Chapter 5

(lyrics borrowed from ‘Honestly” by Dommin

 All about Dommin: http://www.musictory.com/music/Dommin)

Honestly, I never thought I’d lose myself so deep inside you
I gotta breathe
And I need to burn in love; it’s something more than I’ve been feeling from you
I gotta leave…Honestly

And I’m looking at myself
Feeling the cancer. Living in need
And I know there’s nothing left
There are no answers, and no in-between

“Holy shit when did you get so damn dark and broody?” Duncan asks as I finish playing the song for him on the piano. “Who are you and what ‘ave you done with our Kensey?”

“It’s all that fucking black the label has her and Daze wearing,” Johnny T laughs, reaching for his water bottle and draining it before picking up his bass. “But it’s got that whole fucked up girl done wrong vibe that might just work.” I watch him arrange his fingers on the frets and the next thing I know he and Duncan are picking out chords and even though I’ve seen them do it hundreds of times, it’s still a miraculous thing to watch.

“What is up with you?” Daze asks, her pointed chin digging into my shoulder as she watches our band mates work out the melody. “You and Big Red still not getting along?”

“We’re okay.” It isn’t a lie. It’s just not the entire truth.

“Yeah, ‘cuz those lyrics don’t scream trouble in paradise,” Daze snorts in my ear and then uses my shoulders and head as a drum kit before she swings down and arranges herself on the floor at my feet. “Spill it sister.” I look down into her cat-like green eyes, and I know it’s no good lying to her, if I do she’ll only call me on it and then play twenty questions until she either figures it out or I give up and tell her.

“Alright, fine, if you must know, it’s Jordy,” I sigh and then am forced to watch while Daze’s eyes roll back in her head while she clutches her stomach and groans.

“Oh god, don’t tell me. What has the big dunce done now?”

“And you wonder why I haven’t told you,” I reply, waiting for her to stop rolling around on her back like she’s been gut shot.

“Okay, okay,” she mumbles, sitting back up, picking up her drum sticks and banging out some kind of pattern on the floor. It’s her version of listening. It took her parents a long time to get used to it. It got her sent to the principal’s office more than once.

“He tossed it up in Marc’s face.” I wait while she deciphers what I’m not saying and then I wait while she makes several faces while she tries not to laugh. “Thanks Daze,” I grumble, turning back to the piano on which I start to pound out chopsticks to drown out the sound of her snorting through her nose. It would be better if she just laughed out loud.

“I told you that would bite you in the ass!” she snickers at last, using my thigh, painfully, as a cymbal. “But noooo, you had to lose your v-card before you went to college when Ginger Staal was at…what was that, World Juniors or something?”

“You make it sound sordid,” I hiss, glancing over at Duncan because as much as he’s been my friend since middle school he doesn’t know about this and he wouldn’t be happy if he did, especially after offering to be the one to take on that particular responsibility.

“Sleeping with your best friend is kinda sleazy,” she grins at which point I stop playing chopsticks and start banging my head against the keys. “Oh okay, okay. Why did the big dumb geek throw that particular curve ball at his barely older brother?”

“He said we were flirting, the other night at the bar.” I explain and expect that she’ll be as outraged as I was at the time but she just sits there and stares back at me like she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. “No, see, this is the part where you’re supposed to say that Marc is out of his mind and Jordan and I have always just been friends and nothing more.”

“Ummmm well I would if that weren’t just about the biggest pile of bullshit ever,” Daze laughs but quickly sobers when I don’t laugh with her. “Oh c’mon…Jordan’s been in love with you since we were five.”

“What? No…no, wait…what?” I stare at her and she just keeps staring back at me like she’s expecting me to say something else but nothing else will come out of my mouth.

“Oh god…Kens…I thought you knew.” 

“Awww, you’re gonna miss me.” His arms wrap around my waist and his lips press softly against the curve of my neck. I close my eyes and lean back against the width of his chest.

“I always do,” I promise, laying my arms along his, but my words feel empty. I’ve been on pins and needles all morning, watching him pack like I have a hundred times before but this time it’s like I can’t wait for him to be gone.

“But this time you won’t be waiting for me when I get back,” he adds, his breath warm against my cheek. “Your first tour. Are you worried?” Not excited, worried. That’s what he says to me.

“It’s not our first tour,” I remind him quietly, peeling his hands away from my stomach and stepping out of the circle of his arms. I glance at his bags waiting silently for him by the door and anxiously wish that he’d join them.

“Yeah but you’ve only played clubs and bars, not real venues where people have actually paid to see you,” he prompts, a fact that does make my gut twist with apprehension.

“I’ll be great,” I tell him, sounding more confident than I feel.

“I’m sure you will babe,” he tells me, finally sounding supportive, for once. “But if you have an off night, just remember we all have them.” Narrowing my eyes at him I grind my teeth together. I know he’s just being Marc, that he’s just being logical and realistic, both traits that drew me to him once upon a time but right now when I want enthusiastic no holds barred encouragement, logical isn’t cutting it.

“I wish you would just be happy for me,” I reply quietly, using every last ounce of resolve I have not to pick a fight with him right before he leaves. I know if we fight now, it won’t end well, for either of us. I just need to get some space and some room to clear my head and then everything will be fine, it will all go back to normal. At least that’s what I keep telling myself.

“You know I’m proud of you,” he smiles and reaches to cup my cheek in his hand, making me look up into his sea blue eyes. “I just don’t want you to be too disappointed if you’re not as big as Beiber in a month or so,” he adds with a sly grin that’s meant to tell me he’s kidding but there’s something in his eyes that says maybe he’s not, or maybe that’s just me reading things into it that aren’t really there.

“Don’t worry,” I smile up at him as I lean into his hand, “I don’t think my haircut is going to catch on like his has.”

“Thank goodness for that,” he laughs and then presses his lips lightly against mine. He tastes like mint and as my lips open beneath his, the sting of the mouthwash he’s just used makes my tongue tingle. Slipping my arms around his back, I let myself relax into him. I’m just nervous about the tour and still jangled from what Daze let slip last night. It isn’t his fault. I shouldn’t be taking it out on him. “I just don’t want you to be disappointed if it doesn’t turn out as big as you’re imagining it.” And just like that, I’m back to gnashing my teeth and pushing him away.

“Why? Why do you always belittle this?” I demand, turning away from him so he won’t see the tears glimmering in my eyes that I immediately try to brush away.

“I’m not. You know I’m not doing that. It’s just like when Jordy got to play up in the show before I did. I just want you to be prepared for anything,” he says as his hands slide down my arms, holding me tight as he presses a familial kiss to the top of my head.

“Why do you assume the worst?” I ask in this little voice that sounds nothing like me. This is when I need to channel Kensey Thunder but as much as I reach for her the only thing I feel is good ‘ol Kensey Connor, the pig tailed tomboy who, ever since the scourge of adolescence sent a tidal wave of hormones coursing through my veins and made me fall in love with all four of the Staal brothers.

“I’m just practical, you know that Kens,” he whispers, kissing my cheek.

“Yeah…yeah, I do know that,” I sigh, looking down at the giant sparkler on my hand.

Like it’s happening in slow motion, as if I’m watching someone else do it, I watch as my hand shakes as I slide the ring off of my finger. I look down at it sitting in the centre of my palm and then I curl my hand closed around it.

“Kens?” he whispers as I turn around to face him. “What are you doing?”

“I’m not sure,” I reply honestly, my entire body shaking as I reach for his hand.

“Don’t do this,” he hisses, trying to pull his hand back as I hold my hand, still closed around the ring above his.

“I think I have to,” I sob, opening my hand and dropping the ring into his hand. I stare at the diamond ring, looking so tiny in the palm of his hand and though I want to, I can’t look up at him. Instead, I walk around him and go down the hall to our bedroom and close the door behind me and then I stand there and listen to the overwhelming silence that seems to go on forever and until at last, after a long time, I hear the sound of the front door closing and only then do I allow myself to cry.