Boy in a Band (A Morgan Mallory story) (48 page)

             
“What did he say?”

             
“Early on he hinted at the fact that you two had slept together; you confirmed it that day in Capitola. When you stayed at the beach house those few days, he told me you were lovers, had been over the years.”

             
“He came out and said that?”

             
I was a bit surprised because Mathew kept things close to his chest.

             
“Yes, maybe not exactly like that, but he admitted you were together.”

We talked about w
hat he knew and what had really transpired over the years. He knew Mathew asked me to move, and that it hadn’t worked out. Mathew never told him why. He didn’t know he had asked me not to get married.

“I
can’t help but wonder if I decided differently, if it would have changed things. I really fought with myself about moving in with him. Gayle told me once he was like a drug to me. I wasn’t willing to give him up, but I finally did because I was afraid. Afraid he couldn’t stop all the things he was doing, especially the girls. Afraid if I tried that it wouldn’t last. I wonder if he had told me he loved me, if it would have made a difference.”

             
He listened and let me ramble on. I finally stopped, realizing what I was doing.

“I’m sorry
, Bobby. I loved him,” I whispered.

             
“We all loved him. Don’t do it, Morgan. The
what ifs
; you can’t go there. I think if you’re honest with yourself,” he paused, “you know you would have been another casualty. As much as I hate to say that, I know it’s true.”

             
I felt a stab in my heart, realizing he was right.

“Morgan
, does Ryan know all this, about you and Mathew?” he asked.

“He knows some, n
ot everything,” I answered.

             
“Maybe you need to tell him. Ryan loves you, and maybe he feels helpless in how to assist with what you’re feeling. It sounds silly, but maybe it would help,” he said.

“Are you playing
counselor? I mean you’ve been listening to me ramble without getting paid,” I teased. “It is what you do after all.”

“I am a little. You should be able to share your deep sadness with your husband. Ryan doesn’t automatically know how you feel or how to comfort you.”

              “I haven’t cried, Bobby. It’s as if… as if I can’t grasp it, then maybe it’s not real.”

             
“It’s why you need to come to the Apollo, because it is real,” he said. “Talk to Ryan about that too, promise me.”

             
“I promise.”

              That night Ryan and I sat by a fire. He opened a bottle of wine. It was April and snow was still on the ground. The fire blazed in the fireplace, popping occasionally. I’d called him after I hung up with Bobby and told him we needed to talk. I curled up my feet onto the couch and snuggled next to him.

             
“I need to talk about Mathew,” I started.

             
I looked into Ryan’s blue eyes.

             
“Morgan, tell me,” he said, kissing me. “I love you, you’re my best friend. Let me be yours. Don’t shut me out.”

I started at the beginning and
, in the end, Ryan knew everything about Mathew and me. He listened patiently as I recounted events he was unaware of. Things I was sure were somewhat painful for him to hear. I knew I still felt a little jealous of his first love.

             
"He asked you not to marry me? Bastard,” he joked. “I’m sure glad you didn’t listen.”

             
He smiled and squeezed me tighter to him.

             
“I think it was about the only time I didn’t,” I laughed. “In looking back he had an unbelievable hold on me. Something to this day I don’t completely understand.”

“First love, you were innocent and vulnerable, although I have to say he played you well,” Ryan said.

“Well then I’d have to say that about you too, Ryan Walker. Getting you to love me was no walk in the park.”

“I just thought you were out of my league.”

“Yeah, right.”

I thought for a minute about our journey to the alter. How I was such a different girl with Ryan.

“In so many ways, he unknowingly shaped who I am as a woman. He influenced how I came to look at relationships between men and women. How I finally came to understand what was right for me.”

“Did you love him?” h
e asked.

I wrinkled
between my eyes and looked up at him.

             
“You sure you want me to answer that?”

             
“Yes,” he said, getting up to stir the fire.

             
I watched as he picked up the poker and stabbed at the fire, his hands, the muscles in his arms, the way his leg was angled onto the hearth. Ryan, the man that I’d loved for seventeen years, had babies with, and still adored.

“Yes
, I loved him, but in a different way than I love you. I was young and stupid. In his own way, he loved me too. For so long, we couldn’t get it on the same level, at the same time. When finally we could, I guess it was too late for me. I knew too much. I knew there would be another one of me around the corner one day. He never told me he loved me until his wedding," I started to cry.

I could see the two of us standing on the deck overlooking the forest. “I think I always loved you” Mathew had said.

"
I know this can’t be easy to listen to…”

Ryan threw another log on the fire and
came back to the couch and put his arm around me. He cupped my chin and tilted my head up.

“It’s okay,” he whispered
trying to wipe the tears away.

I stared into his eyes.

              “Like he said to me once,” I chocked. “‘I never thought about losing you forever. I never thought that far’. Neither did I.”

             
Finally the feelings came flooding, like a dam breaking. The sense of loss was inconsolable. I cried until no more tears would come. My heart felt like it was shattering with sadness. Ryan held me and I felt embarrassed to be so distraught over another man. Later when I slept, I dreamt of Mathew. My images were of him from his wedding and then back through time. I woke up sobbing.

             
“Shhh,” Ryan held me, “shhh.”

             
Somehow, beyond my control, this happened two more nights. My subconscious was taking over the grieving process. While I was awake, I wanted to be in denial, but I couldn’t control my mind when I slept.

Chapter 53

             
“Morgan, it will be all right.”

I heard
Ryan’s words through a fog. I came out of the dream of Mathew and me at the beach: the towels spinning, the colors blending, my confusion at this, not feeling Mathew’s hand anymore. The feelings that were so slow in coming now seemed to be overwhelming me. I could see the pain in Ryan’s eyes. I could tell my anguish was getting to him.

“Morgan
, this sounds stupid, but I’m feeling jealous about a dead guy. I have never seen you so broken up about anything.”

I felt the tears pressing forward. I didn’t want to make Ryan feel bad, or doubt my love for him, and yet the feelings I was having, the utter sadness, wasn’t stopping

              “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be upset and upset you,” I said.

             
"I’ve never had a relationship like you had with Mathew. The time it spanned. At times, it’s hard for me to even grasp," Ryan said sympathetically.

             
“I know. I’m sad about Mathew, and I’m sad about a part of my life that died with him. It was a big chunk of years. The moments keep coming back to me so randomly. Times I loved him so I ached, and times I hated him. Times we laughed and shared silly things. I’m sorry. Ryan, I love you. It never reached what you and I have, but it was an important relationship. I’ve had two great loves in my life.”

             
Tears filled my eyes and I wiped them away. Ryan pulled me to him and I laid my face on his chest. I breathed him in as he gently rubbed my back.

“You need to go to San Jose
. You need to go, so you can face it and feel whole again, Bobby’s right. You need to say goodbye. I will go if you want me to, but I think it would be better if you went alone. Visit Gayle, talk about old times. Talk freely about Mathew. If I were there, you would worry about what you said. It will be good for you.”

“And you?” I questioned
.

“Yeah
, me too.”

             
I knew what he meant; he wanted his wife back. I made my reservation that morning. I called Sara to tell her I changed my mind.

             
“We had an odd relationship over the years,” I said to her.

             
“He talked to me about things between you and him.”

              “Really?”

A
gain I was taken aback he had talked about me to anyone. Most of our times together were just not very visible to the world, either because he didn’t want them to be or we were alone.

             
“Really, I figured a lot out being around the two of you. I wasn’t blind to how you interacted with him. I thought it was stupid when we were young, so I ignored it. When I asked you to come see him that summer he was in such trouble, I knew you could comfort him. I was afraid for him. He seemed so low and lost. I knew you loved him,” Sara said.

             
I listened.
How did she know? Had it been so apparent?

“I know the two of you were together for a time
. Even if he didn’t show it, he loved you, Morgan,” she said.

I d
idn’t pry for more information. In a strange way, I didn’t want all the details of what he said about me to her or to anyone for that matter. I wanted to remember what we’d had in my own way.

              Gayle agreed to pick me up; I would stay with her. I flew into San Jose Saturday morning. I could envision Mathew in the airport: picking me up, grabbing me for a kiss, picking up my luggage, saying good-bye. I could feel how I felt the time he shocked me when Gayle let him pick me up. How confused I was about my feelings, but still going with him. I remembered the smell of the jasmine in Jack’s backyard, the look on Mathew’s face, wanting everything between us to be okay.

             
Gayle was waiting curbside when I stepped out into the sunshine, outside my memories.

“How are you?” s
he asked, grabbing my suitcase and throwing it in her trunk.

             
“I’m okay. It’s been a rough week, though.”

“I’m sure
. You want to go grab a bite to eat?”

             
“And a drink,” I said.

             
“That too.”

             
Gayle took me to a restaurant in Los Gatos. I’d been there several times with Mathew. It was a small café, always busy, booths lined the walls and tables sat in the middle. It had brick floors and funky signs on the walls. Plants filled the front windows. I could picture us.

             
“Being back in San Jose reminds me of him, of so many things we did. Places we went. Here,” I said sadly.

             
“Sorry, do you want to go somewhere else?” Gayle asked.

             
“No.”

             
The waitress seated us and we ordered lunch and I ordered a beer to go with mine.

             
“How’s Ryan been with this?”

“He’s been a saint while I’ve been falling
apart about another man, an old lover to boot. I feel so ashamed that I’ve been such a basket case.”

Gayle took her napkin and put it in her lap, then smiled at me.

              “Ryan loves you. I’m sure he understands. You and Mathew were good friends, and on top of that, it was a long-term love affair, Morgan. Your first love. It’s got to hurt,” she said.

             
A love affair.
I had never thought of our relationship in those terms. Mathew at the beach, laughing, flashed into my mind, from the times he took me to his spot with cold beer and Togo sandwiches.

             
“Tell me about Ryan and the kids,” she said.

Gayle was good about re
focusing my energy on the living. She only let me talk about Mathew for so long before she would casually change the subject. We drank a bottle of wine on her deck as the sun set that night, or rather I did. She ordered a pizza delivered. Gayle had switched gears years ago when the tech bubble burst, and she was laid off from her job. She’d become an artist and a very well known one. Her house was her studio, and she had sculptures in progress everywhere.

“The sculpting going well?”
I asked.

“Really well
. I get to be in touch with my creative side.”

“Do you want to go with me
, Gayle, to the Apollo?”

             
It hadn’t entered my mind until just then that she might want to go.

             
“No, I really only knew him through you,” she said. “He was in my life because he was in yours was all.”

Then she laughed
. I knew what she was thinking about. That girl, from way back then, my other self, my Mathew self.

“
I already arranged a ride to the Apollo, but not really knowing how this will go I don’t have a ride home. Would you mind picking me up after the service?” I asked.

“No problem, you can call me when you’re ready.”

              “I feel bad that this has hurt Ryan. I know I would be hurt if it was the other way around. When he said he was jealous, it didn’t make sense to me at first. Jealous of what? Then when I thought it through, I saw what I missed. Mathew captured a piece of my heart that was young and innocent, a part that Ryan could never know. Ryan’s a calmer, more mature love, not so hot and cold. He’s come to realize how deep my love was for Mathew; I think he wonders if I love him like that.”

             
“Do you?” Gayle asked.

             
I pictured Ryan and my heart leapt. I felt so lucky to have found him, so lucky to have found my soul mate.

             
“It’s a different love. For sure it’s more understandable and real. Will I ever feel crazy in love like I did with Mathew? No. We grow up and we learn.”

             
“Crazy, is right,” Gayle chuckled.

             
“Oh, come on you got some entertainment out of it.”

I pulled out my clothes for the next morning. I’d gone shopping to find something that Mathew would have liked. I wanted to find a loud paisley shirt, but wasn’t able to, so I settled on a tight, knit, cotton T-shirt with splashy colors in blues and pinks and black with a swirl of sequins on it. I found a cropped pair of black shorts to go with it and black sandals with cork platforms. The outfit reminded me of the seventies; clothing always came full circle.

In a mo
ment of silly remembrance, I hit Victoria's Secret and got a cute panty-and-bra set in blue and pink. If he were alive, my thought would have made him laugh.

T
he Apollo was packed, and Sara had done a phenomenal job of putting collages of photos on the walls. Mathew was everywhere in varying stages of life and events. I was there in more than a few: at the ranch that day in the Jeep, at the beach, sitting around a bonfire watching him play guitar, poolside at the O’Conner’s, graduation day from Bret Harte.

I moved down the wall slowly looking at the pictures.
There were weddings we attended together. One of the two of us at Melanie’s wedding. Our young smiling faces stared back at me. “For one, I know you’re not wearing anything under that dress” he’d said when I’d challenged that he didn’t know me anymore. I envisioned that night. He was right; he knew me better than I thought. There were several photos of his wedding day. One was of the two of us standing together, looking off the deck. It was the moment I’d reached around his waist and hugged him to me. “I think I always loved you.” It was a beautiful photo. He had shocked me that day with his words; they had made me sad.

In many of the pictures, we looked too young to have been doing what we were doing. I looked so childlike to be having such big feelings for him. What wasn’t there, and would never be, was the two of us as a couple. Not many had ever seen that part…
Yes, I had loved him
.

             
“I’m glad you decided to come,” Bobby said behind me.

             
I turned, hugging him to me. I could feel the tears spring into my eyes. Sara gave a moving and sometimes humorous speech about his life. She captured the real Mathew, no sugar coating, it seemed from her words many people could love him and hate him all at one time, even her. Whatever that part was though, that we could hate, it wasn’t enough to deter any of us. We all loved him.

             
“A group of us put together a CD of Mathew’s life that I would like to play,” Sara announced.

             
The CD started, and Mathew came onto the large screen. It showed him from a baby all the way up. The pictures changed as music he loved played. I saw so much of his life that I had and also hadn’t experienced. There were video clips of the band, him sitting, playing his guitar solo, and him talking. His voice, so familiar when I heard it, was the closest I came to breaking down. I think I’d cried most of my tears out. Bobby spoke and what was left of Kingdom Come played a trio of songs. Jack stepped up to the microphone.

“This was a song Mathew wrote. It meant a lot to him, although I’m not sure who it’s about. He called it ‘Too Little, Too Late, Kid’.”

             
Jack took Mathew’s place and led the band into the song. I listened to the words, the story. He’d finished the song after all. He wrote about young unreturned love, the friendship, the girl he called
kid
always leaving his bed, the distance, how he realized he loved her. I glanced around the table, feeling everyone must know it was me, but no one seemed to notice. The tears silently ran down my face. He had loved me after all, loved me with what he was capable of.

The last song they played was
"The Leader of the Band"
by Dan Fogelberg. “
The leader of the band is tired, and his eyes are growing old, but his blood runs through my instrument, and his song is in my soul.”

The boy in the band w
as gone, leaving those who loved him, grappling with how they could have changed it. I drifted amongst his friends and family talking, remembering, even laughing about some of his antics.

“How’ve you been?”
Jack asked when I came upon him.

             
“Pretty good, Jack, considering,” I said, hugging him.

             
“I always thought the two of you would end up together,” he said, referring to Mathew. “You kept coming back.”

             
“I know I did,” I said. “He had a crazy hold on me.”

             
“He ever call you
kid
?” he asked.

I stared at him.

              “I asked him about the song, but he would never confirm anything. You know always had his secrets. Said it was about a girl who meant a lot to him. I always thought it had to be you,” Jack said.