The Devil's Lair (12 page)

“I’m angry as well. I’m angry my wife is being ripped apart, snapped in half from her conflicting emotions. I’m angry you won’t lean on me, or let me comfort you. I’m angry you feel you have to carry this all by yourself.”

She finally looks at me, stunned by my admission.

I physically place her on my lap, forcing her to accept my touch. It’s always been enough for her when words wouldn’t help. After we spoke to Shane, she completely withdrew. I understand. Telling that little boy his mother is no longer going to hold him will forever be etched in my memory. I’ll never forget one single detail of that horrible task. It drained us completely of whatever we had left. But where I craved her for comfort, she pulled away from me. Her distance since this morning is torturing me.

“Please, Baby. Talk to me.” Her fingers grip my T-shirt in desperation as I stroke her back, kiss her hair, and hold her tight. She buries her face so forcibly into my chest, I worry she can’t breathe. “Please, don’t shut me out. I need you. We need each other.”

“I do need you.”

“I’m here. Always.” She continues to cry into my chest, finally releasing the load she’s been carrying. Once there’s nothing left, she composes herself. I hold her face in my hands, drying her damp cheeks with a stroke of my thumbs. She continues to pull in shaky, cleansing breaths as she stares intently into my eyes.

“I love you. We’re a team. We will deal with it, handle it, and figure it all out together. Promise me.”

“I promise.”

“Want to go see our kids now?”

She nods and says, “After I apologize to Scott.”

“Okay.” A pat on her ass tells her we will do that now. I’ll walk with her hand in hand to face our band together. They are also hurting, and we’ll be sure to let them know we are all in the same boat. We are all finding our own way to figure this out and learn how to accept it and deal with it. Until we do, it’s not going to be easy. Yet, it’s still nothing compared to what Paula had to face.

That fact needs to be reminded and repeated as many times as necessary.

When I slowly open the door to the room where they wait, the conversation halts instantly. Jen has returned, and they all look to us expectantly. My wife walks straight to Scott, wrapping her arms around him. He hugs her back, shushing her as she mumbles an apology. He rocks her back and forth, murmuring things into her ear that no one else can hear. She nods at his words and finally breaks a smile.

When they separate, Jen says, “The guys filled me in. I already spoke to the studio. All three London shows will be added to the end of the tour.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“While we are here, we’d like to have a memorial for Paula. Can you arrange that?”

“Absolutely,” she responds without hesitation. “I’ll get started on that.” She walks over to Leila and gives her an awkward hug. “Anything you need, please call me.”

Leila meets my eyes over Jen’s shoulder. “I will. Thank you, Jen.”

Jen pats my wife’s arm affectionately and quickly disappears from the room. It happened so fast that if you blinked you would have missed the humanity she displayed.

“Wow, that’s new,” Leila blurts out, breaking the stunned silence.

I can’t help but laugh at the look on her face. Once I do, she let’s out a giggle and shrugs. And just like that, I know she’ll be fine.

With each day that passed, Leila became more of herself. She still had her moments, though. At times, no matter what I tried, I couldn’t snap her out of it. The best cure for her erratic emotions was the kids. They were the only thing that brought that light back into her eyes. She asked me to forgive her many times over. It hurt to hear her asking that of me. There was nothing to forgive. There’s also nothing I can do except to keep reminding her she’s not alone and I’m standing right beside her.

We had an emotional memorial for Paula. Leila felt it was important for Shane to attend. She wanted him to witness how many were touched by his mom. He needed to know she was part of our family. It was short, but meaningful…just like her time with us.

Jen gave a lovely eulogy. Leila arranged a slide show of all the pictures Paula included in the box. Some forced a small smile from Shane as he watched image after image on the large screen. My wife sang
Be Not Afraid
. Her beautiful voice carried through the chapel, moving everyone to tears. Shane sat beside me, staring at the ground. My heart squeezed painfully every time I looked down at him. I rationed this is normal, this mourning, this is necessary. I offered my hand and was surprised when he fit his tiny hand in mine. Leila is normally the only person he shows any signs of affection to.

Afterwards, Shane was very quiet. We found him sitting on his bed, hugging a pillow. We spent that evening letting the kids call all the shots from what to have for dinner to what movie we should all watch together. We camped out in the living room, with tents and sleeping bags included. His mood improved, but he was not the same Shane. I don’t know what I expect. I guess if we are able to give him even a few fleeting moments of happiness to forget, with time they’ll swell and multiply.

The twins are obsessed with Shane. Prior to Paula’s passing, Shane had assumed the role of big brother to them. Since he lost his mother, he’s not as patient as he once was. We noticed when Leila is holding Madden or Siarra, or when she is caring for them in any way, he becomes distant and quiet. I’ve been handling the twins so Leila can focus on Shane. When he stands at the foot of our bed each night looking lost and sad, Leila scoops him up and holds him for hours. He mentions Paula often, sometimes forgetting she’s gone. He’s clingy around Leila, especially when around others.

One night after the kids were all asleep, she voiced her concerns. He clearly is substituting Paula with my wife. She wants to console him in any way she can, and most of the time he wants to hide away in a corner without interaction. We worry that will cause more problems and further enable him. He’s such a personable boy. By allowing him to retreat within himself, his social skills will suffer, so will his self esteem.

We called my sister the next day, asking for her advice on how to best handle him. She said we shouldn’t be concerned with his behavior. She suggested we get back to normal as soon as possible. Resuming a normal routine is key to his healing process. Besides keeping him busy, it will help him better acclimate to his role in our family.

Normal isn’t possible while traveling around the world on a rock tour. He’s going to have many phases of adjustment. He’s young and he’ll adapt. The best we can do is to ensure we are there for him each time he is faced with more change.

For example, after London we had quick stops in Ireland and Sweden. The short stays and resuming our rehearsal schedule had us all busy and occupied with very little down time. My wife was being pulled in every direction. Beverly and Patti did all they could to keep the twins and Shane busy. Patti has been a godsend. Shane’s slowly responding to her, letting her in bit by bit. Trey remains one of his favorite people. My friend has been fucking awesome trying to find time to practice with Shane every day.

Establishing a routine for Shane is also benefiting the rest of us. I’m finding that time does heal, as does living with purpose. Having a specific purpose in life is the best coping mechanism. I know every time I look at Shane I’ll think of Paula. Resuming my life and giving her son only the best in life is my way of justifying her death.

The door to the kids’ rooms slowly opens. Shane hesitantly walks out of the room, stopping when he sees me.

“Hey, buddy. You okay?”

He nods, his feet frozen to the ground.

I pat the seat beside me. He sniffles once and walks over to where I’m sitting. “Did Leila finish reading the bedtime story?”

“I hate that book.” He frowns, crossing his arms to emphasize his anger.

“Okay. You can stay out here with me. Do you want me to read you something else?”

A quick shake of his head is all I get. I ask him a few more questions, but he sits beside me, refusing to talk. The familiar tightening takes hold of my chest. How can I reach him and show him I’m here, no matter what?

An idea pops into my head. Hoping it works, I retrieve my laptop and ask, “Shane, have you watched any of the concerts you played in?”

He looks up at me and shakes his head slowly.

“Would you like to? You did such a great job.”

He shrugs, giving me a glimmer of hope this may work.

I boot up the footage of his performances, stealing sideways glances as I do. He leans forward slightly, waiting for the video to start. Once it does, his eyes widen and his mouth gapes open adorably. He watches the entire thing, barely blinking as he does. When the video ends, he looks up at me and asks, “Can you play that again?”

“Absolutely, dude.” I start it from the beginning. A few seconds in he points to the screen, “That’s called a riff.”

“Really? How do you know that?”

“Trey told me,” he responds without looking away from the video of him and his idol jamming on stage.

Leila joins us during viewing number four. She leans against the doorway, watching in awe. Each time he watches, he gives me another fun fact, or a thought that ran through his head at the time he was on stage. He’s chattering away, saying more than he has in days. Music is what brought him to us. Music is what will bring him back.

Leila stands rooted, unable to move. It’s almost as if she’s afraid to ruin the moment or stop him from being Shane. When the video ends again, he finally tears his eyes away from the laptop.

“I really am good,” he admits arrogantly.

“I told you, dude. You’re really good. When you get older, you’re going to be one of the best bass players I’ve ever seen.”

“I know,” he nods, agreeing wholeheartedly.

“Hey, Shane. I don’t think Leila has watched this yet. Do you mind if we show her?”

He glances at my wife, “Leila, you have to see this. It’s so cool.”

She smiles wide, “Of course, I absolutely have to see it!” She sits beside Shane, and he leans into her subconsciously. She gently wraps an arm around him, looking over at me with the same wide smile. I throw her a wink, a confirmation that he’ll be okay. With time, he’ll be okay.

Hunter

The rest of our European tour went by in a blur. After our week in England, we hopped across Sweden, Germany, and ended in Greece. We quickly slid back into our normal routine. The only disruption came when Leila refused to hang out at night, fearing Shane would need her if she weren’t there. Most of the time Jack stayed with her as well. Occasionally she forced him to come out with us to try and have a good time. He’d mope anyway, making us all wonder why he bothered.

“It’s easier not to argue with her,” he responded, sounding completely resigned to comply with her recent demands. “He woke having a bad dream when we all went out in Stockholm. She can’t forgive herself.”

“You need to give her time,” Patti said and then added, “you can’t blame her for wanting to be there for him, no matter what he needs.”

“I do, too, but it’s not realistic.” Jack looked exhausted. I had only seen my friend looking this bad one other time. When Leila was having complications carrying the twins, he was at his wits end trying to help her. Just like now, he wanted to make it better and couldn’t do that for her. It drove him mad.

Patti had reached for his hand, trying to comfort him with even that tiny gesture. “She’s got to do this to get through, Jack. She’ll find a way to balance it all. Right now she knows you and the twins are okay, but Shane needs her.”

“Yeah, I know,” Jack agreed. He could hardly argue with any of us. He knew his wife well.

The situation had me truly considering parenthood for the first time. Sure, most men know that being a dad is in their future, with the exception of Trey. It’s always been something I wanted one day. I never really thought about it.

It’s natural…love, marriage, and then baby carriage.

Seeing the torment that my best friends are experiencing at the moment has me wondering if I have it in me. I’m spread pretty thin in the worrying department with just my wife in the picture. Once I fell in love with Mandi, it was very foreign to have to worry about another person. It was even more foreign to put that person’s needs first, most of the time it’s an automatic thing that you really don’t consciously think about. It just occurs. Unless you’re someone like me who never had to put someone else’s needs first. So in my case, it required constant effort.