Four months later
I woke in the dark, a feeling of dread pressing down on my chest. The digital numbers on the clock said 2:20. I tilted the clock face down to illuminate the hotel pad I’d scribbled on before retiring. Paris. We were in Paris. That’s right.
In the months away from Gram Helena’s, we had hopped from event to event so quickly, I had taken to writing a note to myself on the bedside table to remind me where we were when I would wake, disoriented and gazing at unfamiliar surroundings.
I slipped out of the sliding door onto the balcony. At least here, in the rather secluded hotel on the outskirts of Paris, the city noise was faint. But that meant there was nothing to drown out my troubled thoughts. Our pace was exhausting but that wasn’t what worried me.
I had much bigger concerns.
I was with Sky every day but I felt shut out. He smiled, talked, planned, even laughed but the core of his being was locked away. I had a sneaking suspicion others, particularly Chloe, James and Wally, were in the know. When I asked questions, they would reply, “It’s just a season,” “Hang in there,” or “It’s always crazy this time of year.”
I couldn’t shake the conviction Sky was maintaining a frantic pace on purpose. Yes, it was time to get his career back on track for the upcoming album, therefore visibility was important but this manic pace was ridiculous.
We had posed on a red carpet more times than I could remember; at awards ceremonies, movie premieres, even a couple high-profile restaurant openings. I smiled and tried to do Chloe’s beautiful clothing justice and had even worn her posh, spiky-heeled boots—up a flight of stairs no less—as cameras flashed away. I was forever grateful to Chloe that attire, hair and make-up were things I didn’t have to worry about.
But the pressure cooker of busyness, photographers and limited time alone with Sky had me on edge. I wasn’t the only one. The scene from the night before played in my mind.
Chloe had been going over our schedule with me, planning wardrobe, when the phone rang. Wally answered, turned his back to the room, lowered his voice; the subtle clues it was an important and unpleasant conversation. Sky jerked his head toward Chloe. We had moved our schedule discussion into the adjoining room but the closed door could not disguise a heated exchange between Wally and Sky, or the fact Wally exited the suite without a word. Before the door to the bedroom closed, I had glimpsed Sky staring at a handheld cassette player. With a look of disgust, he’d tossed it onto the bed.
Chloe had droned on about colors, heel-height, hem length, etc. but her eyes too had flitted nervously toward the closed bedroom door. With a raised hand I stopped her. “Dress me in whatever you want. Can we be done here?”
She seemed as eager to leave as I was for her to be gone. I assumed she was dying to seek out Wally or James for the latest scoop; the scoop they wouldn’t discuss in front of me. But at least I was alone in the suite with Sky. I squared my shoulders and faced the bedroom. “Sky?
There was a tap on the door and a maid stuck her head in. “Housekeeping.”
I spun toward her, “Not now!”
With large eyes she snapped the door to.
Great. I could see the TV News teaser now. “Sky’s New Wife Terrorizes Hotel Staff. Film at eleven.”
I entered the bedroom only to find it empty. Sky, out on the balcony, paced the rectangular space, slapped his hands on the railing, mussed his hair and kept the hand to his forehead, squeezing the temples. My heart clutched with dread. He was angry, yes, but his body language was also, what? Sad? His head fell forward. That was despair and defeat. What had he lost?
I hesitated with a hand to the balcony’s door. Sky didn’t notice me so I slid it open. “Sky?”
He whirled and arranged his face into a smile. “What, Love?”
“What’s going on?”
He opened and closed his mouth as if examining each word queing on his tongue. His eyes flicked toward our room.
“They’re gone. It’s just you and me,” I assured.
“There are lots of demands. Decisions. Chaos,” he explained. “Come here.”
I snuggled into his open arms. For a long moment both of us just held on.
“I feel like I’m in a flood. This moment is like a tree I’m clinging to that keeps my head above water.”
“But you’re used to this life,” I responded. “I’m the one who’s in over my head.”
“It’s different now.” Sky rested his cheek on my head. “Before, I didn’t care. Sure I cared about the music but everything else was just part of the game I had to play. Now,” his arms squeezed a bit tighter, “there’s a lot more at stake.”
“But I’m not going anywhere,” I assured. “I want to be a strength to you. I want to hear whatever you need to say. Just please don’t shut me out.”
There are moments when silence speaks volumes. Sky was silent. He kissed the top of my head, stroked the hair from my face, caressed my cheek but said nothing. I decided to prompt. “What was on the little cassette player you threw on the bed?”
He stiffened. “Just a song suggestion for the new album.”
“And you don’t like it?”
“Studio politics; duet with another artist. I guess it’s just one song on the album. I was probably overreacting.”
Talk about a speech that didn’t ring true. I could hear the barely-controlled anger through slightly clenched teeth.
“You once said I was a bad liar. Congratulations, you are too.”
“Halloo, people!” James’ voice echoed from the main room.
Sky gave a final squeeze and released me. “We’ll talk later.”
“When?” I stood my ground. “Will you pencil me in after midnight? Perhaps next week between talk show appearances?”
“Sweetheart, you’re with me all the time.”
I felt James’ eyes on the scene but I didn’t stop. “Geographically speaking, yes, but not here.” I put a hand to his chest. “We’re disconnected. Is there something you don’t want me to hear?”
Sky aimed his “a little help here?” look toward James.
I turned toward James. “Yes? Something you want to tell the class?”
James’ eyes shot from Sky to me. “Oh, no. Don’t bring me into a lover’s spat. I chime in, you two make up and I’m the bad guy. Later.” He exited post haste.
“It’s not a spat,” Sky called.
“Yet,” I added as the main door to our suite clicked shut.
“Esther, please.”
“Please what? Be okay that you’re keeping something important from me? Be okay that you’re miserable and won’t even let me help?”
“I’m not miserable, just busy.”
“That’s B.S.”
Sky’s eyes snapped with anger. “So I’m a liar?”
“You tell me. Purposeful fact-leaver-outer? Truth evader?”
Sky splayed his hands on the balcony rail and looked out at the city. “Can you trust me enough to know I don’t want to do anything to hurt you?”
A marriage book I’d read said touch was helpful during a disagreement so I laid a tentative hand on his shoulder. He stepped away. I mentally checked that particular book off the list of reliable resources.
“What could hurt me more than you pulling away?” I tried to steady my voice but the pain broke through.
Sky’s head fell forward. “I can’t explain. There are some things I need to do and I know you won’t like them.”
“Like what?”
Sky threw his hands into the air. He strode into the room, grabbed the handheld cassette player and brought it to me.
I pressed down the “play” button and held it to my ear. The music was slightly funky, with heavy bass and a repetitive, hypnotic groove. When a breathy male voice came in with a quiet “Ooooh,” the effect was decidedly seductive. The words and the singer’s style were intimate, each syllable caressing the ear.
Come Bay-by
I’m moved with a desire
Gonna love you
Take that innocence higher
Your eyes they tell me
You’re ready and you’re willin’
The time is now
It’s love, not misbehavin’
Ma-ee-ya-gic
Is in my hands
I’ll plaa-ee-yay you
Like a mandolin
Come bay-by
Surrender to the night
I pushed the stop button. “You’re not really going to sing this?”
“It’s complicated, contractual obligations and such.”
“But… you can’t.”
“A great deal of money went into purchasing this song. It’s sure to be a huge hit and the label knows that’s what I need to get back to the top of the charts.”
I tried to keep my voice calm as alarm bells rang in my mind. “I’m sure it will be a hit, for someone else.”
Sky grabbed the cassette player from me. He stepped into the room and tossed it on the bed. “This is precisely why I didn’t want to discuss it with you.”
I followed him in, pulled the balcony door closed and leaned against it with my hands behind me to hide their shaking. “Sky, you have a powerful gift. You may think it’s just a song but… you influence people.”
“Esther, please. It’s business and I don’t have a choice.”
“Why?” The word hung in the air.
Sky turned away and ran an exasperated hand through his hair. “You want everything to be simple, all black and white. It’s not!” He flinched as if those words had slapped his face.
“But you’re above this. You never had to sell sex in order to sell records before. You’ve never cheapened your art to… ”
Sky whirled and grasped my shoulders. “Stop it!” he hissed as if to avoid listening ears. “You don’t understand. It’s just one song.”
I bit my lip and gulped back tears as I shook my shoulders free of his grasp. “Let me put it this way. If I had heard that song, sung by you, when I was dating Devin, it would have made me want sex in a big way. It would have played over and over in my mind so… ”
“I said stop it,” He interrupted. “You’re taking this too seriously. I’m just a singer and it’s my job to sell songs.”
My mouth dropped open. “Just a singer? It’s your job? What happened to all that about art and no compromise? Wasn’t last year’s tour all about setting a new tone in your message?”
“Yes,” Sky countered, “and that tone ruffled a lot of feathers—feathers with deep and powerful pockets. Besides, you show me a performer, a politician, a businessman, a preacher who never, ever compromised. This is the real world, Esther, not some naïve paradise.”
The word “naïve” burst like shrapnel in my gut. “Is this the reality you want?” His face was a blur through my unshed tears. “You’re miserable. You never sleep. The schedule’s a non-stop tyrant… ”
“I warned you this life was hard.”
“So this is normal and I just need to get used to it? My job is to be your arm decoration and keep my naïve mouth shut?”
Sky winced. “No, of course not. Your support, your love, is my anchor.” He closed the distance between us and pulled me into his arms. “Please, Love. Compared to this, to us, a stupid song is nothing.”
I melted into his arms for a moment, succumbing to Sky’s scent, his warmth, his embrace that always calmed me and cleared my mind. This time was no different. I kissed him long and hard. There was a knock on the door. Our shoulders slumped in tandem.
I pressed my hands to each side of his face. “Remember, an anchor’s no good if it let’s you crash on the rocks anyway.”
~~
So here I was, two a.m. I turned to gaze at our empty bed. Sky was up late. Again. Sometimes he worked on music. That kind of staying-up-late left him exhausted but creatively fulfilled. Lately though, his sleepless nights had produced nothing but dark circles under his eyes and a reliance on coffee that left him cranky and unable to sleep when he got the chance.
I tiptoed to the door of the bedroom and peeked out. Papers were scattered across the dining table and the fireplace cast a warm glow across the high-backed chairs and sitting area. I crept into the room and looked over the back of the couch. There was Sky, head resting on the couch arm, hand still clutching a notepad with his writing on it. In fact, the pen he had used was on the floor, most likely dropped when he had nodded off. The list he had been writing caught my eye:
Limit 4 publicity appearances per month.
No more than 14 consecutive days on road.
Holiday appearances followed by 1-week vacation.
1 week out of 12 spent on mission/aid travel.
Esther goes home.
My eyes tripped over number five. So if the first four were to uncomplicate his life, was “Esther goes home” part of that process as well?
I took in the sight of him, asleep, vulnerable, dark shadows evident beneath his eyes, cheekbones a bit more prominent than usual. How could I remain upset when he looked like a sick, exhausted little boy? He hardly ever ate these days. Most people welcomed the loss of a few pounds but Sky was already thin. Protectiveness welled up in my heart. I wanted to care for him, to chase away the nighttime terrors the way I had when babysitting my young niece, Naomi. I thought back to that moment of rocking her as she sobbed. I had held her tight, had prayed for her and had sung a hymn. Soon, she was fast asleep and I had carried her to the bed, tucking her in with a kiss.
I ran a hand through Sky’s hair. Too bad I couldn’t carry him. “Sky, wake up, Babe.”
He came to with a little snort and I pulled the writing pad from his grip and laid it, face down, on the couch. “Let’s get you to bed.”
Too groggy to protest, Sky leaned on me as I helped him out of his jeans and shirt. “I still need to… finish some things,” he mumbled.
“Sssh.” One finger push to his shoulder and Sky’s head was on the pillow. I got in behind him and pulled his body close. “Dear God,” I whispered, “Please take all the things troubling Sky. I pray he has deep, refreshing sleep and sweet dreams. We’re in Your hands. Amen.”
I was so warm, safe and complete. With my voice muffled against Sky’s neck I sang softly as a comforting stupor stole up from my toes.
“When peace like a river attendeth my way
When sorrows like sea billows roll
Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say
It (yawn) is well, … ”