Chapter Forty-Two
landon
New York
September 7
My mother moved into my place in August after selling our family home within a week of it coming on the market, though she had yet to announce their separation and pending divorce formally. She hosted an estate sale of the furniture, décor, and paintings in the home. The only things she kept were photos and memorabilia of my childhood. She wanted nothing to do with my father.
We hadn’t heard from him and had no desire to. My mother had started therapy to heal from years of emotional and physical abuse. She encouraged me to join her, but I wasn’t ready to delve into our past tumultuous relationship. I wanted to focus on going forward, and so far, she and I were forming a new bond. We were getting to know each other as individuals and fellow musicians. I’d always be grateful for Janae because she helped me grow accustomed to someone else being in my space, and after a few weeks of living together, I liked coming home to my mother, who still cooked the best Cornish hen and carrot souffle.
Shortly after Mama moved in, Del sent hours of recordings featuring The Hollow Bones and wanted me to review it so that the producers of the reality show wouldn’t air anything that I was against. We were given veto power over any footage involving only our band, since we originally weren’t supposed to be featured in the show. I was the last to look at it. They left it up to me to decide what to cut. My mother insisted that we watch it together, because she wanted to know more about my life as a musician.
As we were reviewing some of the footage that brought back fun and bittersweet memories of our time on the road, she said, “It’s obvious you love each other. Is it because of me and your father that you don’t believe you can be together?”
I paused the video and shifted on the oversized, comfy sofa Janae had ordered before leaving. It’d been delivered shortly after I was discharged from the hospital. I’d been sleeping on that sofa instead of my bed ever since.
“Janae used to have a substance abuse problem and has bipolar, as you’ve heard. I love her like you used to love my father. I love all of her, and I was afraid I would enable her the way you did him. Give in when I knew I shouldn’t or because I wanted to please her. Then I feared my need to protect her would ultimately clip her wings. I didn’t want to do that to her.”
Mama tucked one leg under the other and poked my forehead. “I made a lot of mistakes as a mother and a wife, and they affected you. But me and your father? We are not you and Janae.”
She grabbed the remote and pointed it at the TV. The video started again. It was us, working on her song. Janae stood beside me while I played a few chords, searching for the right one. I had been so focused on my guitar that I hadn’t noticed the way she was looking at me. Her smile was huge and goofy, filled with something so tender it made my heart skip two beats.
Mama’s voice was soft but sure. “Almost every time the camera catches the two of you in the same space, you are either staring at her or she is staring at you. It is magic, Landon. Pure magic. That is why fans could not get enough of you as a couple. Because what you had, what you have, felt real. Genuine. Something we all want.”
She patted my knee. “You keep saying you are afraid when you talk about Janae. What are you afraid of, son?”
I did not answer. I was not sure I could.
She did not push. Just kept going, her voice thoughtful. “I stayed too long with a man who was bad for me because I was afraid of what was on the other side. But I cannot tell you how much I have enjoyed these last few weeks with you. With you and my therapist, I am finding peace again. And that? That is priceless.”
She squeezed my knee. “Whatever decision you make in this life, do not make it out of fear, okay?”
I smiled weakly. “If only it were that easy.”
“It can be if you let it to be.” Mama rose from the sofa. “I’m going to get ice cream out of the refrigerator. You want anything?”
I shook my head as I watched her walk into the kitchen. She did seem happier than I could ever remember. “Hey, Ma. I love you.”
She stopped and turned to me. Her face softened, and she clasped her hands across her heart. “I love you too.”
Settling back on the sofa, with thoughts of Janae swirling around my head, I picked up my phone and called Del.
When he answered, I told him, “The Hollow Bones isn’t cutting anything. Whatever Janae wants to keep and air, she should. This is her story. Not ours.”
“I think she will appreciate that,” he replied. “Is there anything else you want me to tell her? You do have Austin in October, and I need to make sure you two are cool, since neither one of you has gone public about breaking up. We don’t need drama with your second album doing so well.” Our second album had avoided the sophomore jinx and debuted at number three on the pop charts and number one on the R&B charts, and we were the darlings of the critics.
“Naw… there won’t be drama. Tell her that I’m working on being that full moon.”
“Excuse me?” Del sounded skeptical.
I chuckled. “She’ll know what that means.”
I hung up. Maybe, just maybe, Janae and I would find our way back to each other.
September 30
As our Austin City Limits performance neared, the gnawing that had been almost nonexistent after being hospitalized started again. The band and I were back to our regular schedule, although Brian and I hadn’t spoken about what happened with Janae. Memories of that night still evoked sadness and disappointment at the fact that I couldn’t help her and that Brian could. A man who’d been my closest friend besides Cedrick, who seemed to understand and know when to give me space. Maybe that was why he’d kept his distance outside of the studio since I’d been back. Our easy rapport had become stilted. Professionally, we remained harmonious and reconnected without missing a beat. However, knowing that The Hollow Bones would soon be reunited with Janae worried me. Knowing that Brian and Janae would see each other again gnawed at my soul, though I pretended otherwise.
Four days before we were to fly to Austin, I wasn’t quite ready to go home after a long day of recording. Playing at the studio kept me from obsessing over Janae or cyberstalking her. She seemed to be thriving as she continued promoting “Fallen Star” on her own and advocating for people living with bipolar. I still ached for her, and all my newfound attention from women didn’t faze me. I wanted only one woman, and I had no idea if that was even a possibility anymore. Yet I subconsciously saved myself for her.
I was so focused on playing that I hadn’t realized Brian had stayed back, watching me from the board in the control room. He pushed up his sleeves and took the rubber band off his wrist to tie up his locs. A sure sign he wanted to talk.
I placed my guitar on the stand, exited the booth, and plopped on the sofa. He swiveled the chair around to face me, and I maintained eye contact, though I wanted to look away to stop the gnawing.
“Um…” Brian rubbed his hands together. “I don’t know where to start, but I don’t want to go to Austin with this big-ass elephant blocking us from being the friends and bandmates we were.”
“Which one? The fact that you wanted Janae for yourself or that you gave her drugs when you knew how I felt?” I retorted.
Brian’s eyes widened. “I guess I deserve that.”
“We really don’t have to talk. Whether we’re friends outside of the band hasn’t impacted our music.”
“So only Cedrick matters?”
“Cedrick didn’t give her the drugs.” I cocked my head, daring him to give me another reason why we should be friends again.
“Landon… that night, she was hurting. Maybe you can’t understand it, but sometimes life gets you, and you just want it all to go away. And I was scared that the longer she stayed like that, the more likely it would only get worse.”
“I do understand it. Without her, the pain hurts so bad some days I would do anything to not feel, but I don’t.” I didn’t want to mention that my last episode had landed me strapped to a bed, or how I’d wanted relief so badly. “I hated that you gave her Xanax, but it’s more because you did it behind my back. I trusted you, and trust has never been easy for me.”
He closed his eyes briefly and pushed out his breath. “Can we get past this?”
“I don’t know. I’m not mad or bitter. Just numb when it comes to you. That night changed everything for me and Janae. She is and was the love of my life.”
“She still could be.” He leaned forward. “I did crush hard on her. Why wouldn’t I? Bruh, most men love Janae Warner. But that woman could only see Landon Hayes. When we were on the streetcar that night, she barely said a word to me. Her mind was elsewhere. But when she saw you on the stairs, playing the guitar and pouting, the energy shifted, and she suddenly started laughing when she hadn’t even giggled at anything I’d said on the streetcar.”
I chuckled at the memory and how jealous I’d been.
“I knew then that this woman would never give me a shot. Do you know how many men would kill to be with Janae? You’re so afraid you can’t hold on to her that you let go of the best thing that ever happened to you.”
I shook my head. “You don’t know shit about our relationship.”
“But I know you .” He pointed at me. “Love is a risk, and no matter how much you want to predict the ending, you can’t. Most people don’t get together thinking they’ll break up, and guess what? Some relationships do end, and some last forever. No one knows what category they’ll be in until it happens. All I know is if that woman was with me, I wouldn’t be going nowhere. She would have to fuck about twenty men and then ghost me, and I would still be waiting by my phone, hoping she’ll call.”
My laughter escaped before I could stop it. “Why are you so stupid?”
Brian snatched up his cell phone and pressed it to his ear. “ Ringggg … Hello? Janae? Baby, is this you? Hello??? ” He grinned, returning his phone to the console. “Shiit… I’m being real. You better get your girl before she remembers she can have any man she wants.”
“As long as that man isn’t you,” I said, half teasing.
“Say less.” Brian put his fist out. “I’m sorry, bro. I won’t jeopardize our friendship and the band ever again. If it’s any consolation, I haven’t taken anything since that night out of respect for you and Janae.”
I bumped his fist.
“So, we good?”
“We will be,” I grudgingly replied. “Now get out of here. I need to focus.”
“I’m out.” Brian rose and exited the room.
I slunk down on the sofa, pulled my phone out of my pocket, and called her number before I lost my courage. Just when I thought it was going to voicemail, she picked up, sounding breathless.
“Landon, is everything okay?”
I replied more nonchalantly than the nerves ringing my ears would suggest I could. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t it be?”
“You haven’t texted or called in three months.”
“You haven’t reached out to me either,” I reminded her.
“Why are you calling?” Her voice sounded cold.
“Checking to make sure we’re cool with each other when we meet up in Austin,” I said feebly.
“I’m a professional. We’ll do a sound check and run the same show we did in New York, and then we won’t have to see each other again for months.” She paused. “If that’s all…”
She was slipping from me once more, and I had to say something. “Did Del tell you what I said?”
“He did. But based on how this conversation is going, it doesn’t really seem like you’re different.”
“Janae, I’m trying.”
“ This is you trying? Calling me after three months and then not saying much?”
I gripped my phone. “I’ve been through a lot since we last spoke.”
“So what? I have, too. If you’d bothered to check, you would know.”
“Can you lose the attitude?” I grumbled. “I forgot this mean side of you.”
“You used to love all of me… No, wait, you only loved the parts of me that you could control.”
I laughed. “You and I both know I couldn’t control a thing about you.”
“Which is why you broke up with me?”
“What? Is that the false narrative in your head?”
“Landon, I swear if you sit up here and say that you didn’t break up with me, I ain’t saying shit to you in Austin.”
“I didn’t. I told you that we could get married and have a family if you wanted to have a low-key life, but you don’t want that type of future, and I respected that.”
“And I’m respecting you enough to tell you I’m getting off the phone instead of just hanging up. Bye, Landon.”
“Wait—”
“No.” The call disconnected.
I threw my cell, and it crashed against the wall. Even in my frustration and anger, I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face.
In four days, I would breathe her again.