At 6 p. m. tonight, when the sun sets, the fans will be spoiled with this year’s best new artist Grammy winner, and a show that will change their lives.
Just like it changed mine.
One giant stage is set up to the right side of the back entrance of the castle. Two fifteen-foot screens on either side of the stage hang like a ship’s white sails, pulled tight, ready to project back to the audience the goings-on on stage.
All along one side of the field are tents set up for the artists, for their equipment and crew, and a section for fans to meet the bands.
Dennis and Hailey lead the guys to their tent and rush off to make sure everything is ready for their set.
I hang back holding Ben’s hand, squeezing tight, unable to contain my excitement despite my issues with Brad. It’s 11 a. m. and the field is starting to fill with ticket holders, lined up from overnight to get the best spot to catch a glimpse of their favorite artists.
“Isn’t this so exciting?” I say to Ben. As crazy as this trip has been, I have no regrets pulling him out of school and taking him along even with his injury. I’ve never believed in giving Ben a sheltered life. And I know he’ll carry memories of this tour with him for the rest of his life.
“Okay, honey, now you go sit over there in that corner with Carrie. She’s been very nice to babysit you today, and make sure your arm doesn’t ache too much. So, you be good okay?”
“Okay Mommy, I’ll see you soon.”
I give him a kiss on the forehead and swing around, ready to set up my recorder and wander the grounds a bit. I want to get a feel for the atmosphere and maybe take the chance to interview a few other artists for my write-up of the festival.
“Oooof,” I can’t help but grunt as I bang into a hard chest.
A hard chest I know well. A hard chest I was running my tongue along just a few days ago.
“Oh, sorry.”
“Sorry, my fault,” Brad mumbles before quickly stepping back and going back where he came from.
“Hey. Hey!” I follow him. He’s had enough space. It’s time to talk. “Can we talk?”
“No.”
“Brad.”
“I’m busy.
“Fine, can we talk later?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I’ll still be busy then, too.”
“Come on Brad, grow up!”
“No. You know what? You grow up. You spend ages pushing me away, making me feel like shit, like whatever you think I did eight years ago fucked you up so bad that you couldn’t be with me now. And it turns out you’re the fuck-up. For all your promises, it turns out you did leave me for him. And had a fucking child! The reason we aren’t together is because of you. Stop putting your guilt on me when you did this to yourself. You did this to us. Maybe you should stop trying to talk and sort out your fucking mess. I can’t help you this time.” The look he gives me pours salt into a wound I think will now never heal.
The fury in what he says surprises me. I knew he would be angry, confused-but not to this extent. I can’t believe that’s what he thinks. That that’s how he feels. And I wonder if there’s anything I can say to change his mind at this point.
“I don’t know what to say. Just that…you’re wrong, you’re so wrong. And you… you’re not even giving me a chance to explain before you’ve come to your conclusion. I was right, despite everything wrong that I’ve done-you do need to fucking grow up, Brad Windsor.”
I run out of the tent before he can see me cry over him. Again.
Any future feels like it’s a million light years ago. And that the hurt between us just might take that long to fade.
Brad
That went well.
I’m still staring at the spot she vacated over five minutes ago.
Our first conversation after finding out that Silas is Ben’s father wasn’t supposed to go that way. But she’d cornered me and it just all came out. I didn’t mean to hurt her with anything I wanted to say, but that look in her eyes before she ran off tells me she’s probably somewhere crying…and hating me.
But what does she expect? How can she expect that I would feel any differently? Silas. FUCKING SILAS! And I’m not just pissed at her relationship with him, but Ben’s as well!
Yes, I am fucking envious that this dickwad of a man is the father of that little boy. That little boy that I’m fast falling in love with.
But if she could’ve kept that from me, knowing how I feel about him, then what else is she capable of? Maybe she really is the girl who couldn’t even be bothered to come say goodbye when I left to go on tour.
She didn’t know, remember? the voice inside me reminds me.
But it doesn’t change that even without receiving my messages, she never came to find me, came to talk, after that night we spent together that was supposed to be the first in our lives together forever.
I don’t know what to think.
But I do know that I can’t leave it like this, and we need to talk.
I need to find her.
“Oi! Cum-waffle!” Jez’s head pokes into the tent. He’s wearing his mic headset already, his bow in hand. “Get your head out of your overinflated ass. We’re waiting for you for soundcheck. Come on, we only have fifteen minutes before the other band’s up.”
Jack comes over and attaches the mic receiver to my belt and pulls the headset around my neck, adjusting the mic to my mouth.
“Fuck. Can’t you cover for me?” I really need to go find Emily before my words cause too much damage.
“And test your violin mic with what? My dick? Come on!”
“Okay, okay, no need to get mad over the little things!” I follow him out of the tent and toward the stage.
“What little things?” he asks as he breaks into a jog, waving at the crew on stage and pointing to me behind him.
“You brought up your dick!” I poke him with my bow.
“Don’t make me make you choke on it,” he threatens as we climb up the stage to meet up with Sebastian and Marius.
“Pick my teeth with, maybe!” I growl.
“Um, guys, your mics are on…and recording,” Dennis’s voice booms into our earpieces.
“It’s okay, everyone already knows about Jez’s toothpick prick,” I hear Seb respond, then chuckle at his own hilarity.