2 A.M. — November 22, 1996 #7
Unable to spin around and around anymore alone, she dialed her mom’s number and gave her the news.
The conversation went exactly as she knew it would.
Doreen was immediately horrified by the plan until she told her what it would mean for them.
“You can finally sell the business. Retire. You and Dad can travel the world. Live anywhere. Do anything you want.”
There was a pause that Claudia knew would come. Then, “How soon?”
“I’m not sure. It’ll take a few months to sort everything out.
Dean has to sign an affidavit that the hair sample he took was Mike’s.
A judge will look it all over, but no one is going to contest it because Mike didn’t have anyone else.
” Her heart ached, thinking about how horribly alone Mike had been his whole life, even when he was with her.
“You know, it actually might be best for everyone involved,” her mom said.
“I mean, it’s horribly dishonest, obviously.
But the situation is already a terrible mess so there’s no simple way out of it.
And this will save the children from being ridiculed for their entire lives.
All of them, not just Elliott. And you’ll finally get what’s owed from those men.
Not the way you want to get it, but still. The result’s the same.”
Her stomach churned. “Maybe I should call Dean and say no. I’ve felt sick since I agreed to it. It all feels … gross, to be hon—”
“You feel gross because what you did was wrong.”
That horribly familiar sense of shame crept up from Claudia’s chest to the top of her head. “It feels wrong because I’m choosing to lie to my son about his father.” Her throat constricted. “He’ll grow up believing his father is dead when really he’s alive and well, living nearby.”
“His real father isn’t going to be a good dad, Claudia, and you know it,” her mom answered. “How many times has he come to see Elliott?”
“He hasn’t, but—”
“Not once, and Elliott is already six weeks old. Face it. Zane doesn’t care about him. And he doesn’t care about you.”
Claudia used her palm to stop her tears. “You don’t know that. It’s complicated. He’s got a family.”
“Claudia, please, you know it too. Zane’s not going to leave her.”
“Well, she might leave him.”
“Did she say she was planning to leave him?”
Claudia thought back to the moment when she and Sienna had finally got to the heart of the matter that morning.
Dean had taken over the conversation and was drafting up a plan, his eyes shining and his words quick, in the way they were when he was excited.
The question kept coming up in Claudia’s mind, over and over until she couldn’t stop it from bursting out of her.
“Are you doing this to save your marriage?”
Sienna gave her a blank look, and Claudia could tell she was playing her best hand of poker. “What makes you ask that? Do you still want him after all this?”
Claudia nodded. “As pathetic as that makes me.”
“You’ve been in love with him from the beginning, haven’t you?”
Turning her gaze to her son, she said, “Yes.”
Sienna sniffed, and Claudia couldn’t tell if she was disgusted or emotional. “I haven’t decided yet, but if I want him back, he’ll come, which should tell you everything you need to know about where you stand.”
Claudia sat staring at her, too numb to feel the pain of her words.
Sienna’s expression hardened. “We’re not the same, you and me.
When I had Zane’s children, he was right next to me, holding my hand.
He cried happy tears because he wanted our babies so much.
I didn’t take a cab home from the hospital because he was there in the driver’s seat.
Our children weren’t an unfortunate mistake. ”
But now, gripping the phone in her hand, Claudia brushed the memory aside. “She said she hadn’t decided yet.”
“And if she does throw him out for good, you’ll be happy to take her castoffs?”
“Yes, Mom,” she answered, her voice shaking. “If it meant a life with Zane, I’d happily take her castoffs.”
“Oh, Claudia, stop kidding yourself. If Zane were in love with you, he would’ve already left her.”
“It’s not as easy as that. His family’s at stake, and so is the band. If he wants to be with us, he’ll have to do everything very carefully. It could take years even, but I’d wait.”
Her mom sighed in place of a lecture.
“What if he does love me back, but he just doesn’t know it yet? What if he wakes up one day and realizes he wants to make a life with me, but we’ve already gone and told the world this big, stupid lie? Then what?”
“Then nothing. If some miracle happened, and you and Zane ended up together, Elliott would wind up calling him dad anyway. You wouldn’t even have to tell him about the birth certificate.
And whatever publicity you get for this now will die off by the time he’s old enough to understand,” Doreen said.
“But it won’t happen. You need to accept that and take the deal they’re offering.
It’s the only option that doesn’t end in you scraping by your entire life. ”
“You’re wrong. It could happen,” she said, feeling herself grow stronger. “He chose me. All those years ago, out of hundreds of other women.”
“Because you could sing.”
“That wasn’t the only reason. I know it.”
“No, it wasn’t. But it certainly wasn’t because he wanted you to be his next wife.”
SEPTEMBER 1989
CLAUDIA
“Name and what song you’re doing today.”
Claudia squinted to see past the spotlight shining in her eyes.
A man was sitting at a table in front of rows of red velvet theater chairs.
Her brain told her he was Phil Collins, which made her heart pound quickly.
But then she realized there was no way that was true.
This man was stockier and looked like he could throw a decent punch.
The face was bang-on though, with its stretched-out width and square feel to it, and lips that sat in a straight line.
He and Phil also shared the same two cul de sacs of missing hair on either side of their foreheads.
She remembered who he was—the manager of The Vows.
Don or Dean or Dave, maybe? She’d seen him on TV at the Grammys when the band won album of the year, and Zane made a big speech about how much they needed him.
He had a huge grin that night which was notably absent today.
Today, he looked like he wanted to lay on the couch and watch football.
Claudia strained her eyes to see if the men of the band were in the audience somewhere, but beyond the first few rows, the theater was black.
She suddenly felt too small and the stage too big, like she’d just downed the entire contents of a bottle labeled, “Drink Me.” The silence overwhelmed her senses, and she was desperate to leave this strange and frightening place.
A single cough sounded from somewhere in the middle of all that darkness. Could that be Zane himself? No. Not possible. He would only see the girls who got shortlisted. That’s how these things worked. “Claudia Crawford. ‘Faded Denim.’”
It was risky to sing The Vows’ biggest love ballad to them (if they were even there, which they weren’t), but she figured the only way they’d know if she could sing their songs was if she sang one of their songs.
Her pulse sped up, her skin went clammy, and her stomach flipped.
She positioned her damp fingers on the guitar strings and began to strum, sending a quick prayer up to the heavens to help get her through this.
Her thumb slipped when she changed from the G to the C-chord, but she kept going because stopping was an immediate death sentence.
When she opened her mouth to sing the first word, her voice cracked, and nothing came out.
Panic filled her veins. Her head ached from shots of vodka she’d had to calm her nerves hours earlier.
Her brain screamed at her to ‘Run off the stage, right now! Go!’
She stopped playing and wiped her hands on the back of her t-shirt, wishing she hadn’t worn a leather skirt. “Sorry. I’m a little nervous.”
“That’s fine,” the man said. “Do you want to try again?”
“Yes, please. This is … um, actually my last audition so I need to make it count. I promised my parents if I didn’t make it by the time I turned twenty-five that I’d go back home and work in their dry-cleaning business. I turn twenty-five in two days so…”
“I don’t need your life story. I just need to know if you can sing.”
“I can sing. I write, too… in case you’re looking for someone who can write. I’ve got about a thousand songs to play for you. At least two of them are good.”
“At the moment, I’m looking for someone who can follow directions.”
She held one finger in the air. “Right. You need me to sing.”
He gave her an exasperated nod.
Claudia took a deep breath and started over.
She strummed gently and let her muscle memory of the tune take over, putting her heart into the lyrics.
“It was a cold day in June, and everyone else was looking at you, but you, you were looking at me… And I didn’t see what they were seein,’ because it wasn’t your curves or your legs or your smile, it wasn’t your lips or your long dark hair, it was the way you were staring… at me. With those faded denim eyes…”