Through All the Dust

“Hey,” a foot was jabbing me in the hip. “Hey, shit head. Get up.”
I groaned something of a response.
“Get up!”
“Fuck off,” I grumbled, tugging at the blankets and pulling them higher to my chin.
Brian laughed, “Nap over. Time to get up now.”
“Can’t be bothered,” I yawned, forcing my eyes closed once more.
He was insistent, though. With one fluid motion, he wrapped the blankets tightly around his fists and pulled with little effort. Suddenly I was without warmth or comfort. I was not pleased.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I hissed, casting my most sinister stare.
“Get up,” he said again. “As luck would have it, I have the whole day off.”
I made my most sarcastic face, “Great. I’ll alert the media.”
“Blair,” he laughed, shaking his head at me. “Get the fuck out of the bed.”
It appeared that we were at an impasse. I was tired and, to be frank, not in the mood to be living on that particular day. It was less about depression and more about exhaustion. I’d been working tirelessly and had been expected to attend rehearsals every single day from dusk to dawn.
No one cared that my leg was still broken. No one cared that I was tired. I’d never had rehearsals as a singer in a metal group. We’d run through the set, but that was about all. This was hectic. There were fucking dancers and shit. It was wild.
Anyway, obviously that was a bit of culture shock and I wasn’t really adjusting well. I’d been granted a day off, and I assumed Brian had swindled his way out of work simply to be with me. But there I was, being a grumpy bitch.
“What do you even want to do?” I groaned sleepily, daring to look into my man’s eyes.
He smiled, “Be with you.”
“Don’t be all cute and shit,” I whined. “You make me feel like an asshole.”
“You are an asshole,” he noted happily. “But it’s your turn—I’m always the asshole.”
I nodded, “It’s in your blood, Haner.”
“Or it’s in the name,” he retorted. “Almost Haner.”
We were officially two months away from wedding day and the pressure was kicking in. The pressure from the wedding planner, anyway. The pressure to marry Brian was mostly excitement—it felt like time was ticking by too slowly.
But also too quickly.
Soon I’d be leaving…I just hoped that everything remained while I was away. Avenged was talking about touring, nothing confirmed, nothing denied. I selfishly hoped that they would. Because it would ease my guilt for leaving, because it wouldn’t leave Brian alone…but mostly because I knew that Jimmy would have wanted them to. He never would have wanted their dream to be abandoned, and certainly not on his behalf. But…Ultimately, the choice was not on my shoulders.
“Speaking of Haner,” I yawned, receiving the crutches Brian was determinedly handing to me. “What do I do about that?”
“What?” Brian asked simply, scratching at the back of his neck.
“Well, I mean….” I stood, drooping my shoulders over the tops of the crutches lazily. “Okay, so…My name is Blair Peterson—”
“Really?” Brian gasped. “I had no idea.”
I squinted.
“Go on,” he laughed.
“My real name is Blair Peterson,” I clarified weakly. “But so is my stage name…Do I change only one? Both? None?”
He shrugged.
“No, that isn’t helpful,” I huffed.
He headed out of the room and I chased him down with as much speed as I could muster. He only paused when we reached the stairs, watching me cautiously as I carelessly hopped from step to step. I’d gotten good at the descent; climbing was still a bit of a bitch though.
“Do whatever you want, Blair,” he offered.
“I want to be a Haner,” I smiled. “But…”
When I didn’t continue, he bit into my bullshit, “But?”
“But Peterson is all I have left of my parents,” I frowned. “And if I change it…”
“Then don’t change it.”
I rolled my eyes, “That’s a shitty option too. I want to be Haner.”
“So then change your real name,” he suggested as we finally neared the main floor. “And keep Peterson as your stage name.”
“But wouldn’t it be funny if I changed my stage name to your stage name?” I smirked, falling back atop my crutches. “Blair Gates?”
“No,” he said flatly, turning the corner to the living room.
“Yeah! It’d be great!” I called after him, losing him a little in the chase.
Matt waved to me from the couch, eating my cereal as usual. It didn’t matter what time of day it was; the man was always eating cereal. My cereal.
“Name change debacle,” Brian offered to his friend as we passed him and headed out back.
“I think I want to change both names,” I said as we fell into the patio chairs. “But…is that confusing? No one ever changes their name.”
“Not true,” Brian replied, tossing a cigarette into my lap.
“You should change your name,” I grinned.
“Brian Peterson,” he thought aloud. “I sound like a fucking salesman.”
I cackled loudly, tossing my head back and clapping like a child, “It’s fucking awesome!”
“Hey,” he said weirdly, a smile on his face. “If we have a billion kids, are we going to stick to the B thing?”
The question caught me off guard. Mostly because we had never seriously discussed the whole babies thing. In passing and casually, I guess…but never seriously. I decided not to read too much into it.
“Don’t see how we would,” I shrugged, gesturing for the lighter.
Brian tilted his head at me.
“You wouldn’t want to name him after Jimmy?” I asked seriously.
He nodded absently, like he hadn’t thought of it before.
“I would be happy with a James,” I smiled. “Assuming Lo doesn’t snatch it up.”
Brian shook his head, “I don’t see why she would…I think it would be too weird.”
“I couldn’t name him after Tyler,” I thought aloud. “You’re right; too weird.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” Brian caught, eying me up curiously. “You’d name a kid after Jim but not after Tyler?”
I nodded, “Absolutely. I wouldn’t call our kid Jimmy. Therein lies the difference.”
“I guess,” Brian frowned, finally tossing me his yellow lighter.
“Is…Is that something you want?” I mused slowly, unsure of how to keep the conversation light while still finding the information I found myself wanting.
He smiled at me, “Who wouldn’t want to make babies with you?”
“Don’t make it weird,” I smirked.
“If you want them, I want them,” he said.
“And if I don’t?”
He considered this briefly before shrugging it off, “I’d be happy just us two. I kinda like you.”
I decided to leave it at that. I figured that Lauren’s baby would be a good indicator of my desire to be around infants. I’d never really been in a situation where babies were a part of my life…so, I wasn’t sure how I felt about them. I wasn’t sure I could ever seriously picture myself as a mother.
But I could picture Brian as a father.
“What should we do today?” he asked me, catching my disinterest in our conversation.
“You know what I’d love? The fucking beach.”
He smirked at me, “I could do the beach.”
“You,” I pointed with my cigarette, “should surf. I will lounge. It’ll be the perfect day.”
He didn’t argue with me—when it came to surfing, he rarely did. Instead, he ran around the house collecting things to throw into a bag and then packing up his car. I maintained my casual position outside, smoking and enjoying the sun. It had been ages since I’d been down to the pier and I was anxious to get away—not that it was far.
Normally we’d walk, but since I was obviously not in the position to do so, we drove.
“I want to go by the Pacific,” I told Brian sternly, sensing he might argue.
He didn’t but he didn’t verbalize his thoughts at all. He parked us as near to Jimmy’s old condo as he could and then we walked, using the bike path to make my life/trek easier. Finally we made it into the soft sand and I collapsed into a bundle of towels. Brian wasted little time before he was out in the ocean, doing his thing.
I watched him for a while, interested at first and then bored soon after. My hands rubbed at my cast, which felt a lot like a convection oven underneath the California sun. There were only two weeks left before they’d consider removing the plaster prison from my body—and I was so hopeful that they would. It felt like I’d be stuck in the thing forever.
A little dog caught my attention and I couldn’t help but turn to watch it run. I’m not sure why—I’d never been overly keen to own a dog. I wasn’t one of those people that felt the need to pet stray dogs or beg an owner to let me pat its head. But this one was little and excited and the owner was chasing after it, tugging on the leash with very little effect. It reminded me of Jimmy and maybe that was the allure.
My eyes fell backward onto the windows that used to belong to my friend. It was less painful to look upon than it had been to venture to Tyler’s old stomping grounds. That pain had nearly sideswiped me and taken me clear out. There was something calming about sitting out behind Jimmy’s home—like I could almost pretend that he was still in there, watching from the window and waving down at me.
When the sun finally began to dip behind the horizon and the sky filled with streaks of red and yellows, Brian came back to me—dripping all over the place. He flopped into the sand next to me, his eyes fixated on the sky.
“I’m going to miss this,” I thought aloud.
He nodded.
“I’m going to miss you,” I added.
He nodded again.
“We were supposed to go away,” I frowned. “Now that’s shot…”
“We have our whole lives, Blair,” he reassured me, nuzzling his wet head against my arm. “We’ll go on an adventure when you get home.”
“Brian?”
He hummed a response.
“Are you guys going to go on the road or what?”
He hesitated briefly, “I don’t know.”
“Do you care what I think?” I asked oddly.
With a laugh, he said, “Of course I care what you think.”
“I think that you should go…I know that Mike has offered to push Dream Theatre stuff back…and I know that you guys want to get Jimmy’s last songs out there…I also know that you’re conflicted.”
He looked up at me with burden in his eyes.
“I’ve been in your shoes,” I reminded him sadly. “And you stepped in and…you showed me that it would be alright…That life, unfortunately, goes on. I don’t…I don’t want you to lose your dream.”
“I’m not,” he smiled weakly.
I took in a deep breath, turning my focus back out to the rolling waves of the Pacific, “Okay.”
A comfortable silence fell over us, broken only by the tide and the sound of birds in the distance.
“Blair?”
I looked back down at him, but he wasn’t looking back at me, “Yeah?”
“If we go,” he started lowly, “will you be there for the first show?”
It took me a second to comprehend what he was saying.
“I don’t know if I can handle it yet,” he continued slowly. “And I think…Fuck, I know that it would be easier with you there.”
“I’m there,” I told him sternly. “Any time you need me, I’m there.”
He finally glanced up at me and smiled. He pretended not to look passed me and to Jimmy’s windows, like I’d spent most of the evening doing. So, I pretended not to notice.
We stayed that way for another hour, listening to the waves, listening to each other—simply just being. It had been far too long since we’d had any time to really connect again…it had been worth the wait.
“I’m going to change both my names,” I declared happily as we packed our things back into the bag.
“Oh, you’ve decided have you?” Brian smirked.
I nodded, “Blair Haner—it can’t be anything else.”
“You could be just Blair,” he suggested with a laugh. “Like Cher or Madonna.”
“Fuck that,” I grimaced. “Blair Haner for life.”
He stepped closer to me, pushing his forehead to mine, “For life, huh?”
“Oh yeah,” I grinned. “You’re stuck with me forever.”
Brian laughed, stifling his smile and putting on his best pout, “Woe is fucking me.”
It had been well worth the wait.

Notes

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