Blessed Tragedy(4)

"It's just me, Mads," my brother Mark replied. If I was going to have an ally while I was home, it would be him. We were always close growing up; partly because we were only sixteen months apart and partly because he came close to understanding me. It didn't mean he stuck up for me, but he understood how I felt.

We were the two square pegs in our little family, both living our own lies. The difference between us is that I refused to hide my authentic self once I was liberated. When that caused problems at home, I simply stayed away. In the past year, I tried making an effort to stay in contact but I couldn't imagine a time when things wouldn't feel forced with my family.

Mark took a different road. He still visited regularly, made it home for every holiday and never shared his secret. I know the truth. I think I've always known on some level. The rest of the family would know too, if they weren't so content to bury their heads in the sand. In some ways, I wonder if me being so set on my ambitions has made it easier for Mark to maintain his other life. If so, I'd do it all over again in a heartbeat.

The door was barely open when Mark wrapped his arms around me leading me towards the bed. "You can't hide up here all week, you know," Mark scolded as he started picking at non-existent lint on my sweater. "Eventually, you'll have to talk to them."

He patted the mattress for me to sit next to him. “Don't listen to him. You know it's how he is and it's not going to change,” he stated. “It's been a rough week. If I'd known they hadn't called you, you know I would have.”

When I didn't respond, Mark cupped my face in his hands forcing me to look at him. “You know that, right?”

“I know,” I sobbed. “But why didn't they call me? I'm honestly not sure there's anything they can say that will change how I'm feeling right now. It might be the first time I've truly hated anyone.”

It was the truth. I hated Matt. I hated him for not calling me. I hated him for insinuating that it was my fault I didn't get here in time. I hate him for being a judgmental ass who can't accept me for who I am. I hated him for making me hate myself for not somehow knowing and being here despite the lack of communication.

“I'm gonna head back down,” Mark said, “You going to be okay?”

“Yeah, I'll be fine. I think I'm going to call Colton to see where they're at. It feels weird being here while they're on the road,” I admitted. It was worse than weird; it felt like this was confirmation that they could go on without me. It was the first time since I'd joined the band that I doubted my ability.

“Hey, you know they're missing the hell out of you. Tonight's show will probably suck ass because you're not there to keep it together,” Mark laughed. “And why didn't you bring those sexy beasts home with you?”

My eyes got wide. “You have met them, right? Someone wouldn't come out of it alive if I put them in the same room with Matt and Mike. Plus, I couldn't ask them to cancel. We're moving our way up the lineup, canceling shows would be career suicide.”

Mark and I laughed together as we choreographed the potential blood bath that would ensue if one of our older brothers said the wrong thing to my adopted brothers. All were fiercely protective of me in different ways and thought they knew what was best for me.

“Okay baby girl. I'm going to head down. You tell Colton I'm still holding out hope for him.” He slid through the door just in time to miss the Hello Kitty pillow I whipped in his direction.



Guess you're sleeping. Call me when you get up. Mark sends his love.



I set the alarm on my phone and laid down to catch up on some of the sleep I lost on the bus. As typical for my luck, the phone chimed as soon as I started to drift off.



Reception's spotty right now. Will call as soon as I have more bars. How are you holding up? The bed's empty without you. Tell Mark where he can stick his love. On second thought, don't.



I laughed at the last statement. It was no secret that Mark found Colton drool-worthy and Colt was good about taking it in stride. I couldn't blame my brother for his little crush; there was something hypnotic about Colton's icy blue eyes. It's the same thing that has him fighting his way through a flock of groupies after every concert.



I hate it here. Haven't seen Mike yet, Matt's an ass like always. Dad's holding up the best he can. Miss you already.



Shortly after noon, I decided it was time to face reality. I would have much rather stayed holed up in the Pepto-palace but I needed to be there for my dad, even if that meant putting up with Matt's digs for the next few days. I took one last look in the mirror hanging over my white dresser and dragged myself to join the men of the family.

“Hey Moo,” Dad called out as soon as he heard me coming down the stairs. The conversation the four of them were having ceased as soon as I walked into the living room.

Mike looked at me with the same critical eye I had received from Matt. I don't think they expected me to put in the effort to tone down my typical style. Knowing that I had gone to such lengths nearly rendered them speechless.

“Lookin' good, Maddie-Moo,” Mike said as he turned back to the papers in front of him. “Nice you could make it.”

“Gee, thanks Mikey,” I said sarcastically. It's not that I didn't believe the words. I'm confident enough in myself to know I look good. I just hate that I had to turn myself into some pop-star wannabe to win their approval.

Dad looked from me to Mike to Matt and back again. “Guys, I need you to cut your sister some slack. She's here now and that's all that matters.” I felt tears welling up behind my eyes knowing that my dad was sticking up for me. I instantly hated myself that I'd been so unwilling to make the exact changes to my outward appearance that I had this morning for so long. It would have saved everyone at least some of the heartache.

“Thanks Daddy,” I whispered giving him a hug before curling into one end of the loveseat.

This time, the non-verbal conversation included my two oldest brothers and my dad. I hated it when they did this even though it had been going on most of my life. It's like the Neumann men had their own secret language I wasn't privy to.

Finally, Matt cleared his throat. “Maddie, can I talk to you in the kitchen for a minute?”

Shit. The last thing I wanted to do was listen to another one of my brother's lectures about how selfish I am and how I only bring my family pain. But I couldn't exactly refuse since the other three men in my family were all watching cautiously.

“Sure,” I said crossing my arms in front of me as I followed him through the house. Deep breaths, you can do this. Remember that you're here for mom.

Matt ushered me to into a chair around the antique oak dining table that had been in the breakfast nook since we were kids. If I closed my eyes, I could almost smell the oatmeal cookies mom used to bake every weekend while I sat in the nook coloring.

When Matt sat across from me, he had the same look on his face that he used to get when he'd gotten a lecture from Dad and he needed to make things right. This wasn't Matt the disciplinarian prick sitting in front of me; it was my big brother who still wasn't so big he could escape dad's wrath.

“I need to apologize to you.” The way he was chewing his lip and avoiding eye contact told me he had, in fact, received one of dad's infamous lectures.

“Need to or want to, Matthew?” I asked. No way in hell was I going to make this easy on him. If he was only doing this because dad told him he was supposed to, he could take his empty words and go to hell.

“I want to,” he admitted. I could only imagine how bitter those words tasted as they crossed his lips. When it came to admitting he was wrong Matt was my mentor in stubbornness. “I shouldn't have come at you the way I did this morning. We're just all really stressed and I knew you were going to be pissed that we didn't call. I figured that if I came at you first, you wouldn't go after dad. And I didn't want you going after him because it's not his fault either.”

I could count on one hand the number of apologies I had ever received from Matt. I could remember every one of them and why it was earned. This was, by far, the most he'd ever said when trying to make things right.

“Thank you,” I said curtly. I was still pissed off and hurt but trying to remain civil since he came to me. “But I still don't get it. I'll never get to say goodbye to her. You guys took that away from me.”

Matt took three deep breaths and stared out the window to our mom's backyard rose garden. “I don't expect you to understand. And I can't tell you how sorry I am that you didn't get to say goodbye to mom. But you need to know it's what she wanted. She made us promise to not call you until last night. And well, you know how that turned out.”

I turned and doubled over with my arms resting against my knees. How could my own mother have hated me so much that she made her husband and her sons promise they wouldn't call to tell me she was dying? What kind of f*cked up logic is that? And if that's how she really felt, why in the hell had I left the tour to come to her funeral?