Did yesterday really happen? Did he really make up with Carter after fifteen years via an agreement not to talk about it? A glance at his phone confirmed one new contact.
He needed coffee.
His skin didn’t sit right today. He was listless—pacing as he waited for the pot to heat up, picking at the edge of a peeling callus. And the coffee didn’t help. He drank it and waited for his nerves to settle, but they didn’t.
He took a Clif bar out of a cupboard and tore into it outside on the porch, but the fresh air was no better. The wind had kicked up and the water was murky, choppy. It felt a little too much like Jeff did inside, and the wet slap of the waves grated something in his brain.
Crash.Your life is disintegrating.
Crack.It’s your own fault.
Thwack.Your mother isn’t here. Youknewshe wasn’t here.
Slap.It was never about her.
Maybe he should go back to bed.
He’d had spells like this before. Usually he had at least one while on a tour, and the best thing for it was to get away from the group and do something immersive. He’d gotten a massage once, which had worked, but attempting a pedicure was an abject failure. Once, in New York, he’d wandered through Central Park until he was completely lost, and he’d felt… peaceful. Zen, even.
Thing was, he was already alone here, and he had a whole damn nature preserve to trek through, and he knew it wouldn’t work. External stimuli weren’t the problem.Hewas the problem.
The guitar cases sat under the kitchen table, out of the way but somehow staring at him, daring him. He’d come here to find out who he’d be as a solo artist, but he wasn’t ready to meet that person yet and he couldn’t put his finger on why.
Meanwhile, the countdown was ticking on the new album.
No wonder he was annoyed with himself.
He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, then another, until he’d brought his irritation level down to a simmer and he could think around his agitation.
A shower would help. Then a drive into town and maybe even a real breakfast. Possibly brunch, by the time he got there. If he still felt like garbage, he’d think about going to see a movie or something. Crap, what day was it? Would there even be a matinee?
Whatever. He’d figure it out. But first, shower.
By the time he slid into the booth at Shinny’s, he did feel slightly more human.
He still almost jumped through the roof when a familiar voice said, “Jeff!” in a tone that was the verbal equivalent of a bear hug, and he only got to his feet out of pure instinct in time to be swept into the real thing.
She hugged just like her son. Jeff let himself cling a little harder than he had with Carter, and he let her set the timetable to pull away, which she eventually did, holding him at arm’s length as though to evaluate whether he’d been eating his vegetables.
“Hi, Mrs. Rhodes.”
Once upon a time, he and Carter had just called each other’s parents Mom and Dad, as a joke. Then Jeff’s mom got sick and it stopped being funny.
“It’s Ella, sweetheart,” she corrected as she sat down across from him at his table without being asked. “I think you’re old enough now to use my first name.”
“Doesn’t feel like it,” Jeff said with a small smile as his server came by with another menu.
“Oh,” Ella said, moving to stand, “no, sorry, we were just catching up—”
But Jeff had seen three different heads turn when she said his name, and now he was aware of more people looking his way. News traveled fast. “You can stay if you want,” he said.Please stay, I don’t want to sign autographs at lunch.God forbid someone ask for a selfie. Jeff didn’t want to end up on the main character of Twitter for being rude to fans. “If you have time, I’d love the company.”
It was obviously the right thing to say, because Ella smiled and accepted the menu. She ordered a drink and then set the menu on the table without looking at it. There were only so many restaurants in town; she probably had it memorized.
Jeff opened his mouth to ask her how she was, and then he remembered. There were circles under her eyes, and she looked like she’d lost weight recently, and not in the intentional way either. She must still be grieving. But should he offer condolences now? Should he wait until the right moment?
“Carter said he told you about Fred.” She blinked back tears.
News traveled fast around here. “I was so sorry to hear.” Understatement of the decade. “He was a great man.”
