Authors: K.T. Hastings
“She would be hella tough to live with when she's pregnant. She's hard enough to be around now. I do understand her not wanting to be forced to have a baby though. I love the thought of bringing new life into the world. Not everybody has to feel like I do, though.”
Diane nodded, “I think Jake understands that. I just don't think that he liked being run over by her, or at least feeling that he was being run over. She's a powerful personality.”
Bruce finished his Denver Omelet before rejoining the conversation. His appetite was always going to be a pretty high priority for him and he had fully enjoyed the pepper-and onion-filled egg dish.
“I like Brandee, but let's face it,” he said. “She can be a bitch. Jake was right about that. I just hope they get it ironed out before we go on in Grand Junction tonight. After all, we're playing the..." he paused for effect and put his prominent nose in the air in his best imitation of a patrician landed gentleman, “...opera house, you know.”
The rest of the group laughed. Bruce, in his down-home way, always seemed to be able to draw the other members of the band under his wing. He was a valuable guy to have around. Suzi playfully poked him in the ribs.
“Come on Biff,” she said, “Let's get that van loaded. I feel a nap coming on. I'm napping for two, you know.”
Bruce looked at her in mock indignation, then looked to Diane for support. “A nap? She just got up and now she wants a nap?
Diane nodded. “Better a nap than the performance she put on beside the road yesterday.”
“Yecchh!” Bruce said, and looked at his lady. “You just sleep all you want, girly.”
The members of the band left the coffee shop together, looking forward to whatever was to come. The crisp morning air and the now light sky were putting the punctuation to the Wyoming sunrise.
The “Opera House” that Bruce had mentioned in the coffee shop was the name of the venue where
Brandee
was going to play that night. It was a small setting (about 650 capacity), situated in Grand Junction, CO. When Jake and Brandee had planned this tour, they knew that they would get into sparsely populated territory when they climbed into the Rocky Mountain region. They had scheduled the Laramie stop and then were left needing places to play as they worked their way back west. They had a performance planned in Jackpot, Nevada the next day but that was almost 700 miles away. That was much too long to ask the group to travel and then perform the same night. However, as Jake pointed out, playing only one night in three wasn't going to pay the freight. They needed something between Laramie and Jackpot.
Brandee talked her way into an invitation to The Opera House in Grand Junction. It was only 300 miles from Laramie and would leave them a manageable 500 miles to get to Jackpot. It was a grueling couple of days, and the pay wasn't going to be great at either The Opera House in Grand Junction or Sneaky Pete's Casino in Jackpot, but it kept
Brandee
in groceries until they made it back to the West Coast where the venues would be larger again.
Brandee Evans was looking forward to both The Opera House and to Sneaky Pete's. She liked being the only performer on the card. Ideally, of course, she wanted to be the headliner of a large card of performers. Since they hadn't gotten that far, though, she liked being the only act. That way, she could feel like a headliner. She didn't feel the need to stay backstage after the others in her group had left, just so she could gauge the applause that other groups were getting and compare it to what
Brandee
had received. When
Brandeegear
had come out with tour tee shirts, she had made sure that the stops where they performed alone were decorated with stars.
Jake and Brandee had ridden in silence as they crossed into Colorado and continued on Colorado State Route 127. The road was anything but freeway, serpentining its way into Colorado's beautiful Front Range, but Jake pretended that he needed to concentrate on his driving even more carefully than was actually necessary. For the first time in forever, he didn't know what to say to Brandee. The beauty of his surroundings was as lost to him as they had been when he had awakened at The Holiday Inn that morning. Jake pondered that disturbing fact.
Brandee appeared to be largely unperturbed. While she didn't enjoy arguing with Jake and realized that the silence was heavy and awkward in the Sprinter, she also assumed that Jake would be preparing his apology to present to her any minute now. He had never failed her before, so she had no reason to believe that it would be any different this time. She told herself that he was just being stubborn and making it take longer this time. Privately, she accused him of trying to sabotage her performance that night by making her feel bad. She couldn't understand why he wanted to be mean. Weren't they happy enough without having a mewling little brat running around?
Shortly after leaving the winding path that was CO-127 behind and merging on to Interstate 70, Jake and Brandee stopped for lunch in Glenwood Springs. Jake tried to open up a line of communication with his wife at the 19
th
Street Diner.
“Honey, we need to talk this thing out, I think," Jake started. “I don't want to fight.”
She reached across the table and patted his hand. “I don't want to either, Jake. I need to be happy.”
Jake noted her use of “I” as opposed to “we”, but figured that it was just a coincidental slip of the tongue.
“We can talk about the whole baby thing later,” he continued. “When we don't have the tour on our mind.”
Brandee's face darkened.
As long as they were into it
, she thought, t
hey might as well put it to bed.
“I don't think you understand what it's all about, Jake. This tour is about getting noticed. I want to be somebody! I want to cut records when we go home. That's a lot of work. Then I want to tour again. Bigger places this time. Bigger paydays. I don't just want to be famous, Jake. I want to be rich, too!”
She laughed then. It was the first time that Jake had heard her laugh since the argument the previous night. While Jake loved to hear her laugh, this one sat on his ears with a hollow ring to it. He felt that a gulf had opened between Brandee and himself, and there he sat, without a bridge to cross it with.
Jake and Brandee completed their lunch in silence. Later, if someone had asked Jake what he had eaten, he wouldn't have been able to answer. His food tasted like sand to him. He had a feeling that something had happened that he and Brandee might not be able to repair, and he was heartsick over it. He didn't know how to make it right with Brandee, and he didn't know how to get all right in his own mind.
***
That afternoon, Jake and Brandee arrived at The Opera House in Grand Junction just a few minutes after the musicians. Even though the Nissan had left Laramie significantly earlier than the Sprinter, Diane had considerately avoided the torturous CO-127. She had followed I-25 through Ft. Collins and connected with I-70 from just west of Denver. It had added miles and hours but was a much more comfortable ride for her ever nauseous good friend Suzi. Diane had suggested this route to Jake earlier, and asked if it was okay with him if their lead time to the venue was a little less than usual. He had run the idea by Brandee who shrugged noncommittally. He believed that they could probably get everything done on time.
This meant that everyone had to work a little faster getting the prep work done. The sound check needed to be complete by 4:00 for the 7:30 show, which only gave them about 90 minutes to do everything that they normally did in three hours. Jake walked through the venue, looking for the sound / light people scheduled to meet the band.
The Opera House used the same person for both light and sound, a 20 year-old named Pete Sieger. The members of
Brandee
hoped that the name, albeit spelled differently than his more famous namesake, would be a good luck charm for them. Some of them were starting to believe that they would need it.
The rift between Jake and Brandee was showing in the group dynamic. Jake, without being technically in the group, had always kind of been the one that held the group together in the hours pre-show. He ran errands like a cheerful gopher. He knew who liked to be chatted up a bit during the afternoon and who liked to be left alone. He was so much more than the chauffeur that he had accused Brandee of making him. He either didn't know that, or it didn't matter to him this afternoon.
The group went about their business like the professionals they were. Brandee went through rehearsal without a hitch, her voice strong and clear. Bruce practiced the riffs and runs with which he hoped to delight the crowd later. Ever the perfectionist, he didn't stop until he was satisfied that it was as good as it could be from a rehearsal standpoint. Diane worked out the details of her drum solo for later that night. Every night now she felt a little more secure with the rapport that she shared with the other members of the group, as well as ever more ready to bring the house down with her solo. She was ready and so were the performing members of
Brandee.
Even so, and in spite of rehearsal being as smooth as silk, it wasn't the same.
At about 4:15, they completed the prep work. Brandee headed to The Rodeway Inn for her pre-show power nap. Normally, of course, Jake accompanied her to wherever they would be staying that night. He thought, and she agreed, that this might not be the best idea today. The last thing she needed was to be distracted by their ongoing argument, and the last thing he wanted was to hamper her performance in any way. He gave her a perfunctory kiss before she left and told her he would be waiting there when she returned.
Jake left The Opera House and walked aimlessly across the heart of downtown Grand Junction. Soon, he found himself at the beginning of the beautiful Blue Heron Trail, which wound along the banks of the Colorado River. It was late May, and the Pinon-Juniper and Mountain Mahogany that are native to western Colorado's sub-alpine region were in full spring color. Jake tried to enjoy the sight. Less than a quarter of a mile into the trail, though, Jake gave up on his walk and sat down on a bench. He closed his eyes and did something that he suddenly realized he hadn't done in quite some time. He started to pray. He hoped that he remembered how.
It started as a kind of silent meditation. Jake was in need of peace. His soul was in quiet distress over what had happened to Brandee and himself over the last two days. He blamed himself more and more as time went by (just as Brandee had predicted he would), but he couldn't shake the sense of disrespect for his feelings.
His meditation soon took the form of actual prayer. His lips moved without sound as he prayed the words that had come so naturally to him as a child. If he had said them audibly, they might have come off as childish, but the familiar words gave him some measure of comfort.
“Dear Lord,” he prayed, “It's me, Jake. I haven't talked to you as much as I should have. I'm sorry. I'm just so sad. I love her; You know that. I try to treat her so well. I just don't know what to do. Please God.”
He prayed variations of these words 3 or 4 times on that bench in Blue Heron Park, seeking the peace that he had heard sometimes came to people who pray for comfort in a time of trial. He listened for the voice of God. He listened for angel wings, a trumpet, a flock of doves. He listened for something. He heard nothing.
He felt rather than heard someone sit down on the bench next to him. He looked up, prepared to move on to another bench when he realized that it was Bruce Jackson. He wiped his nose quickly with the back of his hand and said, “Hi Bruce. What are you doing here? I thought you took a nap before the show.”
“Sometimes I do; sometimes I don't,” Bruce said.
***
As far as Bruce knew, this was the first time that he had ever lied to Jake Evans. Indeed, he always took a nap before performing. He loved his pre-show nap almost as much as he loved his post-show meal. He had fully intended to enjoy his nap too, until Suzi had grabbed him by the arm.
“You follow him!” Suzi had hissed. “Don't let him walk away by himself! He needs somebody. He needs a man to talk to! You go!”
“Maybe he wants to be left alone, Suzi," Bruce answered, trying to peel her clenched fist from his shirt. “Sometimes a man needs to think by himself.”
“He's had plenty of time to think by himself. They haven't said a kind word to each other-- Hell; they haven't said hardly any words to each other-- since they got here! Follow him!”
She punctuated her last demand with a push toward the door, after taking the sting out of her words by kissing Bruce on the cheek.
***
Jake and Bruce sat in companionable silence for a bit. They watched the joggers go by on the riverside trail. Two minutes passed before Jake broke the silence.
“Brandee and I have fought before. She's got a temper, but so do I. It isn't always easy, but we always get back to okay. I say I'm sorry, then she says she's sorry too and we kiss and it's all over. Why does this one have to hurt so bad?”
Bruce pondered Jake's words for a bit before answering. When he did answer, his words were soft and measured.
“You two kids said some pretty mean things to each other last night. It's not always easy to forget those kinds of words spoken in anger. Are you sure that it isn't that?”
Jake looked at his friend. “It is that, but it's more than that. This thing about having a family has really gotten to me. Maybe it's that I'm 33 years old. I'm old enough now that people are starting to put 'relatively' in the middle of saying that I'm a young man. Do men have biological clocks? I thought that was just a woman thing. Is it just watching you and Suzi be so doggoned happy? If it is, I have to tell you that I'm really really sorry! I love you guys. Both Brandee and I do. I'm really and truly happy that you guys are going to be parents.”
Bruce took in what his friend was saying and pondered it carefully. He too knew that Jake and Brandee's relationship could be a little explosive at times. He also knew, or thought he did anyway, why Jake was struggling so much with this particular argument.
“I know you're happy for us. Don't waste a minute worrying about that. I do have to ask you a question though.”
“Shoot," Jake said. “Ask anything you want and I'll try to answer.”
When did you first start thinking about wanting to have a child some day?” Bruce asked.
“I don't think I ever thought about it, come to think of it," Jake answered, with a puzzled furrow between his eyebrows.