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“I was. I am.”
“Why’d you break up, then?”
“Because we are in-com-patable,” I say, enunciating the word, a bitter taste in my mouth. “Sara doesn’t see how her life could fit in with mine. Which . . . I can’t blame her for thinking.”
Ram lets out a low chuckle. “She stuck out like a sore thumb at the concert. Until you introduced us, I thought she was a reporter or part of the management team. Like, replacing Marcus or something.”
Marcus always wears a suit backstage with us.
“Her daughter kind of fits in, though,” Ram continues.
“That’s part of the problem. Sara doesn’t want Zoe to be around bad influences, and when it comes down to it, we’re a bad influence.”
“You know, Maria said our lives didn’t fit together either.”
My eyebrows shoot up. Ram rarely ever talks about his first wife, the one he was married to before we took off.
“And she was right. She wanted me to settle down and have babies and buy a house. But I had other priorities.”
“Look where it got you.” We’re exactly where we want to be.
Ram’s gaze is unfocused, the past more visible than the future. And whatever he sees isn’t pretty. “I’d take it all back.”
“What? Really?” Ram has never once seemed to me like he would give this up. I thought he loved the band and our successes.
Ram looks at me. “I loved her, Chris. I really loved her. I see who she is now on social media and stuff, and it breaks my heart because she looks so goddamn happy, and I couldn’t give that to her. She’s a mom now, you know? Three kids. Last time I saw her was a year or so after the youngest was born when I went to visit my parents. We ran into her in town with all three kids, and one of them had a meltdown on the sidewalk, and she had spit up on her shirt. But I knew she was better off. I knew because I love her, and I’d never seen her so happy before.”
I wonder if Ram realizes he used the present tense. “I get that. Sara loves her daughter with her whole heart.”
Ram pushes off the ground, climbing to his feet and dusting off the ass of his jeans. “It’s too late for me and Maria. But if I had a time machine, I’d say fuck off to the three of you and fix my mistake. I guess my point is, you have to decide what you really want. It sucks to have to choose, but life would be too easy otherwise.”
He shrugs, and I just stare at him. Sage words of advice from our drummer was not on my agenda today—or ever, to be honest. Ram offers me his hand.
“That’s pretty wise,” I say when I am on my feet.
“I like to surprise people with wisdomous things.” He opens the door, and I follow him into the studio and my future, shaking my head.
37
Chris
For a very briefperiod of time, I thought this was going to be difficult. Then I stepped into the vegan bakery in Munich, and the cashier’s eyes widened. I had to autograph some things and pose for selfies before I could escape with the giant to-go order of cookies.
I am Chris Rächer today. I did the makeup myself, so it isn’t as technically impressive as when the stylist does it, but what I lacked in skill, I made up for in color. My top is lace, long-sleeved and cropped, my jeans black, my boots black. I’d used the dye on my hair and the black locks swing into my eyes often.
Now, as I walk along the street toward Zoe’s university, I leave a trail of whispers and camera phone shutter noises behind me.
There’s a part of the school near campus housing with a small paved area with benches and bike racks. The buildings on either side of the street look older, the first floor a solid stone wall and the second and third floors painted with bright colors and wood trim. I pass under the shadow of a footbridge made of metal and glass, modernity connecting these two buildings overhead.
There is a cluster of young women who have been following me and laughing for about a block. When I reach the bench, I pop the clear plastic lid off the tray of cookies and offer them. “Cookie?”
“Um, yeah.”
They ask for selfies, and I glower at their cameras.
“Why aren’t you going on the tour?” One of them asks me, a plump brunette with a Bavarian accent.
“I can’t talk about it,” I shake my head like it pains me. “But if you know Zoe Wallace, tell her I’m looking for her.”
