There was something intractably powerful about the first few moments Rob and J fully allowed themselves to be honest. After so many long years–so much wasted time, so many mistakes, here they were again. Back home. But the moment passed. It had to. Because the two of them had built lives in the aftermath of their relationships. Jane was recovered–on a path out of a darkness that could have killed her. Even just the thought of it reminded Rob of his darkest thoughts in the waning months of their relationship, so many years ago. The terror in the moment before he opened the door to their bedroom, wondering if inside would be the person he loved more than anyone else in the world… or a lifeless body. And Rob had Elle. For all of the music he made, with Auxiliary, with Mae, with anyone, none of it compared to her. She was just coming into her own now. She had thoughts, and opinions, and a mind of her own. Ten years ago, he would lay in bed and wonder what his impact on all of this would end up being. Today, all he wanted was to know her. No, as much as he wanted it to be simple, he knew it couldn’t be. So for now, he smiled and appreciated that at the least, the two could be open. Whatever came after that, came after that. Rob felt himself slipping closer to her as she took his hand. “Something low key,” he repeated. “I’d like that.” He watched as she rose and slipped back inside before he allowed himself to fall backward, into the pool, and felt the cool water crashing on his face. Under the surface, he enjoyed this moment for as long as he could hold his breath. [center]***[/center] The morning light shone through the blinds and struck Rob clear in the face, snapping him out of a surprisingly light sleep. He roughly blinked away whatever residual dreams pinged in his head and sat up. Something was off. He was covered in a strange, cold sweat. His hands jittered–as if he had had one too many coffees already. Almost immediately, he began to panic. [i]What was going on? Was he having a panic attack in his sleep?[/i] He rose and went to the bathroom, washing off his face as he did so. One moment, he was seeing himself in the mirror. The next, he watched his hands curl around the handle of rum beneath the sink. [i]'What the fuck?’[/i] came a loud thought in his head. [i]’Is this withdrawal?’[/i] Rob stood back up, bottle in hand. He looked at it for a long moment. He tried to remember when he bought it. Was it two days ago? Maybe three? Either way, the handle was well under halfway full. “Whatever it is...” he muttered to himself. Within another minute the four handles of various liquors were dumped down the bathroom sink. Whatever it was, he was done. He moved back into his main bedroom and looked at the time, before digging through his luggage and throwing on his running shoes. He still had time to squeeze in a mile before the band met up again. And the less time he thought about shakiness and sweat, the better. [center]***[/center] Rob tried to keep his eyes on the kit as he tracked his part on [i]Years[/i]. It was a powerful track–one that had the same dark contour as J’s lyrics–so he help things plodding, dark, and heavy on the toms. The metronome blared in his ears as he tried to focus on staying as deep in the pocket of the groove as possible, but his mind was somewhere else. His heart continued to race long after he cooled down from his run. Even just staying in tempo was stressing him out. [i]Why was he so tense?[/i] His mind raced to the idea of withdrawal immediately, but he had his doubts that was the case. He had experienced withdrawal before. It wasn’t something he liked to remember, but the days directly during and after his divorce were dark and rarely sober. He didn’t tell many people, but after a few weeks went by in a fetid blur, he went cold turkey and stayed off everything, even caffeine. That felt more like that sinking feeling when you first sit down on a roller coaster and it begins to move. That precise moment where you feel your agency slipping away, knowing you’re merely a passenger, along for the ride... But this felt different. This was more like that gutteral feeling after the first drop. Except it never ended. As he played the final few notes, he looked up and cause Sam’s gaze. They both knew it was a bad take as soon as they saw each other. “I know,” Rob said as he got up. “Let me pee and then I want to do a take without the met.” “I was gonna suggest setting it five clicks slower,” Sam replied through the intercom. “So that way you’d actually play on time.” “Ha ha,” came Rob’s sneering reply. “One second.” He entered into the adjoining bathroom in the recording studio and pulled out his cell phone before the door even closed. A few taps and a ring later, he had Mae on the other end of the line. “Rob?” “Hey,” came his shaky reply. “I’m just about to head to a photoshoot–is everything alright?” “Yeah.” “It doesn’t sound alright--” “Mae, I gotta know when you’re going on tour.” “What?” “I know your managers told you not to tell me, but god[i]damn[/i] it–I’m her father. I need to know. I’ll keep it from my team as long as I can, you have my word.” There was a long pause. “...Either June 28th or July 2nd, we’re stuck on locking down the Twin Cities show.” “How long of a tour?” “They’re pushing for six months, but I’m fighting for at least five days off every two months. It’s going to be grueling, especially after a midnight drop the week before–” “And Elle?” “...Robbie. Breathe. We’ll work it out, you’ll get every day that’s yours with her. I’ll cover her travel and the sitter. What’s gotten into you?” Looking up in the mirror, he noticed the tears streaming down his face. [i]When did that happen?[/i] “I’m sorry,” he started. “I don’t know. I just needed to know.” “I could have been clearer,” she sighed on the other end. “I’ll take ownership of that. I really have to get to this photoshoot, seriously.” “Go for it. Good luck and thank you.” “Thanks. Have a drink or something. Talk to you later.” “You too.” The line clicked off after that, and as he took a breath and composed himself, he felt like he could breathe for the first time that day. [center]***[/center] Five minutes later, Rob played the final beats of [i]Years[/i] and leaned back on his throne. Looking up, he shared another moment of eye contact with Sam. This time, they both knew that was the take. “The fuck are you hiding in that bathroom, Pennie,” came Sam as Rob stood up and wiped his brow. “That take was night-and-day from the last one.” “Magical shit–I don’t know,” came a dry reply from Rob, but a buzzing in his pocket kept him from taking the joke further. “One second,” he called out to Sam, but he had always gone to the room over, looking towards either Jane or Austin in the next room. Looking back down at his phone, he was fairly unsurprised to see who was calling. “Hey Evan,” he said in a sing-song tone. “I’ll cut the bullshit–I caught wind of a rumor MAE is touring in early August. Confirm or deny?” “I’m not TMZ.” “So you do know when she’s touring?” “Evan, you’re a resourceful guy,” Rob said, “so why don’t you tell me when my ex-wife is touring?” “I have to ask,” came his canned reply. “Recording going well?” “Going great,” he said. “I take it you have a few venues lined up?” “Something even better. Tell the others to keep Friday night clear.” “Two days from now?” “That’s Friday, yeah. I have some calls to make. I’m scheduling a conference call tonight with PR and the Marketing guys.” “This sounds pretty ‘secret show,’ to me, Evan.” “Just pass the word.” The line cut off after that. Before the thought left his mind, he shot off a text to the band’s group chat: [b][i]Conference call with a bunch of record people sometime tonight. Plus Evan wants to keep our Friday clear.[/i][/b] Before he could set the phone down, Austin was quick to reply” [b][i]The fuck???[/i][/b] As for Rob, he had just let go of one major source of anxiety and dumped his drink. If he tried to think about the prospect of playing in front of a live audience in two days, he’d likely be back at the liquor store before the end of the night. Pushing the thought aside and hoping Evan would clarify it later on, Rob went into the adjoining room. Here, J sat wrapped up and seemingly waiting for him. If any vestigial anxiety remained, it vanished the moment he saw her. He gladly sat with her, and looking up, Sam had given the two a sly grin before disappearing up the stairs. “When did he get cool?” he asked aloud. He laughed slightly at his own joke, before turning back to J. [i]God, the way she looked at him.[/i] “Absolutely,” he replied to her. “And I had an idea for low-key.” [center]***[/center] After an hour, Rob was parking a rental car in an empty lot a thousand feet or so north of Laguna Beach. It was a spot Austin actually told him about, a few years back. There was a small gazebo across a small, grassy field at the end of a residential street that rarely attracted visitors, and if you timed it just right–and Rob had–you could have it all to yourself. Rob knew J was likely be apprehensive about being out and about in public. Or maybe he was projecting that, because lord knew he was certainly nervous. But either way, the empty gazebo was a welcome sight. Rob snagged his impromptu picnic gear and led the two to the cliffside retreat. “Long Beach, it is not,” he started, “but it’s quiet, and there’s a really nice downtown not far from here. ...if that’s something you’d be into.” There was a funny sort of fractal mix of comfort and nervous excitement about being out with J again. It was one part being-with-old-friends and one part first-date-jitters. Still, he couldn’t drop his smile as he and her sat down out here. The ocean air, the breeze that signified the endless summer... it almost made him miss the California air, and dread the Seattle moody skies and constant drizzle. Almost. “I don’t really get views like this back home,” he said aloud. “Sure, the Cascades are beautiful but... you know.” He gave a general gesture which roughly translated to ‘[i]this[/i] is home.’ Because in a way, it was. Out and about, with Jane, in Southern California. What else could have been home?