CHAPTER 3
First Impressions
— Sadie —
10 YEARS EARLIER
The first time I met him, I could just tell. We had something in common. I’d known the guy for all of five minutes but there was something about his eyes. They were blue, like the ocean—penetrating and deep in thought. They looked haunted…by someone, or something. And his hands! They were strong and steady as they moved gracefully across the keys. He was playing the most beautiful song I’d ever heard. A ballad. A vocal melody came to life in my head and immediately, I wanted to write. He moved forward and back to the rhythm of the music. His blonde hair fell into his eyes. He closed them. I watched his hands again. It was clear he bit his nails. He had a beauty mark near the knuckle of his pointer finger and a tattoo of a compass and an anchor running up his forearm. He was pale. Muscular. A total hipster. Like straight out of New York.
Josh opened his eyes and caught me staring at him. My stomach leapt. He smiled at me over his keyboard. I gave him an awkward smile back and instinctively leaned closer to Andrew. We had left Logan with my mom for the afternoon so I wouldn’t have to meet and play music with an online stranger all by myself; in case Josh turned out to be a serial killer or something. My guitar case hung over my shoulder. I adjusted it and tried to forget my nerves. I’d been playing guitar for 7 years but I’d never jammed another musician before. He stopped playing and looked at us.
“That was great, dude!” Andrew said. I was grateful Andrew was there. He didn’t get anxious around new people.
“Thanks, man.” Josh smiled, then nodded towards my guitar. “You ready to whip that bad boy out?”
I stared at him like a deer in headlights and tried to place his accent. He clearly wasn’t a native, but no one moved to North Carolina unless it was by force. I wondered what his story was. “Uh, yeah,” I sputtered out.
He chuckled. “Don’t worry, I don’t bite. You guys can take a seat if you want.” He gestured towards the coach. A microphone was already hooked up in front of it, waiting for me. I slid the guitar case off my shoulder and got my pedalboard ready.
Andrew sat down on the opposite side of the mic. “Sadie showed me the song y’all worked on.” We’d written it over Facebook messages and phone recordings.
“Yeah? What’d you think?”
I pulled out my guitar and plugged it into the amp.
“Sounded awesome!”
“We just need a bassist now.”
I sat behind the mic and pulled the pedalboard closer.
Josh looked to me. “You ready?”
I positioned the guitar, exhaled and nodded. “Yeah.” Here goes nothing. I kicked on the loop pedal and started playing. It was a pretty riff—melancholic. We were going for an ambient post rock feel. After two measures, Josh added a bassline from the keyboard. I pressed the loop pedal with my foot again and began playing the lead. I let the music take over and closed my eyes. After another two measures, I harmonized into the microphone as he added embellishments. He looped that and then added a soundscape as I sang the first verse. During the chorus, he added a second lead. It evoked something that resembled yearning. I was impressed by his technique and the smoothness of his playing. As I sang the second verse, I was quick to notice that my parts were simple in comparison to his. Our eyes met again. He looked down. I pivoted to the side and sang to my husband. Andrew and I were former high school sweethearts. I’d written the lyrics for him. He smiled, whipped out his phone and recorded a video of us.
Two weeks later, I went back to Josh’s house to practice another song we’d written remotely. That time, I went alone. “Where’s Andrew at?” he asked. He took a sip of his Coors Light and placed it on the small table next to his keyboard.
“He took Logan to his coworker’s house to watch a football game,” I said as a pit formed in my stomach. Andrew and I had been inseparable for 6 years. And I mean inseparable. We weren’t the type of couple to socialize without the other. We shared the same group of friends, the same exercise schedule, the same meal planning and daily routine, the same everything. We woke up together and went to bed together each day without fail. All of his coworkers knew me, not only by name but by face. I worked at home but my coworkers knew all about him and of course, Jake—who was both my cousin and boss, knew him well. Normally, I would have went with Andrew to his coworker’s house even though I despised football. Going somewhere alone was new territory. It was foreign to me.
“How old is Logan?”
“He’ll be two in December.”
“Oh, what day?”
“The 16th.”
“Mine’s on the 21st. Are the terrible two’s as bad as they say?”
I laughed. “I’ll let you know in four months.”
“I found a bassist,” he said as he sat down on the bench in front of the keyboard. “His name’s Travis. He’s gonna write to the songs. He’ll be here next practice to see if we like it.” He began to play a song I’d never heard before. After a moment, it sounded like it was played by a four piece group.
I stood there dumbly, guitar half out of its case, and watched in awe. “How do you do that?”
The music stopped as he slid his hands down to his lap. He turned to me, head tilted. A smirk flashed on his face. “What?”
“You’re like a one man band. Do you even need us?” He chuckled. My mouth was hung open. I snapped it closed.
“It’s not that hard. Here.” He gestured for me to come. I leaned my guitar against the coffee table and crept up to him. He showed me two chords. “Play that, an octave lower.” I copied his movement, farther down on the keys. “Then, switch to this.” He played three more chords. I moved my hand and tried to copy him. He chuckled and reached for me. “Like this.” My stomach leapt and my cheeks burned as his skin made contact with mine. He adjusted my fingers, then quickly let go.
I played the riff slowly and clumsily. A few attempts later and my movements became smoother. Goosebumps formed on my arms when he began to play a lead. “Sing something,” he said after a few measures.
I laughed too loudly and pulled my hand to my chest, embarrassed. “Why don’t you?”
“Oh, I can’t sing for shit.”
“No?”
He laughed and shook his head. “No. And that, is why I need you.”
“Well, let’s get to it then.” I picked up my guitar and placed the strap over my shoulder. I adjusted the mic and felt his eyes on me. I looked over.
He smiled. “Ready?”
Call it intuition, a coincidence or hopeless naivety—but I again had the sense this near stranger and I were a lot alike.
Twelve Weeks Later
ANDREW: I’m at the emergency room. Glen dropped me off. Had an allergic reaction. Please don’t worry. I will be okay, it’s not too bad. Will call as soon as possible. Love you.
My phone was on silent. The text was sent at 2:35. It was now 3:12. I called him—just in case he was able to pick up. It rang. And rang. And rang, until it went to voicemail. Of course. I had trouble with hospitals. Ever since I was young. And it was no wonder. It didn’t take long. Within seconds, my heart hammered in my chest. My hands shook. Suddenly, I was a lion in a tiny cage. I shot up from my desk and paced around. I pictured Andrew being seen in triage. How bad was the reaction? What was going on? What was happening? I should have been there with him.
There were other people I could have called. People who’ve seen me have a panic attack before. Chris. My dad. Either of them would have been supportive. But I didn’t call them. I rushed to my contacts and tapped his name. It rang three times. “What’s up?”
“Josh!” His voice filled me with relief. For a split second. Until I realized I had no idea what to say. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I called. Andrew’s at the ER and I’m freaking out!”
“You don’t have to apologize. What’s wrong with him?”
“He has a nut allergy. He must have been exposed at work.”
“Will he be okay?”
“I don’t know. I think so? He said not to worry.” I laughed stupidly. “But here I am, worrying!”
“Are you meeting him there?”
I looked back at Logan and sighed. He stood at the baby gate in nothing but a diaper. In his hands, was a toy guitar. He lifted it over his head and flung it across the room. It landed with a bang as he walked away without second thought. “I can’t. I have Logan and I’m supposed to be working.” I picked up the guitar and placed it on the bed. I stepped over the gate and went to Logan with his pants and shirt. The pediatrician said it was just a phase. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called. Hospitals and I don’t mix.”
His voice softened. “Sadie, you can always call me. We’re friends.”
“Thanks, Josh.” I got Logan’s shirt back on, but not the pants.
“Want a distraction?”
“Yes. Please.” One leg. Two legs.
“Travis found us a gig.” Our first show.
“Really?” I stood up. Logan tottered off, fully clothed. “When is it?”
“At an art gallery in Breezy Point. It’s next month. On my birthday, actually.”
“That’s awesome!” I tried to sound enthusiastic but if I was honest—in that moment, I could not care less. I couldn’t shake the jitters. I couldn’t forget Andrew was in the hospital. The worst place he could be. “I hope I’m ready,” I said without emotion. “I’ve never played in public before.”
“You’re ready. You gotta believe in yourself.”
“I’ll try.” There was a pause as I stood in a daze. I whipped around and paced in the opposite direction. Anxiety, anxiety, go away. My thoughts went back to Andrew. Where was he—in an exam room? When would he be able to call? Was he okay? Maybe I should pack up and take Logan. It would only be a 20 minute drive. Plus 10 minutes to get ready and out the door. The work day was nearly over. Jake would understand.
“You alright?” Josh read my mind.
I exhaled. “Um, no, not really.” I laughed again. Nerves.
He was quiet for a second, then he began to sing—softly, almost speaking the lyrics. “‘You’re all I want, pain’s got you caught.’” They were my lyrics. “‘I’ll learn, I can. Fall in the end. Speak the words, you deserve.’”
By the time he was done, my face was warm. The room was hazy. I found myself smiling. When I showed Andrew that song, he laughed. “How do you get caught by pain?” he had asked. “And what kind of pain are we talking about here?” My eyes nearly rolled to the back of my head. My husband—he either made me die with laughter or crush my teeth from grinding them so hard. I was flattered Josh had actually listened and remembered my lyrics. “Thank you,” I finally said. “That was really nice.”
He chuckled. “Told you I couldn’t sing for shit.”
I smiled wider, forgetting myself. “No. No, you were fine.” My phone beeped. My heart jolted as I rushed to see. “Josh, I gotta go! Andrew’s calling. Thanks so much, bye!” I switched the call before I could hear his response.
Andrew was perfectly fine. But I still asked for every single, minuscule detail: what did the doctor say? How bad was the swelling? Where exactly did the exposure happen? Who was with him when it happened? Where was his EpiPen? Should I call the doctor to have a refill sent to the pharmacy? Was he coming home early? Who had driven him back to work to get his car? When would he be home? I asked him question after question. I asked him for details that didn’t matter until it felt like I had been there with him the entire time. Only then did my anxiety fully subside. I wasn’t exactly sure why, but this type of anxious questioning was routine and Andrew answered me dutifully and patiently—without suspicion or an edge in his voice. We stayed on the phone until he walked through the door.
It was like being demoted. I’d had something to call mine. And then it was gone. We sat on the tiny sofa in the dark half finished basement of my mother’s house. The room smelled musty and the air was sticky. I tried not to notice as I took a careful bite of my dinner and counted. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. I chewed with purpose and swallowed begrudgingly. Logan stepped around the room with an inquisitive look. He glanced back at the TV mounted to the wall where a man and a woman discussed their plans for renovating a kitchen. The Home & Garden channel was a welcomed respite. I took mental notes. How much longer would it take? I was coming close to losing my mind. Logan wandered off to the corner of the room where his toys were. “Josh asked if I’m free to practice every other Sunday and a couple of Monday nights before the show,” I said. “Like four practices total.” My eyes were glued to the screen but by then, I was taking nothing in.
“Sunday afternoons?”
“Yeah. After church.”
Andrew shifted beside me. “That’s fine. I’ll stay with Logan.”
My heart skipped a beat. Panic rose through my chest. It was just another trigger. I looked over and tilted my head. “What will you do while I’m gone, love?”
“Hang out at home,” he said with a shrug. “The games are on Sundays. The boy and I will watch together. I’ll teach him everything he needs to know about football. Would you like that, Logan?”
Logan looked over at his daddy, smiled then picked up the small beach ball we’d blown up for him earlier in the day. “Ball!” he cried out.
“Yes, football!”
Logan put the ball to his mouth, turned away and stared up at the screen.
“See? He’s already pumped and ready to watch!” Andrew was just being Andrew. I was supposed to thank him, chuckle at our son’s adorableness and be happy they would have time together. I should have done a lot of things.
Instead, I sighed. “What about Monday nights?” Although I already knew the answer.
“RAW, of course.”
Of course. WWE’s Monday Night Raw was part of our routine. Andrew loved WWE. I’d bought tickets to Hell in a Cell that October for his birthday. It was at the Philips Arena in Atlanta—six and a half hours from where my mother lived in Surf City, North Carolina. We made a 3 day getaway trip out of it and got back home in time for Halloween, so Logan could go trick or treating. I didn’t watch wrestling before I met Andrew. In fact—I typically despised sports, or whatever pro wrestling was, in the same way an insecure spouse would hate a friend that could maybe, just maybe, steal their partner. But WWE was surprisingly entertaining and the live events, even more so. I’d lost my voice by the end of the night due to all the screaming.
I chewed my lip mindlessly then took another reluctant bite of my food. After, I snuck outside. The dark edge of the yard was the only place I could go without being seen. It was just another thing to hate about staying in my mother’s house. When I came back in, my eyes were lined with tears and there was a burn in the back of my throat. Andrew’s face fell when he noticed me. “Baby…”
I shook my head and walked away.
“When do you see Ellen next?” he called out after me. I could hear the worry in his voice. He always acted like Ellen, my therapist, had all the answers and could save me from myself. I was an eager client. Eager to learn. Eager to grow, but still…I was unsure of the process. Surely I was hopeless and doomed to fail, wasn’t I?
“I have an appointment tomorrow,” I said and grabbed the gummy vitamins off my desk. I took two, then one extra. But if I was being honest with myself, it’s not like they really made a difference.
My face was stuck to the pavement the first time Andrew saw me. He was in math class when a guy next to the window hollered out, “Y’all, there’s a girl passed out on the ground!” and everyone ran over to watch. Within seconds, I was surrounded by security guards and hall monitors. Chris was crouched down over me with his hand placed protectively over mine.
How embarrassing.
The adults thought it was the heat, initially, until I admitted I’d downed a bottle of cough syrup and four shots of liquor in the bathroom the period before. I found the shot bottles in my mother’s closet that morning. Pair all that with the fact I didn’t eat for two days and it’s no wonder I passed out. My reasoning when they later asked in the nurse’s office? I thought it would be fun. I was suspended for three days. “Hey, you’re that girl who died!” were the first words Andrew ever spoke to me. We were in the cafeteria two weeks later.
Why he pursued me, I wasn’t sure. Even after 6 years, marriage and a baby—I still wasn’t sure. From the park bench, I watched him gently toss the football to Logan two feet away. He cheered loudly when Logan caught it. Logan let out a squeaky laugh in amazement. My eyes glistened as I smiled at my boys. Whether I understood Andrew’s pursuit or not, in that moment I remembered I was blessed.
There were steps behind me. They were getting closer. I glanced back and saw Josh walk up. He passed me and went over to them on the field. With almost no notice, Travis—the bassist, had asked us to go down to a nearby practice studio that afternoon. He wanted to record some live demos. The plan was to use them to book more shows. It was a Saturday. We usually spent Saturdays as a family, and I didn’t want to lose out on even more time with them, so Andrew offered to come along with Logan. We picked Josh up early and stopped at the park first.
“Here, toss the ball to Josh!” Andrew said.
Logan hurled the ball up in a jerky motion. It flew above their heads. I chuckled. Josh threw himself forward to catch it. They laughed as Logan clapped. I got up from the bench and strolled over. When he spotted me, Logan ran to my legs and reached his hands toward me. “Mama! Up.”
I lifted him into my arms and watched with a smile as Andrew and Josh tossed the ball back and forth. It wasn’t long until I noticed the blue tinge in Logan’s lips. I hugged him tightly and rubbed his back. “Baby, I think Logan’s cold. Did you grab his coat? I left it by the front door.”
Andrew stopped with the ball in his hands and hesitated. “It might be in the car.”
I sighed. He didn’t seem sure and it would be a long walk to the parking lot. My anxiety had kicked in full swing at the thought of walking away. Of course it had. Why, though, I did not know. Finally, I said, “I’ll go check.” But the coat wasn’t there. Not in the front seat, not in the back seat, not in the trunk. I groaned, slammed the trunk closed and stomped all the way back to the field. So much for being blessed. As I got closer, Andrew and Josh tossed the ball back and forth. Logan stood still—a rare sight. His teeth chattered. Andrew had just caught the ball when I said, “Dammit, Andrew. It’s not there. I told you to grab it before I took him to the car.”
“It was an accident,” he said with a twisted face. “I’m sorry.”
I rubbed Logan’s arms over his sweatshirt, then wrapped my arms around him. “He’s shivering. We need to go.”
“Here.” Josh pulled his own sweatshirt off and handed it to me.
“That’s really nice of you, thank you.” Andrew smiled. “See? Problem solved.”
I wasn’t impressed. Not with him, anyway. I pulled the sweatshirt over my toddler’s head. It was huge on him. The sleeves draped over his arms. I rolled up them up as best as I could. With the hood nearly covering his eyes, he reminded me of ET. He tottered off. He would be okay. But my annoyance didn’t end there. I should’ve let it go, thanked Josh, chalked Andrew’s forgetfulness up to brain fog and called it day—but this kind of thing always happened. This kind of thing annoyed the crap out of me! And when it did, I couldn’t shake it. The annoyance would eventually turn to rage and the rage would eventually be unleashed.
As much as I loved Andrew, sometimes I couldn’t stand the sight of him.
In my dream, I ran. Away from something. And towards something else. The world was in slow motion. I was surrounded by trees. Everything was bright. He was waiting for me. I stopped behind him. Slowly, he turned and met my eyes. His lips curled into a smile. Our fingers interlocked. He brought his forehead to mine. The way he looked at me—I could see his love, feel his yearning. Our noses touched. I closed my eyes. Breathed him in. Our lips met. But it wasn’t Andrew I was kissing.
It was Josh.
My mind came to the surface. My eyes flickered open. I was back in the hot, sticky basement. What the fuck was that? I wiped the sleep from my eyes and stretched in bed. At the same time, Logan stirred beside me and reached for my chest in his sleep. He didn’t breastfeed as much anymore, and that was a good thing due to my…eating habits, but neither of us seemed to want to give it up. I especially didn’t. There were too many benefits linked to extended breastfeeding. I had to stop purging. I had to get back on track. That was my only option. Logan was too important. I started feeding him and checked the time on my phone. It was still early. I placed the phone down and waited until we both drifted back to sleep.
The birthday boy wore a Mickey Mouse shirt, and a paper party hat topped with Mickey Mouse ears, as he ran around his grandmother’s living room. He looked up at the party decorations and the streamers we’d hung first thing that morning. He eyed a gift bag on the table and lifted his arms. Thankfully, it was out of reach. “Mama! Dada!” He looked back at us. “This!”
“Not yet, Lo, that’s for later,” Josh said to him. He was the first of the guests to be there, because we had to pick him up after we finished decorating. It was his present to Logan that was on the table.
My mother walked in with three bottles of red wine and headed for the kitchen. I followed her. “Wine, Mom? For a two year old’s birthday party?”
“It’s for the adults,” she said offhandedly and placed them down on the counter next to the bottles of soda and red cups.
As she walked away, I noticed we didn’t even have wine glasses. I shook my head and pulled the frosting out of the cabinet. Whatever. The cake was on top of the stove, cooled and ready. My mom didn’t have a spatula for frosting, and our stuff was in a storage unit, so I grabbed a butter knife from the drawer and got to work.
“Help yourself,” I heard Andrew say from behind me. There was a pop and the sound of liquid pouring into a cup. One of the wine bottles had already been opened.
For Logan’s first birthday, we threw a Circus themed party and dressed him up as a ringmaster. The homemade cake had two layers, was filled with chocolate pudding and covered in white frosting. I even made a bunting topper with red and yellow paper flags. I was proud of that cake and of the mini smash cake I baked for Logan. Hours of planning went into his first birthday party. Even though I’d spent just as much time planning, and even created a video montage of Logan to show our family and friends, this party felt different.
I slapped more frosting onto the cake and smeared it as carefully as I could. Part of it stuck to the knife. I sighed and pulled more frosting out of the container. There were eyes on me. Josh stood to the side holding a red cup, and watched my hands. I waited for him to look away. When he didn’t, I asked, “What?”
He smirked. “Need some help?”
“No, I’m fine.” I wiped the top of the cake with the knife. Frustration threatened to erupt when even more cake peeled off. I blinked hard and looked to the side. I wanted have the party at our own house. The house we hadn’t found yet. Would we ever get out of this godforsaken place?
“Here.” Josh pulled the knife from my hands and placed his cup on the stove.
I stepped back with a loud sigh.
Andrew walked in with Logan in his arms. “Cake smells good.”
“If only Sadie knew how to frost it.”
“I know how to frost a cake.”
Josh smiled as he effortlessly smeared more frosting over it. He met my eyes. “Didn’t look like it.”
“Oh, shut up.”
He laughed.
“You should have seen last year’s cake. It was great,” Andrew said.
I looked back at him. “Thank you, Andrew. See?”
“Was it store bought?”
I gawked, then laughed. “You’re a jerk.”
He chuckled.
The party was in full swing. My mom’s house was full of family and friends—the only people missing were Jake (who never came to anything) and Chris (who was visiting his sister out of state). Logan was busy being fussed over by guests so I sat on the couch next to Andrew. A moment later, Josh plopped down beside me. There was another red cup in his hand. “Sadie, think fast!” Patrick, my other cousin, hurled Logan’s beach ball towards me.
I yelped and covered my face. This was a common occurrence. Jake and Patrick, although protective, liked to mess with me. I was the youngest cousin—treated like the kid sister. I snuck a peek. Josh had the ball in his hand. He threw it at me. I slapped it into his lap. His cup splashed. It was the wine. He tossed the ball over my head to Andrew, who threw it back to him. I reached for it but Josh snatched it away too quickly. He threw it directly at my forehead and laughed as I cried out, “Stop!” I found it annoying, but I laughed too. I guess I didn’t realize I could do anything else. As I collected myself, I noticed Patrick eye Josh questioningly. He pressed his lips together and walked away.
When the party ended, Travis came over for practice. Josh brought his keyboard inside from my car. We figured since Josh would already be there for the party, we might as well go over the setlist after. Travis would drive him home. It was four days before our show at the gallery. As they set up their equipment in the unfinished part of the basement, Andrew and I cleaned upstairs. I threw away the three empty wine bottles and packed up the leftover cake. Andrew tore down the decorations in the living room when my mom walked in. “You and that guy seem close.”
“Who? Josh?”
She nodded.
“We’re in a band together. He’s a friend. He’s Andrew’s friend too.”
“He seemed to really like that wine.”
I didn’t know what to say to that.
When we finished, Andrew and I walked down the basement stairs. Travis and Josh jammed by the water heater. I felt a surge of anxiety, though I couldn’t be sure if it was because they were playing without me or because Andrew was about to walk away. I gave him a kiss before he went into the finished side of the basement—where our bedroom and Logan’s playroom were. I heard Andrew close the door (which made my stomach jump with nerves) as I pulled my guitar over my shoulder and sat down. The music slowly came to a stop. Josh was hunched over his keyboard. His eyes were glassy. I tilted my head. “Are you drunk?”
“He is,” Travis said with a laugh. “He can still play though.”
Josh leaned back with a goofy smile and threw up his hands. “What can I say, Travis? I’m a musical genius.”
My mouth hung open. “How much wine did you drink?”
He held up three fingers.
“Three? …Cups?”
He shook his head.
I sputtered. “Bottles…?”
“Mhmm.”
I laughed. “You drank all of the wine?”
“No one else was drinking it.” He shrugged then played a riff.
“No wonder you’re so drunk,” Travis said. He played a bass line to go along with the keyboard. “Wine hits harder.”
We weren’t too productive that night but we managed to get through the entire set. We would have 30 minutes to fill. I checked the time. I was growing anxious to get back to Andrew and Logan, but it was still pretty early, so I opened the camera on my phone. “Let’s take a video.” I’d started marketing the band on Facebook. We needed content.
“What song?” Travis asked.
“How about Endless Move?” It was our strongest song and my favorite. I looked to Josh. “You good over there?”
His glassy eyes stared ahead in a daze. He lifted his head like a weight and gave me a half nod. “Endless Move. Let’s gooo!”
“Try not to look so drunk, Josh,” Travis said.
I snickered and stood up to get the camera ready. After I sat back down, I stared at the phone screen. “Hey y’all! We’re Midnight Musings and this is our song Endless Move.”
Josh began the first verse. Only it was to the wrong song. Travis and I exchanged glances. To my side, Josh shifted closer to me. He looked me dead in the eye as he slurred out, “Any minute now!”
Travis busted out laughing.
“Wrong song, dude,” I said.
“Oh.” He dropped his hands to his sides. “My bad.”
By the third take, we nailed it.
