For the Love of a Lush (Lush No. 2) (22 page)

"Would that be so terrible?" I ask, surprising even myself with the question.

Mike looks at the beer mug then at the peanut shells on the table. I can feel the indecision rolling off of him, the trepidation I feel too when it comes to thoughts of Lush—my band, my brothers—our past and our future all colliding in a heap.

"I’m not sure, man," he answers quietly. "I’m just not sure."

Tammy

I’
M SPENDING
the week in Austin, lining up appearances for Jenny. She has to work this week, but now that she’s been signed by several big Dallas clubs, I can play her recordings and give them headshots and they’ll take her based on that. Amazing what a few strategic contracts in hand can do.

Austin’s a pretty city, green and vibrant. It reminds me a little of Portland. And of course it’s one of the live-music capitals of the world. There are so many clubs that sifting through them to find the best is a challenge. I spend a lot of time on the phone with band managers who I know are snobs and gossips so I can get the scoop. It’s worth it though. As the week is drawing to an end, I’ve got Jenny scheduled all the way through the end of July, sometimes on Friday
and
Saturday nights. Once I get a few more shows set up in August, she’ll have a full summer tour.

I’m driving back to the hotel I’m staying at, thinking about promo items—a tour title for a banner and flyers—when my phone rings and I see Mel’s name pop up.

"Hey there," I say, really happy to hear her voice for the first time in several days. "What’s up?"

"Where are you?" she asks evasively.

"Driving a car in Austin. I’ve been setting up venues for Jenny’s summer tour."

"Cool." Then there’s an awkward pause.

"What’s going on Mel?"

"Can you pull over? I mean, park for a minute?"

"Shit. You’re scaring me. Are Mom and Dad okay?"

"Yes. They’re fine. It’s nothing like that, but I think you shouldn’t be driving for this conversation."

"All right," I mutter as I pull over and turn into an office parking lot. "I’m stopped. Now what it is?"

"Well, you know Joss and I have been seeing each other again…"

"Yeah, and you said everything’s been going well. He’s planning to go to Seattle with you this summer while you finish your last class, right?"

"Yeah. We’ve rented a place starting next month. It’s all good." There’s another one of those uncomfortable pauses. "It’s really good, as a matter of fact."

"Jesus, Mel. Out with it."

"We’re getting married, Tammy. Joss asked me to marry him."

I stop breathing for a minute, my lungs racing to catch up with my mind. Then I just try to digest it. My sister is marrying the man I cheated on Walsh with. I’ll sit across from him at every Thanksgiving and Christmas for the next few decades. He’ll be the father of my nieces and nephews. He’ll be my parents’ son-in-law. He’ll be my brother.

And I try to imagine it, and oddly, it’s not difficult. Not at all.

Joss Jamison has been an integral part of my life since I was fourteen. He and Walsh and Mike were a package deal, and Joss was one of my nearest and dearest friends for years. He’s been so ingrained in my life for so long that I don’t have any trouble picturing him ingrained in it far into the future. Joss is a good guy. He and I just needed help with Walsh and we didn’t get it. I realize that now. How much the caretakers of an alcoholic need help too. How we were too young and too alone to deal with Walsh’s disease.

"Tammy?" Mel’s voice is unsure.

"Yes, I’m here. Sorry. I was just processing. And Mel? I’m happy for you."

"Really?" she asks. I can hear the tears sitting on the edge of her voice. This must have been so hard for her to do.

"Yes, sweetie. Really. You know Joss and I were always good friends. What happened is over and done, and I forgive him, just like I’ve had to forgive myself. He loves you so much, Mel.
Just you
. You know that, don’t you?"

"Yeah, I think I do," she says, and this time I can hear a smile. "He’s kind of fantastic, Tam."

"So have you told Mom and Dad?"

"They’re next on my list. Joss wants to go with me and tell them together."

"They’ve always loved Joss. I’m sure they’ll be thrilled."

"I hope so. And you know, there’s someone else we want to tell. Someone who’s really important to both of us and we want to tell him in person. We want his blessing if we can get it."

I know she means Walsh, and I can’t predict how he’s going to take it. We haven’t talked about how he feels toward Joss at this point. He’s so unpredictable that it’s anyone’s guess.

"Joss—he needs to see Walsh. You know? He just can’t bear to think that it’ll be left like it was in California. It’s the last thing weighing him down. I don’t want to push Walsh when he’s still struggling, but Joss needs this so much."

I haven’t told my sister that Walsh fell off the wagon. I haven’t told anyone. I feel like it’s not my secret to tell. I’m so scared that he’ll do it again though. I don’t know if he can handle seeing Joss like this.

"I’m not sure, Mel. This may not be the best time—"

"There’s never going to be a good time. The longer it goes, the harder it’ll be for them to reconnect. Their friendship might not ever be the same again, but maybe they can find some sort of common ground, you know?"

I sigh heavily, but then I remember Walsh in the parking lot of the diner, telling Mike and me to stop planning his life for him. I think about all the years I’ve tried to fix things for him and what an utter failure it’s been. I know Walsh wouldn’t want me to decide this for him. He’s an adult. He has the right to have this discussion with Mel and Joss himself.

"You know what? I think you need to ask
Walsh
what he wants. Give him a call. Talk to him about it. I can’t speak for him, and more importantly, I shouldn’t."

"Okay," Mel replies. "You’re right. I’m sorry if it seemed like I was putting you in the middle."

"It’s fine. Getting used to the new normal is hard I’m finding that out in spades, little sister."

"How are you? Are you really okay?"

I sit looking out the windshield, and in my mind, I picture Walsh, skin slicked with sweat, muscles bunching as he pushes the heavy mower up and down Mrs. Stallworth’s yard. I crave him. It’s as simple as that. And like an alcoholic craves a drink, I’m not sure my craving for Walsh will ever subside. Also like an alcoholic, I’m not sure if the craving is very healthy for me. Sometimes I think loving Walsh Clark might have ruined me forever.

I sigh deeply. "I’m okay, Mel. I promise. It’s hard, and I’m confused—about a lot—but I’m not depressed, and I’m not denying things. I’m just…a little lost still."

Her voice gets quiet. "You’re going to be okay. You know that, don’t you? No matter what else happens, Tammy,
you
are going to be okay."

I nod to myself, feeling the weight and the truth of her words move through me. "You’re right. I am. I know that now. I didn’t when I came here, but I’ve learned some things this last month, and you’re right."

"Good," she says as if it’s decided. "I love you."

"I love you too."

Walsh

I’
VE BEEN
building fencing all day, making new pens for the calves that’ll be rounded up and brought in for auction in a few weeks. It’s nearly six thirty when I finally knock off. I stripped my shirt off hours ago, and I can feel that I’ve gotten a sunburn on my back. Summer’s almost here, and the Texas sun is getting more intense.

I wipe the back of my neck with my t-shirt and open up the door to the truck to pull out a new, clean shirt. Mrs. S. will have my hide if I walk in the house half dressed, so I’ve learned to carry spares with me.

My cell phone is sitting on the seat, and I pick it up and swipe the screen. I‘ve missed a call from Melanie DiLorenzo. My heart races as I imagine Tammy lying in a ditch somewhere, that red Mustang a pile of twisted metal around her. Fingers shaking, I tap the screen and put the phone to my ear to listen to the message Mel’s left.

"Hi, Walsh, it’s Mel. I’m wondering if you can give me a call as soon as possible. It’s important. Thanks."

I jab at the screen, trying to get the damn thing to ring Mel back. My heart is racing and it’s hard to breathe. If something’s happened to Tammy, I’m not sure I can go on. Not seeing her is one thing, but not having her in the world is another. I can’t bear that. Knowing that she’s out there somewhere, living, breathing, existing on the same planet as I do is something that’s gotten me by on many a rough night. If anything happens to her, I’m really fucking scared of what might happen to me.

"Hello, Walsh?" Mel answers on the other end.

"Yeah, hey. Is everything all right? I mean, did you hear from Tammy or something?"

"Yeah. I just talked to her this afternoon. She’s in Austin, getting gigs for that girl you guys met."

The air leaves my lungs in a whoosh, and I sit on the edge of the doorframe to the car, struggling to regain my composure.

"Okay," I say shakily. "So, um, what’s up?"

"Are you okay, Walsh?" she asks, concern oozing through the phone line.

I gulp air like it’s going out of style. "Yeah, yeah. Just finished work. I’m a little out of breath."

"Oh, okay." She seems utterly placated by this lie on my part. "Listen, I have something I want to talk to you about, and I’d like you to keep an open mind and just hear me out."

"Go for it, Little D. You know I’m always here for you."

"Thanks." She pauses, and I can visualize her collecting herself."It’s been almost a year now, Walsh. And, um, we—Joss and I—we’d like to see you." She rushes on, obviously nervous about this idea. "He would have called you himself, but he was afraid you wouldn’t answer. We just thought we could come there for a day or two, see Tammy, and maybe get a cup of coffee or something."

"A cup of coffee, huh?" I answer, surprised that I don’t feel rage and resentment at their request. I don’t feel much of anything, actually. "It’s a long ways to come for a cup of coffee. I got to say too, Mel, the coffee out here isn’t much. I mean, you live in Portland for fuck’s sake—coffee kingdom. You’re bound to be disappointed with the Folgers they serve here."

"Walsh…" she sighs.

"What exactly is this coffee date about anyway?" I ask.

"There’s something we’d like to share with you, and we’d also just really like to see you. Can you please let us do that?" Her voice slips even lower. "He misses you so much," she nearly whispers.

My chest tightens. I miss him too. The guy I thought he was. The guy I spent most of my life with. The man who slept with Tammy? Not so much. I can’t help but wonder which of them I’ll get when we go for coffee.

I don’t have it in me to battle this crap anymore though. If any of us are ever going to move on, we need to face it. All of it. I’ve made a promise to stop denying shit, and things with Joss were definitely left in a state of total and utter shit.

"Yeah, okay," I tell her. "Come on down. We’ll get coffee—or something."

Her relief is nearly palpable. "Thank you, Walsh. Thank you so much. I’ll email you when we get our flight reservations."

"Yep. I’ll look for it."