Page 44 of Strum Me

Chapter Seventeen

Brad

She’s just seen a ghost.

Or is listening to one.

Whatever is being said over the phone is making her turn deathly pale. I don’t know whether to give her her privacy or stay there in case she needs me.

“Oh my God. Is he o-o-o-kay?” she stammers into the phone, backing up against the fitting room mirror, leaning against it for support.

I reach out and she wraps her hand around my forearm, and I instantly grip my hand over hers.

“I’m not leaving,” I mouth to her, but it’s like she doesn’t even see me.

She’s nodding along to the long ramble coming through the phone earpiece, but I can’t quite make out the words. I’ll just have to wait.

“Okay, thank you. I…um, I’ll be there as soon as I can. I don’t know how, but I will. Please...please tell him I love him.”

She hangs up the phone and just holds it in her hand for a moment, as if she’s waiting for the phone to spring to life and tell her that it was all a dream.

Then she looks up at me, “I have to…I have to GO!” she suddenly yells and tries to push past me in the fitting room.

I’m too big and she’s rooted to the spot, her eyes dashing around, not focusing on anything, as if what’s going on in her brain is too much for her to form into words.

“Let me go! I have to go!” she yells again, dropping the phone in her panic.

She starts to bend over to pick it up, but I stop her, taking her hand and giving it a squeeze, letting her know I’m there.

“Go where, honey?” I ask, my voice soft, hoping to help calm her down enough for her to tell me what’s happening.

She yanks her hand away and presses it to her chest, a sob threatening to break out of it. “Back to London! I have to go back to LONDON NOW!”

I grab her by the shoulder and force her to look directly at me.

“Stop! Take a deep breath. You can’t help anyone if you’re freaking out. Now, what’s happened? Tell me so I can help you, Butter.”

For the first time since her phone call, I think she hears me. She closes her eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath before speaking. “He’s…he’s in the hospital. He…he was in an accident and they’re prepping him for surgery.”

“Who, baby, who?”

“Ben!” She yells at me, her hand coming up to slam against my chest, the frustration building again.

I hold her hands against me with my left hand and reach around her back with my right, pulling her against me.

“Who’s Ben, Butter?”

Her voice is muffled as her lips graze against my chest, but I can still hear her. “My baby. Ben is my son.”

***

“Dennis!” I call out as soon as I see him near the entrance of the record store. I’m holding Butter’s hand as she follows me, face ashen with worry.

“Where have you guys been? We’re about to start the signing again,” he says, ushering me toward the table.

“I can’t, I mean, we can’t…Just come over here.” I point to a quiet corner with my head. “We’ve got to go to London. Now,” I tell him.

“What, why?” my manager asks.