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in-death-we-fall · 1 year

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Aesthetics of Hate

This is the House of Nine. There is a horror that echoes through its walls. There is a horror that shifts and broods. A horror that coils itself into a moment of truth. This is our house. We have heard it sing.

It’s started again, hasn’t it? That’s why we’re back. That’s why we’ve… changed.

Back? Listen.

We never left.

Slipknot’s drug, alcohol and ego problems are history. No longer at war with each other, the only struggle now is finding a way to finish it.

Words: Ken McIntyre. Pics: Steve Brown.

Aka the one that aged like milk. Many thanks to @incredizort for sharing your collection. (docs link)

The are the village people of the damned, a psychedelic terror circus populated by depressed clowns, obsessive-compulsives, misanthropes, cyborgs, droogs, ghouls, and goblins. Their sound is a barrage of noise and confusion, a bundle of hiss and the dynamiting of mountains. They look like escaped mental patients on Halloween, and their demeanor vacillates between grandiose and openly hostile. They are Slipknot, and they are legion.

Since 1995, these nine creatures of latex and bone from the fertile plains of Des Moines, Iowa, have lorded over their dysfunctional kingdom of maggots and problem children with shaky hands that have often succumbed to their own wretched excesses. As the band went from strength to strength, from the runaway freight train of their 1999 self-titled debut album to the embittered, embattled success of 2001’s Iowa and their surprisingly tuneful comeback, 2004’s Vol. 3: (The Subliminal Verses), Slipknot scaled unheard-of heights for an extreme metal band, snapping up Gold and Platinum albums, winning Grammy awards, infiltrating the mainstream like sinister double agents.

But none of it came easy, and lurking behind the mask was a band at war with itself; a band riddled with drug, alcohol, and ego problems. In 2005, the levy finally broke, and Sipknot took a much-needed break, the various members healing, mending fences, and exploring other creative avenues. Singer Corey Taylor and guitarist Jim Root returned to Stone Sour, drummer Joey Jordison played with a myriad of bands, from Korn to Metallica, and drummer and visual artist Shawn ‘Clown’ Crahan produced the revealing ‘Knot-doc Voliminal: Inside The Nine, among other projects.

But they could not avoid their fates forever, and so Slipknot return with a roaring new album, All Hope Is Gone, which pits a burgeoning retro-thrash metal obsession and their recent flirtations with melody against their original vision of pure, bloodlusting aggression and brutality. And with this latest dispatch from the abyss comes the expected media saturation, as well as an endless arc of tours and festivals and television performances. It is during the brief calm before the storm that Metal Hammer catches up with Slipknot, rehearsing their new set at Wells fargo Arena in downtown Des Moines.

Slipknot (left to right): Shawn ‘Clown’ Crahan, Chris Fehn, Craig Jones, Joey Jordison, Paul Gray, Mick Thomson, James Root, Sid Wilson Corey Taylor

They say it’s what’s inside you that counts.

That’s what scares me.

It’s in all of us

It’s what binds us that makes us clash. It will happen again.

We’re twisted pieces of the same puzzle. Nine faces that speak with one voice.

The voice of madness…?

Is it normal to be practising in an arena? Shawn ‘Clown’ Crahan (percussion): “It’s not normal, but it’s not surprising at the level we’re at. It was my idea to do this, to practise in the small room and get it tight, and then to come out here and get the feeling of the arena again. Otherwise, you’re practising in people’s houses, and we’re nine brothers. Imagine nine brothers with nine families and everybody running with different crews, and all having different morals and standards and spiritualities. Imagine that fuckin’ insanity. So this makes sense.”

Des Moines had a series of floods recently. Did they affect the band at all? Corey Taylor (vocals): “Not really. I spent a couple days running around saving my friends. Everybody I knew with the exception of just a couple people lived on the flood plain, so I was just going out and helping people get the fuck out of there. I had a house full of people for a week.”

For years now, there have been allegations that you guys all hate each other. Is the band still dysfunctional? Joey Jordison (drums): “Yeah, we are dysfunctional. But I mean, we all grew up together. Me and Mick [Thompson (sic), guitar] are like, best friends, and I used to detest that guy. We fuckin’ hated each other, man. And Shawn, me and him are probably the closest brothers in the whole band, but we probably get along the least because we love each other so much, and we control a lot of what goes on in Slipknot. We’re constantly butting heads. I remember right before Ozzfest, you could just cut the tension between me and him with a knife, it was so thick, and one day I left practice (sic) all pissed off, and I was saying, ‘Fuck off, I think I’m quitting.’ There we were, we just got the ticket, we were on our way to making it. That’s how fuckin’ stressed out we were. And literally – he’s a lot bigger than I am – Shawn flipped his kit over, came over to my drumset, ripped my stuff down and held me by the fuckin’ throat, and I grabbed his throat and went to punch him, and then the whole band dogpiled us. We’ve had lots of fights like that, real fistfights. But even though we still get into fights, we don’t let them last that long anymore. The band is just so intense. I mean, we’ve got nine extreme personalities here.”

That reminds me, on a scale on (sic) one to 10, how nuts is your DJ, Sid? He just told me that he’s a cyborg, and I think he really means it. Joey: “One to 10? Like, 13. Yeah, he’s crazy. You take 72 hits of acid in one weekend, it’s gonna fry your brain up a little bit.”

How do you guys balance all the side-projects with Slipknot? Joey: “It’s fuckin’ simple. Slipknot comes first.”

So it didn’t take any convincing to get everybody back to do a new album? Joey: “Well, it usually happens when the other bands sorta run their course. Certain people in the band decide not to do anything, they just chill out until the next Slipknot record. Me, I do a lot of work with other bands, but Slipknot’s my priority, and I’m glad to be back playing with these guys. The first day when we started rehearsal, usually people are laidback (sic), it was like headbang city man, and we were like, ‘Let’s just get out metal necks, let’s get that shit out of the way.’ It feels great, man. I’m happy.” Corey: “ I was completely stoked to do it. I’d actually started thinking of it and preparing for it on the Stone Sour tour. I just started filling notebooks with ideas. It got to the point where I had two notebooks full of stuff, and I was just ready to go. So as soon as the music was written and the demos started floating around, I was just like, ‘OK, this fits here and this fits here.’ I wasn’t rushing around to write lyrics, which a lot of guys do. I was very prepared and not only was I saying everything I wanted to say, but I was doing it in a way I was ecstatic about. I knew I wanted to go heavier, and I knew at the same time that I wanted to balance that with this melodic side that we had really tapped into. And the proof is there. I think this album is the best thing we’ve ever done, to be honest. I think it really shows the growth of the band and the maturity. But it’s still chaotic and heavy, but it’s still got those moments where you just go, ‘Holy fucking shit!’ Not only is it good, but the more you listen to it, the more you find. There’s a lot of layers, and that’s something that gets lost on a lot of people. There’s just so much thought and so much meaning behind everything we do. It’s not just shock for shock’s sake.”

What’s the theme for All Hope Is Lost (sic)? Umm, hopelessness by any chance? Corey: “It’s not a blatantly political or social album, and it’s not a blatantly angry album. I think the overwhelming theme, for me, is that none of us are the same, but none of us are different. We may change as people, but if we use the same energy to try and solve different problems, nothing is going to get accomplished. And that’s something that I think is lost on a lot of people.”

What was it like having Dave Fortman as a producer for this one? Joey: “Dave was great. It’s not like when we were recording with Rick Rubin – he was like an oracle. He would make these little tweaks from his house. He’d sit in this little library in his house, he’d sit there cross-legged with these prayer beads and he’d get a vibe, and he’d tell the engineer what to do. That was a weird way to record. But Dave, he was there every hour, every day. When we write songs, we tend to write really long like, [Metallica’s] …And Justice For All- type songs, nine or 10 minutes long. So we’d record the song like that, and Dave would help us chop it down. The thing with Dave is, that guy knows his tones. I finally got the best drum sound in my life. The guitar sound, the bass, the percussion… finally, we’ve got the Slipknot sound I’ve been wanting to hear my whole life.”

You’ve got new masks and new outfits, do you feel constrained at all by them? Corey: “No. We don’t only have these, but we have actual outfits that we put together ourselves. They’re still cohesive, but they’re a little more individualistic. We had started doing that on the last album. It’s part of our evolution. If you’re not evolving, you’re dying. No matter what the fucking fans on the websites say, nobody wants to see the same fucking shit over and over again. This time around, we felt it was very important that we are represented as individuals and not just as a band, as pieces of a puzzle. The new mask and outfits range from outrageous to very subtle. It’s a reflection of who we are. But we also kept the boiler suits, because we like to appear as a unit.”

You guys got saddled with the ‘nu metal’ tag early on. Obviously at this point you’ve overcome it… Corey: “There were a couple of bands that were good and that had a really good attitude. Snot comes to mind. That was an amazing band; I loved Snot. (hed)P.E. – their first couple of albums were amazing, because they had so much attitude, and it was so different. But then you had bands like Limp Wristed and all that crap, where it just got so watered down; the P.O.D.s, fuckin’ bands like that, where there was zero talent going on. It was frustrating being caught up in that, but at the same time, people don’t want to think outside of what they already know. They want their opinions forcefed (sic) to them. So if a magazine comes out and says we’re nu metal, than (sic) that’s what they’re going to say. It took us a long time to change people’s minds. We’re just a metal band. The people that wanted to write us off as a nu metal band weren’t our fans, they just didn’t know what to call us. We just got stronger and stronger and more willing to experiment and so they just didn’t know what we were. In that respect, we sort of created our own genre, and there’s a lot of bands that kinda take cues from us now. It’s kinda weird.”

Slipknot broke the ceiling for extreme metal bands making it in the mainstream. Did it shock you when it was happening? Corey: “At the time we didn’t even think about it, we were just real busy working. We were literally on the road for 18 months and saw home for maybe three weeks in that entire time. We were gone forever. But we knew that was going to happen, so we just put our heads down and did what we had to do, because we just refused to lose. So once we got that done we had time to take a breath. We were getting ready to start on the Iowa tour, and we just turned around and were like, ‘Woah! Look what we did. We’re fucking huge!’ We were playing this place that’s not even there anymore, it was called the Bronco Bowl in Dallas. It was set up like a mini-arena and it was just fucking gagged, fucking jammed with people. I remember walking out on stage and thinking, ‘Are we opening up for somebody? Where did all these fucking people come from?’ They knew every word, they knew everything, I remember coming off stage and just having this amazing smile on my face. I was like, ‘Something’s different. We’re not an opening band anymore.’ And I don’t think we’d ever be again, unless we were opening for somebody like Metallica. It was insane, it was probably the best feeling I’ve ever felt in my life.” Joey: “It didn’t happen overnight, because we had to work so hard for it but… it happened overnight. We went on Ozzfest, and three weeks into it we’d sold 150,000 records. Every time we played, everybody – every fucking band, Black Sabbath included – was out there watching us. And we’re out for blood, we fucking hate everybody, just ‘Fuck you!’ That’s always been the Slipknot mentality. We love a lot of other bands, we love a lot of different music, but when it comes to us playing, we just don’t care. It’s your ass. People think it’s arrogant, and it is. We believe in our craft. We believe in Slipknot.”

The voice of the madness perhaps

It’s the nature of madness – it’s always searching for a brave face.

Always changing…

…always the same

It seeks its own martyrdom…

…and to be reborn

Yeah, very fucking profound. Don’t get mad, get eaten.

You want to give food for thought?

It’s just for the food for the maggots.

Th-that’s all, folks.

Is it tough accepting the fact that you have to wear a mask for the next year? Joey: “No, not at all. I’m ecstatic to be back and playing with the guys again. It’s home, man. We take breaks because Slipknot is not just music, it’s a force, it’s a lifestyle. It’s also like being in jail. You’re constricted. You have to be on your game every night to be in this band. The stuff is not easy to play anyway, but we’ve got the whole stage performance, playing in masks, it’s what every band goes through, but with nine guys it’s very intense. I mean, look at this – all nine guys are still together. All nine original guys are still here. What other band can say that?”

So, has anybody ever tried to get out? Joey: “No, no one ever has. That’s why at the end of a 15-month tour cycle, we’re just like, let’s take a break, work on some other projects, just relieve a little stress. But when we come back to Slipknot, it’s on, man. There’s no fucking around.”

So what can we expect from this next tour? Clown: “For one thing, we’re musical, man. I play the fucking drums, so get used to it. I’ve earned the right, I’ve done the time, I’ve been on the mountain with the kung fu masters, learning. If you can’t accept that, go play with the kids’ toys. I’ve worked really hard on my art for this one. I got my boy-scout medals and I’m in the deep woods with no tools, no tent, no nothing, and we’re playing survival, man. Just know that I’m the guy who eats the fucking shit raw, man. If there’s an animal, I’ll fucking eat it. This is fucking Slipknot. That’s what you can fucking expect.”

Is Slipknot meant to last forever, or do you have to write the end of this story? Clown: “You nailed it, man. I am in more pain than anyone could possibly ever know, because I have to find a way to finish this.” Joey: “I don’t think it’s our last record at all, but there’s something seriously going on with this record, that’s for sure. It’s like Friday the 13th Part IV: The Final Chapter. It’s a climax.”

Is Slipknot like Kiss, where you could lose a member and just find somebody else to wear his mask? Clown: “No. If I left this band, we’d be done. If Joey Jordison left this band, we’d be done. All of us, if any of the guys in this band leave… See, it’s been out of our hands for a long time, since 1998. The world is just too dumb, too anti-art, to realise how important this is, to actually accept the truth that yes, if I left the band it’d be over. There could never be a drummer to replace me, man. We are The Nine. There is no one else.”

Nine long, tense, and occasionally violent hours later, Slipknot begin to slink out into the inky-black, dead-still Des Moines night. It’s a mere week until they begin headlining the Mayhem tour in the States, and that’s just the beginning. Once this album hits the streets, it is unlikely that any of them will see their homes again for at least a year, and probably longer. Although the band harbours the expected anxieties about their long-awaited return to the metal arena, the sprawling expansive All Hope Is Gone will probably be their biggest album ever. At this point the eldest members of the band are now approaching 40, while their fanbase still hovers around 18, and that’s the same sort of 18 Alice Cooper once sang about: the confused, angry, half-a-boy, half-a-man kind.

If any of The Nine hoped to escape their fates as the ringleaders of the tormented, those hopes are now dashed.

“Man, it’s fucking embarrassing,” Clown admitted earlier, when we asked him how it felt to be a dad playing teen-rage anthems.

“I’m just glad I’m not alone in this, with this fucking-metal-fucking-arena-rock-fucking-stage-pass-interview-fucking-photoshoot shit. I don’t care about it. Yes, my art has grown into a way of life, yes, there’s a lot of people that live their lives by it, but I’ve always told people, I don’t want to be on the cover of Metal Hammer, I want to be on the cover of National Geographic. I’ve always said that. I’m gonna be on the cover of Metal Hammer anyway, because that’s just what I fucking do. But I want to take you all on another journey, a fucking life journey, a painful journey. There’s a reason why Slipknot gets the people we get: because they’re lost. They’re lost, and they find their way to us. It’s like a cult, man,” he says, staring a hole right through us.

“A cult of fucking pain.”

There are those who say hope springs eternal. They have obviously never spent a day with Slipknot.

A Stitch In Time

A bluffer’s guide to The Nine.

92: Drummer Shawn Crahan and bassist Paul Gray begin playing in a band together.

95: Joey Jordison joins Shawn and Paul, form Meld with guitarists Donnie Steele and Josh Brainard, and singer Anders Colsefini.

96: Donnie leaves the band due to religious beliefs and is replaced by Craig Jones. Meld change their name to Slipknot and begin wearing grotesque make-up and costumes. Craig Jons switches to sampler and Mick Thomson joins on guitar. Slipknot release their first self-released album, Mate.Feel.Kill.Repeat., on Halloween.

97: Corey Taylor replaces Anders on vocals. Chris Fehn joins the band as percussionist. Slipknot start wearing their trademark boiler suits and numbers.

98: DJ Sid Wilson joins the band. They sign to Roadrunner Records.

99: On June 29, the band releases Slipknot, their ‘official’ debut album, and join the Ozzfest tour.

00: Slipknot is certified Platinum.

01: Slipknot release their second album, Iowa, and do the Ozzfest tour again.

02: The band take a break, Corey Taylor revives Stone Sour, Joey Jordison forms Murderdolls. Slipknot attempt to write a follow-up to Iowa, but struggle with inner-band conflicts. Rumours of the band’s imminent break-up start to circulate in the media.

03: Slipknot rally and begin recording new album with producer Rick Rubin.

04: Vol. 3: (The Subliminal Verses) is released. It quickly goes Platinum. Yet another Ozzfest tour follows.

06: Slipknot win their first Grammy award in the category of Best Metal Performance for Before I Forget. Voliminal: Inside The Nine, a self-produced DVD documentary, is released.

08: All Hope Is Gone released. Chaos ensues.

Project Revolution

Slipknot members are known for their many side projects. Here’s a crib sheet.

Stone Sour

Corey Taylor (vocals) Jim Root (guitar Stone Sour were formed back in 1992 by Corey Taylor and have existed in one form or another ever since. The alt-metal/grunge band have released two albums on Roadrunner Records (Stone Sour in 2002 and Come What(ever) May in 2006), and have been nominated for a Grammy award three times. The band are currently on hold in light of the new Slipknot record, but plans for a third album are in the works.

Murderdolls

Joey Jordison (drums (sic)) A horror-themed glam-punk band with a penchant for fishnet tights and make-up formed in 2002 by Joey Jordison, the Murderdolls also featured former Frankenstein Drag Queens frontman Wednesday 13. The band released their debut album, Beyond The Valley Of The Murderdolls in 2002 and played together sporadically over the next two years. The band are currently on hiatus, and when asked about the possibility of further recordings, Joey stated: “There might be another album. We’re thinking about it.”

Ministry, etc

Joey Jordison (drums) During his off-hours, Joey keeps busy by filling in on drums for several notable acts, including nu metal pioneers Korn, who he played with at the 2007 Download Festival, Metallica, (Download 2004), and Ministry, who he toured with in the summer of 2006.

DJ Starscream

Sid Wilson Sid Wilson’s day job is as a leading Jungle musician. As Starscream he’s released a host of singles and remixes on the Japanese label N20.

Dirty Little Rabbits

Shawn Crahan (drums) Shawn’s other side-project is a swirly mix of psychedelia and 90s style alt-rock. The band has yet to release an album. Dirty Little Rabbits supported Stone Sour on their 2006-07 US tour.

Dum Fux

Corey Taylor (guitar, vocals) A tongue-in-cheek cover band that plays everything from Flock Of Seagulls to The Stooges. Current status: active.

Audacious P

Corey Taylor (vocals, guitar) Perhaps the world’s only Tenacious D cover band. Currently on hiatus.

To My Surprise

Shawn Crahan (drums) A sun-dappled 60s rock-style band, To My Surprise were signed to Roadrunner Records and released their debut, self-titled album in 2003. It was executive produced by Rick Rubin. The band are on hiatus.

Roadrunner United

Joey Jordison (drums) Paul Gray (bass) Jim Root (guitar) This was a one-off album project put together to celebrate Roadrunner Records’ 25th anniversary. Roadrunner United featured 18 ‘supergroups’ made up of various Roadrunner alumni. Slipknot’s Joey, Jim and Paul played on several of the tracks, along with Type O Negative’s Pete Steele, King Diamond guitarist Andy LaRocque, and Cradle Of Filth bassist Dave Pybus, among others. The Roadrunner United album was released in 2005.

#slipknot #shawn crahan #corey taylor #joey jordison #interview #metal hammer summer 2008

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writingcold · 5 months

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Welcome to Chapter Five and Six of Best Laid Plans

A/N: Last two parts were hard. These two parts are also difficult as we progress in the story, through tough relationships and hardships. There is some good, too. Little glimmers at least. Well, one big glimmer of good to go with the little ones. I do have a mature label on this because of the content, although it's very limited, and not... it's not smut and I'll leave it at that.

This is a complete fiction - totally made up. I do not, nor will I ever know Jake or any member of GVF. That said, this story is mine. Please respect that.

I’m sure I tortured her tons with this part. Thank you for hanging in there with me and the overly dramatic brain that leaked out onto the page, @takenbythemadness. 💚you so much, my friend.

Content warnings: Angst. Alcohol. Alcoholism. Misogynistic character. Power dynamic issues in marriage. Talk of rehab. Talk of relapse. M/F Sex, but not fun. Sex used as a diversion to arguing. Unhealthy relationship. Poor coping.

Word count: approx. 9500

Chapter 5: December, 1984: Amanda POV

I retreated my ass home for the holidays. My senior year was beyond brutal. I was licking my wounds with over-saturated spiced eggnog spiked brandy when Jenni waltzed in with her new boyfriend - Mark. It was ridiculous how tall, dark, and handsome he was and she had him so looped around every one of her fingers. I was happy for her. I don’t think I ever considered my sister old enough to have such a relationship until I was forced to tiptoe past them making out on the bench swing when I was on a mission to toss the trash. I was half tempted to inform Dad of the occurrences that were happening under his nose just to see if he would be giving Mark the same one way discussion that he had given Jake. Why should I be the only one to experience that embarrassment? Such fun.

I was running on fumes and everyone could see it. I had applied to numerous jobs and had heard back from none of them. My advisor assured me that it was typical until after the fall term that businesses started looking at pending graduates and to just be patient. I felt like I was running around with my hair on fire - how could I be expected to be patient. One paid internship in particular, I had all my fingers and toes crossed for luck. Franklin was one of the premiere firms in publications. I knew I nailed the interviews. I had been called back three times already. To say that I was distracted by this was an understatement.

Two days after the holidays, my mom had taken a call, to which she very unprofessionally called me to the phone using the alias of ‘Pookie Beans’ just to see me squirm. I was mortified when I discovered Franklin's hiring manager was waiting patiently for me to finish bantering around with her. Listening to the woman explain the situation and the offer, I was locked to the floor in absolute shock. Mom knew the air had shifted and had rounded up those close to listen in.

“Yes, thank you,” I said into the receiver like a totally normal person. “I appreciate your call. I look forward to meeting you in March.”

March. Spring Break to be exact was going to find me in Des Moines. My family waited with held breaths as I told them the nature of the job and screamed and hollered and cheered with joy that indeed all my ass busting in school was coming to fruition. I don’t know if it was relief that poured through me, or apprehension. Jenni and Mel demanded that we needed to celebrate and proceeded to round up friends to meet at Miller’s downtown. Mark was kind enough to offer to be our driver for the night allowing us three to be complete idiots. Marni, of course, along with Terry and Robbie showed up when we were already three drinks in. We lit the pool table on fire with play and stories and celebrations. And it was not just me that needed to be celebrated. Marni and Robbie (yeah, that Robbie who gave me my first kiss) were engaged with a fall wedding in the plans.

I would be lying if my eyes did not search to see if Jake would wander in. At midnight, I was being dragged out the door and tossed into Mom’s car for a ride down to the river and a long assed night of ‘this is how it used to be’. I realized that my friends, who were dearer to me than anyone, were different. That was not completely true. It was me. I was different. I had shifted from the small town to something that I realized may not fit well if I were to return.

It made me wonder if I still wanted to move forward with plans that I had made what seemed to be a lifetime ago. A lifetime that was meant to be with Jake. It would be easy to close that idea off and just not acknowledge that my dream of owning a bookstore in my hometown was very distant to me at that point. I found myself being reflective as my friends and sisters danced around like idiots. I should have felt that free - after all it was my big break that was about to slingshot me into a place where I was going to be … I was going to be…

I stood at a crossroads. Did I want to follow what had been etched in my spirit since I was little, or should I grow up and become someone that I thought I would never be? Could never be? My plans seemed tainted suddenly. Just like how I realized how small my world had been at home, I was beginning to realize that what I had hoped for was perhaps too small. There was a stab in my belly at the notion. Had what I wanted with Jake small, too? A curse flew out of my mouth as I withdrew into the moment. It couldn’t have been possible. At the time - when these plans were being laid down - it was the world to me. Was Frankenmuth no longer good enough for what I needed?

I returned to school and finished the term strong. The epiphany that I had had during the holidays rolled around my guts for months. How I could still be clinging to any ideas that belonged in a book that had been closed years before, baffled me. I had not seen Jake in over a year. Our last interaction was soothing, despite all the pain that he was in. That I was still in. Instead of focusing on what could be, what should have been, I needed to move on. I was nearly twenty-two holding onto a relationship that I had only held for six months when I was eighteen. Perhaps I needed to grow up. It was time. I had four months of school then out the door. My home was shifting and changing. It was about time I did, too.

Jake POV

Things were good some of the time. Things were mostly not good too much of the time. It wasn’t Martin’s. The shop was great. Henry was on board with a huge renovation of the main space which was going to start during January of 1985 after the rush of holiday concerts. We were pulling in production dollars as well as nearly doubled our scheduled lessons. Business was good. I just wish my personal life was so good.

Georgia and I were on rocky terms. When she lost the job at the doctor’s office, she tried to work in a city job. When the city job didn’t work out, she tried working in the bank. When the bank didn’t work… The woman’s demons were dragging her to a place I lacked the skills to assist her. But I was there in the house, every night. I held her hand. I listened to her frustrations. At least I did in the beginning.

When I discovered her drinking started before noon after she lost the job in the city register office, I voiced my concern. I had come to love her. It was not bright. It sure as shit was not fireworks. But the love I did develop for her was steady and present. I believed it was returned. We had found our footing in how to grow together. I cannot recall when she started to slip. Her struggles were deep seeded in her time long before I was ever a part of her life. The remorse was more bitter than the actual arguments that she flung at me. I was by no means a passive presence in these fights. I was by no means innocent. It was like my spirit would rear up in primal frustration whenever she would wipe out.

Gig and studio work was steady, so at least we weren’t struggling from hand to mouth most weeks. Money was tight. Another something that Georgia focused on. Any time there was a bump, she would retreat to something about her mother and not having basic needs met. Those rages sent me running. They could last for days. The venom that would drip from her being would tear away my flesh and send my mind reeling into places that made me question everything. There were times I had to escape to my parents’ home, only to be sent back in after a good old fashioned pep talk about responsibilities. I was about to punch my father in the face at those times. I was ill equipped to deal with the likes of what was in my wife’s troubles. She drank, so I drank. In the end it was no different. She was running from some unseen monster from the depths of her life, and I was running from the monster that she was in my own home.

I had gone to Miller’s a few days after Christmas after one such torrent. It was my ritual. Take my hard slap of whiskey, followed by a few beers to take the edge off so I wouldn’t become that ugly person that Georgia was inclined to become in such times. I stopped that night as I looked through the glass of the bar as a round of loudness reverberated through my ears. There she was. Amanda Fischer was leaning over the pool table to take a shot that she totally missed, but she cheered with her friends anyway.

She had chopped her hair and her face looked thin under her hard girl style makeup of the evening. And she was beautiful. All the sunshine that resided in her radiated out like the ocean. I willed her to look outside and see me. It was a vain attempt to see if the gravity of her still longed to touch mine. I watched for maybe a few moments. The way she sang loudly, the way she danced with her friends. The way she had changed but not changed at all at the same time. And then it clicked.

I turned around and went home. Georgia was passed out on the couch. Fine. I took the six pack of beer from the fridge and sat out in my backyard looking to the heavens with a prayer. I wanted my life to be what it needed to be and if this was how I was, with my wife, with my tiny little house, so be it. The beauty that was Amanda Fischer was mine for moments only. I could still treasure those moments.

“The fuck are you doing here,” Georgia remarked from behind me, through the window.

It was a statement. It was outside my routine. I took the last chug of beer before opening another. “Didn’t much feel like Miller’s tonight,” I said, turning my eyes up to the sky.

The soured sound that struck my ears made me tuck my chin to my chest. Anger colored my thoughts. I had no desire to interact with her. I took another deep swallow of beer with a hope that she would just go and sleep it off. Instead, I jolted from my rickey assed lawn chair at the sound of glass shattering. I tripped over my feet in my effort to get to her, hitting my head against the doorframe. I could hear my own curses slipping across my tongue as I found her sprawled across the kitchen floor, glass all around her as she was trying to crawl away. Her hands were bleeding as she whimpered out in her grief. Our son’s name lingered on her lips as she bawled. Somehow, I paused for a moment and collected what wits I had as the sudden sober mind slammed into my body. I straddled her middle and pushed the larger pieces of glass away.

“He would still be here if his daddy was a better man,” she whispered, her lips thick with liquor. “My baby would still be alive if his daddy would have stayed…”

It was not the first time she had uttered the words. I pushed my fingers beneath her and started to lift. She swatted at my hands. It hurt, but not enough to make me drop her. She whined and struggled against me.

“If his daddy would have just stayed…”

I replayed the words as I dragged her up to her feet and pressed against the kitchen sink. I turned the water on to hold her wounds beneath the stream. “I stayed, Georgia. I stayed and he’s still gone,” I said, my voice shredded.

“His heart was so broke,” she cried, her fingers flinching with pain. “If his daddy - his real daddy…”

I stopped. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” she let out through her teeth. “I don’t fucking know. Why is he gone? He was so perfect. He was my beautiful…”

I went back to cleaning her wounds as she cried. She needed help beyond my means. I wrapped towels around her palms before wrapping around her frame and moving her into the bedroom. Her sobs were heaving her entire body as I lay her down. Her words replayed in my brain as I pushed her hair from her face and tried to soothe. All the while, my gut was raging. Real daddy. I admit the words festered in my center while I pulled her in and held her close.

I was leery of leaving her home, alone, for fear of what Georgia would do to herself. However, I had little option. I had to work. One of us did. My tattered self had trudged out of the house, knowing that I was going to find a mess when I returned. I just hoped that I would find her breathing.

I am unsure how I landed in my parent’s living room three days later, sobbing. Georgia literally was black out drunk for two of those days. Mom, ever the school teacher, decided to look into help and came back with a place that perhaps could help the woman through her out of control struggles. I had no idea how I was going to pay for it. This time it was Dad that stepped in, offering to help with a loan to get my wife back onto her feet once more. It was not, after all, her fault that she was unable to get through this loss.

“I’ve got to ask you to do this,” I had said, calmly ladling soup into a bowl for her. “Georgia, you got so low this time. You are scaring me. Honestly scaring me.”

She was bent over the dining table, her forehead pressed to the laminated surface like a pillow. “And if I say I don’t want to go?”

“I don’t think it’s an option here,” I said without looking back at her. “You’re in a place where I can’t reach you anymore. Perhaps these people can.”

“This whole fucking thing was a mistake,” she breathed out as I moved towards her. “I should have just ended…”

I swallowed my words. I was not going to buy into the start of yet another argument. Setting the soup down with a spoon, I retreated to my own bowl to stand at the counter. “Georgia. Please. It’s time for help with this. You are not surviving like this. I cannot survive like this.”

“The other night, when you came home,” she started, her voice hushed, “she was at Miller’s, wasn’t she? That’s why you came home.”

The stab in my chest was not as sharp as it once was, but it was there nonetheless. I treaded forward with care, unsure if she was going to spin it into a fight. “Amanda was there, yes.”

“If I go, will you be here when I get back?”

She sounded young, afraid in the moment. I was nodding. “I’ll be here.”

“Eight weeks,” she sighed as she pushed herself up enough to tug the bowl closer to her. “I don’t know if I can stand eight weeks of people telling me I’m wrong.”

“You’re not wrong, Georgia,” I found myself saying, and meaning it. “It’s just you’ve gotten into a place where you need someone other than me to help you through this. I’ll be here. I’ll visit if you want me to.”

She let out a sound of hurt. “Better question would be, would you even want to visit me, Jake. I’ve been such a bitch to you.”

“I will visit.”

There must have been something in my tone that soothed her. We did not fight. We did not drink. We lay together in our bed and I tried to hold onto her the best I could. Our love was not soft. It was not born out of kindness and grace. I kept reminding myself that it was there - no matter what.

Chapter 6: June, 1985: Jake POV

Georgia had been home from treatment for months. She had gotten a job at the grocery in the office and was once again making strides in social circles. She seemed to have found a better footing. We were doing better. The shop was amazing. My days were full, even during the long, touristy days of summer since I had convinced Henry to expand the display space to include albums, memorabilia, and trinkets of all kinds. No longer were we just an instrument rental and repair shop. Our old summer lull was a thing of the past.

It was not lost on me when Jenni and Mel Fischer bounded into the shop that their eldest sister was not with them. I was busy with a customer, but could hear Henry just beaming at the pair about the renovation and questions about their family. I honed in when they said that Mandy had graduated and was already in Des Moines working for Franklin. I noticed that Jen had waved at me and I smiled back when Henry asked if the recent graduate was going to make it home anytime soon. The answer was lost to distance when I refocused on the task at hand. It was enough to know that she was doing very well as was evidenced by her sisters. She was on her way. I was filled with a happiness that I wish I could have shared with her.

The summer was filled with work, friends, family and a new gig - I had taken up the summer league for kids soccer. It gave me an excuse to run around on my Saturday mornings with a game Saturday and Tuesday nights. Me being out with the kids let Georgia have time to be with friends and have the time she needed without me. I encouraged her to take distance learning classes from the community college when she expressed an interest. It was like seeing her have a reset of sorts.

Autumn brought a busyness of school schedules, and the fall color show. Georgia and I took a drive to the UP and spent a long weekend lost on hot chocolate and pumpkins. The holidays were ratcheting it up with concerts and kids and lessons. To have money in our savings account was a rarity, but we were becoming comfortable.

The holidays were crazy. I had brought in stereo equipment for sale, mostly cabinet style setups that were popular for Christmas, as well as a new medium called compact discs. Of course, CD players were pricey, but our orders could not come in fast enough. The first day back after the holidays, Henry and I were already busy with the next wave of plans - one where I would be assuming full control of Martin’s Music. It was towards the end of the busy shopping day, and I was getting ready to close the doors when the chime buzzed in the air. Henry had already left for the day - demanded by Mrs. Ada who needed her man home to run interference between family members. I came out from the office to find Amanda standing with her eyes all lit with emotions that I could not identify. When those sparkly green glass eyes met mine, I could see the connection she was making with our past. Our moments.

“Hey,” I said, my breath catching in my throat.

She was stunning, standing there as she took in how we had changed and grown the shop. Her hair was short against her neck, and her body was wrapped in an expensive lined trench.

“This is amazing,” she gasped as she was just taking it all in. “You’ve made it everything that you thought you could, Jake.”

For a moment, it was like the years of distance had fallen away. I was not married and she was still mine. I felt the tendrils of her gravity mingle with mine as I moved closer. I could smell her change in perfume, but it was perfect against her skin. When she touched my shoulder, it was like an electric current between us.

“Hey, babe,” a masculine voice called as the buzz of the door cut through us.

Our moment was ruptured, dropping me instantly back to reality. I watched as a man moved in where I used to reside, his hand wrapping around her waist to mark her as his own. Mandy smiled at the dark haired man, patting his chest with a wide grin.

“Uh, Roger, this is an old friend,” she started introductions quickly.

I shook his hand before moving back to what would be safer. I listened while she explained that they had met through friends down south. She had a whole life in Des Moines. A life with a man. She had found love. I smiled and laughed where I was supposed to. I listened as I discovered that Roger was a sales manager. And then that’s when I saw it, a huge assed engagement ring on her finger. I had no right feeling like I was being flayed alive right before them, but I cannot deny that I was quietly bleeding out at her feet.

“Hey, we were going to go grab a drink at Miller’s,” Roger said as he was shifting her tighter against him. “You should come with us. It’d be nice to get some dirt on this one.”

Mandy’s eyes flicked up to her fiance’s face. I pushed my hands into my back pockets as I shuffled a bit. I had not heard the back door open. Instead, I felt Georgia’s hand on my back as she approached. I looked into her face, into her smile as she was taking in the couple before me.

“Oh, hey,” I said quietly as she leaned in for a quick kiss. After I made introductions, I slipped my hand into my wife’s, holding tight. “Uh, we were actually going to be going to Capri’s for dinner. You’re more than welcomed to join us. It’d be fun.”

Everything in my gut was screaming at me like I was insane. The sensible thing would be to just decline and move on. Roger’s expression was what it did not need to be as he accepted.

“Just to have less feminine company would be great,” he joked as Mandy nodded slowly with a cringe smile.

It was a mistake. I know. I know it was probably the biggest mistake I had made in years. Mandy picked up quick that Georgia and I ordered ice teas, following suit with one for herself. Roger, on the other hand, ordered a beer and voiced why I should have a beer with him. Georgia patted my thigh to just relent after I tried repeatedly to sidestep the man’s demands. We then sat there and listened to how Roger traveled all over the country and Canada for his company and how successful he was. The fucker was a bragger the likes I had never come across. And Mandy ate it up. He laughed too loudly and drank too much and criticized rudely after eating most of his meal too quickly. And then we arrived to it…

“So, how do you two know each other - I mean I get it, these tiny little towns. Everyone is related or whatever,” he rambled as he was taking down his fourth beer.

Georgia had had enough of the back and forth between Mandy and myself and Roger’s arrogant ignorance. I could feel it brewing beside me as the waitress was taking away our plates.

“Oh, Amanda didn’t tell you they used to fuck,” Georgia remarked as she reached for her tea with a curled lip. “And not just fuck. They had their whole lives planned out, didn’t you sweetie?” My stomach soured instantly. Mandy’s eyes flashed as Roger straightened up his back, eyes hard with shock. I ran my tongue across my teeth with a nod. It was effective in the way it shut everything the fuck down. I cleared my throat as I turned my attention back to Amanda.

“It’s been nice catching up,” I said as I tapped Georgia’s leg to slide out of the booth. I dug out my wallet and tossed a twenty dollar bill out to leave on the table. I was sure my cheeks were reddened, but I didn’t care. I followed my wife out of the restaurant in complete silence. I was sure that whatever I faced at home, Mandy was facing instantly.

We didn’t talk at all. Not in the car. Not at home. Georgia merely got ready for bed and left me to watch TV in peace. I had crawled into bed and slept hard despite the torrent of thoughts in my brain.

“He’s everything opposite of you,” Georgia said, her words slightly slurred.

I woke to her voice. A quick glance at the clock made me realize that it was still before 5am. I rubbed at my eyes and asked what she had said, the smell of liquor was heavy on her breath.

“Roger - he’s everything opposite of you. That’s why your perfect Amanda is with him,” she stated with a nod. “She can’t have you, so she doesn’t want someone that will only remind her of you.”

“Georgia,” I said, trying to hide the disappointment from my eyes, my voice. “I highly doubt I have any place in Amanda’s thoughts. At least not in that capacity.”

“Oh but she lingers in yours, doesn’t she Jake?” she asked, stumbling backwards. “It’s been almost five goddamn years and you still carry a fucking torch for that bitch.”

My brain was rummaging through the house as to the possible whereabouts of her hidden stash of booze. The gross laugh that she hissed bruised my skin as I slid from the bed and moved around her.

“You’re drunk,” I seethed, reaching for my sweatpants.

“Yup. As a skunk,” she laughed at her own joke. “It’s the only way that I can have you see me, Jake, and take me seriously. My counselor told me that. Told me that you needed me to depend on you to make you feel special.”

“Goddamn, that is not what was said,” I ground out as I marched out of the bedroom. “I’m not doing this again, Georgia. I can’t see you, be with you when you’re like this.”

“Where the hell do you think you can go?”

“I’ll be back when you’re sober,” was all I could say as I reached for my keys.

I was out the door just as she started in with a louder voice. I was to the shop in sweatpants and a t-shirt, decidedly not work clothes. Hell, hair and teeth were unbrushed. I didn’t care. I sat at the desk, coffee in hand with thoughts absolutely wild over Georgia’s slip. I knew to expect those moments of weakness. I just wasn’t ready for how hard it was going to come at me. I called Henry and he said he’s cover the shop for the day and to just go to Mom and Dad’s. Why I decided that was a good idea, I have no clue. At least there was an extra toothbrush with my name on it.

Sam and his girlfriend were lounging in the kitchen while Josh and Ronnie were full of spit and vinegar. I sat quietly, ignoring their revelry while I licked my wounds. Georgia was not right, but she sure as shit was not totally incorrect. The look in Amanda’s eyes over the crassness of my wife was jarring. If my family realized that I was hiding, none of them let on. I buried myself for the day, then passed out during a movie and they let me sleep. When I woke before six to find myself on the cruddy basement couch like I was sixteen again, my body groaned like it had been ten years down the road. Stumbling up the stairs to find Josh in the kitchen with coffee brewing felt familiar and just the medicine that I needed.

“Not going well,” he started as I wiped my bleary eyes.

I shook my head as the only explanation that I could give.

He pursed his lips. “She relapsed?”

“Yeah. I put her into a situation she was not ready for.” I shivered as I brought my mug to my lips. “Mandy was in the store with her fiance and he invited us to drinks.”

“Yeah, no,” Josh sighed.

“So, Georgia comes in so we can go have supper - Wednesday night date night and all,” I explained, seeing how stupid it was. I mean it was just a courtesy and I didn’t think that Mandy would ever want to join. “I kinda did the ‘hey instead of drinks how about dinner?”

“Fuck no, Jake...”

“I know. It was out of my mouth before I could stop myself.” I took another long swig of coffee feeling the heat infiltrate my stomach. “And it was horrible. I mean, not at first. Conversation was fine for the most part. Roger is a real piece of work though. What a dick.”

“Did you even give him a chance, Jacob? You’re a little biased.” I watched as Josh started pulling stuff out of the fridge for breakfast.

“Biased? I mean this guy literally talked over her the whole night. Any time she would start, he would just walk over her and correct her. It was awful.”

Josh flashed me a look as he started cracking eggs. He didn’t say anything other than give me a raised eyebrow.

“I guess Georgia had had enough. But it was odd, like we were at the end of dinner, getting ready to pay the check and he asked how we knew each other. Georgia just blurted out that we fucked.”

“Oh my,” he sighed as if knowing what I was going to say. “And you left Georgia drunk?”

“I had to. It was part of our agreement before she left rehab. We had to put into place boundaries. I made mine if she was drunk and insulting me, then I had to leave to keep things from going into an argument.” I stood to get a refill. Josh waved me off and reached for the pot. “She was throwing Mandy back at me. I thought we could move on and be the friends that we’ve always been.”

“But did you talk to Georgia about that at all?” Josh asked before turning his back on me to work on the stove.

He had me there. No. We had never talked about Amanda because it was a closed subject. She felt threatened whenever there was a term break, typically drunkenly asking or fighting about it. She feared that I would divorce her so that I could resume my life - the life I wanted before our baby.

“I would almost think that she would feel better now that Mandy is going to be married,” I said quietly. It was stupid to say but it felt good coming out. I ignored Josh’s glare. “I am hoping that my absence forced her to call her sponsor. At least that was what was agreed on when she came home.”

“Do you love her?” Josh asked, his words hushed.

I stayed quiet, unable to really discern who he was talking about. When he turned to look at me, I knew I had just told him everything he needed to know. The question was dual purpose and I failed. I believe I would’ve failed no matter what answer I gave.

“I love Georgia in a fashion.”

“Jesus, Jake.”

I shrugged. “What do you want me to say?”

“It’s been five years with her and you can’t honestly say you even love her. What kind of a life is that?” He turned and scraped eggs onto two plates just as toast popped up from the toaster.

“I know. Believe me. It seems like any time I think it might be time to walk away, she bottoms out and it would just be shitty to abandon her like that,” I say quietly.

“But you’re thinking about it?”

I nod. Divorce was not something I ever entertained. Ever. It was not a thing to do in my family. And yet, here I was knowing that I was in a marriage that there was no way in hell that I could remain in if I wanted to have any kind of happiness. Josh shoved a forkfull into his mouth just as Dad walked into the kitchen in search of black juice. We watched as he poured a cup before scooping up a plate of eggs.

“Nice timing, Pops,” Josh said, slapping him on the back.

“I gotta get home and get ready for work,” I said, quickly pushing the rest of my eggs down my throat.

I pretended not to see Dad’s questioning look. Instead, I left with a wave and a knot in my gut for what I was to find at home. The house was quiet when I walked in. I saw an empty bottle of Jameson on the counter with a note. I debated while I showered and got dressed if I wanted to see what was on that paper. Puffing out my cheeks, I looked to find:

Jake, I dumped it out and called Yvonne. I’m sorry. I went to work. Please come home tonight.

There was no real way to tell if she had actually dumped it and not had actually just drank it down. I didn’t touch anything. Instead, I walked back out, heading for the shop. Talking with Josh was the first time that I had uttered the notion of leaving Georgia. Of divorce. It did not destroy me like I had thought it would. Somehow, I was going to have to realize that in this case, it was not giving up or a failure, but preservation.

Amanda POV

December of 1985 was the last time I was home to Frankenmuth for nearly four years. I married Roger. Yeah. He came in and swept me up off my feet after meeting him at a dinner party and three months later, he proposed. It was crazy. It was so out of my realm to be so spontaneous, but such as it was, I was in love once more. His home office was in Des Moines and so, living there was fine. The job with Franklin was amazing and they held onto me like I was a ball of glue. I was being swept along to management levels and I soaked up every bit of knowledge that I could along the way.

Having dinner during the holidays with Jake and Georgia was … interesting. I knew that Roger was a lot to take in at first. But once you got to know him, he wasn’t so in your face and loud. I had not realized that Georgia was so blunt. I mean, I knew nothing about her until that night. I’m not sure if it was the absolute possession that she held over Jake, or the fact that she edged into the conversation when she had no clue what she was talking about in the slightest. It was fine until she just put our history out there. I half expected her to continue on and explain that she was the reason why Jake and I were not together. I watched as Jake left, and his little backwards glance to see if I was all right. I would be a liar if I didn’t pity him. His embarrassment was etched all across his lips.

So, four years is a long time. I saved every cent I could in the meantime. Roger was gone. A lot. Work had him on the road six days a week. In most instances, it made no sense to come home since it took longer to get to Iowa than it did to move on to his next destination. He wanted to slow down. He was sure that his company was looking to make him a regional sales manager, so his area would be concentrated to one area, versus all over the country and Canada. While working for my company was great, the longer I worked for them, the more I wanted to work for myself. The idea of my bookshop tickled my dreams. Roger was not against the idea. He just didn’t understand the notion of settling such deep roots in one place.

Close to our first year wedding anniversary, he surprised me with a trip to Greece. He was like that - he would surprise me with these huge gestures that just blew me away. It was a few weeks after that trip that I fell ill. I spent a whole day in bed when he was actually home for a stint. He tried to get me to go out with him - supper, drinks, friends, the whole bit. But I actually had a fever. Needless to say he went out and left me to convalesce. By morning, my fever was high and I was throwing up something fierce. He got me to the hospital only to find that my appendix was on the verge of rupture. I was whisked into surgery, to which I was half expecting Roger to not be there as he was having to catch a flight to Texas. To my surprise, he was there. To my further surprise, he made a decision for me I wasn’t prepared for when the doctor broached the subject.

“Mrs. Hastings, it’ll be important that you take it easy the next few weeks. The nurse will go over any wound care and when to get in to have the stitches removed. Also, you will have a little extra pain with the tubal ligation. But that’s to be expected.”

I had to have the doctor repeat what had been done. Roger, all smiles and soothing touches, had explained that with our singular conversation where he said he did not want children, meant that I did not want children. I was so out of it from the meds I had been given that I was sure that I had not heard the two men correctly. Roger decided to stay the day, make sure that I was resting before he left for San Antonio. He left me in this confusion. He had requested for my tubes to be tied since they were already in there. It was so flippant. It was so… violating. I had no say in the matter. I was so shocked that I could not respond or process it for a long time.

I was alone for most of my recovery. I was so embarrassed about what had happened that I could not talk to anyone about it. Jenni came for a visit and I acted like nothing had happened, despite her asking me if all was well - multiple times. It would not be the only time that I realized that my choice in husband may not have been the best choice.

Four years. I had not been home. Roger liked to point out that my family visited Des Moines just fine. But when I broached the subject of maybe giving up my position at Franklin and the sixty hour work weeks for opening my own shop, he thought I was cute, but was against the notion. He wanted nothing to do with middle Michigan. He wanted nothing to do with my family. It became a sore point that I would bring up only to drop over and over again over the course of a few of those years. I was lonely. I wanted my family and friends and what was familiar.

September of 1988 Roger finally relented and we traveled back home to spend time with my family. I thought if I pitched my idea while we were there, along with the facts of my business plan, he would not say no. The autumn was bringing thunderstorms every evening. I stood at the window of my Mom’s kitchen with a steaming cup of tea in hand while she was cooking her heart out. We were relishing our time together. It was something that I was desperate for and she seemed to know it.

I left Roger in our hotel at one end of Main Street to make an appointment at the opposite end a few days before it was time for us to leave. My building - or at least the one that I had hoped would be available when I was ready, was coming to market. I stood on the sidewalk, eyes turned onto the building with its old brick and mortar and lovely red lacquered door. I couldn’t help but smile. I dreamed of my sign above the door - Sparrow Books. I would carry the image of a sparrow throughout. There was a little cafe bookstore that I fell in love with in Des Moines. I knew that a little coffee and treat bar within the store would bring in all the more patrons.

“Mandy?”

I knew that soft raspy voice anywhere. I turned to find Jake standing at the door of Martin’s as he was just opening up the shop. I smiled with a wave.

“Hi there,” I said as he walked towards me.

“It’s been forever,” he said, his smile wide with warmth.

“Yeah. Des Moines has kept me busier than I thought it would,” I remarked as a woman walked up to the building’s door. “Are you Mrs. Wruff?”

“Yes, ma’am. Are you Mrs. Hastings?”

“That’s me. Jake, I’ve got to go.”

“Are you looking at your building?” he asked as I started forwards.

I smiled over my shoulder at him with a nod. From the moment I entered, I knew it was my Sparrow. I wanted it. I was going to make it happen. The space was perfect just like I always thought it would be.

“No one has been in residence here for a few years. The current owner will include all displays inside here and all the furniture in the apartment upstairs,” Mrs. Wruff said as she snapped lights on for better viewing. “The last renter left a bit of a mess, I’m afraid. The owner says that the building will be as it is currently.”

“Are there any others interested right now?” I chanced the ask, sure that I would not get an answer.

Mrs. Wruff shrugged as I wandered deeper into the space. Yeah. It was mine. It was in my blood. I couldn’t leave her empty. My eyes skated over the hand turned moldings from the forties and the well loved planks of the original floor from the late thirties. My heart thrummed for the first time in years over the prospect. This would be mine. Not Roger’s. Not my bosses at work. I blew a breath from my lungs and shook Mrs. Wruff’s hand with a promise of a written offer before the end of the week.

I stood outside staring at the building. I must’ve looked like an idiot but I didn’t care. I was picturing bringing the building back to what it once was - beautiful and unique and filled with life. I would start with the apartment above so that Roger and I would have a place to live. This was right. This is what I was supposed to be doing.

I was not going to, but I decided to step into Martin’s to find Jake sitting in one of the glassed practice rooms alone. His eyes were closed and his amp loud as he played. I smiled as he wailed along. He had progressed so far in his own playing from the last time that I had listened that I was shocked.

“Oh, hi,” a young voice caught me off guard. “That’s Jake. He’s the owner of the store.”

I had so been caught staring. I cleared my throat with a smile. “Yeah. Jake and I go way back. Thought I would stop in to say hello.”

“Uh, I don’t like interrupting him. He doesn’t get his own practice time too often,” the girl remarked as she was straightening merchandise. “But…”

He shifted into something that was dark, almost sinister sounding. I watched as he stretched his neck up, progressing through his notes so deftly. His lips were speaking ghostly words that were probably lyrics to a song I didn’t know. He dug back in just as the girl started to move around me. I reached out and stopped her.

“It’s all right. I can wait,” I said quietly, looking into her face for the first time. Her eyes sparkled as I looked back at him. “I don’t want to interrupt. I know this is…”

The void of sound made me turn my attention back to him. He was waving at me while putting his guitar onto a stand. The girl shrugged and continued on with her work as the boss came out to join me.

“How’d it go?” he asked as he straightened himself out.

I was nodding, the flutters of what I was about to do danced through my veins. “God, I forgot how much I loved that place.”

The huge smile he flashed me as he pushed his hand through his now shoulder length hair back. He was truly small town golden blended with rock and roll. I had never forgotten how handsome he was, but in that moment, he stirred me in places that had not been touched since it was by his own hand.

The air shifted as Joy Division started coming through the speakers. He rolled his eyes to the ceiling as he groaned.

“Meg, what did I tell you about what you can put on the sound system?” he called out with a grimace.

“You said that I can have anything on I want when you are practicing,” she said with a sassy tone. “You’re supposed to be practicing.”

“I don’t mean to intrude, Jake, really,” I said but he held up a hand.

“But I’m not practicing, am I?” he asked, returning the sass.

“Don’t make me put on Roxy Music,” she snapped, her head popping up from behind the counter. “Get your ass back to practicing.”

He laughed with a shake of his head. “How about a cup of coffee, catch me up on you?”

I swallowed, knowing that Roger was probably getting pissed off. Something in the bottom of my stomach told me not to care. Before I knew it, I was walking down the sidewalk with Jake towards Blaine’s. He held the door open while I passed and led the way to what once was our table before I even realized it. The diner was busy with the brunch crew, so we waited patiently while The Cars swooned out of the radio from behind the counter. The chorus to “Drive” flooded my brain as I sat there. My gaze turned to his, and it was just like way back before I started college. The corners of his eyes creased, revealing a few more little crinkles of life that had been lived. He seemed to be struck with the same wave of nostalgia that I was in the moment. He let out a soft laugh as his body leaned forward to press against the table.

There it was. That shy love that he filled me with all those years ago. It filled my chest and my spirit to the point of bursting. His gravity wrapped around me like the biggest bear hug and gave a little squeeze. Our words were coming fast and friendly. It was like there was no barrier between us and we could share everything. He caught me up about the shop and Henry’s retirement. I admitted to being exhausted over the long hours at Franklin in the buyers’ department.

The familiarity of Joe Cocker’s growl made us both pause as “She Came In Through The Bathroom Window” cut through the conversation.

“Remember how we stupid danced in Miller’s to this?” I cracked, laughing with a hand over my heart. “I thought for sure they were going to toss us both that night.”

His eyes lit with the memory. Jake ran his fingers along the edge of the table, drawing my eyes down for a brief moment. It was long enough to see that there was no wedding band on his finger. The indentation of the heavy ornament was still present, but the bond he had was gone. He saw where my gaze had gone and he pulled his hand down into his lap.

“When did that happen?” I asked, taking a sip of coffee.

“Six weeks ago,” he said quietly. “Not my brightest moments.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, making his tone. He leaned back against the back of the booth, face turned towards the window. “It must have been hard.”

“You have no idea. But it was broken from the start,” he replied, his voice thick in his throat. “You know that, though.”

Just like that, it was done. Our softness had roughened up with age and experience. I glanced at my watch and panicked over the fact that we had been in the diner for more than two hours. Jake walked me out, parting with me with a smile that I knew was my own. It was enough to remind me of what could have been. Should have been. In his own shattered state, Jake could still reach me - reach me in the deepest parts that were still me.

I found Roger angry as hell in the room. I did not tell him of my appointment. I did not tell him about coffee with Jake. I let him yell at me without giving him any real reaction until he was blustered out. I put on my biggest doe eyes and proceeded to have sex with him to make it up to him. In the middle of him pounding me in the most unromantic way possible, a thought drifted across my memory. It was a night not too long after the first of August during my summer with Jake. We had driven down to the river and were just hanging out. I remember watching my toe make ripples in the water as he played his guitar. He was fudging the lyrics to songs on purpose to get a laugh out of me, to which he did each and every time. I remember looking back at him and finding his eyes all full of life and shine. It started to sprinkle and then rain, despite our need to just exist in that spot for a little while longer. We had retreated to the bus and before long, we were tangled up in the back. The way he would look at me as he touched me would set me ablaze each and every time. I pictured him. I pictured him from how he made love to me when I was young. I imagined how he would make love to me as a man now. Those strong fingers pressing into my flesh as his mouth sucked each and every inch of my skin. The way his hair would tickle and make me sigh as I dug my fingers in. The way his voice would get thick and choppy as he whispered through the air. How he would relish every piece of me - mental, physical, emotional - and make each one feel beautiful and whole. How he encouraged me to explore his body and love on him in all my awkward glory until I was flustered and embarrassed and laughing. I wondered what he would do, what his reactions would be as I feasted on his body as the woman that I had become, with the knowledge I had gained.

I was so lost in my thoughts of Jake, that I suddenly felt my body reach orgasm. I had not reached that level of pleasure in some time with Roger. He stared down at me surprised at first.

“Damn. That’s rare,” he grunted above me. “Guess you needed me to really…”

I tuned him out as he finished. My brain went back to Jake; the way we were just able to sit and laugh with each other despite the distance that had been between us. The way his lip would curl into a smile, the way his cheeks would blush a bit before he would allow himself to let loose and laugh was just like always. The way he was still, watching me talk, listening – hearing my words. It had been a long time since anyone had actually taken the time to hear me.

A loneliness pierced me that I had gotten used to pretty quickly after my wedding day. Roger rolled off the bed, complaining how there was nothing to do in town. Asking what we did for fun other than drink and eat ourselves silly. My eyes trained to the window and the deep woods beyond. My soul cried for me to slow down. To take in the sweetness of the air. To enjoy the feel of just touching the ground below and looking at the sky above. Life did not need to have something happening every second of the day. Did it?

I called my lawyer the next day from my parents’ house. Roger decided to leave early, citing a problem out east that he needed to take care of right away. I called work and asked for a few more days to settle accounts at home. It wasn’t like they could say no - I had not taken so much as a handful of sick days since starting with the company. By Friday morning, my offer had been faxed over to the real estate office on the lot. I stayed in the hotel, despite my Mom asking if I wanted to stay in the house. It was nice to actually be close to what could be my future place. I had supper with them every night and walked the stretch of downtown every night with plans swirling around my thoughts of what could be.

Monday I received a call at the hotel with the news that my offer was accepted. I could claim the keys at closing four weeks from the day. I tried to track down Roger in the evening - he promised that he would be in his room for a call. He broke that little promise. I celebrated with my family that night and ignored his call when it came in sometime around midnight. I knew I was poking the bear, but was it so hard to stay in one place for longer than an hour?

Jake caught me standing outside the building Tuesday morning. It was like he knew without even asking. I had not even realized that I was crying when he captured my attention. He wrapped me into his arms and held tight. I was laughing and crying and a jumble of emotions that my dream of long ago - something I was convinced that I did not want any more - was happening. This was mine - this beautiful building was solely mine.

“I can’t believe it,” I sighed as the smell of his hair and cologne invaded my senses in the best of ways. “I can’t believe I’ve done it.”

He loosened his hold to look at me. He gulped a breath before he stepped away, his hand still on my elbow. “It’ll be good to have you home.”

Home. The way it left his mouth struck my chest and rooted me to the spot. It was home. My plans for a bookshop might have been a piece of a shattered, long abandoned plan, but it was real. It was tangible.

I’ll see you next Wednesday. 💚

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