I'd keep my friends warm when times got cold
I'd live forever and grow old
I'd keep my friends close
We couldn't be sold
Go on, go on, go on, go on
“Did you send her the tickets?”
“Front row seats for two. Five-star hotel accommodations. And a limo to take her wherever she wants,” Moira answered me from the other line. “I made sure she’ll be coming. Do you reckon that’s sufficient?”
“Great,” I said, satisfied. “I’ll meet her before the concert then. Make sure Nate’s not anywhere near us. If things come to worse, I’ll have Chuck and Reed stall him for me or something.”
“Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ve made all the arrangements to keep your conversation private. Nathan wouldn’t even catch a whiff. For now, concentrate on your performance. You have to make your comeback a huge one.”
After ending the call, I slumped in front of the mirror inside the band’s dressing room. The sound effects of Parasite Eve 2 became the background of the nagging thoughts inside my head. I watched myself frown, glare then strained a smile.
I’d have to behave my best. Look my best. Honestly, I wasn’t feeling it.
Sighing, I stared at the light blue envelop sitting on the table. My hand reached for it for the eighth time. And this time, I picked it up, terrified out of my wits.
After almost two weeks of being down in the dumps, I got no idea how to deal with this. I blinked forcefully, trying to clear two weeks’ worth of hangovers. Unexpectedly, there was no crying involved. I was kind of too numb for that. But there was something else—something only alcohol could drown. It was the worst feeling. Like when you think you’d never smile again. And I mean a real smile that’d make you all warm and fuzzy inside. I knew that was gone for the rest of my life.
I opened the envelope for the first time, closing my eyes to calm the rising panic in me. She said she’d write. I just didn’t expect she’d actually do it. More so, I didn’t expect that this’d be such a big deal for me.
Two days ago, I thought I was gonna be okay. It was Nate and Elle who practically hauled me from a club in downtown LA. More often than not, they’d be the ones the bar people would call whenever I’d passed out. I couldn’t remember the club’s name. I was that drunk. Plus, it wasn’t the first pub I’d been in for the past few days.
I poured my anger on them. All the crap and angst I’d been keeping. I cussed at them. Told them I didn’t need them or their help. None of that drove them away. Even Nathan who I’d thought would be the one who’d enjoy seeing me so low. They didn’t try to comfort me. No one said that everything was gonna be alright. No one said I’d feel better the next day. All the while, they just sat beside my bed, listening to all my crap.
All Elle would say was, “Sleep now, Leon. You’re tired. We’ll be here when you wake up.” But I kept ranting about how life sucked until I fell asleep. Whenever I woke, they’d be there as Elle promised.
I had no idea why was still wasting her time on me. It’d been more than a year since we ever talked—since she and Nate broke up. I’d been so caught up with my own troubles back then that I didn’t even try to be there when she needed me. I thought it’d be easier for her if she wasn’t reminded of anything connected to Nate. But now, here she was, obliging herself to put up with Nate just because of me.
“Friends are still friends. Even if they’re a million miles away. Even if they don’t see each other,”she kept saying, hitting me lightly on the forehead with her small knuckle. Then she’d laugh a bit—that shrill funny laugh of hers—pushing the thick clumps of black hair off her face. “It’s like there’s this very long thread tying all of us to each other. So, when we get lost, we’ll find a way back to them.”
That was when I decided to stop drinking. I was just lost. Someday, I’d find my way back. Hopefully. Right now, I had to find for myself where I really wanted to go. And after I’d found it, it’d be time to go home. Yes. Home. Where ever that was.
There were still nights, though, when I couldn’t help but miss Sarah. I kept remembering how she smiled, how she tucked her long brown hair behind her ears whenever I reminded her to. Her lips, her eyes.
At times; those times when I thought I was losing my mind, I’d sneak outside the house. I’d lock myself up in one of my new cars—Dad bought me two, believe or not and even that couldn’t cheer me up—and spend the rest of the night in there, thinking how I’d die just to kiss her again.
“Want some smokes?” Chuck offered, putting down the game console to look at me. He must’ve sensed how edgy I was. He reached behind the sofa and drew a pack out of his personal stash, flipping the top off.
I pulled out one, about to light it but changed my mind. It’d been a habit of mine nowadays whenever I got upset. For some reason, I’d never gotten halfway through a stick. Dunno. Force of habit, maybe. Sarah hated smoking with a passion. I could remember her enumerating twenty of more than two hundred chemicals in cigarettes. She even said the some of the ingredients were the same ones used to make toilet bowl cleaners. Neat.
Wincing, I put the cigarette down. “Maybe later,” I told Chuck.
“I dunno how you could take in that stuff,” Ricky snatched the controllers from the coffee table and resumed the paused game. “It tastes like B.S. dipped in menthol.”
“Wimp,” Chuck chided, grabbing back the console from Ricky’s hands.
“Trying to practice here,” Reed whined, momentarily turning his attention to us before fiddling with the strings of his guitar again. He was so silent rehearsing his lead solos and intros that I almost didn’t notice him in the room. He was that serious these days.
Rolling his eyes, Chuck glared at Reed. “Who are you and what’ve you done to my brother?”
I tried to tune them out. Blankly, I stared at the letter; at Sarah’s letter. None of it registered in my head. I read it again and again until I could make out what it said.
Dear Leon,
I heard you’ll be having a concert tour with your band. That’s great! Becky’s really excited. You better give it your best because I’ll be watching. Even if you don’t see me there, I’ll see you. And you’ll definitely hear from me if you don’t sing it perfectly. I have that much faith in your musical skills.
I just started to really learn how to use the camera settings to my advantage. Maybe someday, I’ll send you some pictures I took. They’re not that good yet, but I’ll keep trying. You’re not the only one who’s working hard, you know.
Good news. I’m not going to Yale anymore. And no. I can’t tell you what I’ll be doing instead. It’s a surprise! So don’t ask. Seriously. Don’t.
Guess what? Jer just learned to say your name. He kept saying, “Len! Len!” and at first, I didn’t know what that meant. Then I had a dream. Honestly, I’m not really sure if it was a dream. But you were there and your Dad too, and we were having dinner at my house. Then your Dad called you Len and I was laughing. Or trying not to laugh.
Mom said it really happened before. Maybe I was just starting to really remember things. It feels good not having to read my life from an old composition notebook for a change. I hope your smiling now as I am.
That’s it for now,
Sarah
I thought of something to say to her when I reply. My mind just stopped working all of a sudden. Would I really dare tell her what was up with me? Could I ruin her happiness? No. It’d be better that she didn’t know how miserable I was. Knowing that at least one of us was happy was enough for me.
She was smiling. That was all that mattered. It didn’t matter much that she was starting to remember her past with me in it. That won’t change the fact that we’d broken up. If she was happy, then I’d have to be happy for her too. I’d have to smile for her. It was what she’d want.
Finally, I looked at my reflection in the mirror. I was wrong. It wasn’t the end of the world after all. And I could still smile even if it was just for her. Lucky I managed to keep the smile through the whole concert. It wasn’t that sort of carefree thing but strangely, I felt a lot better. It wasn’t just because of Sarah’s letter. I was more relieved to wrap up the Claire problem beforehand.
She was all smiles and compliments as Moira led her to the band’s trailer. I had the cleaning crew make it spotless just for her. But even so, she had that hidden reluctance to step in. I almost sniggered at how she and Camilla were alike in many ways. Except for the looks, the way Claire dressed, her tone, her gestures were like the mother I’d never really known.
“Have a seat,” I gestured to the plush leather couch across mine.
There wasn’t much space inside the trailer to work with so Claire had to tiptoe in between the furniture before she could settle down. Sarah’d always thought Claire had a kind face—before the amnesia. That there was a kind of light to it that’d make people drawn to her. After that visit with my mother two years ago, Sarah practically went on and on how Claire was super nice and perfect. Nate’s really lucky, she kept saying.
And now, even after knowing the truth, Sarah was still able to smile and hope that there was still some hope left for Claire. “No one’s entirely good or bad,” she’d say. “People just… make mistakes.”
Until now, I couldn’t get it. I’d never get it—how her brain works.
“Where’s Nathaniel?” her brown eyes were subtle as she seemed to examine the whole place.
“With Chuck and Ricky,” I replied, pouring coffee in two cups. “Nate’s touring them around. Coffee?”
She eyed at the cup, still smiling. “Tea would be good.”
As if I hadn’t heard that, I pushed the coffee cup to her. “Glad you can make it. I know you’d been… really busy”—I threw her a meaningful look—“this past few months. I wasn’t sure if you have time so I didn’t tell Nate yet about inviting you. He throws the worst fits when things don’t go his way.”
She laughed a bit, nodding. “I couldn’t agree more.”
“I heard from Nate that you race,” I said, taking a sip from my cup.
It took her a few seconds to answer. “Yes. But not professionally. Usually, in drag races but Mother is not aware of this. She thinks it’s… barbaric—“
I raised both my hands and smiled. “I won’t tell. Don’t worry.” Intently, I eyed at her for the longest time. “Why’d you do it, Claire?”
“I don’t know really. Perhaps, it’s because whenever I am driving very fast, I feel like I can do anything,” she replied, sounding honest enough.
“Anything,” I repeated blankly as I restrained myself from standing and smashing something. “So, was it just for fun? Why’d you do it, Claire?”
Her face turned blank for a while. When she looked again, shock registered in her eyes. Her mouth opened twice but she didn’t say anything. She was trying to act casual and slow her breathing. We both knew what I meant. I was the last person she’d fool.
I drew a manila envelope from the shelf beside me and placed it on the coffee table. She took it wordlessly. Her newly manicured hands trembled as she pulled the pictures out—the Black Benz she used to hit Sarah. She barely made through four pictures when she dropped them all to the floor.
“Just for curiosity’s sake, Claire,” I began, my gaze steady. Anger welled inside me. But this time, there was a mix of pity. “Why?”
“What do you want?” She stared back at me, her eyes steely. Proud. Although, her shoulders were shaking. “I will give you anything you want! Anything!”
“Anything,” I said for the second time, sniggering humourlessly. “If I said I want Sarah’s memory back—no. Our lives back. Can you do it, Claire? CAN YOU DO IT?!!” My voice rebounded off the metal walls of the trailer.
For a while, I couldn’t hear anything but the silent hum of the air-conditioning unit. She held on to the couch, her eyes wide when she looked at me. Sarah said, people just make mistakes but this was not just a mistake. It was a huge mistake. An unforgivable one. Claire should suffer. She should pay. She should go jump off a cliff or die in some hell hole.
She was gasping for breath as tears streamed down her cheeks, ruining her perfectly made-up face. “P-please… Don’t... don’t tell N-nathaniel,” she pleaded in between the sobs. “I did it… I did everything because of him. Before he knew of you, h-he only had me. I’m the only one who cared for him. We only had each other. Sarah was… Sarah was the reason my brother had left. I felt that she was t-taking my Nathaniel away. I was very angry that night and she was there…”
I just stared at her; at the tears that stained the carpet beside her feet as she moaned and cried incomprehensibly. And I didn’t say a word for a long time, letting her cry her eyes out. I didn’t know how much tears Sarah had shed. She won’t let me see her that way. But I was sure Claire’s tears weren’t enough.
“I didn’t… mean to do it,” she whimpered in panic. “I didn’t mean to.”
“Nate won’t know.” My voice sounded cold, harsh, but it was the best I could do to control myself. “Even the cops.”
Her eyes widened. All traces of pride were gone now. “Th-thank you…” she said before crying in silence again, long and pathetic.
“Don’t,” I answered, looking right through her. “It’s not my decision. It’s Sarah’s.”
“S-sarah…” Claire murmured the name in utter disbelief, shame obvious on her face. If I was in her shoes, I won’t believe it either. It was like the victim saved her own murderer. Won’t make much sense even as I thought about it over and over. But that’s Sarah.
Just like that, I stood up and walked across the room. As I reached for the door, I turned to face her one last time. “Here’s the deal. You do what I want and your secret’s safe with me. Uhm, not that safe but… you know what I mean.” Then I walked away, leaving her to her guilt’s mercy.
She should know that if she tried to hurt Sarah again, it’d be a one-way ticket to jail for her. Plus, she could forget that she ever had a brother. Or a reputation. Camilla would surely disown her.
“Are you having a blast, LONDON?!!” I shouted on the mic, my guitar slung on my back.
London. Of course, we had to start out tour here, where I was born. But there was more to it than sentimentality. You could say, I had an ulterior motive.
A deafening “YES!!!” filled the whole place, the overwhelming shouts echoing off the domed walls of The O2 Arena. Contented, I walked across the fogged up stage, examining the crowd through the spotlights that practically blinded me. My eyes trailed from the two tiers of balcony, down to the front row seats. Everyone looked pleased. Even Sonnet’s big bosses and producers—Jobs included. Camilla Downing—my birthmother—was there as expected, side by side with no other than her adopted daughter, Claire.
Of all the twenty thousand people inside the jam-packed stadium, it looked like she was the only one who wasn’t enjoying the show. She did it to herself. As cruel as it might sound, she deserved to live the rest of her life in fear.
“Really?” I answered the crowd, my smile widening a little. “Because I am having the time of my life here. Aren’t we, guys?” I faced my band mates to see that I was telling the truth.
“Yeah!” they all chorused, followed by a loud applause from the audience.
“It’s a shame that we’re down to our last song.” A rumble of cheers and disapproval. “But before we end this amazing, amazing night, I want to tell every one of you that this—this band and this show”—I fixed the mic back on the stand—“won’t be possible if not for one person.”
From the audience, I could see Jobs sitting smugly, looking proud as the people around him moved closer to whisper their congratulations. For the first time in many years, he smiled at me like he was touched or something. Surely, he wasn’t thinking that I was referring to him, was he?
I took my time, scanning the crowd, catching my breath as I sat on one of the stools the crew set up in front of the stage. At the corner of my eye, Nate was at the backstage, trying to look invisible under his disguise—thick nerdy glasses, dental appliance and an NY baseball cap. Couldn’t really tell if the white button-up shirt, gray trousers and black loafers were part of the disguise. He seemed to really be fond of wearing those.
“For the longest time, he’d been the one who’d supported this band,” I added as I slung my guitar forward. “I’ve just realized this now but… he’s been helping us all along. And without him, Four O’clock Deadline would be nothing that you see right now.”
Jobs suddenly stood up from his seat, about to head up to the stage. It made me laugh. He didn’t seem to mind it though. He just straightened his pinstriped coat and kept walking.
Just in time, Ricky had caught my cue. With Reed and Chuck, he raced to the side entrance leading to the backstage where Nate stood, occasionally dodging props crew and technicians. He wasn’t able to give a fight when the guys grabbed him. Before my brother knew what was happening, he was already being dragged-pushed to the middle of the stage.
“He’s been behind us all along and I guess, it’s time we give him the recognition he deserves,” I said, watching the guys force Nate onto the seat next to mine. In next to no time, they’d already stripped him of his disguise.
Jobs froze halfway through the stairs leading to the stage. His face was red, his bulgy eyes almost popping out of their sockets when he realized what was happening. Even Charlie Rudd—who I’d discovered was the head for promotions—looked somewhat embarrassed for him. Like I’d really do that for Jobs. Nah.
Meanwhile, my brother was staring me to death for setting him up. Good thing I was stare-proof. “Nothing like sweet revenge. Right, bro?” I muttered, leaning closer to him. “Just… go with it.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
told ya, it wasn't the real ending :)