“He never talked to me. Looking back, we didn’t know each other at al .”
“You ever ask him? Did you ever talk to him? Did you ever try to unlock whatever demons that boy has trapped in his mind?” Floyd asked.
This threw me. It threw me so much, to hide it I gave a sharp laugh, a laugh that didn’t even sound like it came from me and I shot up from the chair. Floyd came up from his crouch.
“Mace? Demons?” I asked.
Hardly.
Mace was…
Wel , just Mace, super cool, super hot, super job, super good at everything he did, just al around super.
Floyd was staring at me, doing it so intensely it made me uncomfortable.
My body prepared for another blow because something weird was happening here.
Super weird.
And I didn’t get it.
And furthermore, I didn’t want to get it.
“You don’t see it?” Floyd asked.
“See what?”
Floyd’s face shifted and I could swear for a moment he looked disappointed right before he hid it.
Then Floyd got close.
“Stel a, I wouldn’t…” He stopped, shook his head, and I could tel he was warring with something. Then his hands came to my upper arms, his long fingers curling around them and he squeezed. “I wouldn’t have expected this from you. But here it is, right in front of me. So I’m gonna say it straight. Get out of your fuckin’ head and look around you.
First thing, look in Mace’s eyes. That boy’s got pain there, plain as day and deeper than anything you’ve experienced in your whole fuckin’ life.”
Al of a sudden, saliva fil ed my mouth and I feared I might vomit.
Quickly, I swal owed it down.
“What?” I asked but that one word sounded shaky.
“You’re so busy wrapping yourself in cotton wool so no one wil hurt you that you don’t see the world around you.
You got a reason, I know. Your Dad was a schmuck, your mother, worse, ain’t nothin’ worse than a woman who uses her own child as a shield.”
My body got tight.
“You don’t know how it was, Floyd,” I said somewhat sharply.
“I don’t care how it was. You blame your Dad; you make excuses for your Mom. They’re both guilty as sin for doin’
what they did to you. But now, you’re guilty for letting them control your life years after you left them behind, built something good and became a decent person. Not everyone is like them, Stel a Bel a. Not even close. You know that. You gotta realize that in the battle of your early life, you won. But you aren’t lettin’ yourself enjoy the victory.
You just keep preparin’ for the next battle, a battle that might not come.”
I pul ed away and put distance between us, to get away from Floyd but also to get away from his words.
“Floyd, you’re tel ing this to a woman who got dumped for no good reason. Okay, I didn’t let him in but he didn’t let me in either. And he didn’t talk to me about it. And he left because of al the things I am.”
“God damn it, girl, you’re not the band,” Floyd shot back, losing patience.
“I am the band,” I shouted, because, let’s face it, it might not be right and it might not be good, but it was true. I went on, “And, let’s not forget, if people are so loving and caring and deep and giving, why is Linnie dead? Hunh? Why?
Why do I have to live in fear of being murdered even though I didn’t do a damn thing but fal for Mace, like, ages ago?
Why do I have to worry about more of my friends getting murdered? A battle that might not come? It’s not only going to come, it’s here Floyd! This is my life. It’s always been my life. Battle after battle. Time after time. Day after day.” I threw my hand up when Floyd opened his mouth to interrupt me. “No. No, don’t say it. I see where you’re coming from but you aren’t me. You don’t know. You don’t have to live in my head. I have to take care of myself, you, the band, the music, it’s al I’ve got. It’s al I ever had. Anything good came in, like Mace, it went away. I can’t reach for more. I tried but couldn’t keep hold. I learned my lesson. I can live with what I’ve got and be happy.”
For a second Floyd looked like he was going to say something more then his face went soft. He closed the distance between us and leaned in, putting his forehead to mine.
“I’m happy,” I repeated quietly, putting my hands on Floyd’s shoulders and giving him a squeeze to make my point.
Floyd lifted his head.
“I want to believe that,” he said, his voice had lost the steel and was now just sweet. “But, Stel a, you break my heart.”
That hand wrapped around my heart squeezed tighter so my fingers on his shoulders gripped harder.
“I don’t want to break your heart,” I whispered. “Please, just let me do what I have to do,” Then, even softer, I said, “I need you, especial y you, to support me.” A smile played about Floyd’s mouth but he shook his head.