Chapter Forty-One

Geek Tragedy

I dragged myself home from the hospital later that night and walked inside to find Dax waiting for me in the front hallway. “Annie,” he said, “where have you been?”

I shook my head, numb, and he pulled me into a hug, rubbing my back. I stiffened, and he pulled away, holding me at arm’s length. “What? What’s going on?” He let me go.

I set my purse down on the floor and paced the room. My mind was in a fog. This night had been such a rollercoaster. “I was at the concert, dancing and having fun, letting myself go—”

He smiled. “I saw you hanging out with some people in the crowd.”

“But when you started singing the ‘Annie’ song, I could feel my phone buzzing.” I patted my back pocket, replaying the incident in my mind. “I thought, ‘I’m not going to check it. I’m going to keep dancing, and I’m going to enjoy my night and be here for Dax.’” My eyes felt dry. I’d cried at the hospital and all the way back home in the car, but now…nothing.

“Annie? You’re scaring me,” Dax said. “What happened?”

“Gayle Gale died.”

His hand went to his mouth. “Oh no. I’m so sorry.”

He reached for me, but I moved away and pulled my phone from my pocket. I held it in my hand like some unrecognizable object I had no use for. “Her husband texted me to come. I felt the buzzing in my pocket from the message, and I was going to ignore it. I thought it was just some person with a regular question, but it wasn’t.”

I didn’t tell him that the only reason I even checked the text was because I’d been in a panic about eventually losing him. He didn’t need to know that.

“What happened?”

I shook my head, playing through what Gayle and Jim had experienced, even though I hadn’t been there for most of it. “Another stroke. A blood vessel just burst. I talked to Jim while the paramedics were on their way, but she was already gone by the time they got there.”

I’d met them at the hospital, where she’d already been pronounced dead, and I stayed with Jim for a while to help him through the paperwork and everything. We talked about the amazing woman she was as much as the retirement Gayle would never have.

Jim’s daughter, who lived out in the suburbs, arrived just as I was leaving. He told her, “I’m glad you’re here. I…I don’t want to be alone.”

God, I felt that in my bones.

“Annie, I’m so sorry. That’s awful,” Dax said now.

“I wasn’t going to check the phone,” I added. “I let it buzz a few times before I looked at it; I was going to ignore any calls that came in during the concert.”

“I get it, but I never asked you to do that,” he said. “And, in this instance, it sounds like there wasn’t anything you could have done.”

“But what if it had been a different call where my quick response could’ve made a difference?” I bit my lip.

“You can’t play the what-if game,” he said. “And here’s the thing—I understand how demanding your job is, believe me. I don’t want you to ever feel bad about putting your patients first. Take the call if you need to take the call.”

“But I do feel bad. I will feel bad. I worry you’ll start to resent me—”

“No.” He placed his hands on my shoulders. “Annie, no. I want this to work out; I really do.”

I smiled at him, pushing through the sadness and that persistent image of me alone. He was right. He hadn’t asked me to turn off the phone or ignore my patients for him. That was all me. I’d been feeling insecure since Kelly, and I was starting to question everything. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m just sad about Gayle.” And the demise of one of my oldest friendships and the fact that no matter what, I’d never be able to give 100 percent to a relationship. My job didn’t allow for that.

“You want to hear some good news?” he asked.

“Absolutely.” I followed him toward the kitchen, where he poured me a glass of white wine and handed it to me.

“The concert went really well tonight.”

I grinned. “It really did. You guys crushed it. So many broken legs on that stage.”

“It went so well…” He swallowed as if gathering his nerve. “Monica Feathers wants us to go on tour with her. In Europe. Apparently they really ‘get’ her there. Another band dropped out, and she needed to replace them quickly.” He smiled. “We were in the right place at the right time.”

All the blood drained from my face. “Wow,” I said as happily as possible. “That’s…amazing.”

“It’s…not forever,” he said, clutching my hands in his. “It’s a temporary thing. But we’re leaving in less than two weeks for at least six months, and she did mention something about recording an album at some chalet in France with her afterward…” He waved his hand. “But I’m sure that was all empty promises. You know how people talk, making plans that will never happen.”

I touched my forehead. Holy…this was it. This was the nightmare scenario. Dax and I were just getting started, and now we were ending. Already. My dread had not been premature. “I think I’m getting a headache.”

He grabbed the wineglass from my hand and walked me over to the couch. “Here. Come sit down. It’s been a rough day, and that was a lot of information I just threw at you. I should’ve waited. I’m sorry.”

I leaned back and closed my eyes, focusing on the black and red colors behind my eyelids.

“I hope you know,” he was saying as he rummaged around behind me, “I don’t expect this tour to change things. I mean, maybe you can actually take some time off to come see us play, or I can talk to Monica about cutting the tour short or recording the album back here in Chicago instead. I’m all in on us, Annie, and I hope—”

He stopped talking. I sat up and turned around. He was in the hallway with his hand in my purse. Oh no. No, no, no.

I jumped off the couch and rushed to him, my heart pounding in my chest.

He stood. “I was getting you something for your headache. You said you always have ibuprofen.” He opened his palm, and there were the two gleaming diamond rings.

“Dax, I can explain. I—”

“What is this?” he asked. “You took their rings.”

I shook my head. “I didn’t take them. They gave them to me. I was just being polite, you know, giving them the brush-off. Like, ‘Sure, fine, I’ll hold on to it, if it means you’ll leave me alone.’”

“That’s…not how engagement rings work.” Dax closed his fist. “These are engagement rings. And you have two of them.”

“I have perfectly good explanations,” I said. “The Rob one, I took that because his mom, who’s really sick, thinks we’re getting married, so to keep her from feeling worse…”

I trailed off as Dax’s jaw dropped.

“This dying woman believes you’re marrying her son?”

I swallowed. “Yeah.”

“And Darius?”

I chuckled. “He was very insistent that I keep the ring so that if things didn’t work out between you and me—”

“You were keeping him as a backup.”

“No,” I said. “I was trying to get rid of him. That’s it. I kept the ring to try to get rid of him. I’ve been trying to give it back, but he’s dodging my calls.”

Dax tossed the rings back into my purse. “Do you think this is going to work out between us?”

“Dax—”

“Do you think…this can work?”

I hesitated, recalling the image of myself wandering around the house aimlessly, alone. “I want it to.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

I exhaled. “You’re so much younger than me,” I said. “It’s only natural to think that maybe, probably someday, you’ll want to move on.”

“So as far as you were concerned, this relationship was over before it began.”

I reached for him. “No, Dax. Remember? Take things day by day? Accidental happily ever after? That’s what I want.”

He moved away from me. “Yet, you’ve been holding on to these rings the whole time, as backup for when this inevitably failed.”

“That’s not why.” I shook my head. “You have to believe me—”

“God, Annie.” He slumped onto the couch. “What are we doing?”

I sat next to him and gripped his hand in mine. “We’re doing us,” I said. “We’re doing ‘it’s not perfect, but let’s try until we flame out.’”

“I think we’re flaming out.” He took his hand back and stood, pacing the floor, running his hands through his hair.

“Dax, I’m so sorry about the rings—”

He turned to me, eyes serious. “I’m leaving,” he said, “for at least six months. Maybe more than that.”

“I get that,” I said, “and if my reaction was anything other than total enthusiasm for you, I regret it. I’m very happy for you. I’m excited for you. I’m only sad you’ll be gone.”

“That’s just it,” he said. “This is the bridge we said we’d cross if we ever came to it. It’s here. I’ll have the tour, then the album and promotion, and then the cycle will start all over again.” He turned his face toward me. “There’s no end,” he said. “There’s no coming back. This is it.”

I swallowed. “Those damn rings.”

“It’s not about the rings,” he said. “Or maybe the rings jolted me into thinking. I don’t know.” His eyes grew slightly watery, and he flared his nostrils as if he were trying to suppress any emotion. “I’ve tried this kind of relationship before, with Muriel. She sat at home, mad at me, while I performed gig after gig and worked late hours at the bar, trying to make ends meet.” He shook his head. “This would be like that times forty. She ended up resenting me.” He balled his hands into fists.

“I won’t resent you.”

“You will, though, because I’ll be off living my dream, and you’ll be here, grinding it out day after day, when you should be off doing the same.”

I laughed. “What are you talking about? I am living my dream. I’ve been working my entire life to get where I am. If you can’t understand that—”

“From where I sit, you’re miserable. From here, you’re constantly on edge, waiting for the phone to ring. Even if we did agree to stay together while I was on tour, it wouldn’t be like you could come visit me. You’re tethered to Chicago for the rest of your life.”

I pressed my lips together. Goddamnit. Darius was right. Dax didn’t understand. He would never understand. “Well, good. You should go on tour, then, because I wouldn’t want you to be with someone so miserable.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Well, it’s what you said.”

His shoulders sank. “I’ve been trying to get to this point for years—which is something I’m sure you can respect. I’m going on this tour. I wish you could come visit me, but—”

I couldn’t do this anymore. Today my favorite patient died and I officially lost my best friend. I could not keep having this argument with Dax about my failures as a person. “I absolutely understand what you’re going through right now, having to give up one thing you love for another thing you love,” I said. “Welcome to success. It sucks. Maybe you can write a song about it.” My eyes, suddenly able to produce tears again, stung. I moved toward the stairs.

Behind me, Dax said, “Annie, don’t go. Talk to me. Let’s not end things like this, please.”

“How did you think this would end, Dax?” As the tears streamed down my cheeks, I stormed upstairs and slammed my bedroom door shut.