Happily Ever After

“That went well,” Blake said, stacking clean dishes in the cabinets.

The ceramic tableware clicked against each other in steady tempo, collaborating with Saylor’s inconsistent shuffles and accented by the backbeat of Tupperware lids being snapped in place by Sage. Those sounds had been the only things to kill the silence since the twins’ departure almost an hour ago to visit their father’s grave. Sage’s silence, however, had lasted since Cadeau’s quick departure over the very conversation Blake was referring to. She couldn’t stop thinking about it, analyzing every single aspect of that moment, for reasons she didn’t want to explore.

“She didn’t look happy,” Sage said.

Haunted was a better word for the initial flurry of emotions, then angry once she realized Reese was behind the leaked knowledge. Never calm or collected or accepting of the suggestion, but Sage hadn’t been expecting those emotions anyway. Which didn’t explain why Cadeau’s unhappiness had thrown her heart into the pit of her stomach.

“I wouldn’t be either,” Saylor commented, fixing the plates Blake had just stacked.

Blake, smart woman that she was, did not comment on Saylor’s need to fix her work, nor did she touch the moved dishes once Saylor darted out of the kitchen, toward the backdoor where their puppy was whining. Sage would have shot a joke at Blake, something about being whipped or married life’s effects on her behavior, but she didn’t feel much like joking.

“What if we lose her?” Sage asked.

A frightening possibility and it would be Sage’s fault. Technically. After all, she had been the one disagree with Andy’s original makeover plan and forced them to come up with this new plan. She would have been awfully proud of herself over the turn of events had they happened last week, but now, she wasn’t so happy. She didn’t want Cadeau to go. They needed her.

Sage needed to figure her out.

Cadeau was different now, with the knowledge of her suicide attempt at the forefront of Sage’s mind. She was real, she was human, she was not upsetting. She was not the same person she had been when Sage met her, when she was some new, pretty woman who didn’t know anything about playing the drums or acting as a role model for the underdogs. But tidbits about her life were unveiled and she was different, still unsettling but not in the same way.

“We won’t,” Blake assured her.

“She bolted, Blake. Talking about...” Sage paused, “it is well beyond her limits. She didn’t want us to know, she doesn’t want anyone to know. You don’t think that’s enough reason for her to leave?”

Embarrassment and dread were strong enough reasons for anyone’s flight instincts to kick in. Cadeau hadn’t wanted them to know, and they found out. She wouldn’t be very comfortable coming to practice again. Hell, she wasn’t comfortable staying after Sage let the suggested video content slip.

“You forget, we have Reese.”

Reese?

Saylor flitted into the kitchen again, Golden Retriever puppy skittering on the tiled floor behind her. “How do you think she ended up in the band’s lap in the first place?” she said, as if she heard Sage’s unasked question. “Reese asked her to join for him, and she did.”

Sage could hear the insinuated solution. Reese could ask her stay and she would. For him. Until she could find a way to leave. Sage didn’t like it. Cadeau shouldn’t be forced to stay by her close friend. She’d be even more unhappy than she had been over the prospect of talking about, what probably was, the darkest point in her life. Forcing her stay was not an option for Sage.

“We wouldn’t have ended up with a woman who plays drums in stilettos otherwise,” Blake mumbled.

“You saw them, too?” Saylor asked, marvel dousing her sultry voice. “How did she do that?”

Blake shrugged. “It’s a pretty good gimmick, though.”

“It’s pretty sexy is what it is.”

Fixing guitars was sexy, and Cadeau proved she could do that, too. Beautifully, Sage added. Her guitar, her baby, was perfect, a work of art created at the hands of that drummer. Sage wasn’t the kind of person to initiate physical contact with anyone over anything, but she had been so swept away by her guitar, she couldn’t help it. Cadeau deserved that hug.

And she had been so soft and warm, a womanly body pressed to Sage’s. She could still feel Cadeau’s body against, could still conjure the memory. She’d hug her again, wanted to hug her again. In fact, she was already coming up with excuses to hug her, to touch her, again.

An apology hug was necessary, Sage was sure.

Assuming Cadeau came back so Sage could hug her.

“She’ll stay, right?” Sage asked.

That was a silly question. Blake had already stated her opinions on the situation. Besides, Sage sounded a little pathetic, desperately hoping some woman would stay in the band.

But she wasn’t just some replaceable woman. She was Cadeau. She was talented, she could fix things, she was nice, she had a past that Sage didn’t know. And Sage needed to know. Sage needed to be able to offer help for her when she was feeling low, like she did for everyone else in her tiny group of friends.

“I don’t see why she wouldn’t,” Blake said.

Sage knew she’d say that.

“Maybe we can have a pool party at my place this weekend, Saturday,” Sage suggested, careful to avoid incriminating wording. From the corner of her eyes, she saw Saylor snap to attention, recognizing the idea she planted in Sage’s head almost a week ago. “You know, to make sure she’s not upset and to apologize and to have her sign the contract if it’s done. She hasn’t even met Andy and Davy in person yet. It’d be good for her and for us.”

“I’ll cook burgers,” Blake offered, a signal of her agreement to the plan. She looked at Saylor. “Inform your brother he’s not allowed near the grill.”

Saylor gave her the look, the smoldering gaze that gave her the appearance of a mythical sea creature drawing in her pray. “I take bribes,” she murmured.

For a moment, neither of them moved, Blake so trapped in Saylor’s gaze she couldn’t think. Finally, Blake broke from her stupor and darted to the living room, mumbling something about “quickly cleaning up.” Typical. They would be embarking on another sexual tryst in minutes and Sage was not staying to watch.

With Blake out of the room, Saylor’s eyes fell on Sage, but her smoldering look was replaced with something that bore closer resemblance to pride.

***

There was a crack in the wall. Right in the middle of the ugly wallpaper where someone who lived there before Cadeau struck. In anger, in anxiety, in sadness. That poor wall took the brunt of some else’s discomfort. Cadeau should get that fixed or, better yet, use her lacking knowledge of home repairs to fix it herself. Cover the crack by changing the wallpaper, make the room look presentable to guests. Pretty and right and comfortable, the imperfections hidden where no one could see them

Like she had done to herself after her rape.

She had hidden everything so well, fooled everybody into thinking she was fine, until she snapped. Then, every person who knew her knew what happened to her, how she felt, what she did to herself. Her parents, her family, her friends, her sorority sisters, Emily, Reese. Even Jolie and Grayson knew, though their knowledge didn’t go much farther than Cadeau was “sick” and the doctors were going to make her better. Her every move had been watched when she returned from her stay in a psychiatric hospital, like she’d fly off the handle again at any given moment. She’d been branded.

But slowly, people stopped worrying, stopped watching, until she was sure they had forgotten entirely. She’d been able to move on for the most part. She didn’t have to be reminded daily of her decision to end her life by someone subtly moving knives out of her reach or asking how she was feeling twenty times in ten minutes. She didn’t even have to acknowledge her suicide attempt. It didn’t have to exist if she didn’t want it to that day.

And the band wanted her to tell the fans about the day she inhaled a whole bottle of her mother’s sleeping pills while Jolie had been begging for attention or food or a diaper change in the next room.

She couldn’t.

Reese was convinced she could. Emily “knew” she could. Jolie told her she could do anything because she was Mommy and mommies could to do everything, though she didn’t know what the adults were talking about. But Cadeau couldn’t.

The band didn’t even know about Jolie. How was she supposed to begin broaching the subject?

Cadeau blew out a long puff of air, her frustration far better controlled by breathing exercises than punching a wall. She’d sleep on it, make the vital decision over what to do later, weigh her options, though there didn’t seem to be much she could do. Lie or tell the truth.

Quitting the band was not something she was willing to do. Sure, she’d entertained the notion for a few hours, but she was there, she had the spot, all she had to do was sign a contract. She was so close to changing her daughter’s life, their life. She couldn’t quit now.

She wouldn’t quit.

“Mommy,” Jolie’s voice cut through her thoughts.

Cadeau turned on the couch to face her daughter, who had woken from the deep slumber that was supposed to last all night. She stood in the doorway, Cadeau’s shirt-turned-sleeping-gown reaching her feet. Her lips were twisted in irritation, her eyebrows drawn in anger, and annoyance burned in her eyes. For whatever reason, Jolie was pissed.

Mommy duty called.

“Yes, princess?”

“Dere’s a monster in my closet,” she stated.

Looked like she would have to evict an annoying monster from her daughter’s closet instead of facing her own demons. A distraction she always welcomed.