Apologies


“Listen, Mom. I’m still pretty busy with the wind down stuff right now. But I’ll come over as soon as I have a break.” John repeated, for the umpteenth time into his phone.

John had gotten very good at lying. Truth be told, they’d been back for 2 weeks now and everyone was still in vacation mode, everything to be handled after the tour was taking a back burner to the majority of the band enjoying seeing their families they hadn’t seen in some time. The minority, i.e. John, was enjoying being utterly alone with his bandmates preoccupied. The seclusion allowed for John to only have to contact his dealer and whichever delivery service he rotated between.
“I’m just worried about you, sweetie. I was talking to Pat and-“
“Why.. why were you talking with Pat?” John sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. Pat could obviously gossip with the best of them. It used to be an endearing trait, over the past few years however, Pat always let his tongue slip to people that did not need to know. God only knows what he said to his mom.

John's mother, Jenny, never understood his love for Ingrid. In not understanding that, she could not understand why it had affected him so much when she died. She meant well, probably, but it always came across as callous. Jenny had always complained that Ingrid was too quiet for her own good--reserved and spineless. She pictured something, or someone, different for her son.

She feigned shock on the other line. “Leave Pat alone. He was just saying that none of them had heard from you for a few days and well, if they haven’t been in contact with you..” She left her sentence hanging there, and John was suddenly aware that she knew he was lying to her.

“Well, it’s just some solo stuff. Chelsea and I are trying to expand 8123’s scope.” He scrambled, knowing this lie was solid enough for now. His mother’s breathing was calm and even on the other end of the line. Finally, she let out a sigh.

“Okay, honey. Just come when you can. How is Chelsea by the way?” Her voice hitched up at the end, as if knowing it was a battle she couldn’t win.

When John finally got off the phone, he felt dirty. Oddly though, as he had never felt bad about lying to people before. So much time had passed since Ingrid’s death that it began to feel like he dug himself deeper and deeper into an intricate web of stories, half-truths to conceal his true nature. He realized, suddenly he wasn’t familiar with who he was recently either. Imagining that from his mother’s perspective bugged him entirely. He imagined her trying to understand her son as he was now, hardened and quiet, unfamiliar to her. He knew it must be hard for her.

John left his phone on the counter, moving across the dimly lit space to locate his cigarettes. He had managed to avoid every single invitation to socialize in the last two weeks. Instead he sat in his bedroom. This wasn't the same space he and Ingrid had rented in Phoenix. He broke his lease a while after realizing he couldn’t surround himself in the orange walls that replayed every memory he shared with her. He knew he deserved to suffer, but everyone has their limits.

He, instead, opted for a smaller one in the heart of Tempe. He liked the way the sounds of the city would keep him up all night, exhausting him thus making it easy to hear her voice coaxing him to take better care of himself. Besides, he didn’t mind the small space. The one bedroom, one bathroom apartment was a layover space for the short periods he had to come home in-between tours.

John's things remained unpacked next to the entrance of his tiny cave. The lights were dim and the air was musky, he never stayed long enough to eliminate the stale air that was accustomed to new apartments.

His phone buzzed, and John groaned. Pulling himself to his feet with a sigh, he stalked across the room to grab the mobile device. He brought the phone to his ear without checking the caller I.D., already assuming it would be Tim or Jared, telling him that their next show would come in a matter of weeks.

John found comfort in moving from place to place daily, due to the idea that there was always something new to discover. The more faces he was met with, the more everything blurred in his mind.

“Hello?" His voice sounded gruff, and he cleared his throat. Maybe he should lay off the cigs.

“I’m freaking out, man! Holy shit!” Jared's voice boomed into John's ears, a mixture of shock and satisfaction all at once.

"What the hell?" John chuckled nervously, unsure of where his friend was going with his triad.

“I think I’m going to do it. Really do it, man.”
“It as in?” John was practically on the edge of his seat wondering where his best friend’s thoughts were at. Suddenly there was a wrestling sound on the other end, complete with Jared muttering fuck.

“Jared? You good?”

“Yes. Fucking boxes and shit. I really need to clean this out, but I’ve been- fuck, the point. My bad.” Jared grumbled, causing John to let out a laugh. Jared’s voice dropped to a whisper. “It’s just.. I think I’m going to ask Pen to marry me finally.”

“Whoa, man! That’s big news. You sure?”

“Of course I’m sure. This girl’s been by here since the beginning. She even listened to “You Left Me” 1,000 times with us and no one liked that song. She saw me through the hair.” He let out a hearty chuckle.

“She’s the one for you, that’s for sure.” John responded, feeling a twinge of jealousy at his friend’s clarity in knowing Penelope was the one for him.

Jared and Penelope knew each other since the 3rd grade. Each student in their respective classes on opposite ends of the country had to write to a pen pal via some random organization which is long defunct now. They both took the pen pal thing very seriously for years, eventually turning to AIM and MySpace, a few flights here and there when they saved up enough money, until Penelope’s eventual move from Bowie, Maryland to Tempe for college. She’d said it was for the journalism school at Arizona State University but everyone knew it was to be closer to Jared. If it wasn’t official back then, it was solidified by their close proximity in the last 5 years. They were practically inseparable when Jared was home.

“So, uh, how soon?” John questioned, realizing he had shown less than the enthusiasm that Jared deserved. John was happy, just.. jealous. He knew that if Ingrid hadn’t died young, they’d probably be taking the next step soon too.

“It was a real spur of the moment thing. I saw her sitting on the couch right now, looking so insanely beautiful that I just knew I had to find my Grandma’s old ring and do it right away.” Jared’s speech sounded distracted. John could faintly hear cardboard being rifled through.

“Do you, uh, need help?” John suggested, and he swore that Jared let out an audible gasp as the question hung between them.

John had been, less than helpful over the three years since her death. His friends wanted to curtail his depression but he always insisted he was fine. The boys learned to not disturb him with their own problems.

“I mean, hell yeah! I’m in this damned attic right now trying to find the box but there’s no working light so I can’t see a thing.” Jared's voice faded to John. A big step. A huge step! I mean, it was exciting and happy but a wedding! What happens after that? No more touring? Does that mean the end of the band? The end of their dream?

"Ay, Johno, you good?” Jared snapped.

“Sorry, man. You know it, I’ll be right over to help you. Is P around?” John pulled himself out of his downward spiral.

“Nah. She left to go to the library. You can just let yourself in.” John felt himself pulling on his shoes as he clicked ‘end’ on the call, making the motions to leave his house for the first time since he arrived back in Arizona. He moved slowly, waiting for Ingrid’s voice to call him back to the couch, tell him to take it easy on himself. When he didn’t get any protest, he opened up the front door, wincing as the sun bore into his vision.



It had been two and a half hours inside the air-conditioner lacking, sun-facing attic when Jared remember that it was his Mother who had the ring in her attic. After treating themselves to a few beers, he called her up asking about the ring. This launched Ms. Monaco into a few hysterical cries. She promised to bring the ring over as soon as possible.

John and Jared sat in the kitchen of the small pink house that he and Penelope had called home. The band wasn’t bringing in millions by any means, but they faired well for themselves, well enough that they didn’t have to live in such a small suburban neighborhood. But Penelope, having done extensive research on the area, fell in love with the mid-century modern charm of their tiny abode. Jared had not been able to convince her to continue their search anywhere else. This house had been the heart center of the band in the years leading up to Ingrid’s death. Night after night was spent in their backyard, laughing in the dense foliage Penelope planted.
Everyone assumed that had been the main selling point of the small home, the expansive garden space that apparently had just the right light. She grew every kind of flower imaginable, a serious feat for the almost constant burning sunlight of downtown Phoenix.

It had been one of Ingrid’s favorite places to go, going from bush to bush and inspecting each flower. Sometimes her and Penelope would be outside for hours, as Ingrid attempted to intake as much information as possible to expand her horticulture knowledge. When she’d return home, she was sure that this house plant would finally be the one to live, and yet weeks later, John would remove the withered plant from their shared space. Ingrid tried, time and time again, proving she just didn’t have the green thumb. John’s lips pulled back inadvertently at the memory.

Unfair. Her voice grumbled, nearly blending in with the the sound of Jared rifling through the fridge. John’s body tensed, suddenly on edge and aware that he had put himself in a vulnerable situation. Surely, Jared could only hold his tongue for so long.

As if reading John’s sudden shift in body language, Jared cleared his throat. “So I’ve been meaning to ask you,” he chose his words carefully, taking time to pause before he was sure he got it right. “How are you doing? We’ve had the rest of the gang over twice since we got back but I figure you needed, uh, your time.”

John let out a deep sigh. Jared had been his best friend for as long as he could remember, and he understood John better than the rest of them. He didn’t have to express outward concern for John to know he cared for him.

“Just getting by. I’ve been writing some, I think we could have another album out by next tour.” John responded, feeling a sense of relief that his friend hadn’t been more specific.

“Nice, uh, nice. I think, I mean we all have been thinking about just taking some time. You know? Let the last album marinate and all. We all love being on the road but I mean, especially if I propose to P,” Jared paused, bringing the cool glass bottle to his lips, as if the thought was inconceivable. “I couldn’t just up and leave her in a few months.”

John was sure the color left his face. If the guys wanted a break, would that mean planting himself here for the long haul?

“You thinking of leaving the band on me?” John’s words came out choppy, as he tried to mask his true nature with a thin layer of humor. He shifted uncomfortably, righting himself in the wooden chair. He suddenly felt all too aware of every muscle in his body. Clenching and unclenching, his heart rate accelerating. He needed to get up and move, fast. The kitchen felt crowded.

“Never, man! Would you calm down? I think we’re all entitled to a break. Not to be a pest but John have you gotten, like, any sleep since we’ve arrived back home? This place used to be your retreat and it’s like you—“ Jared paused, realizing he couldn’t finish that sentence without hurting John more.

John felt the hanging thought, too. “It’s like I what?” He retorted, growing more angry. He was glad it wasn’t the end of the band but what had they been saying behind his back?

“It’s like you.. died when Grid died, man. I know you don’t want to talk about the shit but.. I’ve been, we all have been worried about you. You need this break like we do. You need to confront whatever it is—“

John cut off his speech. “Listen, man,” his words weren’t fitting his mouth right anymore. He felt an onset of nausea. “I’m.. I’m doing just fine, alright.” Beat. Pause. Chuckle that didn’t have any semblance of John’s real laugh in its tone.

Jared’s face tightened all at once, the way it always did when a thought was on the tip of his tongue. “I really hope so. We’ve got years left on this ride,” he said, obviously referring to their music. “We need you in it for the long haul. You hear me, Johno? Kennedy would definitely let the fame get to his head if he had a solo career.”

John chuckled in response, releasing the tension from his whole body. He flexed his fingers out, watching where his knuckles turned white.

“Hello?” John heard a familiar voice call out, as the front door pushed in bringing the smell of imminent rain.

“P! We’re in here!” Jared called, getting up to throw out the empty beer bottles. John heard some more shuffling before Penelope emerged in the doorway of the kitchen. When she caught sight of John at the table, she raised her eyebrows in surprise but broke into a smile.

“Hey babe!” She gave Jared a kiss, which made John look away.“And you, stranger. Give me a hug!”

She crossed the room, scooping John into her arms as he stood for the embrace.

“Oh, we’ve missed you!” Penelope said in her warm tone. She had always been a friendly face, and had tried desperately to be there for John as much as possible from the time Ingrid got sick up until her death. She even picked a flower from each bush in her garden and brought them for Ingrid at the beginning of every new week she was in the hospital. John had heard she even helped the florists make an arrangement for her coffin, knowing exactly which flowers had been her favorite. John swallowed hard.

"I really ought to be going, though." John decided, moving to clear his things from the table. It had been good to see Jared but he needed some space.

"Oh, won't you come by for a get together later? It'd be so nice to have everyone together." Penelope cried, clasping her hands over her heart. She looked back at Jared, who nodded enthusiastically. When Penelope turned back to face John, he mimed getting on his knees to propose, looking insanely absurd as he mouthed tonight .

"Uh, yeah. I sure will. I'll see you guys later." John said, which launched Penelope into an excitable state. She launched her arms around John's neck, giddy that her friend had finally come back.