Abby Road (37 page)

“I know what you told me.” She waited. “And I know what Todd told me.”

My fist released its grip and I sat ramrod straight. “He talked to you about it?”

“After some major coercion on my part.”

“You’ve seen him?”

“This is a small town.”

The room around me felt like it was tilting to one side, like I was in a “fun house” purposely built on a hill. I hung onto the arm of the couch.

“What did he—”

“You’re right,” Lindsey cut in. “ Todd did tell me your life is a mess, and he did tell me that he couldn’t be with you anymore, not the way you are now, the way you let Max walk all over you.”

I slammed my eyes shut, seeing bright white lightning behind my lids and then darkness.

Lindsey went on, determined to cause even more agony. “He’s not stupid, Abby. Do you think he didn’t notice your manic mood swings, how you’re light and happy, and then you totally zone out into some dark funk at the drop of a hat? Do you think that’s normal? You suppress everything, total denial, total self-indulgence. How do you think it made him feel when he saw you self-destructing like that? Do you think it was easy for him to watch you, knowing there was nothing he could do? Can you blame him for cutting out? He’s got his stuff together. He’s independent, ready to move his life to the next level, and he wanted you—”

“Stop it, Lindsey!”
I shouted. “Just stop!”

What was I supposed to do with that information? There was no more space in my chopped-up brain. Didn’t I already have enough ghosts?

“I’m not self-destructing,” I argued feebly, once I could manage that much. “I’m—”

“Yes, you are,” my sister interrupted without a beat. “Answer me this: are you sleeping?”

“No,” I replied, indignantly. “But—”

“Are you eating?”

I didn’t answer.

She went on. “Are you taking vitamins? Going for walks? Making time for yourself?” She paused. “You were doing those things last summer, getting better, and now—”

“I cannot have this conversation with you,” I cut in. “I
won’t
.” My voice cracked. I knew how hopeless I sounded. “It doesn’t matter. What’s done is done.
Let It Be
.
Ob-la-di.
All’s well the ends—”

“You forced him,” Lindsey said, cutting off my lame string of clichés.

I scrubbed my eyes with the back of my hand, smearing mascara everywhere.

“You forced him to make an impossible decision. Do you think he
wanted
to leave? He was ready to change his world for you, but you couldn’t do the same.”

I dropped my face into my hand. Lindsey didn’t speak. She was probably waiting for me to cry, but I couldn’t cry. Crying meant that I was allowing myself to feel. It wasn’t time to feel.

“I better go,” I muttered before she circled back to that other name. “I have to work out. Dirk’ll be here any minute.” She tried to speak, but I cut her off. “Thanks for calling. I’ll see you next week.”

{chapter 26}

“NOWHERE MAN”

H
al was flipping through last month’s
Rolling Stone
. His hair poked out from the bottom of a black baseball cap like blades of orange grass. Watching him was entertaining, a distraction. After my conversation with Lindsey the day before, I was in dire need of a stellar distraction.

I leaned my hip against the doorframe, observing as he periodically laughed at something he was reading, other times he literally snarled. When he started hissing profanities at the magazine, I knew he was about to slam it on the table.

“And so is your old
lady
.” The magazine landed with a
bang
. “Stupid lowlife tone-deaf elitist.”

“No need to break the furniture,” I said from the open doorway of the kitchen.

Hal swiveled around. “Duchess!” His voice was loud enough that the whole Studio Universe probably heard him. He rose to his feet, opening his arms to me. Well, he opened one arm. The other was pinned to his chest in a blue sling, results of a skateboarding accident from a few days before.

Sling or no sling, Hal’s hugs always felt good. He was thin as a rail, but he was cuddly. I allowed myself to enjoy the physical contact while trying hard not to breathe in too much of the secondhand smoke trapped in his shirt.

“I don’t know why you read that stuff,” I said. “It always ticks you off.”

“Stupid reviewer’s an effin’ hack,” he muttered, his eyes narrowing as they aimed like two laser beams at the magazine. “Rippin’ on the Foo Fighters like that. Who
does
that?”

“You’re such a tough guy,” I teased.

Hal looked at me and tilted his head. “How ya doing?”

“Fine!” I lied. It was second nature now. “Never better!” I smiled, feeling like a jack-o-lantern: ghoulish, unnatural grin, insides entirely scooped out.

He still had his one good hand on my shoulder. His callused fingers found some skin and pinched.

“
Ouch
,” I squeaked.

“What size are you these days?” he asked, pinching me again.

“Size four, soaking wet,” I replied, knowing this was surely a lie, too. The skinny jeans I was wearing, that I’d bought just a month before, that had originally hugged my curves in all the right places, were hanging on me like a pair of hobo trousers.

“You’re wasting away to nothing.” His fingers went to tickle my waist, but the second after he touched me, his fingers froze, then recoiled.

I felt actual physical pain when I saw the shocked expression on Hal’s usually carefree face. “Duchess?” He spoke cautiously. “You’re skin and bones.”

If I’d had anything in my system, I might’ve puked it out. “I’ve been working out a lot,” I offered as I took a retreating step backward. “I’ve got a photo shoot next week. You know the camera adds ten pounds.”

I turned from him, walked to the refrigerator, and opened the door. As I stared blankly at the contents, I racked my brain, trying to think of the last time I had eaten a proper meal. “Mmm, leftover Chinese.” I leaned in to give the illusion that I was interested. “Is this Nate’s?” I closed the door and pulled open the freezer.

Hal didn’t reply, and when I turned around, the shock on his face had calmed into worry. I recognized the merging of expressions—I’d seen it on Lindsey the day I showed up at her house back in June.

“Good thing I’ve got the glam squad,” I said, turning back to the freezer, letting the arctic air waft around my face. “They can make even
me
look human on a day like today. Ha ha ha.” My fingers clung around the handle. My face was starting to burn from the cold.

“Hey,” Hal said from behind me.

I wasn’t willing to turn around yet, to confront what was coming next. I was just so tired.

“Hey,” Hal repeated, his voice closer than before. “I know I act kinda stupid some of the time.”

I let loose an ironic chuckle that burned my throat on the way out.

“Okay, okay,” he said after his own chuckle, “I know I act
really
stupid
all
the time, but . . .” His hand was on my shoulder. “We’re
simpatico
, you and me. We’re . . . connected.”

Something in his voice made me close the freezer and turn around.

Hal’s blue eyes were warm and kind, his mouth set in a compassionate frown. No anxiety and no pity. Hal had grown up.

Sometimes I forgot. I’d forgotten he was really a man, a whole year older than me, in fact. Despite his leaning toward annoying the crap out of me, he had always cared. I knew I owed him so much. So much more than I was giving him now. I winced inwardly, feeling a fresh wave of guilt.

“I’m your friend,” he went on, his hand on my shoulder, “and I can listen. Maybe I can even help. And, you know . . .” He looked down, smiling to himself. “Well, I’m sure you know how I’ve always felt—”

“I just need to sleep,” I interrupted smoothly, rudely, offering this as a legitimate excuse.

Hal dropped his hand and stared at me.

I quickly added, “But you know how it goes. There’s no sleep in this business if you want to make it big.” My cheeks hurt as I lifted another jack-o-lantern grin. I immediately felt ridiculous. Hal was only trying to help. There was no excuse to belittle his sentiments because I couldn’t stand to feel any real emotion.

I hung my head, staring at my feet, ashamed on so many levels.

After this, I knew Hal wouldn’t stick around. He would sense that I was not about to budge an inch, that the brick wall guarding the fortress was well intact. He would tiptoe out the door, careful that his feet didn’t crunch the layer of eggshells that followed me around. He would leave me alone to wallow, just as everyone else had learned to do.

But instead, Hal laughed his normal, wonderful, infectious laugh, his head thrown back, his mouth wide open.

“Hoo hoo ha ha, duchess!” he howled. “Big?” He hooted again. “You wanna be big?”

I stared at him.

“Have you been living in a friggin’ cave? We already
are
big.” He punched my bicep. I stumbled back. “We’re bigger than anyone!”

“That’s . . . what we wanted,” I said, rubbing my arm. “Right?”

Hal laughed a minute longer and then pushed out his bottom lip and shook his head. “We three guys, we got what we wanted a long time ago. We got to play the Super Bowl.” His smile widened. “That’s as big as it gets for punks like us.”

“I’m glad for you,” I replied sincerely.

Hal said nothing, just watched me in silence.

After a few moments, I felt the itch to flee. So I made a move toward the exit.

“But what we
didn’t
know was that we’d get big at
your
expense, Abigail.”

Hearing Hal call me by my real name stopped me in my tracks. A lump formed in my throat as I turned around.

“From day one,” he continued, leaning on a corner of the kitchen table, “we knew this business was no place for a nice girl like you, someone who actually feels things and has principles.” He smiled. “But you’re just so effin’ talented, and instead of finishing college or having babies, you’ve let us ride your star for all these years.” His smile suddenly dropped, like he was thinking of something else. “I can speak for the rest of the guys and say how sorry we are. Very sorry, about so many things.” His gazed dropped to his shuffling feet. He looked more remorseful than I’d ever seen him.

“What so many things?” I asked.

Hal lifted his chin. His face had gone a little pale, but his cheeks were red. He actually looked embarrassed about something. I’d never seen that expression on him, either, but a quick moment later, he shot me one of his easy grins. “For one thing, we all liked the guy. We were hoping he was your ticket outta here.”

Oh no. Not Hal, too.

Hal walked toward me. I stood frozen in place, wishing I could jump out the window before he said anything more. “Hal—”

“He thought you hung the moon, Abby.” His good hand reached out and held onto the back of my neck, squeezing me. “Just seeing him around here, the two of you together, sometimes it made me a little jealous. Stupid, I know.” He looked away to chuckle at something private. “And you . . .”

I blinked when our foreheads touched.

“When he was here, I’d never seen anything like it. You sparkled. You went from stately little duchess to delirious swan princess whenever you looked at him, whenever he walked in the room. The look in your eyes, and in his eyes, it was like you were both hearing the same song.”

“I forgot how poetic you can be,” I said, even as all his sympathetic words bounced off my chest like bullets to Superman.

Hal let go of my neck, and I took a step back.

“He wanted to marry you.”

I bit down on the inside of my cheeks and looked away.

“He told me,” Hal pressed, as if I didn’t believe him. “He told me the second he knew you were ready, he was dragging your butt away from this crapola. We were all sitting around waiting for it.”

I took another retreating step as hot blood throbbed and pounded through the artery in my neck. It felt like my whole head was on fire. I wrapped my arms around my middle, breathing slowly, fighting, fighting, consciously trying
not
to give myself a brain aneurysm.

“Then
poof!
He was gone.” Hal paused, perhaps waiting for me to reply, but I had gotten so used to letting people talk. So I stood tongue-tied, hugging myself so tightly that my ribs bowed.

“He’s a great guy, Abby. He was good for you. I don’t know; maybe the timing wasn’t right.”