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“She’s a good sleeper,” I comment.
That earns me dual scowls, one from Dax and one from Kate.
“Fuck no!” Dax chuckles. “She’s up all bloody night! This…” he points at the car seat, “is how she is all day. When we want to sleep, she screams her head off.”
“Oh. Well, I’m sure she’ll get better.” I wince when Kate narrows her eyes at my useless platitudes. “Anyway,” I wave them off, “when do you start recording, Dax?”
Dax and Kate are in LA for a while to record Sphere of Irony’s latest album. “Monday.” He scowls and pulls his vibrating phone out of his pocket. “Fucking Zane.” Dax furiously types a response.
Zane is Dax’s personal assistant. The poor guy. Not only does he have to deal with Dax’s mood swings, but Adam used to borrow him all the time as well.
“Adam and Ellie arrive Saturday,” Kate says, her eyes closed. “I wanted to get here early to get settled in the house. She’s used to traveling with a baby so they didn’t want to come until last minute. Both of them hate LA. Plus, being newly pregnant, she’s been pretty ill.”
“She’s pregnant again?”
“Oops,” Kate murmurs when Dax glares her way.
I shrug. “I’m not telling anyone.”
Kate grins. “She’s due right after the Grammys. Ha! Good luck with that!” Kate cackles like a maniac.
“You’re not very supportive.” Dax chastises his evil wife, shaking his head.
“She knows I love her. Just better her than me walking that carpet like a beach ball.” Kate’s eyes light up with glee.
“You’re mean.” I gently shove her knee.
“Come to dinner Saturday, Abby. The place we rented has an unbelievable patio overlooking the city. It’s already turning cold at night in New Jersey, so I want to take advantage of a few extra months of good weather.” Kate waits for my answer while Dax goes back to tapping on his phone.
“Sure. I don’t have plans.” Which is sad, really. I tried dating, but after the whole thing in New Jersey with Hawke and him disappearing the next morning, my ego and my heart took a pretty big hit. I’ve stayed in most nights since then. The icing on the cake is that Hawke never called, texted, or made sure I was okay.
I shouldn’t be surprised he took off. Some things never change.
And you would think I would have learned by now. I’m a clinical psychologist. I studied people with issues just like Hawke’s. I’ve treated people like Hawke.
Einstein said the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.
I guess I must be insane.
Once I’m in bed after a long day visiting with Kate and getting my fill of the adorable Poppy, I revisit that night three months ago, just like I’ve done dozens of times since. Again I wonder if I should have mentioned I know about the accident that changed his life forever.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid.”
On a logical level, I know I didn’t do anything to make Hawke leave in the middle of the night. I know better than to think it, yet no matter how much education I have on the subject, it’s hard not to take it personally when a man you used to love ditches you after sex. As a counselor, I’m upset that I didn’t at least try to discuss what happened between us when we were dating, or find out if he was any better at coping with his issues.
On top of that, I’m pissed at myself for falling right back into bed with Hawke without asking if he’s done anything over the last few years to deal with his grief. I would bet everything I own that he hasn’t, especially after the midnight escape.
No, it’s not right that I know the secret he kept hidden from me all those years ago. The incident that tormented him to the point of not caring whether he lived or died. Unfortunately, the media is nosy and intrusive, and the public insatiable when it comes to celebrities. Hawke and the rest of the band are A-list and very well known all around the world, therefore big targets. With the release of their first album after the U2 tour, they shot up the charts and won multiple Grammys, including Best New Artist. That pretty much sealed their fate as far as popularity, and they’ve never looked back.
After the Grammys, the guys became moving targets, appearing frequently in any and every tabloid magazine and TV show, hassled, interviewed, when touring, at public appearances, in private moments. I remember when they got Kate at one of her soccer games back in college, effectively driving Dax and Kate apart for years before they reunited.
My heart broke for Hawke when I read the article about the death of his family in a car accident. His mother, his father, and his sister all died when their car was sideswiped by a drunk driver, who also died at the scene. Hawke, who was seventeen at the time, was the only survivor. My skin crawled at the knowledge that this very personal incident in his life was exposed on the pages of some crappy magazine, the horrific details laid out as entertainment without a single thought as to how Hawke would feel about it.
I know how he would feel about it—and what having everyone know his darkest secret would spur him to do. It wasn’t that long after the article printed that Hawke was involved in yet another headline-grabbing incident, this time breaking his arm in a BASE jumping accident. The injury ended up pushing back the release of one of their albums.
What hurt the most about the revelation, besides knowing how raw the outright violation of his privacy made Hawke, was knowing he couldn’t confide in me when we were dating. Maybe things would have been different if I had known why he was so reckless with his safety, why he had such severe mood swings. Or maybe things would have been exactly the same.
I’ll never know. Plus, who am I to talk? I never told Hawke about Nick. It was too painful. Talking about my brother was like having my very soul yanked out of my body, torn to shreds, and stuffed back inside the hollow shell in a jumbled mess. It still is.
