The Redemption(54)

Looking over, he’s pulling another cigarette from his shirt pocket and a lighter from the front of his jeans. He lights up, then tilts his head back and blows. “It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy.”

“What is?”

“I am.”

Hoping my words are not lost to the wind, I whisper, “You don’t have to be.”

“I don’t know any other way.”

I bend down and pick up a seashell. When he squats down next to me, I say, “You do. Just sometimes you get lost.”

“I need you to help me find my way back.”

My eyes meet his and in the moonlight of Miami, I reply, “Okay.”

He nods. It’s small, but it’s an understanding passing between us, an agreement between two hearts.





I didn’t know what I had agreed to with Dex, but I left Miami knowing it entailed more than just words. Actions and support would be included. In what way, I would soon discover.

Burnout is a big problem for bands on the road. Fortunately, they had a four day break in New Orleans, which I’m sure they needed. The headlines didn’t thrill me. Gossip blogs had posted photos of them playing an impromptu concert at Preservation Hall. A few drunken pics on Bourbon Street bothered me. They didn’t say Dex hooked up with anyone, but how would they know really.

A knot forms in my stomach just thinking about it. It’s a grounded fear since we haven’t dealt with the Firenza issue. Something is off with that situation. When I replay that morning back in my head, the whole thing just doesn’t sit right with me. Naturally, Dex having sex with her doesn’t sit right, but something about how he acted toward me in front of her still makes me doubt what I saw with my own eyes.

The way she nudged his back… and how he had his back to her in the first place.

The look in his eyes, the fear, wasn’t one of fear of losing me, but more of shame.

He makes me feel weak when I need to be strong because I know he cared about me. But emotionally, I’m in no position to ask the questions that need to be asked, not strong enough to hear the answers. So I need to stop guessing at what his motives were because that’s the one thing that was clear. I punch my pillow to fluff it, wishing I could stop thinking about why he hasn’t called me either. I’m weak.

Resting my head down on the couch, I try to block out my thoughts by listening to the boys playing in Neil’s room, hoping to sneak in a quick nap.

But as soon as I close my eyes, I hear, “Mom.”

Gradually opening one eye, then the other, I find myself face to face with Neil and CJ. Neil flashes four postcards in front of me. “Dex is home. I want to go to his house and play.”

“How do you know?” Sitting up slowly, I take one of the postcards. “What is this?”

“We got letters from him.”

“What? You did? When?” I flip Chicago’s postcard over and read: Hey Buddies, I’m in the Windy City today. Looking forward to hanging with you guys again. Take care of your mom, Dex.

Stunned by what I’m seeing, I anxiously pull the next postcard from his hands—Atlanta—and read: Neil, the crowd at Chastain Park was so cool. One day I’m gonna bring you to a concert so you can play drums with me on stage. CJ, hope you’re keeping up with your alphabet. We’ll practice hitting rhythms to the alphabet song when I return. Take care of your mom, Dex.

The handwriting is messy, but legible—a lot like Dex these days. Grabbing postcard three, I read: Nashville: Hey Buddies, miss you guys. I’ve bought you each a surprise, but you have to be good for your mom to get it. I’m gonna check with her too, so no fibbing. Hope you’re practicing your paradiddles and rhythms. Take care of your mom, Dex.

Neil snatches them away from me. “Mom, these are mine. Dex sent’em to me.”

Somewhere while reading postcards two and three, I started holding my breath. My chest now aches as a consequence when I exhale. “When did he send them?” I ask.

“I dunno.” CJ grabs Atlanta from Neil and runs around the couch singing his alphabet. Even he knows what they say. Beth or Neil must have read them to him. Neil sits on the coffee table in front of me. “Beth gave them to us.”

She leaves my mail in the basket in the kitchen, but I forgot to check it over the last few weeks. Too much other stuff on my mind. “Why didn’t you tell me about them sooner?”

“Am I in trouble?”

“No,” I reply, shaking my head. “Why would you be in trouble?”

“I dunno. Just asking cuz you’re using that voice you use when I’m in trouble.”

I relax a little. “Sorry. I’m just kind of blown away that he sent you guys these. What does the last one say?”

Neil turns it over in his hands and my heartbeats pick up when I see the city name on the front—Miami. He reads, “Dear Neil and CJ, almost home for a short break in the tour. One more city to go. Keep practicing. If you have the single paradiddle down, I’ll show you something called a fill. See you soon and take care of your mom, Dex.” He looks up at me and adds, “See? He should be home.”

The only city left is New Orleans. “Did Beth check the mail yesterday?” I ask, standing up.

“I don’t think so. Can I?”

“C’mon, let’s walk down and get it.”