Page 100 of Strum Me

“Just. You know, Silas,” I say, the S’s in his name coming out just like I thought they would, like a snake in the grass.

“What’s going on with that?”

“I don’t know. I just… Man, I don’t know, I don’t know how to help her,” I tell him, feeling completely helpless.

“Just be there for her. I know what it’s like to feel helpless. But it’s not about you, it’s about her,” Marius says, a rare sensitive side showing.

“But I love her. I can’t just stand here and do nothing.”

“That’s why you gotta put your shit aside and do what needs to be done for her peace of mind.”

I smile at him, grateful. I know how hard it is for him to refrain from making jokes. “Thanks. You’re the best girlfriend a guy could ever have.”

“You’re welcome. Want to see my boobs now?”

“No thanks, we see enough of those on our album cover.”

“Hey, whatever gets us the sales, dude.”

***

I know Marius is right. I know I just need to not worry about what it all means for me, and worry about what I can do for her. For her and Ben.

I just don’t know what that is. I’ve never had to make decisions based on someone else before. In fact, I’ve never really had to make any decisions for my life at all. I’ve been sheltered in my life with the band. It’s always been about the music and the music first. Everything else came after.

Except for each other.

And I guess this is no different.

I knock on the adjoining room door to Emily’s room. There’s no answer and I knock again.

“Butter? Are you in there?”

I press my ear against the door. There’s a sound coming from inside but again, no answer.

“Emily! Are you okay? I can hear you in there. Open the door.”

There’s a pause, and then I hear soft footsteps.

She throws open the door and the look on her face makes my stomach sink.

She’s pale and her eyes are brimming with tears. She’s holding papers in her hands that shake as she steps aside, letting me walk past her and into the room.

“Baby, what’s wrong?”

“He…He…” She stares at me, unable to get the words out.

“He...what? Who?” I ask, trying to help her form words.

“Si-Silas.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” I don’t know what’s coming next, but it can’t be good.

“He’s suing me for custody of Ben.” She looks at me, her eyes red with tears, frantic, as she tries to process what’s happening.

“NO!”

“He…” She holds out the papers to me. “I’ve talked to my lawyer and…and she says he’s citing neglect. That I’ve been neglecting my child and he wants …wants custody of him. To take care of him. Because he says, he says…I’m a bad mother!” she repeats as if unable to comprehend it.