Rocked Up

I’ve had some time to processes the fact that Lael and I are going to have a child. I think I’ve felt every emotion on the spectrum of emotions. I’ve been full of life since she told me the news; it’s given me perspective. I wonder if in some deep way I wanted Lael to get pregnant. I’ve always been so careful in the past, all these years and I’ve never slipped one past the goalie.

When she told me the news, I felt fear, but there was a deep immediate acceptance. I can’t imagine what I would have felt if someone from my past told me the same news. I probably would have felt an instant dread when I consider being tied to some woman for the rest of my life.

But with Lael, that couldn’t be further from the truth. When Lael told me, I almost felt…relieved. She’s a ray of sunshine; I am creating life with the sun.

I’m lucid and letting my mind wander. I let it go anywhere it wants as long as it doesn’t go into the confused sea just outside these walls.

Time passes and the opening act is done. The walls are no longer rumbling; the volume of the crowd turns down and sounds like a busy night-time freeway.

Lael walks in, she doesn’t say a word and doesn’t look at me. I’ve noticed she has an impeccable tuning fork. I’ve never spoken to her about my preshow rituals, she’s just picked up on things and finds a space for herself to fill. She has that ability musically, too.

Lael also lets herself go to another place before the show like I do. I like how she takes it so seriously. So when she says my name, I am surprised she’s talking at all.

“Brad,” Lael says.

I take a moment, turn my head to her. She’s sitting on the couch, slumped over in defeat. She looks nothing like she usually does before show time. Something is terribly wrong.

“This can’t be good,” I say.

“It’s not,” she says.

I get off the chair in front of the vanity mirror where I sit and join her on the couch.

“Lay it on me,” I tell her.

Arnie pokes his head in. “Five minutes,” he says quickly, then disappears.

“Sorry, I don’t want talk before the show, but I thought you might want to know,” Lael says pushing her hair back behind her ears.

“Lael. It’s okay, I know it’s scary stuff, but everything is going to be fine,” I assure her.

I’m not bothered by her preshow chat in the least. The pirate ship in my mind is built, it is fierce, and I am ready. I’m ready for whatever she has to say to me, and I’m ready to have an amazing show.

But Lael is struggling to find the words.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“I’m sorry but I can’t finish the tour with you. I’m so sorry, but I’m afraid this will be my last show.”

I hear her words but they’re not sinking in. I have a good tuning fork too, and it’s vibrating out of control.

“What? Why? There are only a couple show left. Are you okay?” I ask. “Is…is the baby?”

“I’m fine,” she says, not meeting my eyes. “The baby too.”

“Are we okay?” I ask with concern.

“Yes, baby, yes, we are better than okay.” She finally meets my eyes. “It’s a girl thing. It’s a pregnant thing. I need to be at home right now. I should be seeing a doctor, I need to shift gears a little.” She holds my hand as she speaks emotionally.

When I consider that I have no idea about pregnancy, I begin to feel selfish. I haven’t considered maybe she should be under the care of a doctor, maybe she should be in the hospital right now. Is she in pain? I’m overwhelmed by the sudden awareness of my own ignorance.

“Are you in pain? You don’t have to play tonight; I don’t care about that. I care about you. I will take you home right now.” I’m speaking nervously and quickly, concerned I have put her in danger.



Lael’s body language tells me to turn down my intensity. I realize I’m on my knees in front of her and holding her hands like she’s dying soldier.

I get myself together and sit beside her again.

“Relax, I’m fine. The baby is fine. We are fine. I just need to do this, and I need you to be understanding,” she says this with so much conviction.

I feel guilty that she’s now the one calming me down.

Outside, the volume of the crowd spikes up, I imagine the house lights went down. Our five minutes are up. This has been the best tour of my life. I know there will be other tours but this one is special.

And the reason it’s so special is leaving.

I take a moment to let this reality sink in.

The crowd starts chanting. They sound like an angry mob but at least they are unified, that makes my job easier.

And Then… And Then… And Then…

“I want you to sing the first song,” I say to her.

“Fuzzface? Why?” she asks, seeming embarrassed by the idea.

“It’s yours, you’ve made it your own. I want this memory, please, for me,” I say.

The crowd begin to stamp their feet on each syllable, the light fixtures above us begin to rattle and swing.

And I can see on her face that she’s willing and ready.

Calvi walks into the room, his nose looking bruised and puffy.

“What happened to you?” I ask pointing to his wounded face.

“It’s getting crazy out there, we have to go on stage now,” He says ignoring my question. I notice he doesn’t look at Lael at all and she’s glaring at him like I’ve never seen her glare before. There’s also a touch of smugness in her face.

“Okay man, sounds good, we’re not far behind,” I answer.

Calvi disappears. My attention is back on her. If this is the last show with Lael on this tour, I want to remember every moment. I want her to have an amazing experience that she can draw upon for years to come.

We stand up. I don’t say a word, we hold eye contact and let the energy rise. Every cell in my body is vibrating and I know she feels the same.

“I am going to miss you,” I say.

“I am not gone yet.”

“Then let’s do this thing,” I tell her.

We walk to the wing of the stage. We look at each other one last time before we both disappear to the place we need to be.

Lael walks on stage and the crowd stops it’s chanting and roars instead. She struts to her bass and I know there is not a woman in the room that doesn’t wish they had a fraction of her confidence.

I try not to think about what the men are thinking.

I wait from the wing of the stage and watch for a few moments.

A single spot light shines on her.

She takes a few steps to the edge of the stage and just stands there in the spotlight and lets a tension build.

Every eye in the room is on her.

As if she’s in slow motion she hits her bass with the side of her fist. The whole area shakes. The note rings out and echoes. Her eyes stay up and I imagine every single person in the arena feels like she’s looking them dead in the eye. She hits her bass again, still her eyes are up, stoic and in control.

Beautiful.

On the third hit she hits her famous pedal. It was loud before but it’s now violent. She’s on her knees, her technicolor hair over her face.

On the fourth hit the light man makes the entire stage glow teal.

I walk out and the entire band begin the slow, heavy, seductive riff. She whips her hair around and commands the stage, commands everything.

I stay back, beside the drums and watch her as if I were her biggest fan.

Perhaps I am.

She steps up to the mic and begins the verse;



Combing back my hair Thinking of you, late night phone calls Lead us to our end