(Even When It's Not) About You

Over Again

Rob sat in the driveway for a few minutes, his satin finish black Range Rover idling silently as he looked over the front of his house and the typical Southern California landscaping that was there. He was thirty-eight years old. Almost thirty-nine. The material comforts he was accustomed to were all a product of having more money than he knew what to do with. There was no significant other, no children other than nieces and nephews on which to blow his cash, and his brother Dave discouraged that anyway. So he sat on October 29, 2017, and decided it didn't matter if he walked away from it all. Forever or temporarily, he wasn't exactly sure yet.

He knew where his passport was, and he had access to money, that wasn't a problem. He knew his mother would worry if he just took off, but he'd left his cell phone at Brad's. At the moment it had seemed a useful decision - leaving it behind meant that the guys couldn't call him. Now it seemed petulant and childish, but there was no way he was going back to get it. Reluctantly he put the Range Rover in reverse and started toward the Verizon store, hoping he could get in and out without it being a huge ordeal.

To his surprise, he walked out an hour later with a new cell phone in his hands and instructions on how to block his number when he placed a call from it, and that made all the difference in the world. Rob could feel how close he was to freedom, to what he'd been thinking about for the last six weeks. All he had to do now was pack a suitcase and call his mother. There were two thoughts in his head on where to go, and both sounded great. Portugal in November was supposed to be a great place to surf, and there was a place in Mexico he'd been before they started the last tour. He wasn't going to be bothered to take equipment with him. Purchasing what he wanted when he got to wherever he was going would be good enough. The idea of only taking a backpack was appealing. A small backpack. Or maybe nothing at all.

Tomorrow, he decided as the Range Rover ascended into the hills. I'll pack tonight and go to the airport in the morning. Whatever comes out of my mouth when I go to the ticket counter, that's where I'm going. Mexico or Portugal. I think I want to go to Portugal.

Rob pulled back into his driveway, and this time he was not alone. He recognized Brad's Volvo sport utility tank and sighed. It didn't matter what Brad said, he wasn't going back to the meeting. Or anywhere. Even if Brad was on his side. He left the Verizon bag in the front seat and pocketed the new cell phone before he stepped out of the Range Rover and walked up the sidewalk to his front porch, where Brad was sitting on the steps, waiting.

"How'd you know I was coming here?" Rob said by way of greeting. "You could have been sitting out here for days."

Brad looked up, squinting at the brightness of the setting sun behind Rob's head. "You're really taking off, then?" he asked, not moving to stand up.

Rob sat down next to him and stretched his legs out. He looked down at Brad's left leg, still surprised to see it out of the boot he'd had it in for so many months. It had even made its way into their One More Light promo pictures shot in front of Warner, and Rob violently pushed away the memories of that day that blinded him in a flash. Chester and Mike had been all over each other, in that way that only Rob knew they were serious and everyone else laughed off. It had been a good day otherwise, full of celebration and smiles, and grand visions of the future. None of which would come to fruition now. "Of all of you guys, I thought you'd understand," Rob said quietly. He reached down and picked a weed that was poking through the rocks next to the sidewalk.

"Of course I understand," Brad answered, wrapping his arms around his middle even though it was warm enough outside. He'd struggled through the show a couple of nights ago just like Rob. Smiles were sparse, and when they did come, they felt artificial, though he'd stoically made it through every single song. Rob hadn't even managed to do that. Of all of them, he'd taken the most breaks from the stage, letting others play his parts when Brad knew he couldn't imagine laying another beat. He blew out a long breath. "It's over now. Mike will leave us alone. He'll finally let it rest."