Retrovertigo

Lauren led the way, carrying a sprawling platter of meat-themed decadence. I followed behind, toting the buns like they were Crown Jewels.
“Owen, don’t you dare drop that mustard,” Lauren warned as she turned to hip check her back door.
My godson grinned cheekily, shrugging his thin shoulders as if he didn’t care, but adjusting his grip on the yellow container nonetheless. Brody had been shackled to Uncle Matt on barbecue duty and was looking painfully bored. As I set the bags atop the glass patio table, my eyes wandered to the yard, the sprawling green mounted against the grandiose sight of my husband playing quietly with a four-year-old. Her blonde curls lay against her back as she poured my tattooed husband a cup of imaginary tea. He sipped at it with such conviction that my insides were a puddle.
“If you like him so much, why don’t you marry him,” Lauren giggled, marveling at my distraction.
I smiled, “Mm... I’d marry that man any day of the week.”
Lauren nodded, glancing over at her own hunky man, “I know what you mean.”
“Life is weird,” I declared with a sigh, sinking down into a chair and pulling my cigarettes from my pocket.
I tossed them onto the table, cracking open the pack to slide one out as if it were a bomb that might go off if I didn’t take utmost care with it. Lauren handed the meat off to Matt and Brody before sinking into a chair across from me.
“Matthew,” I called, cigarette dangling from my lips as I hesitated with the lighter. “We need music.”
He laughed, “Talk to your husband.”
I rolled my eyes, “Brian! We need music!”
I glanced over my shoulder to study his willingness to do my bidding. Turns out, his urge wasn’t so strong. He cocked an eyebrow over at me.
“Are your legs broken?” he challenged.
I rubbed at my scarred limb, pouting theatrically, “Not anymore...”
“Oh, come on,” Brian chuckled. “It’s been six years. Let it go.”
With a flick of my thumb, I sparked my cigarette to life, “I don’t let anything go, Bri. Do you know me at all?”
He grunted, excusing himself from Ava to slide his iPod into the speakers. Matt and Lauren had the better barbecue, Brian and I had the better outdoor sound system. When they’d purchased the house next door three years ago, we’d seen no point maintaining the fence that divided the property. We were, in essence, one big family now.
“What do you want to hear?” Brian asked me, earning himself a shrug.
I smirked, “You know what I like.”
With a subtle nod, Brian brought my favourite album to life. He slipped back into the sea of green, crossing his legs once more as he collapsed himself across from Ava Sanders and enjoyed another cup of the world’s finest invisible tea. Owen quickly pulled up a patch of grass beside his sister, a giant grin plastered across his face. Brody stared wistfully at the scene but quickly distracted himself with Uncle Matt’s babbling.
“So, tomorrow’s the big day,” Lauren smiled at me, fanning the smoke away from her senses with a light wave. “Are you excited?”
I smiled, “Anxious, I guess. It’ll be nice to get back to work, but it’s always followed up with that absolute sheer terror.”
Lauren tilted her head to its side, “What terror?”
I shrugged subtly, resisting the urge to allow myself to be vulnerable, “Maybe people will hate this album. Maybe I’ll be a failure.”
She laughed pointedly, “You? A failure? I don’t think so.”
I shrugged more definitively this time, “You never know.”
“Mom,” Brody cut in enthusiastically, clearly having been eavesdropping, “you can’t fail at nothing.”
“At anything,” I corrected fondly. “But yes, I can.”
He shook his head, “Nuh-uh. You’re Blair Haner!”
I glanced up at Matt, who gave me a laugh and a shrug, “The little man’s got a point, BPH.”
“Whatever,” I dismissed them both, turning back to a grinning Lauren. I groaned at the sight of her, “Oh, not you too.”
She eyed me lightly, “You’re kind of a big deal, B.”
“No bigger than your husband,” I retorted.
Lauren giggled, “If you think Matt will ever be on the same level as you, you’re far crazier than I thought.”
“Oh, please,” I groaned.
“It’s true,” she shrugged, glancing over at Matt. “Right, honey?”
He nodded, that dimpled smile showing itself, “Totally.”
“That’s enough ego stroking,” I snickered. “The moral of the story is that I’m mostly happy to be back to work. It’s been way too long.”
Lauren nodded, “I’m so excited. Don’t tease anything to me! I want the full effect like the rest of your fans.”
“Please don’t refer to yourself as a fan,” I cringed playfully, rubbing at my temple with my free hand.
She smiled, “Well, I am!”
I shook my head at her, half-listening to the swirling sounds of Mike Patton’s voice as he led us through Sweet Charity. A flicker of pain echoed up through the chambers of my heart as my mind fluttered past the most vivid memory I held of this song. As I’d twirled myself in circles, drowning my misery in whiskey, willing myself to die beneath this man’s genius.
I quickly shook it away, determined not to lose anything else I loved because I had made another bad connection.
“Tell me you’re taking my advice and throwing in something upbeat,” Lauren smirked. “Don’t get me wrong, B. I love everything you put out, but sometimes I think it would be fun to dance to your voice! Wouldn’t that be fun?”
I laughed, nodding sternly as I whipped out my most insincere tone, “Yeah! So fun!”
Lauren smirked, “Oh, come on, B. You can be fun!”
I cleared my throat, shimmying my shoulders as I allowed my voice to summon it’s most rich and full song, “If you don’t like it, you can just go fuck yourself.”
I threw in some vibrato for good measure. Lauren was not pleased. Not pleased at all.
“Mom!” Brody scolded from Matt’s side. “You said a bad word!”
“I sang a bad word,” I corrected smugly. “Don’t you repeat it.”
Matt chuckled, “Setting good examples left, right, and centre, huh, BPH?”
I smiled, glancing down at my horrified child, “Brody is a genius. He’s too smart to use such gross words.”
Brody nodded his head with pride.
“See? Problem solved,” I muttered to Lauren, a permanent scowl etched into her face.
“You’re a real...B word...when you want to be,” she informed me.
I scrunched my face at her by way of reply.
I found a pink cigarette on the bed the day that you left. And how could I forget that your lips were there.
“All jokes aside, I’m working on something just for you,” I assured my blonde friend. “Don’t worry.”
She squealed, clapping her hands together like a frantic teen, “Yes!”
Her excitement had me rolling my eyes. To combat the elation, I lit another cigarette. Sinking into the mastery of Mr. Bungle, I leaned back into my chair and closed my eyes. I’d done this album a serious disservice by neglecting its brilliance for so long. To hear it now was like wrapping my fingers around Jimmy’s, like leaning into his love with gravity keeping us linked. We’d adored this album and had practically worn out our copies from constant play.
The Haner household owned three copies of it on disc—one was Brian’s, one was mine, and the final was Jimmy’s.
As I cracked my eyes open once more, I caught Lauren in a daze. Her gaze was fixated on the planets far from our own, her shoulders tense. If she was assessing the probability of life beyond our reach, she’d picked a strange time.
Now I’m dressed in white and you’ve burned me for the last time.
Sensing the need for divine intervention, I pulled myself from my own trance.
“I could show you what I have so far if you want,” I offered.
I was met with silence.
“It isn’t finished,” I continued, my eyebrow cocking itself as Lauren appeared to have tuned me out entirely.
What the fuck had shifted?
“But I’ll show you...” I trailed off with uncertainty. “What I have...”
You’ll find a note and you’ll see my silhouette. There’s just five hours left until you find me dead.
“Lauren?” I finally coaxed, confused and a bit nervous.
She blinked hard, darting her eyes around like she’d somehow just awoken.
“Turn this fucking song off,” she growled.
I cocked my head back, “What? Why? I know you hate Mr. Bungle but it’s almost over.”
“Turn it off!” she insisted with a shrill shriek.
There’s just two hours left until you find me dead.
When I didn’t move, she thrust herself onto her feet with a rage. As the musical countdown continued, Lauren marched herself to the speakers. She swiftly unplugged Brian’s iPod and chucked it to the side with far more force than was necessary.
“Hey!” Brian sneered at her. “Can you not break my shit?”
“Fuck off, Brian,” Lauren growled, disappearing through my French doors and into my home.
Everyone, children and adults alike, exchanged confused glances.
“Mommy said a bad word,” Ava whispered in horror to her brother.
Owen laughed loudly, “She really did!”
Brian was staring at me like I might understand what had just happened. I shrugged dramatically, a lump in my throat growing with a fury.
“Care to weigh in, Mr. Sanders?” I asked, turning to Matt. “Has your wife lost it or what?”
He was at a loss, “I seriously don’t know what that was.”
I sighed loudly, realizing this was probably something that required best friend intervention. For Lauren to not only cuss, but to cuss in front of her children, and to tell Brian to fuck off in the process, meant something big and bad was brewing under her docile exterior. There was no one in the world that understand random and inappropriate bursts of emotion as well as I.
With my tail tucked between my legs, I slowly meandered after the outraged blonde. I found her scrubbing at a pan in my kitchen. Her brows were furrowed with anger, her back arched.
“That was soaking,” I told her lightly.
No response.
“Okay, I know you’re not a fan of Mike Patton but... what the fuck is going on?”
She let out a deep groan, “I can’t listen to that song, Blair.”
“Okay...that’s fine...”
She dropped the pan into the sink and spun around to face me, her eyes reddened and grim, “Do you know what that song is to me?”
I hesitated, feeling suddenly small, “Obviously not a favourite…”
“It isn’t funny, Blair,” she informed me flatly.
My fang sank into my bottom lip, “I don’t know what it is…Why don’t you help me out, Lo?”
“I know we agreed not to talk about it,” she began with a huff. “But I think maybe we should.”
“About what?” I asked confusedly.
Her lip quivered, “About the night you tried to kill yourself. About what happened.”
My chest froze over with a deafening crack. The way Lauren was looking at me was almost enough to have me wrapped around my own limbs in some sick version of fetal position.
“I, uh…” I hesitated. “I don’t know we ever agreed not to talk about it…”
“You know what I fucking mean, Blair,” she growled.
Her sudden flare for the vulgar had me on my heels.
“Is now the best time to talk about that?” I asked cautiously.
She sighed, letting her hands fall to her sides, “I don’t know, Blair…I don’t know if there’s ever a good time to talk about something like that.”
I didn’t have the heart to tell her that nearly five years later wasn’t exactly the pinnacle of good timing.
A knock at the door saved my damn life. We turned from our hostility to find a nervous Matt lingering in the doorway.
“Don’t mean to interrupt,” he said with pursed lips. “But, um…dinner’s ready.”
“I’m not hungry,” Lauren declared, pushing passed him and back into the great outdoors.
Matt eyed me with wild curiosity, “What the fuck’s that about?”
“The past, I guess,” I breathed, letting the guilt I’d been holding fester up into a bloodied boil.
“Okay then,” he laughed nervously. “Come eat.”
I followed the singer back to the table I’d just left, annoyed to find Lauren missing. As Owen trotted up beside me, sliding a plate from the table, he frowned up at me.
“She went inside,” he told me.
I ran my fingers through his brown hair, rustling his subtle curls, “Your mom’s not feeling so well.”
“Nah,” he laughed. “She’s mad at you. I can tell.”
“You cannot,” I argued like the child I apparently was.
He nodded, his blue eyes wide, “I can. She’s super mad. Didn’t you see her vein?”
I furrowed my brows at him as he pointed with a long finger to his forehead. He shook his head subtly at me as if to insinuate it was obvious what vein he’d meant.
“It pops out when she’s mad!” he cackled.
Brian approached, reaching over Owen’s head to pull a plate from the pile, “Are we talking about Lauren’s vein?”
“Yeah!” Owen cheered.
I rolled my eyes, “Oh my god, you two.”
“That thing’s scary,” Brian snickered, giving Owen a little push to get him moving down the line.
Ava was the next to approach, tugging at the end of my shirt with her tiny hands.
“Auntie B,” she said squeakily, “can I have a hot dog please?”
I smiled down at her, effectively falling into the role of maternal food preparer.
“Course you can.”
As I pulled the bun from the bag, I couldn’t help but search Lauren’s windows for any sight of her. Maybe Owen was right, vein or no vein, maybe Lauren was mad. I was just confused about the duration of her anger. Was this a newfound manifestation? Was it somehow forged from the brilliance of one song?
Or had she secretly been pissed as hell all this time? Wasn’t our friendship strong enough to warrant a conversation about it?
I knew Lauren had had something to do with the night I nearly died. It didn’t take much to work it out given our few, brief interactions directly afterward.
After a while, the entire thing had drifted off into our past. And there it had remained under lock and key, with the other baggage and trauma our strange family couldn’t bear to face.
“Ketchup?” I asked Ava.
She nodded happily.
I passed the bun down to her, “Bring that to Dad.”
She skipped off happily, placing herself next to her brother as they waited for Matt to load them with meat. Brody was in his glory as he held the plate for his uncle.
“Hey, Bri?” I called shallowly.
I caught him with a mouthful of potato, stolen straight from the pot. He looked at me like a deer caught in headlights.
I couldn’t help but laugh, “Classy.”
“What’s up?” he asked with his mouth full.
“After dinner…” I started slowly. “Can we talk?”
His amusement shifted quickly to fear, “That’s never good.”
“No, it’s fine,” I assured him with a smile. “Everything is fine. I just…I need some Brian perspective.”
He smirked, “Any time, B.”
As my husband and I packed our own plates full, I watched as the three children dearest to my heart sauntered down into the grass. They collapsed into the yard, giggling as they chowed down on Matt’s slightly burnt offerings. Their little trio was uplifting. They held an unparalleled bond—the boys endlessly watching out for young Ava.
Sometimes, when I wasn’t entirely paying attention, I could almost see my life reflected in them. Owen and Brody had a head start with their friendship, but when Ava had arrived, neither boy had thought twice about the love they showered her with. They’d do anything to make her smile.
The way Brian and Jimmy had always looked after me.
In the midst of my gushing, I watched the clumsy girl drop her dinner into the grass. A distinct and emotionally Lauren look spread across her face as her eyes twinkled with distraught.
“Ah, fuck,” I grumbled, immediately setting to work on preparing a second hot dog for the disheartened Sanders.
But by time I’d turned around, I found Ava happily biting into a bun. Owen was on his way over to me, looking annoyed but content.
“Can I have a new hot dog?” he asked me flatly.
Without a word, I handed over the bread in my hand. Such strange little things can bring out the greatest pride.
“Dad!” Owen called as he bounded over to the hunky singer. “Can I have one that isn’t so burnt this time?”
With everything settled and all right in the world, except the palpable brooding going on in the house next door, I put my troubles away in the back of my mind. If I was going to get into the dark discussion with Brian about that night all those years before, I wanted to be ready.
His words back then had nearly ripped me apart—and I wasn’t exactly keen to hear them again. But I wasn’t about to let Lauren remain perpetually pissed with me either.
One way or another, I knew it was time to sort the laundry.

Notes

xx