Page 110 of Rockstar Baby
But all good things came to an end, and I left promising to return soon. I even meant it.
Possibly even with Ivy.
Lots of possibilities there, and just as many chances for failure. I just couldn’t dwell on those now.
The trip back to the States was long and tiring. I was restless and couldn’t settle, never mind sleep. At least they didn’t lose my luggage, a minor miracle. I’d worn the fisherman’s sweater my mum had knitted me just in case.
The one she’d whipped up like a damn demon for Ivy was tucked away in my pack, along with the piece of jewelry I’d picked up for her on a whim in a small shop in Belfast. My sister was always one for shopping, and when she’d heard I had a “stór”, she’d taken me to all the best places featuring handcrafted pieces.
I’d tried to explain my relationship with Ivy was complicated, but she wouldn’t hear it. To her, the world was a rosy bowl of happiness.
It had to be the hormones swimming through her veins. No one had cause to bethathappy. Pregnancy glow or not.
Now all of that was behind me, and the gifts I’d possibly foolishly brought home for Ivy were safe in my luggage.
Unlike me. I’d cast safety to the wind.
I rubbed my chest where I’d inked part of my soul. Dramatic? A bit. But an Irishman was entitled to some poetry when he’d found the love of his life.
Perhaps I was reclaiming that side of myself as well.
All that remained before I completed the final leg of my journey was to snip off two dangling threads.
The first was to open the mail Ian had sent me over in Ireland. I didn’t know how it had arrived so quickly. He must’ve paid a mint.
But when I pulled out the seemingly old-fashioned tape recorder—that somehow had a Bluetooth connection I could hook up in my rental car, whom I was now calling Silver Bullet of Despair after our multiple trips together—and slipped in the cassette tape he’d included, I understood why he’d paid extra.
His and Kellan’s voices soared from the tinny speakers. The sound quality of the machine wasn’t the best, but it didn’t matter. The combination of Ian’s rafter-raising voice with Kellan’s grittier one was an oddly interesting juxtaposition. And their song was bloody good too, even if I was already finding ways I would arrange it differently.
I grabbed my phone to jot some things down as I listened half a dozen times. Strings sooner, rather than starting with the piano. The piano coming in on the bridge. Adding a touch of broken glass sound effects to the very end, when the man with the crushed spirit was walking away.
In the song, Ian was basically the more hopeful half of the guy who had just endured a failed romance. Kellan was the voice in the back of his head saying not to bother. Why try when everything always turns out the same anyway in the end?
It could’ve been a chaotic mess yet the result so far was a kind of crazy poetry.
My hands tingled as I typed out the last of my first impressions and sent them over to Ian. I added a line at the end to make him laugh.
A tape recorder? Really? It’s not the 80s anymore. Also, I think Anthony Robbins has taken over your psyche.
It mademelaugh, which was saying a lot since I’d just spent weeks with my family, more time than I had in years. Yet my mood was surprisingly buoyant.
I’d made some mistakes. Pushed people away unnecessarily. Not unlike the pessimistic bloke in Kellan and Ian’s song. Except today I was drowning out the negative voice in the back of my head.
Mostly.
At least until I took a deep breath and played Ivy’s voicemail. Make that two voicemails. She’d left them three days apart and I hadn’t replied or even nutted up enough to listen to them.
I was now.
Finally.
They said variations of the same thing.I need to talk to you. It’s really important. In person would be best, but I know you’re booked. So…call me.
I drove away from the rental place and hopped on the Interstate almost without noticing the signs. This trip was already becoming familiar. Good thing, because I scarcely heard the instructions from the GPS or the whistles on my phone that signaled Ian’s texts.
My entire focus was Ivy.
I wish I could’ve said my first worry was illness or a death in the family or some other catastrophic condition. That concern was in there too, but it was beneath the gut punch that she’d found someone else.
