“Thank you, I’ve been,” I shake my head, refusing tears. “Are you two…” my question lingers in the air briefly.
“We’re still fighting, but for different reasons than you may think.” She turns to me, her voice unapologetic, “But just to be clear, it’s our fight, and you have no place in it.”
“Okay.”
She averts her gaze to the large line of oak trees that edge the back of our property. “We’ll be fine. Hell, we already are.” A loaded smile lifts her lips. “Sometimes fighting can be really good for a marriage.”
I can’t help my smile. “Really?”
“You’ll learn soon enough.” With that, she taps Daisy with her heels in command and shoots forward, and I laugh before prompting Percy to catch up.
We ride hard for a short while before trotting along the fence to cool our horses down.
“How are you liking it at Hearst?” I glance over at her, and she beats me to the punch in reply. “Yeah, I thought as much.”
“It’s not that.”
“I think we’ve had enough lies between us.”
I nod. “You know you shocked the shit out of me the other day. You’ve never been so brutally honest when we talked in the past—but I loved it.”
“Can’t say that I hated it either, just the way it came about. The good part is we get to share a little more in that way. For the most part, you’re all grown up, now.”
We share a smile. “In the spirit of full disclosure then, I wouldn’t say I hate it. But yes, I’d rather be at the paper.”
Seeming satisfied, she nods as I take in her profile, my perception of her different now while I study her with new eyes.
“You know, I made peace with it when you were just a tiny thing that the two of you would be closer than we would. It’s just the way it is.” She glances at me. “But I know you far better than you think I do, just by the way you are with him and from the conversations your father and I have.”
Tears threaten again as I battle them back.
“I know which parts of you I can take credit for and which I can’t. I raised you right along next to him. Hearst women are strong, Natalie, and you might feel a little weak right now in finding your footing, but you inherited a hell of a lot of the fight in you from me, so don’t go thinking otherwise.” She lightly pulls on her reins to slow Daisy to a stop and dismounts. I do the same as we begin to guide Percy and Daisy toward the barn. “The stubborn streak inside you, I’ll grant that as his gift to you. It’s infuriating, but we’ll figure it out. Now that you’re fully aware your own parents aren’t always capable of acting age-appropriate and make rash decisions, let’s skip the bad parts for now.” She turns to me, her expression surprisingly receptive, an inquisitive look on her face. “So let’s go uncork a bottle so you can tell me the good.”
Unable to help myself, I pull her to me, tears of relief escaping me as she holds me tightly to her. “Thank you, Mom.”
Mayonaise
The Smashing Pumpkins
Easton
Strapping my Stratus around me, I adjust it as the cheers ring out in encouragement. I muster a smile I don’t feel in response, because tonight, I feel a disconnect, not from the music but from those I’m playing for. Far too into my own head, I’ve tried for the entirety of the show to get there with them and failed. Stepping up to the mic now, frustrated, I even myself out, scanning the packed three-story bar before I speak.
“Thank you,” I say, feeling my typical ‘time for one more’ spiel disingenuous, so I don’t bother with it. “This is for my wife.”
A roar filters through the space as ache-filled electricity hums through my veins. LL starts the repetition of the fill chords of “Mayonaise” just before I start to pluck in the whisper of my own, milking the notes while feeling them festering inside me. Using every bit of my reserves, I tap into my frustration while coated in my exertion. At the peak of momentum and in perfect time, Tack drops the beat, and Syd nods to me, joining in on cue. The heavy guitar-filled melody fuels my contempt as I start to recite lyrics about someone who believes themselves cursed by the people closest to them, attempting to strip away all hope and happiness. At least that’s the way I’m interpreting it for myself—because for me, and where I’m at mentally—it’s all too fucking fitting.
Glancing over to the side of the stage, I envision my wife in place of a shadow currently taking up residence where she belongs. My slow leaking destruction bleeds through my voice to those witnessing my slow implosion. My plea into the mic for something to give, for things to be different, for a change in the stagnant water I’ve been treading. Screeching into the mic, I plea to be heard and understood by those who know me best, by those refusing me everything I’m begging for.