Page 63 of Midlife Crisis

I bit back my retort. That’s a terrible excuse. Then I think of all the times he says he asked her to marry him. How could she say no? How could she keep having sex with him, knowing he was the father of her child, and never tell him? I want to understand, but I just can’t. Something in my expression shifts Hank’s face. Suddenly, he’s on his knees before me. Cupping both my hands in his, he leans forward and kisses them.

“Please don’t leave me,” he begs softly, and my heart breaks. No, it’s already broken. It shatters and crashes like shrapnel, exploding with confusion and disappointment in someone dead. My forehead rests against the back of his head.

“I want to understand, but there are so many gaps.” Hank needs to explain a few things. Unfortunately, explanations will have to wait. Edie enters the living room with a glass of wine for me and an invitation for us to join them in the kitchen.

In an effort to pretend we’ve all known this secret and nothing unusual has transpired, Tommy entertains us while he cooks by telling stories about shared experiences with Hank. It’s like a game of Remember When.

“I left home to start a band,” Tommy begins. “Denton, my cousin; a guy we hooked up with named, Tucker Ashe, and me. We had a few small hits on our own—”

“Ever hear of ‘Wait For You’?” Edie interjects, attempting to add me in the reminiscing.

“I loved that song,” I say, smiling despite the sick feeling inside me.

“That was before Chrome Teardrops, darlin’,” Tommy corrects her. “We fell apart after that. And then my sister joined us.” The room grows silent, their memories filling with a woman I’ve never met. Edie eyes me. She didn’t know her either.

“My sister could sing like a church bell, which is where our singing career began. Our father was a pastor. We sang in the choir. Rock ’n’ roll was for sinners. Guess Kit and I wanted to sin.” Tommy winks at Hank. “She left home a year after me, catching up with her own attempts at fame.”

“Kit toughened up her sound, and after Bruce…” Tommy glances up at Hank, and I rack my brain as to who Bruce was. “…she needed a new band. Her label gave her one more chance. She wanted to start fresh. Girl rockers were popular. She needed a drummer to up her beat. We met Hank in a bar, taking out his anger at his old man with sticks on his kit.” Tommy chuckles. “Kit says it was fate.” My heart drops, and I raise my wine to my lips, swallowing the bitter alcohol so I don’t have to look at anyone. There’s a pun there—her name and his equipment to produce music. The irony isn’t lost on me. Fate indeed.

“Anyway, Hank was the addition we needed. Kit became Kit Carrigan and Chrome Teardrops. Denton stuck it out with us until Kit got sick.”

Silence creeps in again, ghosts roaming the kitchen.

“How is Denton?” Hank asks, changing the subject in a minor direction.

“Haven’t spoken to him in a while. Heard he might be in photography or something. Hitched up with modeling. He always was a pretty boy. Last time I saw him might have been…” Tommy thinks for a second, swiping his fingers through his hair like I’ve witnessed Hank do. “Might have been the funeral, so eight or nine years?” The comment lingers.

“Been a long time,” Hank says softly.

“Too long,” Tommy replies, shaking his head at his old friend. “You look so much better, man.”

Hank and I sit on a set of stools at a large kitchen island. His thick hand comes to my lower back, rubbing gently. “I feel so much better than I have in a long, long time.”

Tommy’s lips crook, the corner curling, and I can see him as a rock star. Girls swooning at the pebbly voice with a hint of Southern drawl.

“Love has a way of doing that,” he says. A million retorts swirl in my head, but I stay silent. Tommy steps toward his wife, kissing her open mouthed for a moment. I look away. I can’t watch. I see where Gage Everly learned to be passionate about his wife. Then I remember Edie came after Gage and Ivy married. My heart drops again. I’ve never known such passion. I turn to see Hank watching me, and I fight the tears. I thought he was it—the spark of something—but I don’t know how to feel at the moment. His hand continues to rub my back, but his touch feels so distant.

After we eat, Edie and I do the dishes while Tommy and Hank discuss Lawson.

“What’s next?” Hank asks.

“What do you mean what’s next?” Tommy replies.

“I mean, I want to see him, get to know him. Take him out of here.”

“Wait a minute,” Tommy snaps. “Lawson isn’t going anywhere. This is his home.”

“This is a prison, haunted with memories.”

“For who?” Tommy barks. “This is the only place Lawson has known for twenty-six years. He stays here.”

I startle at the age. Hank’s involvement with Kit goes longer than a few rolls in the hay and a couple of nights here and there. Twenty-six plus years to be exact. Again, I consider Hank and Kit’s relationship. He loved her for a long time, nearly as long as I’ve known Paul.

“What about me? I’m his father.” The sharpness to Hank’s tone makes me flinch.

“He doesn’t know that. You can come around and hang with him, but for how long? Fatherhood isn’t a fleeting thing. And he doesn’t even understand what having a father means. The only male figure in his life has been me.”

“Well, whose fault is that?” Hank growls.