Chasing Kane (15 page)

Frankie:
I don’t know …

Me:
Please? *Please?*

She took a long time to respond. Then, hope.

Frankie:
You know it’s like midnight here, right?

Me:
Is that a yes?

Frankie:
I guess.

I slipped out of bed as quietly as possible, snatching my cigarettes and lighter from the floor before ducking out of the bus. After lighting the cigarette, I dialed Frankie’s number.

She took three rings to answer.

“Hello?”

I sighed. Relief, maybe. “Have second thoughts about answering?”

“Yes,” she admitted without further explanation. “What’s up?”

I took a long drag, sitting on the loose gravel beneath me, leaning against the large tire of the bus. “I … I don’t know Frankie, shit …”

“You’re smoking again, huh?” She could always tell, even over the phone. Said I talked through my nose more when I had smoke in my lungs. Which was true, I suppose.

“Yeah,” I answered, hanging my head. “Just don’t lectur—”

“I’m not going to. You’re a big boy.” Her voice was clipped, and I couldn’t tell if she was bordering on tears or annoyance. Maybe both.

“Frankie … I screwed up.” I let the words spill out as messy as I felt, rocking my head back against the bus. “I screwed the fuck up.”

“I don’t want to hear this, CJ,” she said, her voice sounding shaky now. “Your life just isn’t my business anymore.”

I cleared my throat, whispering as loud as I could with it still being a whisper. “You broke up with
me
, Frankie.
You
did.”

“Not because I didn’t love you,” she whispered back, tears evident in her voice.

“Then why—”

“Because I
do
love you! Because I love me, too, and I deserved better. I
deserve
better.”

“I know. I know,” I cut in, unable to bear hearing her cry. It was almost as bad as seeing it in person. At least I was spared by three thousand miles. In some ways, though, that broke my heart more. “I disrespected you, and I’m sorry. I didn’t even have a plan in my head when I asked about what your expectations were when I left for the tour. I don’t know what I was thinking. I wasn’t thinking,” I added, hoping that would help.

It didn’t.

Frankie sniffed, and I imagined her running her sleeve over her face before she spoke, the way I’d unfortunately seen her do too many times before. “That’s it, CJ. That’s the crux of it. You weren’t thinking. About
anyone
else.”

“I’m sorry. I never cheated on you though, Frankie.”

“You came close enough,” she answered without much emotion. And, that was true. I
had
toed the line early on. Maybe seeing what I could get away with … like a little kid.

It wasn’t more than a kiss on the cheek here or an ass grab there, and it
did
stop. But it was clear I’d done too much damage to her trust, like Georgia said. Maybe permanently. And, maybe when I came to her asking what her expectations were of me on this tour, that was all she could take anymore.

During the long silence I had to swallow an uncomfortable feeling down my throat. When I felt moisture at the corners of my eyes, I got up and paced around the bus, breathing deeply. I really fucking blew it this time. Frankie and I hadn’t ever been in a perfect relationship, but that was partially because neither of us had had a serious relationship in a while. Well, her in a while. Me … ever. We had a lot of bumpy patches at the beginning, but it smoothed out after a few months and we were in a comfortable pattern. Then, I guess, I got itchy. I don’t know. She was understanding the first time I brought up my commitment issues, and even gave me the benefit of the doubt when it came up last year after she thought we should wait to move in together and I got pissed because I had opened myself up and she turned me down. Though there were a few days of tension-thick dinners and phone calls. This last time though? The proverbial straw. The last one. The one that broke the camel’s back. All of it.

“CJ?”

It was my turn to sniff. I didn’t mean to, and hoped she didn’t notice. “Yeah.” I coughed, clearing my throat again. “Yeah, I’m here.”

Her voice softened in a second. “Are you … are you okay?”

I stopped pacing, facing the bus and resting my forehead against the cold steel. “No. No I’m not. I miss you, Frankie. I love you. So much it physically hurts me when I realize what I put you through.”

“I know you love me,” she whispered. “I love you, too.”

“Then what the fuck are we doing?” I shook my head, looking up at the stars.

“This is kind of an intense conversation to have over the phone, you know?”

“Come see me,” I blurted out.

“Ha! What?” Frankie’s voice was less guarded now, more conversational. More like it used to be.

I knew I told myself that I didn’t care what anyone thought about my love life. And that was mostly true. But I did care, a fucking
lot,
what the gorgeous, kindhearted woman on the other end of the phone thought. She was the only love life I’d ever had. Still, there was a woman in my bed on that bus who
wasn’t
Frankie. And for that, I had no excuse.

“I’m serious,” I answered, a smile finally forming. “Just … pick a date and come. See me. I miss you, and I won’t be in Massachusetts till you’re back in school. Do high school kids
really
need an English teacher?” I teased.

“We don’t start until after Labor Day.”

My mouth held a full smile now. “Oh, so you’ve checked it out …”

“I like to know where you are. Where your shows are … old habits die hard.”

“I don’t want to be an old habit, Frankie.” She was right; this was too much to do over the phone. As much as I hated emotional crap, if I wanted to get her back, it wasn’t going to be like this. “Just … think about it? Visiting me.”

After a few seconds, Frankie sighed. “I’ll think about it.”

And, just when hope had finally balanced on the tiny point it found in my chest, the wind blew.

“There you are!” Clara squealed, jumping up onto my back and wrapping her arms around my neck. “I thought you’d disappeared, you sneaky boy …”

“Who is that?” Frankie asked, alarmed.

“I … it’s just—” I tried to answer, but Clara kissed my neck and my ear and made enough noise that it seemed to be all the answer Frankie needed.

Just like that, the venom returned to her voice. “Are you fucking kidding me right now? Like, honestly, is there a fucking camera somewhere?”

I shrugged Clara off. Not gently, but I didn’t want to toss her to the ground, either. Well, I
did
, but… “Listen, Frankie. Please.
Please.
I told you I fucked up, and—”

“And I told you your life was none of my
fucking
business.” She was talking through her teeth, I could hear it. “And then you told me you
loved
me—”

“I do!” I cut in. “Frankie,
please
. You said you love me, too.” I paced again, my voice growing hoarse as my heart raced. Clara watched me closely, probably still drunk from earlier because she wasn’t grasping the intensity of the conversation I was having. Either that, or she was a complete moron.

“Did you even bother to remove the condom first? Presuming you had the brains for one.”

There was nothing I could say. I could do what I normally did, and try to talk my way out of it by saying Clara wasn’t here the whole time—but I knew that would only make things worse. Words weren’t going to help me tonight.

“Why’d you even call me?” Frankie demanded, her voice filled with angry tears. Why can’t you just leave me alone
?!
” she asked again when I didn’t answer.

“I don’t know,” I finally said, feeling more defeated than I had in my whole life. Even more than the day my mom told me my dad was never coming back. “Just … I’m sorry.” I didn’t mean to say it, but I had to. I meant it. With every fiber of my being, I meant it.

“Take that song someplace else, CJ. It’s been overplayed in this house.” And just like that, she ended the call.

Rage washed over and through me as I turned to Clara, but I breathed it away. This was far from her fault. I told her I was single. Because in practice, I was. But not in principle. Frankie would never get over this. I wouldn’t, if I were her. I had no tricks left up my sleeve, no cards left to play. Just the sorry excuse of a human being I’d become. Just like
him.

Mom will be so proud …

“Did I interrupt something?” Clara slurred.

I took out another cigarette, lit it, and inhaled for a long, long time. “I think you should go,” I said on my exhale. “I need you to go.”

“Are you serious? Did I do—”

I shook my head. “No. It’s not you.” I chuckled blackly to myself. “And for once, I mean that. This isn’t about you at all.”

Looking at me with a mixture of disgust and confusion, Clara stormed past me and up into the bus, no doubt to get her things. When she returned twenty seconds later with her purse, she faced me angrily.

“When anyone asks,” she started, but I held up my hand.

“Tell them whatever you want. I don’t care. But I don’t plan on mentioning it.”

Clara’s shoulders sank a little, like she was relieved. Like my reputation had certainly preceded me and she was setting up to protect herself. “Okay,” she said, sounding caught off-guard. “Thank you.”

Once Clara was safely back on her bus, I sank to the ground again, thumbing through my phone. To the only girl on planet Earth who could help me out of this. Maybe.

Me:
Sorry for being a dick earlier. When you were here.

Georgia:
Give me a sec.

A few seconds later, my phone rang. I didn’t get to say
hello
before she dove in.

“What in the fuck did you do?”

“What?”

“I just got off the phone with Frankie. Sobbing. I ended the call to talk to your dumb ass. And I don’t know why the hell I’m even telling you that.”

“To hurt me,” I said quickly. “And I deserve it.”

“What the
hell
CJ?”

I sighed. “I know, Georgia. I know. I do. I just … I need your help.”

“You’re helpless, you fuck. But I’ll do what I can,” she said to my surprise.

“Really?”

“Yes. By staying out of it.”

My mouth hung open. “Are you kidding me? I need your
help
.”

“Listen, babycakes,” she said, rather brightly considering the circumstances. “I’m going to do it by
not
talking to Frankie about you and your pining. She’s hurting. I’ll help you by telling you what you need to hear. You need to get your thick head out of your ass and grow
up
. If you want her then
you
get her. I’m not getting her for you. I’m starting to think maybe she
does
deserve better than you. I like her. And as much as I love you, I sure as fuck don’t like you right now.”

I thumped my head against the bus, sighing loudly.

“I know,” Georgia answered my non-response. “Buckle up. Adulthood is a damn toilet show.”

Our conversation ended as quickly as it started, and I pulled myself off the ground, shuffling back onto the bus and into bed, where I stared at the ceiling as the busses pulled onto the highway. I didn’t know if I had it in me, deep in me, to get a girl back. I’d never tried. I’d never bothered.

But I never loved anyone like Frankie before. It hurt like hell and just overall
sucked.
I couldn’t decide if the chase was worth the pain in my chest.

“How long have you been playing and
why
for the
love of God
didn’t I know?” I asked Nessa as we settled into the “kitchen” area of her bus.

A far nicer bus than the one we were on, but that’s a detail I was willing to overlook for the time being because I felt like a sailor must when they spot land for the first time in months.

“Just … whatever,” was how she answered, setting two cups of coffee on the table between us. She sat across from me at the booth-style table and leaned to her left, just far enough to reach the mini fridge for cream.

“Got any half and half?” I asked out of habit.

She arched an eyebrow. “I’m sure you’re man enough to handle full strength.” She chuckled, sliding the glass pint of cream my way. “We bought it at the farmer’s market this morning. It’s like heaven. Trust me.”

Stirring the thick, sweet cream in, I grinned. “Trust you? A tall order from someone who
lied
to me.”

“No one told any lies!” she shrieked, holding out her hands. “And, anyway, who told you? Did Clara run her mouth before using it on CJ?”

“Classy,” I responded. “But, no. It was Yardley, and in passing, so she didn’t seem to think it was a
secret.
Come on, throw me a bone?”

She rolled her eyes. “I heard through the grapevine you were asked to compose on the fly for Moniker. Can’t they write themselves?”

“Not everyone can write music. And, they can, but they’re stuck in a rut.”

Nessa’s broad, but slightly bony shoulders rose and fell with a deep sigh. “I was four,” she admitted. “I was four when my parents dragged me and my brother to a classical performance in Phoenix. I fell in love and never looked back.”

The dreamy look in her eyes proved her story on its own, without words. It brought me back to the bluegrass festival where
I
first fell in love.

“Tell me. Everything. Did you take lessons? Play in ensembles? High school, college, all of it. Tell me.” I was near-jittery with anticipation, but did my best not to seem like a stalker.

GSE didn’t have a single other violinist on their rap sheet now that my former bandmate, Shaughn, was back in Ireland. And it wasn’t until Yardley mentioned Nessa’s ability that I realized how much I missed Shaughn and her brassy attitude. I wanted to play every song, right
now,
with Nessa. It was like the feeling I had when I travelled briefly through Indonesia during college and ran into groups of people who could speak English. It was exciting and a respite all at once to be among
my people
, even if they weren’t American. We could speak the same language. And to know that I was sitting across from a musician who could speak my violin language? It was perfection. I didn’t know how often she played, but I knew it must be enough that Yardley knew
and
was fine with suggesting that she take the stage with Moniker for an original song.