Face The Music

Hospital Bells

I woke the next morning to a quick text-tone, ding! that jolted me out of bed. Last night's dream had been odd, but I couldn't remember it now. Maybe it would come back later.

are you busy tonight?

nah, why? I hit send.

i have a concert tonight and i was wondering if you wanted to come. i've got free tickets in the front row if you want.

I grinned. Ever the charmer.

and your face in the front row will give me motivation to sing.

alright, buddy, i'll come. 8:00?

you got it girl. see ya then! <3

;)

It looked like I wasn't getting a break anytime soon, but that was no problem with me. 

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It was 7:30, and I was checking in backstage with the band before the show went on. The dressing room was full of interesting costumes. One particular bright red pair of leather pants caught my eye. Had Josh worn those at the last concert? I picked up the rainbow hairbrush on the dresser, staring at the many colors on the handle when a flash of blue appeared in the mirror, and an arm wrapped around my shoulder from behind.

"Hey! It's my favorite person in the world – Kiera! How've you been since we last saw each other?" Josh placed a quick kiss on my cheek before turning me to face him.

"Since we last saw each other? Wow, Josh, that was too long ago. I can't seem to remember anymore." Standing on my tiptoes, I examined his face. "Jesus Christ, friend, you've aged."

"Hey!" With a pout, he retorted, "At least my hair isn't turning grey." He gripped a strand of my purple hair and held it up to the light. "Good fucking luck with that!"

"Nuh uh!" I whirled around, but the bright lights of the mirror weren't helping my case any. "Just – get on stage already. I'm done with you!"

Sending me a wink and a sly smile, he returned, "You'll be done with me when you die, sweetheart. I'll see you in the bright lights!" Josh blew a diva-like kiss and sauntered out of the room. I was left, standing there, taking in the dust he had kicked up. 

"Alright, kid," I said to myself.

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"Don't tell me to fight, to fight for you!

After this long, I shouldn't have to. 

I know you're fine, but what do I do?

I know you're fine, but what do I do?"

It was hard not to belt to every word with him, or maybe it wasn't, because I didn't exactly know the words anyway. After that incredible hell of a first concert, I'd done my best to catch up to the wonderful music of Marianas Trench, but after all, it had only been three days, and I'd been deathly busy and exhausted. 

"I'm awake and tryin'

While you're sleeping like a babe beside him

I'm on the ledge while you're so

Goddamn polite and composed

And I know you see me, and you're making it look so easy.

What comes and goes, I'd go without

I know you're fine but what about –"

Ooh, I knew this part! 

"Fallout, fallout, fallout, fallout, fallout, fallout through the falllll!"

I sang along, "Fallout, fallout, fallout, falllllouttttt, through the fallout!"

Josh sent me a silent grin from the stage, and I waved back. 

Just then, a buzzing awoke in my pocket. What could it have been, at a time like this? I ignored it, letting the buzzing fade out into nothing. It must've been nothing.

But then it began to buzz again. If the person was calling again, it had to be important. Josh would understand, I was sure. As I pushed past the front-row mob to get outside where I could hear myself speak, I thought I saw Josh's face fall for a moment before it picked itself up again.

"Hello? Who's this?" The parking lot was damp with the earlier rain, and I stepped around the puddles, holding the phone to my ear. Instantly, I felt dumb. Caller I.D., welcome to the twenty-first century.

"It's your Uncle Henry. Where are you?" His voice was unusually crackly through the phone, even more so than his usual low-throated rumble, brought on by old age and a lot of testosterone during puberty that was perhaps declining in supply now.

"I'm at a concert. What's going on?" Even out here, behind the venue in an empty lot, with only a few vans and the tour bus to keep me company, I could hear the guitar-riffing and the fan-screaming pounding from inside. The flannel-people just could not stop.

"Didn't you go to a concert three days ago? What's with this sudden urge to be outside?"The frustration in his voice was palpable, and I couldn't understand why.

"C'mon Uncle, weren't you the one who wanted me to get outside in the first place? Now I am, and you don't seem damn happy about it. I mean –"

There was an audible sigh across the line. "Not now, Kiera. Listen. Your aunt, she's..."

Without warning, my heart skipped a beat. Aunt Lynn didn't have any health problems, did she? What was this call about? He sounded so depressed and lost for words. What could possibly have happened? Aunt Lynn..."What happened, Henry?"

"She had a stroke, and she fell down the stairs. It was a really bad one, Ki. She's in the hospital now. They don't know what's going to happen, but she's in critical condition. Please, come down here. To see her, and to say...to say goodbye, if you must. You always put a smile on her face, didn't you? You always could." His voice cracked at the end, the poor old man who had no children – only a wife to whom he'd devoted his many years, and she might soon be gone.

"Shut your mouth, Henry. You don't know if she's going to die or not. She might be fine, and then this will all have been for nothing. I'm coming down there. But don't jinx it. You don't need this, and I don't need it, and she doesn't need it. Don't say anything. Nothing at all, do you hear me? She's going to be fine." I was running now as I assured him and myself, that Aunt Lynn couldn't possibly die, not crazy, vivacious, too-energetic-for-your-age-you-strange-woman Aunt Lynn. The taxi cab pulled in to the drive with excruciating slowness, and I could've screamed with the sad self-pity I heard in Uncle Henry's voice.

"But they said she's in critical condition..."

I hung up. "Please, Mr...Gordon," I whispered as I leaned over to check the taxi man's name tag. "This is an emergency."