Blue Saturn (32 page)

“I came for Mikey,” she says quickly. “I wouldn’t want you leaving him with one of your disease ridden whores, so…” She smiles up at me. God, it’s good to see her smile, even if she is throwing my past in my face.

“No chance of that happening,” I say.

We’re still smiling at each other, Lyndsay looking up into my eyes and I’m looking down into hers. And it’s taking every bit of self control I have not to swoop her into my arms and kiss her senseless.

The moment I have this thought, someone else swoops in and lifts her off the ground, spinning her around. I step to the side and watch as Gavin kisses both her cheeks before putting her down.

Lyndsay is laughing and her cheeks have turned red. “It’s good to see you too.” She looks around the room. “Grace is still sick?”

“She has an ear infection,” Gavin answers.

“I’ll call Jasmine later.” Lyndsay looks disappointed, she was obviously hoping Jasmine would be along for the tour. Up until last night, she and Grace were coming but as Gavin says, Grace is really not well enough to be getting on an aeroplane.

Steve comes forward now and gives Lyndsay a brief hug. “It’s good to see you again. I’m sorry you’ve been sick.”

“Thanks Steve. I’m on the mend now, I’m feeling much better.” She looks over to where Paul is standing in the corner. “Hi Paul,” she says. Paul nods and smiles at her but doesn’t move to greet her any further. “Just like old times,” she says quietly and looks back to me.

Like old times? When every member of Blue Saturn was an arse to her, all except Gavin? Or just like old times meaning when we were together and happy?

“Lyndsay, come look at the planes,” Mikey says and grabs her hand and pulls her toward the window. “Dad says that one is our plane. Can I sit next to you? We can watch a movie or something.”

“Of course I’ll sit next to you,” she says as she sits down in a chair. She takes a deep breath and relaxes back. Then she smiles. And that one smile gives me all the hope I need. Even if things don’t work out the way I’m hoping they will, at least she’s happy to be here with Mikey and I hope with me. That’s a start at least.

We’re sharing a three bedroom apartment in Sydney. I’ve insisted that Lyndsay take the master bedroom because it’s at the back of the suite, away from the living areas and it’ll be quiet there in case she needs to rest. I hadn’t thought about that when I asked her to come along. I know the cancer’s gone, but she still isn’t back to her usual energetic self. It’s just after 7 P.M. and she’s been yawning intermittently since mid afternoon. She looks tired, dark shadows are beginning to show around her eyes.

“Are you okay?” I ask her as I enter the kitchen in our suite. She’s filling the kettle with water. She has taken off her wig and is wearing a bandana over her head.

“Yes, thanks Mike.” She puts the kettle on the base and flicks it on. “Would you like a coffee?”

“I’ll have a tea,” I say, knowing that will surprise her. I always drank coffee but gave it up along with the rest of my “habits.” I never really liked coffee; I only drank it because it gave me a surge of energy I needed to get moving in the mornings. Now I rely on other means to get me up and going, like my responsibilities toward Mikey. Being a single father is damn hard work.

“Tea,” she says. “I’m having chamomile tea because I’m off caffeine now. But there’s Earl Gray or English Breakfast,” she says holding up the small selection of complimentary tea bags.

“Either one will be fine,” I say before she yawns again. “You know what, you go sit down and I’ll make the tea.”

“No it’s fine,” she says. “I can make cups of tea, and then I’ll sit down.”

I’ve just put Mikey to bed. I spent an hour with him reading stories and playing the guitar a little bit, hoping that time would give Lyndsay a chance to relax. He’s getting pretty good now. He has his own little guitar - I had it custom made because Mikey’s so small - but the best thing is that he loves to play. I never have to ask him to practice. Often he’ll pick up his guitar and beg me to play with him.

She pours hot water into the mugs and asks me how I take my tea.

“Weak, black. No sugar,” I answer and laugh when she screws up her nose at me.

“Sounds awful,” she says as she dips the teabag a few times before she pulls it out and throws it in the bin.

“It is,” I reply. “But it’s better than the alternative.

She gives me a puzzled look so I explain. “Before rehab, I always smoked at night. Some nights I’d go through half a pack. Now, I drink horrible tea.” I shrug and she hands me my drink.

She goes through the living area of the suite and out onto the balcony. I don’t know whether she wants to be alone or not but I don’t particularly want to leave her alone so I follow her out.

She’s sitting on one of the lounges. Our balcony overlooks the harbour. We can see the Opera House and the Harbour Bridge. I take a seat in the lounge next to her and look out over the water.

“It’s nice isn’t, the fresh air,” she says. “Sometimes, during my first few treatments of chemo, I’d feel like I was suffocating in that room. I’d feel like ripping the IV from my hand and running outside. I had to fight really hard to control that urge. Now, I sit outside as often as I can, just breathing.”

I’ve been waiting for an opportunity to ask her about the cancer, but I didn’t want to intrude. But considering she’s bought it up, I decide now’s the time to ask.

“When did you find out you had cancer?” I ask.

“Seven months after you...after we…” she trips over her words. “After I left,” she finally settles on. “I hadn’t been feeling well, I was…” she stops talking and laughs. “Do you know Lenny Starr?”

“The actor?”

“Yeah.”

“I know of him, but I’ve never met him.”

“He guest starred in two episodes of ‘The Unfallen’ and happened to mention to Levi that he was looking for a nanny to look after his kid while he shot a movie in London. Anyway, to cut a long story short, I went with him and Lenny Junior to London and on night ten, Lenny comes stumbling into the kitchen of the house he’d rented, confesses his undying love for me and then puked down the front of my shirt.” She laughs and I laugh with her, although that must’ve been awful. “Needless to say, I was on the next plane back to Melbourne.” She stops laughing and takes a deep breath. “It was during my time in London that I first developed the symptoms. It started off as a heavy bloated feeling in my tummy and I didn’t want to eat, even though I was really hungry. And then, once I got home, I had some bleeding so I went to my doctor, she ordered a few tests and five days later I was talking to an oncologist about my treatment options.”

Instinctively I reach out and touch her leg, just above the knee. “I’m really sorry you had to go through that on your own.”

“I wasn’t alone,” she says looking down at my hand on her leg. “Aunty B was with me the day I got the test results. And then Meredith flew in for the surgery and my first two treatments.” She looks up at me. “Kyle took some time off work and came and spent two weeks with me. It was really good to spend that time with him.” She looks sad for a moment and then her posture changes. “Anyway, I remind myself every day that I’m alive and I’m well and I shouldn’t dwell on the past. Tomorrow is a new day.”

I smile at her and squeeze her leg. “It sure is.”

“Tomorrow is a big day for you,” she says, changing the subject. “Your record is being released. I can’t wait to hear it.”

Tomorrow morning we perform our third single from the album before it officially becomes “available.” “You can listen to it now, if you want. It’s on my iPod.”

“Really?” she asks, her eyes widening in excited anticipation.

“Of course. You should get to hear it before everyone else, you’re our biggest fan.” I stand up, hearing her quiet laugh as I go inside.

I’m nervous for her to hear this record. It’s a really personal album. There are songs about Mikey and mateship. But there are songs about forgiveness and love. And there is one song, the last song on the album, which we will never release as a single and I will never perform it live. That song is meant purely for Lyndsay.

I hand my iPod and earphones to Lyndsay. “It’s ready to go,” I say.

She looks up at me and bites her bottom lip. “Listen with me,” she says, while holding out one of the ear-buds to me. “Pull the lounge closer.”

She’s asked me to be closer to her and I’m not going to refuse that. I settle down next to her, put the earphone in my ear and sit back to listen.

We don’t talk while we listen. After each song, Lyndsay either smiles or smiles and nods or says ‘I really like that one’. One song, the song about Mikey got a ‘that’s beautiful’. But now I’m starting to feel nervous, because after the song that’s currently playing - which is a song Gavin wrote about a road trip gone wrong after the driver hits a pedestrian - Lyndsay’s song will play. She’s smart enough to figure out the song is about her.

The lyrics had taken me about five minutes to write, the music took about fifteen. I wrote both while I was in rehab. I remember the day we recorded it. I got it in one and at the end of the song, my voice breaks. Anton had wanted to re-record it, but I insisted it stay the way it was. That song evoked emotion in me and I don’t know if I’ll ever sing it again, but there was no way I was going to polish away the sentiment.

The song that is playing finishes and Lyndsay looks at me. “Gav wrote that song didn’t he?”

I nod.

“It’s good.” She settles back as the final song begins.

I take a deep breath to calm my rapidly beating heart and slowly exhale. Then I close my eyes and listen.

You came into my life

And tore down my wall

Like the lioness you are

You attacked you mauled

You raised your voice

And I raised my hand

And when you screamed

I left a broken man

I made a promise

One I tried to keep

And when failure came

I sunk down deep

You lifted me up

You gave me hope

With you beside me

I knew I could cope

Your beauty impaled me

Your eyes took me to heights

Your voice intoxicated

You are my drug, my love, my life

We danced the night away

And early in the morn

I held your hand in mine

Baby, I wanted so much more

And when disaster struck

With all I could have lost

I swore that I would tell you

No matter the cost

I went away

To make a change

If it meant your love

My past I’d happily exchange

When I came home

I took you in my arms

And when we kissed

I had no cause for alarm

Because your love for me impaled me

Your love took me to heights

Your love intoxicated

You are my drug, my love, my life

I had the power to hurt you

And I used all my strength to do it

And when you walked away from me

I knew I could do nothing to undo it

And as I lie alone at night

And fight this emptiness

I try to figure out a way

To bring back your happiness

My love for you impales me

My love for you takes me to heights

My love for you intoxicates

You are my drug, my love, my life

You are my drug, my love, my life

The songs ends and my heart has resumed its fast tempo. I take a few more breaths before I look across at Lyndsay.

She hasn’t moved. She is sitting perfectly still. Her body is motionless except for the tears that are running down her cheeks.

Crap.

“Lyndsay, it wasn’t meant to make you cry,” I say.

“What...what were you expecting? You wrote a song about us.”

I reach out to her and take her hands in mine. “I’m sorry,” I say.

She looks down at our hands and then back to my eyes. “Don’t be sorry. It’s a really beautiful song.”

She’s right. It is a beautiful song. While most of our songs are rock, this one is a lot slower and softer. The music changes a lot throughout. There was talk at one stage of adding an orchestra of strings to the background, but I didn’t want to complicate the sound that far. So instead, we dropped the electric and base guitars, opted for an acoustic sound and I played the piano on the recording.

The finished product...well… it almost made me cry too.

She pulls one hand free from mine and wipes her cheeks. “I really like the album. I think it’s your best one yet.”