The Boy from the Band

Not So White Lies

I suppose it was inevitable, but it came out of nowhere, neither of us expected it, but the wound would last for a long time.

I'd had a long, stressful night at the hospital. I work swing shift and took overtime whenever I could because it meant more money. My hours suited Rick perfectly, and he'd show up about two or three in the morning, stay a few hours, and then go home. It was Malibu all over again, and in the past, I'd been happy with what we had, but now I wasn't seeing as much of him. He was on the road because he needed the money and the audience and found it hard to fit in time for me.

When I finally got home, I was exhausted. I fell into a deep sleep until I was woken by the sound of my door slamming and angry footsteps coming up the stairs. My bedroom door flew open, and Rick reached out and jerked me out of bed. He took hold of my arms and yelled, "Why did you do it, Dacy, why did you do it?"

"What are you talking about—let go of me." I tried to pull away from him, "What's wrong with you?"

"You called my house and asked for me, didn't you? You even gave your name."

"Like hell I did," I want to slap him, "You know I wouldn't do that. I promised you a long time ago I'd stay out of your marriage--and I have."

He's angry at me, he doesn't know if he believes me but should know I'm telling him the truth. If I ever needed to contact him, I have his manager's number—he made sure of that after my last stint in the hospital.

"Do you want to break me and Elizabeth up?" He's not paying attention to anything I say.

"No, I'd rather you be her problem. You know I don't know your number; I don't even know where you live. I made a promise to you, and I've kept it. If you wanted to leave her for me you've had twelve years to do it. You don't want to leave Elizabeth and I don't want you to. You want someone who'll take care of you, and wait on you and that's not me. And I wouldn't put up with the heroin either, I'd make you choose between me or it. I wouldn't put up with your shit and why Elizabeth is willing to is beyond me." 

He's standing there, glaring at me, but I stand my ground. I can't believe this is happening--who gave us away? I've loved this man for twelve years; I've accepted the fact that I will always come second but he's meant so much to me and in his own way has been good to me. Until now.

"Does my word mean nothing to you? Why don't you believe me? I uprooted my life to be with you. I'd never, ever do anything to hurt you. I love you, you bastard." I'm pouring my heart out here but it doesn't seem to be doing any good.

He looks at me like he wants to kill me, or at least hit me. That angry look is cutting me to the core—I know he's upset but why is he believing the lie? I've stayed out of his marriage for twelve years. I've stayed away from him and Elizabeth, what makes him think anything has changed?

I push against his chest--hard, "Get out of here, I don't want to look at you. No matter how angry you are you must know I wouldn't do this and if you don't, fuck you. Just get away from me, you bastard, don't you know how badly you've hurt me."

For a moment he looks confused, then he turns around and goes out the door. Neither one of us wants to be the one to say it's over, neither one of us is sure we want it to be, but neither of us is willing to say they're sorry—and I've done nothing to apologize for.

I rummage around in my nightstand and find a couple of Valiums and take them, then lay down. I'm too upset to sleep, and my mind won't turn off the memory of the look on his face. The valium doesn't work right away but eventually, I calm down and fall into a deep and dreamless sleep.

I wake up around ten and start crying and can't stop. I'm hurting in a way I've never hurt before and there's no way I'm going to make it through work tonight. I call my manager and tell her I have the flu and I don't know when I'll be back to work. Nurses are hypochondriacs and the slightest sniffle becomes something more and I'm going to take advantage of it.