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Jude
To sayI fucked up would be the biggest understatement of all time.
Claudia and her husband, Levin, both spent the better part of our day together telling me what a fucking dumbass I was for not being upfront on why I couldn’t hang out with Tali. Actually, Claudia took it a step further and admonished me for not cancelling on them, despite them flying in from Switzerland to visit me, so Icouldtake her up on her offer to play basketball in the park.
Their four-year-old son, Noah, who spoke French and Italian, but not English yet, had delighted in yelling “dumbass” throughout the park we took him to.
The thing was, never in my wildest dreams did I imagine Tali Stripes DiPietro would ask me to do anything with her ever again. Even when we were together, I was always the one chasing her, inviting her places, asking her to come to me.
I’d been tongue tied and stupid when she’d asked for me to come to her. To play basketball, no less. I couldn’t have dreamed that up in a thousand years.
I’d regretted turning her down all day, especially with Claudia and Levin’s continuous disapproval.
My feet were shaky, and the ground beneath them was slippery. Before last night in the hotel lobby in Milan, I hadn’t known where I stood with Tali. The sliver of optimism that had kept me ticking over the years thought we were getting closer. What that meant, what would happen, I hadn’t the foggiest.
But now it was clear where I stood, and it was nowhere near Tali. There might as well have been an uncrossable desert between us. She wouldn’t look at me. Wouldn’t talk to me. If she saw me coming, she changed directions. We were right back to the place we’d been on the first day of the tour. Maybe worse, because at least then, she’d been angry, but now she was blank.
If she would have given me two fucking minutes to explain, I could have made it right. I couldn’t make her want me, but maybe I could ease her mind, ’cause whatever she thought she saw in the hotel lobby hadn’t been the full story. Not by a mile.
I didn’t even blame her. If Tali had done half the shit I’d done, I’m not sure I could trust her. I hated even thinking that, but I had to acknowledge the truth of it.
I’d learned in rehab, and then in years of therapy, the people I loved might never fully trust me again. Even if I never relapsed. Even if I was honest to a fault. Even if I split myself open and showed them every part of me.
There was a time, a long fucking time, I wondered what the entire point of getting clean was if I’d always be the “recovering addict.” Anyone new I met had to be told my history, and everyone else had lived through it with me. Hell yes, being an addict had been a defining part of my character for a good portion of my twenties, but it wasn’t the sum of me. I could apologize for my mistakes and seek forgiveness, but I couldn’t force anything, and I couldn’t live in the past.
When I came to terms with that, I figured out why I wanted to be clean. It wasn’t to undo all the shit I’d done, but to ensure I never ended up in that miserable, bottom-dwelling place again.
I was going on thirty-seven years old and still figuring it all out. Who the hell wasn’t?
The one thing that had become crystal clear to me over the last month on tour was I wasn’t done trying with Tali. Whether she was done trying with me was an entirely different story. But I’d gone after this job and gotten myself on this tour for a reason: Tali.
I watched her across the stage, a walkie-talkie in front of her mouth as she spoke through it. Her precisely arched eyebrows pulled together in the center, her mouth curving down in the corners, as she listened to the response through the speaker.
Hector came up beside me, slapping a hand on my shoulder. “Boss lady isn’t happy today.”
“Oh yeah? What’s going on?” I asked.
“From what I heard, the band was supposed to do a big interview with an Italian media outlet this morning, but the reporter never showed...at least until now. He’s wandering around backstage somewhere, asking the crew questions, and Tali’s pissed.”
Not even ten seconds later, a man I’d never seen before approached Nick a few feet away from where I stood, checking over his guitar like he always did pre-show. The short, stocky man had a press pass dangling around his neck and a camera aimed directly at Nick.
“Oh shit, this can’t be good,” Hector said. The fucker sounded excited.
Nick’s head jerked up, brows pinched in a straight line, giving the reporter a death stare.
“Tali,” Nick barked. “This guy says you told him he could interview me, but I have a real fuckin’ hard time believing that. Can you get him out of my face now?”
I bristled at the hard way he spoke to her, but Tali could handle herself and the band she managed. She turned in Nick’s direction, quickly assessing the situation before taking action.
With her hair in a high ponytail and her spiky heels, Tali looked like the newest incarnation of Wonder Woman striding across the stage. When she reached Nick, she stood tall next to him while towering over the reporter.
Tali lifted her chin, looking down on him, even as he waved his camera pretty fucking aggressively in her face. “Come ti chiami?” she asked in what sounded like perfect Italian.
He answered, waving his hands wildly. I had no earthly idea what he was saying, and from one glance at Hector’s puckered brow, he didn’t either.
Tali sliced one hand through the air. “Basta.” She never raised her voice, never got in the guy’s face. In fact, she gave him a small smile. Italian rolled off her tongue like it was her native language.
Her parents had sometimes broken into Italian at their house, but Tali’s knowledge of the language had been cursory. She’d taught me a couple curse words and named all the body parts.
