Retrovertigo

Lauren tipped the bottle of wine over the edge of my cup, exhaling deeply as the red liquid splashed against the bottom. She stayed silent until the bottle was nestled against the wooden table and her back was pressed firmly against the cushion.
“Seven years,” she practically whispered. “And that’s the story you finally decide to tell?”
I smirked, sipping at the bitter drink, “Yes.”
“I kind of forgot that Jimmy helped you write your first album,” she thought aloud with a puckered sigh. “It seems like forever ago.”
“It was forever ago,” I nodded.
She smiled at the memory, meeting my gaze as she slipped wine through her lips, “He’d been home for, what…twelve hours? I think that’s all I got with him. Twelve hours and then it was off to the Blair races.”
“I’m…sorry,” I replied weakly, feeling only a little defensive of her words.
“No, no,” she waved me off. “I didn’t mean it like a criticism. It’s just the way Jimmy was. His whole world revolved around you.”
I wasn’t sure that was an entirely accurate sentiment but I didn’t see the point in arguing about it. Lauren would probably always harbor a skewed view of Jimmy and my friendship—and the last time she’d tried to talk about it, we’d nearly killed each other. It was essentially placed into the taboo zone moving forward.
“It is a beautiful song,” she added fondly. “Maybe my favourite.”
I laughed, “Really?”
“Oh yeah!” she nodded enthusiastically. “Or maybe Born to Die…but that one is a bit sad.”
It only figured she’d pluck that one out of the mix. Jimmy had helped design that melody, too.
My lips pulled into a devious grin, “They’re all a bit sad, Lauren.”
“Yeah but…” she paused in thought. “No, you’re right. They’re all sad.”
“What’s all sad?” Brian’s voice floated along the afternoon breeze.
He collapsed into the chair across from Lauren and I, lighting the cigarette pursed between his lips. Matt wasn’t far behind, taking up residence next to Brian as he smiled affectionately over at his girl.
“Blair’s music,” she half-laughed. “We were just talking about her first album.”
Brian nodded, his jaw clenched as it held the smoke from escaping his throat, “That’s a good one.”
“It’s very Jimmy,” Matt chuckled, a wistful glisten sparking across his hunky face.
I nodded my head, gesturing with my hand for Brian to make with the cigarettes. Although I’d quit through my pregnancy, and remained a non-smoker for the first year of Brody’s life, I’d played with the addiction one too many times. It seemed like every time I’d hit a rough patch in my life, the cigarettes would call to me. They’d never let me down.
I was a full-fledged smoker before too long.
He tossed his pack of Marlboros to me, followed swiftly by his green lighter. I hastily lit the end, pulling as much sweet nicotine down into my chest as possible. The toxins swirled through my blood with a satisfying high.
“You should write a pop song,” Lauren told me enthusiastically. “Like a real pop song.”
I scoffed, “As opposed to all the fake hits I’ve been pumping out over the years.”
“You know what I mean,” she groaned playfully. “Make something I can dance to!”
Matt nodded, his brows pushed high, “Yeah, Blair. Write something she can shake her ass to.”
“Stop that right now,” I warned with a point of my cigarette. “You’ll make me fucking sick.”
Lauren smirked, “Love isn’t nauseating, B.”
“It is when it’s you two,” I retorted, grinning over at a laughing Brian.
Brian snickered, “May as well enjoy it while it lasts.”
“And what is that supposed to mean, Mr. Broody?” Lauren shot in his direction.
He shrugged, “Once this album’s out, we’ll be on the road again. So, savor the love now, Lauren. We’ll be gone soon.”
“Your husband is a bummer,” Lo informed me with a ripe pout.
I laughed, “He is.”
“I’m just saying!” Brian chuckled. “We should all be grateful for the time we have together. We won’t get to sit out on the deck, you two getting wine drunk…We’ll all be apart soon.”
“Stop that,” she whined, rubbing little circles into her forehead. “It’s so awful when you guys are gone.”
“It is far quieter though,” I noted cheekily.
“What about you, B?” Matt asked me cheerfully. “Any plans to hit the road?”
Brian cast me an inquisitive stare, his grin one of someone in the know. It had been discussed thoroughly, the idea of my touring once more. I was a different breed than the men I called family—they seemed to crave life on the road. They seized every opportunity to see the world and play to a broad audience. I, however, found solace in the comfort of home.
Touring was a sore spot. I didn’t like to be too far from home—and I was never sure how I could properly integrate motherhood into the vagabond nature of a touring artist. It hadn’t made sense to hit the road as Brody grew up. He’d endured enough distance from his father’s lifestyle, I didn’t want to add chaos to the ache.
But as Brody aged and our life hit a level of monotony, I found myself longing for more. It seemed as though all of my troubles had come to a head and I was far more in control of myself than I’d ever been. It was a Thursday when I’d brought it up to Brian, pleading with him for his honest opinion.
“If you want to go,” he’d said with a smile. “We’ll figure it out.”
The only thing we’d figured out was that I did, in fact, want to go. Beyond that, though, there hadn’t been much follow-up on the matter. Gabriel was in talks for a European tour at the moment—but nothing had been finalized. Nothing had really been started. I’d hastily insisted we stay within North America; I figured it would be easier to tote Brody around nationally.
I parted my lips to answer with some vague, indistinct muttering, when a tiny little blonde interrupted our flow. She bounded up to the adults, her hazel eyes beaming in the sunlight.
“Mommy!” she bellowed in her squeaky voice. “Owen’s eating worms again!”
Lauren grumbled with an exaggerated sigh, using my thigh as a push point as she climbed to her feet. She wrapped her hand around her daughter’s as they meandered off in the search for her worm-eating son. My son was an accomplice, no doubt about that. But I figured Lauren would sort him out as well as I ever could.
“I don’t understand the fucking fascination with worms,” Matt groaned, a playful grin spreading across his strong face. “He won’t eat broccoli, but he’ll eat worms.”
“Broccoli’s gross,” Brian shrugged.
Matt scoffed, “As opposed to fucking worms.”
“Protein,” I smirked from behind my trail of smoke.
“You guys are the worst,” the hunky singer groaned.
Brian laughed, “Hear that, B?”
“The worst!” I concurred theatrically.
“I get a worm eating son and a tattle tale for a daughter,” Matt sighed. “What’s next?”
I caught the tail end of that with pure curiosity, “Next?”
Matt shrugged, a coy smirk hanging off the edges of his lips, “Maybe one day.”
“A real family man,” Brian noted with a teasing nudge.
Matt rolled his eyes, “What about you guys? Gonna give the Brodster any brothers or sisters any time soon?”
Brian and I met uncomfortable gazes before quickly resigning to the comfort of our united decision.
“Nope,” we said in unison.
“Why not?” Matt laughed.
I shrugged, “As Brody gets older, I get to live more of my life. I like having one kid. One is easy.”
“Though, we basically have two,” Brian snickered. “Given how often Owen is over here.”
“True!” I nodded dramatically, mentally high-fiving my husband.
“He’s drawn by the power of the Bs,” Matt grinned.
Brian smiled, “A trio of Bs. Just the way we like it.”
“Any more Bs and we’d be a fucking hive,” I grinned deviously.
My husband shot me a validating laugh.
Matt smiled, “Yeah, I get it. More kids mean more goodbyes…I fucking hate leaving the kids behind—and I know Brian struggles with that shit too.”
“I struggle with leaving you both behind,” Brian told me fondly.
I smirked, “Aren’t you charming.”
Brian grinned with pride, shimmying his shoulders a little for added effect.
Sometimes I wasn’t sure if Brian was pained to leave me out of affection…or fear. I was a bit of a loose canon when left to my own devices, and that knowledge was never very far from Brian’s consciousness. I’d worked tirelessly over the years to regain his trust in my lust for life, but sometimes I was sure he still wasn’t convinced.
Some days were simply too heavy to muster the courage to lift my head. Sometimes, I just needed to sleep for three days and push my food around my plate. Some things were still too fresh.
Brian stubbed his cigarette into the ash tray, waving the smoke away with a lazy flail of one hand.
“Anyway, the only baby I’ll be having in the near future is a new album,” I circled back around.
Matt’s face lit up, “I’m always up for some new BPH material.”
“You guys are still coming down at the end of the month, right?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at them as if to interrogate.
They nodded simultaneously.
“I can’t believe we’ve known each other for a decade and never recorded together,” Matt told me, the disbelief sounding out through each word.
Brian smirked, “I have!”
“Of course you have,” Matt groaned. “You were a sub for Haven.”
Brian rolled his deep brown eyes, “Yeah, but that isn’t what I meant.”
“That,” I noted, pointing a finger toward him, “is only because Jimmy and I forced you. You whined and bitched the whole fucking time.”
I could still see Brian’s irritation wriggling through his nerves as Jimmy and I bounced in place, teaming up to boisterously demand Brian’s attention. We needed his skills and we needed them urgently. Brian had groaned and whined and told us to fuck off.
We didn’t, though.
We maintained our gyrating places, growing louder and louder in our efforts to recruit Synyster Gates. He was the perfect addition to my demo.
“Fuck you, Peterson,” Brian laughed.
“Stop fucking calling me that,” I whined playfully. “You’re such a fucking shit.”
As my eyes fell from Brian to a horrified young blonde, I instinctively shot a hand over my filthy mouth. Lauren’s brows were narrowed fiercely as she shook her head at me.
“Mommy, Auntie B said a bad word!”
“Yes, Ava,” Lauren replied through grit teeth. “Auntie B said a couple bad words.”
I cringed, which only made the men erupt with laughter, “I’m so sorry.”
“Unreal,” Lauren moaned, giving her head another shake.
“In my defense,” I chuckled, “I didn’t know you were there.”
She rolled her eyes, “Maybe if you were wearing your glasses, Blair. You would have seen us coming.”
Her use of Blair with a specific tone was her subtle way of letting me know that she meant a different B word. The idea alone of Lauren outwardly calling me a bitch, despite how secretly, always brought a smile to my face.
“Yeah, yeah,” I waved her off, standing only to snuff my cigarette into the ash tray.
Lauren climbed back into her seat, pulling her beautiful daughter into her lap with one fluid movement. Ava settled in, admiring all of the adults in their casual glory. The talk quickly shifted from a free-for-all to PG. It made for a serious lull.
“We’ll have to track out we’re doing,” Matt told me, talking over Lauren and Brian’s boring conversation about Owen’s nature-oriented eating habits. “It isn’t exactly a duet.”
I shook my head, “No, but I think we can make it interesting because it isn’t originally a duet. We’ll flesh it out once we get into the studio. Don’t worry, Matty, I won’t overshadow you.”
“Was that pun on purpose?” he caught with a cocked eyebrow.
“What pun?” I asked, clueless and unamused.
Matt smirked over at my husband, “Your wife’s pretty.”
“Gorgeous,” Brian grinned, sizing me up.
That was man code for you’re a fucking idiot, Blair. I didn’t mind. I took the compliments as face value, refusing to evaluate my intelligence even under the best of circumstances.
“Auntie B,” Owen’s voice sounded from somewhere in the yard. “Can you come here?”
Without a second thought, I jumped up from my place and sauntered off in the direction his voice had come. I found my son and godson nestled in the sand beneath Brody’s play structure. They had various plastic buckets turned upside down and Brody had somehow snuck his toy guitar out without earlier detection.
“We made a song!” Brody told me excitedly.
I smiled widely, “A song.”
“Yeah!” my child nodded enthusiastically. “Wanna hear it?”
“Of course I do,” I half-laughed, crouching down into the sand to get a better view.
Brody pointed to Owen, “He’s drumming.”
“Like my dad,” Owen grinned.
The words hit a chord in my heart.
“And I’m like my dad!” Brody informed me. “Oh, and you too. I sing and play the guitar!”
I smirked, “You’re so talented.”
“I know,” he agreed without a hint of modesty.
“Okay, Brods,” Owen encouraged. “Let’s play!”
As they embarked on maybe the sloppiest, worst song to have ever been composed, I couldn’t help but feel completely floored. They giggled and grinned through their creation, stealing proud glances at one another with each beat. Owen pushed his palms against the buckets as Brody attempted to play real chords. He quickly abandoned them in favor of random strumming. His ‘lyrics’ were absolute gibberish.
Not unlike the way Jimmy used to track his demos. The parallel brought a hint of sunshine into my otherwise cold being.
“Aren’t we good?” the boys asked me together as they finished up their sonata.
I nodded, trying my best to look convincing, “Prodigies! The both of you!”
“Thank you,” they both grinned, climbing to their feet to take their bows.
I applauded loudly, the strangest sense of pride washing through my system. I loved the life Owen injected into my son’s veins—Brody had been cursed with all of the feelings passed down from generations of Haner. Owen was a master of crushing the sadness and focusing on the good. Not unlike his father.
“Can you go get my mom and dad?” Owen asked me with anticipated giddiness dripping from his piercing blue eyes. “I wanna show them!”
“Of course,” I smiled, my knees cracking with age as I straightened out my spine.
Brody hollered after me, “Bring Dad back too!”
I shouted back something of an agreement before sauntering back to the adults.
“The boys have written a song,” I informed the other thirty-somethings in the crowd. “I’m supposed to assemble you all.”
“It’s bad,” Ava squeaked from her mother’s lap.
The men dissolved into laughter, much to Lauren’s horror. She silently scolded them, prodding them not to encourage such crass from the three-year-old.
“Ever the critic. Huh, Ava?” Brian grinned, spinning around and headed straight for me.
“Come on,” Matt smiled at his daughter. “We should listen to your brother’s music.”
Ava pouted, “I did! It’s bad!”
“Ava,” Lauren warned, doing her best to hide her amusement.
“Come on,” Matt encouraged again with a laugh, pulling his daughter from Lauren and positioning her atop his shoulders.
He followed Brian through the yard and around to the impromptu stage. Lauren hesitated, watching her man fondly as he disappeared.
“He’s a good dad,” she said warmly.
I nodded, “He really is.”
“I’m glad you were right all those years ago,” she informed me, leaning into me as she slipped to my side. “I don’t know if I ever would have realized my feelings if you hadn’t, rudely, pointed them out.”
I laughed sharply, rolling my eyes at her, “You would have. And it wasn’t fucking rude. I was showcasing my psychic abilities.”
“Right,” Lauren groaned teasingly. “Well, Mrs. Psychic, tell me…How bad is this song?”
My laughter increased in volume and sincerity, “No need to tap into my psychic powers. I’ve heard it, Lo. It’s pretty fucking bad.”
She smiled, “Well, I guess it’s about the effort, right?”
“Abso-fucking-lutely,” I concurred.
“Okay,” she sighed. “Let’s go pretend to be good people.”

Notes

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