”
Ry laughed with her. Then he was out the door, with little fanfare. Split down, one saw through a veneer of ordinariness. The other waited, poised and breathless for the endless possibility of triumph. He waited outside, his bag motionless beside him.
He even had his cell phone back, but the thought of all the unread emails and messages unnerved him.
For now, holding on to the present was enough.
His car arrived, and he sat in the back seat.
The driver moved his luggage to the trunk and closed his door for him.
Fame came with perks. Or perhaps it was the money.
The ride home was quiet and uneventful. They took the road down to Malibu and along the coast. Waves crashed along the cliffs or gently brushed the golden beaches.
It was a beautiful day. But most days in LA were beautiful.
Slowly, the views of the sea transitioned to people, housing, and buildings.
He traveled through familiar neighborhoods on the freeway and then up to the Hollywood Hills, where he lived alone.
There was something different about the place: more closed off, too large, so far from everything.
Though he couldn’t blend in, he missed the camaraderie of being one of many.
He longed to eat at a local taqueria, or go hang out and play pool at the local dive bar.
These days, he hated his fame. Home meant old movies, too much TV, or video games, occasionally posting or trolling online. Being alone.
They rounded the curve. His home, stark and broad against the surrounding hillside, glinted in the afternoon light. The driver dropped him off in front and carried the luggage into the foyer. Ry tipped the man well and waved goodbye.
The inside was dark and empty. He flicked the lights on, light breathing through the rooms, like a magazine come to life.
It was cold and beautiful; he missed and hated it.
He closed the door, the boom echoing through.
How many days had he spent holed up, hiding from himself?
There was nothing holding him here, a stranger.
His life here had been to go on tour, return from tours to sleep, eat, and numb the pain more until show time.
He shook himself and left the luggage for the moment to be outside in his backyard, a place he rarely spent time.
The fading sunlight turned his few trees golden.
He needed a new place, but that could wait.
He had his plans; he wanted to live again.
That meant he’d need to at least unpack his journal and notes.
His clothes could wait; besides, he’d grown tired of wearing the same few outfits and wanted something else.
He pulled up the notes he’d taken along with a business card for a new lawyer: Sania M. Patel, Attorney at Law. He briefly read through a few notes and then punched in the office number on his phone.
No answer. “This is Orion Clair for Sania Patel. Rosewood Clinic provided me with your information. I’d like to schedule a meeting regarding a specific music contract I have with my record label. Please call me back when you can. Thanks.”
With that done, he should at least tell his friends he was home. He sent Brand a message: hey, made it back home and wanted to let you know. thanks for believing in me. tell everyone i say hi!
When no response came, he flopped onto his couch and called Lon. No answer. Well, he said he was taking his parents to Hawaii, so that must be where he was.
In the time it took to dial, Brand replied: Glad to hear. They all say hi back. Thank you for the letter.
One last call to Alex. Hitting the call button was harder than it should have been. The phone rang a few times, and as Ry breathed a sigh of relief, Alex answered.
“Hey, Ry.”
“Hey.” Ry smiled at hearing his voice. “Wanted to let you know I’m back. Made it home. Kinda weird.”
“Yeah,” he chuckled. “I can only imagine. Well, good that you made it home.”
“Thanks,” Ry said. He fidgeted with the remote. “What do you have planned for the rest of the day? Are you busy?”
“Don’t want to be alone?” Alex asked. “Well, I was planning on taking a sunset hike. You’re more than welcome to come along.”
“Hey!” He stood up and paced. “Maybe I’m used to having other people around for a change. So, want me to meet you there?”
“I’ll pick you up. You are sort of on the way.”
“I’m in the middle of nowhere,” Ry pointed out, heading up the stairs with his luggage.
“Yeah, that makes two of us. Trail is closer to you, anyway. I’ll see you in an hour or so?”
“Sounds good. See you soon.”
He wrapped up the conversation and then sat on the edge of his bed. Would staying in be a better plan than hanging out with Alex? This hike would be the longest they’d been alone together in years. He shook his head and laughed at himself. He wanted this.
Ry got up and unpacked his clean clothes, and worked on tidying up, though he stopped after a few minutes. There wasn’t anything to clean, especially with a housekeeper who came more often than necessary.
With time to kill, he grabbed some colored pencils and a book from his backpack.
He turned on his speakers and started a playlist put together by a fellow musician.
He’d been terrible at putting songs together.
At the dining table, he flipped the book to a page of a castle made of clouds and continued his work.
The music energized him, and the lines and colors occupied his mind. In no time, Alex rang the doorbell. He rushed to answer the door.
“I forgot how monstrous your place is,” Alex said, looking up at the building.
“Yeah, it’s an asshole building.” He blushed, letting Alex in. “Lost track of time coloring. Let me change real quick. Want any water? I’ve got some in the fridge.”
He hurried up the stairs.
“Sure,” Alex called back, rummaging through the appliance.
He quickly threw on some athleisure shorts and a lightweight top, and sturdier shoes.
Alex waited at the bottom of the steps with two bottles. “Shall we?”
“Yeah,” Ry said, heading out to the car and jumping into the passenger seat of Alex’s truck.
Once they’d pulled out of the driveway, Ry continued, “Thinking of moving and selling the place. I don’t like it anymore. It’s too much. ”
“Really, why now?” Alex said, checking the traffic before turning.
“I want a fresh start. You know? Doesn’t have many memories.”
“Understandable,” Alex said. “My place has been a sanctuary lately.”
“I think it reminds me too much of my family estate back home. I need something more me.”
Alex laughed. “Yeah. Well, don’t rush things. And find a better agent than that sleazeball you had last time.”
“Ugh, don’t remind me.” Ry sighed. “Shit for brains.”
Alex smirked in response.
The trail was closer to his place and on the way, if you squinted. Ry could have easily met him here. They got out of the truck. A cool breeze brushed the day’s heat away, exposed as the trailhead was. Alex threw him a water bottle and started out on the trail immediately.
Ry jogged to catch up. He’d almost forgotten about Alex’s love of the outdoors and hiking. This must have been the third hike they’d ever been on together. Ry had only gone twice because, “outside is icky.” His stance had since changed.
Ry chuckled at his past absolutes as he followed Alex up the trail.
“Hmm?”
“Nothing. Ruminating.”
Alex gave him side-eye. “Less thinking, more hiking.” Then he stuck his tongue out.
Under the next tree, Alex paused and drank some water, resting for a bit. Ry stopped too, panting more than he had anticipated. The trail was steeper than he’d been expecting.
“So, what’s on your mind?” Alex asked.
“That it’s been a while since we went on a hike,” he laughed, then coughed, trying to catch his breath again. “I’m winded, and I even did the exercise program. Guess I should have done more.”
“Nah, you’re keeping up fine,” Alex said.
“And thanks for inviting me along last minute.”
“Of course. Time to go. No groaning until we’re at the top.”
Ry coughed another laugh and then followed Alex up the trail.
His boots crunched along, the beat mismatched to his companion’s.
Birds darted in and out of the trees, a chorus of chirps and squawks as the two of them walked the trail.
A steady breeze kept the air cool. Every so often, fading sunlight glinted off the ocean.
The next few breaks were silent, with nods their only form of communication.
They reached the end of the trail to a commanding view of the valley to the east. The Pacific Ocean sparkled to the west, the sun hovering above the horizon. Both of them panted now. Alex sat down at the base of an oak, and Ry sat next to him.
“Damn,” Ry managed. “It’s gorgeous.”
“Isn’t it?” Alex said, finishing his water.
Ry pulled out his phone and took pictures as the sun dipped lower, painting the sky a vibrant orange. He took a few selfies and got a picture of both of them—and even got permission to post it on Instagram.
Ry enjoyed the silence and the view. He rubbed his legs. They’d be sore tomorrow, but it was worth it for the view. And the company. When the sun kissed the horizon, Alex stood up.
“Ready to head back?” Ry asked, standing up as well.
“Yeah.” Alex sighed. “Wanna grub out when we get back down?”
“Oh my god, yes.”
“Thanks for coming along with me.” Alex smiled.
Ry wondered if he should bring up the letter, but let it simmer between them. “I’d hug you, but we are both pretty gross.”
But Alex crushed him in a hug, laughing. “We have done much worse than hugging while sweaty before, Ry. C’mon. Keep your phone out with the flashlight on.”
Ry saluted him and followed him down the trail.
The light faded. By the time they’d returned to the truck, full night had fallen.
While he may have set out to make things right, to do better, hoping to get Alex back, that no longer mattered.
Or perhaps it was because Alex was back, at least in this manner.
An awkwardness and something weird still shifted between them.
Perhaps he’d read the message and knew what had been in Ry’s heart.