Page 16 of Rock Candy

You know how people always wonder how estranged parents who say they genuinely love their kids can let their children go decades without contact from them? I kind of got it. Sometimes you can’t reach out to someone you love because you’re so afraid of their response and the emotional turmoil that will ensue if it doesn’t go your way. So, you just get stuck in limbo, wanting to tell them that they are everything, but absolutely incapable of hearing that you mean nothing. And as an adult, life is like watching the view outside the window of a high-speed train; it’s flying by so fast that days start to blur together, disappearing before you can process them. And then a month goes by, and then another, and before you know it, the daffodils are chasing away the frozen ground and it’s spring and you still haven’t told the man you love that you love him, and by now it’s been long enough that he may have moved on, going about his life like a normal humanoid, rather than being like you, an emotionally stunted little rock star. So you keep working and you stare at the only video you have of him, wondering how you could have been so stupid. Or at least that’s what I did.

Hence, the breakfast meeting with Ava, the repeated watching of Henry and me singing “Keeping Tomorrow,” and my response to her comment that I had two choices with regard to Henry.

I looked away from her when I said, “I’m not sure I have much choice with regard to that matter, but I really would like to get into the studio and record some new music.”

Ava lifted on high-heeled foot and crossed one knee over the other. “Eddy, I know you think Marcus pulled you out of your funk because you shower now and you're doing your job, but you’ve just traded one escapist choice for another. It doesn’t matter if you bury yourself in the studio or if you lose yourself in a video game, as long as you're not managing the issue you’re avoiding.”

I joked, “Did you ever notice that all the people who work here think they’re my therapist?”

Like Marcus, she ignored my attempt to be evasive, but she was more hot-tempered and it was clear that she was becoming frustrated when she said, “You can delete that video and get on with the business of being Eddy Meyer, or you can go to fucking New Mexico and tell him you love him.”

Feeling partly defensive and partly aghast at the thought of deleting the video of me and Henry, I started to withdraw from the conversation she was having, only to hear the second half of her comment after I had already started speaking. “Ava, I’d really rather not… Wait, what do you mean I can go to New Mexico?”

“He’s playing at the Wildflowers Festival.” Wildflowers was a small but decent music festival in Taos, New Mexico. I’d never played there, but other big names did because for an artist-type, any excuse to travel to New Mexico was a good one.

“Did he get a new job?” I asked. Ava quirked her head at me, confused. “He’s a musician, right?”

“A guitarist and a songwriter, yes, but he doesn’t like to play for audiences. He makes a living playing the guitar in other people’s bands.”

Ava shook her head. “Not anymore.”

Now I was the one who didn’t understand. “What do you mean?”

“The lineup says Henry Davis. I just googled him, Eddy,” she said vehemently and then laughed. “Why are you not chasing this man? You obviously care about him.”

I was still stuck on Henry performing. More to myself than to her, I mumbled, “He’s the front man?”

Ava took a deep breath, and then she calmly said, “Yes, Henry is the front man.”

“That’s a big deal.” I wobbled, thinking I might cry for the second time in a season.

Ava leaned in, bringing her body closer to the table and me. “Well then, I think it would be nice of you to go there and support him.”

I nodded, but I could feel how wide my eyes were. All my fears rushed to the forefront of my brain. What if he didn’t want to see me? What if my presence threw him off his game? What if I misinterpreted the whole thing and he really just wanted to get laid? What if he yelled at me and told me to go away? What if he didn’t love me like I loved him?

“Eddy,” Ava said so sweetly that I felt her voice encircling my body like a hug. “If you don’t go, you’ll never know if it could be better. Stop choosing for it to be worse.”

Ava offeredto make a call and add me to the Wildflowers Festival as a surprise guest. Great for media exposure, she argued, but I didn’t want to rain on Henry’s parade. If he was performing, I wanted to support him in the way that served him best, either by being there or by being able to leave at will. I wasn’t quite sure how to announce my presence. I waffled between watching from the audience and approaching him after the performance or making my way backstage to speak to him before he went on. The latter felt sort of selfish, but a piece of me wondered if maybe I affected him as deeply as he affected me. What if he was still hurting as much as I was? What if knowing I was here would make being onstage a whole lot easier? The one thing I knew was that I wasn’t alone in writing “Keeping Tomorrow.” We did that together—the musical part of our connection was unquestionable and his decision to finally take the stage felt connected to that process.

Still unsure of the best course of action, I used my influence to get backstage while the band that went on before him was playing. I was wearing my regular disguise, a baseball cap and a hoodie, and as long as I kept my head down, I moved about without much effort or recognition. Quietly, I approached the door to the greenroom, which was cracked open. I could hear him and his manager Alice inside.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he said frantically.

Alice’s voice was tight with annoyance. “What you’re good at. Jesus, Henry, there’s not even three hundred people out there.” She was lying; there were at least three hundred people out there, but probably more like six hundred.

“I’m not ready. It’s not the right moment.” I could hear him moving, pacing around the room manically.

“There is no right moment,” Alice said. She should have sounded calmer than she did. “You got this. I know you do. You were insanely good onstage at Snowbound.”

Shocking me, he was suddenly yelling at her, his internal chaos pouring out of him. “You know that was different, Alice.”

Propelled by his anxiety, I stepped right into the room without thinking about it. “No,” I said sternly. “It wasn’t. You were just as good then as you are now. You’re not a failure or a burden. You’re a talent. You are depriving the world of your genius. Stop it.”

I was standing just inside the door, and he was across the room, facing me. He’d stilled as soon as I came in, and he was unable to school his initial surprise, but after a moment his expression shifted to a mixture of both pain and anger. His eyes were glassy, but his jaw was tight. “What are you doing here?”

I thought about it. I stared at him and tried to find the words that would give him my truth as clearly as he’d always given me his. “I’m being brave,” I said. He scoffed and I pushed through my heart’s instinct to retreat. “I am supporting the man I love on a day when he must be terrified.” The tears were coming again. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to keep them from flowing, but it was no use. “I’m sorry I ran, Henry. I’m so sorry. And I’ll find a way to understand if you can’t forgive me because you always listened and tried to find a way to be the man I was asking you to be, but I will not let you hide in this greenroom.”

“Amen,” Alice said under her breath. She was sitting on the couch between us.

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