Aria by Jennifer Hartmann

14Chapter Fourteen

It had been a long time since they had been out together, just the three of them.

Chelsie, Julia and Lisa sat in a corner booth, sipping on martinis and shoveling sushi into their mouths. It was Friday night and the boys were at practice. It had been two days since Chelsie’s reconciliation with Devon, and while things were marginally tense, they were getting back into their old routine.

“I can’t believe you quit the Pit,” Julia mused, dipping a tuna roll into her soy sauce. “I wish I was there to see that asshole’s face. You probably put him into cardiac arrest.”

Chelsie puckered her lips together and sipped on her lemon drop martini. “I didn’t stick around to find out. I took off my nametag and bolted.”

Her run-in with Miles flashed through Chelsie’s mind as her gaze shifted to Lisa. Chelsie hadn’t said anything about the suspicious meeting – not yet. She wasn’t even sure what to say.

“I’m going to miss you,” Lisa said.

Chelsie studied her friend’s pretty features. Freckles stippled her cheeks as if someone had shaken a paint brush, and the droplets had landed across her face. “I’m going to miss you, too. You guys are the only thing I’ll miss about that place.”

“How are things with Devon?” Lisa asked. “I remember it had gotten a little tense at our dinner date.”

Chelsie realized her friends knew nothing about the altercation with Ian. She had meant to tell Lisa during their coffee meeting, but she hadn’t wanted to spoil the mood. They had been having so much fun catching up on life.

Chelsie cleared her throat and chugged the rest of her martini. The vodka had settled at the bottom of the glass and she shuddered as it slid down her throat. “Guys, there’s something you should know.”

Her two friends looked up from their plates. Lisa wrinkled her brow in concern. “Everything okay?”

“Um… no, actually. Not really.” Chelsie’s voice faltered, but she pushed through. “Lisa, you remember Ian, right?”

Lisa’s eyes widened. “Of course.”

Julia cockled her nose in confusion. “Kind of out of the loop here,” she said, raising a hand in the air. “Was that your jerk of an ex?”

“Yeah,” Chelsie continued. “He was more than just a jerk. It was an abusive relationship and he was put in jail for a few years.” She decided to leave out the gory details. “And… well, he’s back.”

Both Lisa and Julia fell silent and Lisa dropped her chopsticks with a ‘clank’ against her plate.

Chelsie rushed to continue before they spoke. “I think he’s still obsessed with me. I got a birthday card from him, and then he showed up at a bar with the guys last week. He was looking to fight Devon, but Noah beat him up and got arrested.”

The silence from the rest of the table was deafening.

“Can I get you ladies anything? Another cocktail, perhaps?”

A lanky waiter stood at their booth with a cheesy smile on his face.

“No, thank you. I think we’re okay,” Chelsie told him.

Julia piped up. “We are not okay. Send over a round of tequila shots. Make mine a double.”

“Certainly,” the man nodded.

“Chelsie, why didn’t you tell me about this at coffee?” Lisa asked. Tears were coating her copper eyes. “This is a big deal.”

“And how come you didn’t tell me about this, like, at all?” Julia added.

Chelsie swallowed back her guilt. “Julia, I didn’t even tell Devon. And now he hates me for it.” She glanced at her other friend. “Lis, I was going to tell you, but we were having so much fun. I just want to pretend this isn’t happening. Talking about it gives it life. It makes it all too real.”

“How have we not seen it all over the media?” Julia wondered curiously. “Facebook is my news outlet and I’ve heard zip.”

“Sean has been working overtime trying to keep this under the radar,” Chelsie said. “With the Grammy’s so close, this could ruin them. But I’m sure there’s no keeping quiet forever.”

Lisa was silent as she swished her sushi roll around in a small bowl of soy sauce.

“Your drinks, ladies,” the waiter said, popping over to their booth and passing out the shots.

Julia wasted no time in gulping it down. Chelsie took a small sip and placed it back down with a wince.

“Chels, you need to –”

Chelsie quickly cut Lisa off. “I’m not going to the police.”

“I wasn’t going to say that. I know how the police handled your situation in the past,” Lisa told her. “I was going to say… you need to get a gun to protect yourself.”

Julia sucked a dollop of spicy mayo off her thumb. “That’s a little dramatic, don’t you think? Chelsie wouldn’t even know how to use it.”

Chelsie tilted her head back, staggered. “For your information, I have one. And I’ll use it just fine if I need to.” She knew her friends were angry with her. They were disappointed in her inability to let them in – as Chelsie was so apt at doing with the people she cared about. She had no one to blame but herself.

“Well, I hope to God you never have to use it,” Lisa said as she popped the roll into her mouth.

Julia cleared her throat. “This conversation has gotten way too dark. Let’s talk about sex. Specifically, between me and Noah.”

Chelsie and Lisa stared at her, shocked and repulsed – yet accustomed to her lack of filter.

“What? I know you’ve all been wondering.”

Chelsie pushed her tongue against her teeth. The thought of Julia and Noah together like that made her stomach turn. Adding graphic details would be enough to send her sushi careening back up. Chelsie wasn’t sure what it was about the two of them that gave her a queasy feeling in the pit of her belly – it just did. Noah was a sexy, famous rock star and he had every right to indulge in cheap thrills as he pleased.

She winced. Chelsie had called Noah sexy and Julia cheap in the same thought. She didn’t like where her brain was taking her.

“… and his size… Oh, boy… Let’s just say he was touching parts of me only the Lord Jesus knows about…”

Chelsie popped her head up, catching only bits of Julia’s descriptive narrative. She found herself feeling both nauseated and oddly intrigued. She reached for her shot glass and let the rest of the tequila fall into her mouth, coating her throat in a smoky oak aftertaste.

Nauseated won out.

“And on that note,” Chelsie said as she reached for her purse. “I’m going to head out.”

Lisa took a sip of her dry martini, her fingers lingering on the spine of the glass. “I’m worried about you, Chelsie,” she admitted. “Can the guys get a security detail on you?”

The thought had crossed her mind. Then she thought about how she would feel with a muscle man following her around, day in and day out. She would feel violated.

As violated as you would feel if Ian were to stick a knife in your gut?

“I’ll think about it,” Chelsie said. She left a wad of cash on the table and stood up. “I had fun. Drive safe.”

“Are you okay to drive?” Lisa wondered.

“I took an Uber.”

She hadn’t meant to leave in such a hurry. She hadn’t meant to be rude or abrupt. But she didn’t want to talk about Ian, or about how her life was in imminent danger, or about Julia’s sexcapades with Noah. She didn’t want to talk at all. Chelsie was sick of talking, and apologizing, and justifying everything she did – or didn’t do.

Chelsie was tired.

So tired, in fact, that when she walked through the parking garage and headed towards the elevator, she almost missed the figure looming behind a row of cars. He was far enough away so she couldn’t make out his face, but Chelsie knew. He was wearing a dark hoodie and his hands were stuffed into his pockets. He was staring at her. Chelsie could only describe the feeling as pure, undiluted fear. Not the kind of fear that makes you run in the opposite direction – no, this was the kind that freezes your feet to the earth. The kind that shuts down your muscles and makes your mouth go dry. The kind that makes you wonder if your heart was beating too fast or not beating at all.

Chelsie squeezed her eyes shut. She counted to three. She concentrated on her breathing. If she was breathing, she knew her heart must still be beating.

When her eyes popped back open, the figure had vanished.

Chelsie began to question if she saw anyone at all. Was she paranoid and delusional? Was this a prank?  She bent her knees up and down to regain the feeling in her legs, while surveying the parking garage with panic. She saw no one. She heard nothing.

When Chelsie was confident she wouldn’t fall on her face, she took a hesitant step towards the elevator. As the doors closed her in, she pictured Ian’s hands wrenching the doors wide open and tackling her to the ground.

Chelsie approached her unit and pulled out her keys with shaking hands. It took her four tries to fit the key into the keyhole. When she was successfully inside, she slammed the door and turned her back against the cold frame. She slid down the length of it, her bottom hitting the ground hard. Chelsie pulled her knees to her chest and buried her face into her jeans. A wretched sob escaped her lips. The sound was so guttural, she wondered if it had even come from her own mouth.

This was her life now. Chelsie was doomed to live in a shroud of panic, always looking over her shoulder.

Ian had gotten one thing right. He would forever be in control.

***

If Noah Hayes wasn’t already a household name, he sure as hell was now.

The media had gotten ahold of some damning photos of his encounter with Chelsie’s felon of an ex-boyfriend. Sean was livid, his bandmates were mopey, and Chelsie put the blame entirely on her own shoulders.

Noah was indifferent. He didn’t care what the world thought of him, and he didn’t regret beating the crap out of that scumbag. The only thing he regretted was putting the negative attention on the rest of the guys. Noah didn’t give a damn about his reputation, but the music mattered. When their reputation suffered, the music suffered.

Sean was trying to put a positive spin on everything.

“Negative attention is attention. Your names are in people’s mouths. You’re trending on Google. I’ll take it,” Sean had said at their most recent band meeting.

Noah pulled his sunglasses off his eyes and set them on top of his head. He assessed his surroundings before letting Sam out of the car and chasing him toward the playground. It was a rare, quiet Sunday. He wasn’t a Freeze Frame member. He wasn’t the topic all over Facebook newsfeeds. Today, he was just Sam’s Dad.

“Look at me! I’m swinging so high.”

Noah smiled at his son, watching as he used all his might to push his legs back and forth, gaining more momentum with every effort. “Great job, buddy.”

Noah sat down on a nearby bench, soaking up the sun and the crisp, New York air. Woodchips crunched beneath his sneakers as he pulled a cigarette out of his pocket.

“I’m so sorry to bother you, but can I get an autograph?”

Noah inhaled sharply and glanced to his left. He hadn’t noticed the soccer mom walking by with a stroller. “Of course,” he said. He scribbled his chicken scratch onto a notebook she had pulled out of her diaper bag.

Just another day in the life of a music celebrity.

“It’s for my cousin,” the woman continued, boldly sitting beside him on the wooden bench. “I don’t even like your music. No offense. But my cousin is a huge fan. She’s even got tickets to see you guys on tour next spring.”

Noah finally looked at the woman – truly noticed her. So many fans came in and out of his life, he couldn’t recall a single face or name. He wasn’t proud of that fact, considering these people paid his bills, but it was necessary for his sanity.

“Your honesty is refreshing,” Noah said.

He handed her back the pen and she smiled up at him. “I’m Beth.”

“Noah,” he replied. It was a stupid response. She already knew that.

Her smile broadened. “Is that your little guy?”

Sam was climbing up the slide the wrong way. “That’s him. That’s my Sam.”

Beth nodded to the stroller by her side. “This is Caden. I can’t wait for him to be old enough to play here. I grew up at this park.”

Noah eyed the small baby in the carriage. He couldn’t have been more than two or three months old. “Enjoy it while you can,” he told her. “They don’t talk back at that age.”

Beth chuckled, and Noah couldn’t help but notice her resemblance to Chelsie. The long, blonde hair, slender physique, and dainty nose that curved slightly upward.

“You’re not flustered sitting here having a conversation with a celebrity?” Noah asked curiously, glancing back and forth between Beth and his son.

She shrugged. “Not really. My cousin says it’s my super-power. I ran into Lady Gaga last year and we still text each other to this day.”

Noah raised an eyebrow. “Impressive.”

“Yep. Super-power,” she laughed. A moment of silence passed between them before she stood up from the bench. “Well, we were just passing through. Here’s my number if you want to be added into my contact group of ‘cool famous people I randomly meet’.”

She jotted down her number on another piece of notebook paper and placed it in his hand.

“Thanks,” Noah said.

“Enjoy.” Beth nodded toward Sam with a smile and took off down the sidewalk.

Noah studied the wrinkled piece of paper in his hand. Every other phone number he’d been given by a fan had gone straight into the trash. Yet, this one he folded up and placed into his back pocket.

Twenty minutes went by. Noah was texting back and forth with Sean when he heard a scream.

Sam’s scream.

No.

Noah flew off the bench so fast, it felt like an otherworldly force had sprung him to his feet. He raced around the corner of the playground to where he saw Sam lying crumpled next to the foot of the slide. He glanced up to the top of the play structure and noticed an opening where a small child could easily fall through if they weren’t careful. It had to have been at least a twelve-foot drop.

“Sam. Oh, my God.” Noah rushed to his son, pulling out his phone and frantically dialing 9-1-1. His hands were shaking so hard, he tried three times before finally getting the number combination correct. He crouched over the little boy and checked his pulse.

He was alive. He was breathing. Sam was unconscious and his arm was twisted behind his back.

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”

“I’m at Holden Park off Center Street. My son just fell off the top of the playground and he’s unconscious. Please fucking hurry.”

Noah knew enough to know he shouldn’t move Sam until the paramedics arrived or he could cause more damage. He sat beside him, running his hand over his forehead, gently moving his light brown hair out of his eyes. “You’re going to be okay, Sammy. You’re going to be okay.”

The ambulance arrived within three minutes. They were the longest three minutes of Noah’s life.

The following moments went by in a daze. A neck brace. A gurney. Oxygen. Flashing lights. Bystanders gathering. Medical jargon. Sam’s tiny body being lifted into the back of the ambulance. Someone was talking to him.

Someone was talking to him.

“Sir, are you going to follow?”

Noah’s vision was blurred. The voice sounded like it was under water. Or maybe in slow motion. Possibly in a different language. He blinked his eyes. “What?”

The EMT continued to speak. “Sir, are you okay to follow? Are you his father?”

“My son… he’s my son. Yes.”

“Did you want to ride with us? We need to go now.”

Noah began to process the man’s words. He nodded slowly and followed the paramedic into the back of the ambulance. There was IV equipment, cardiac monitors, and oxygen tanks. Sam’s vitals were being taken as he lay there unconscious. Why wouldn’t he wake up? Was he in a coma? The ride to the hospital was brief. When they arrived, Noah tried to follow the staff down the hallway. The EMT stopped him.

“A doctor will speak with you soon,” the man said.

Noah didn’t understand. “He’s my son. I need to be with my son.”

“Your son is in good hands.”

Noah stood paralyzed.

Sam could die.

The realization settled in and he felt like he’d been sucker-punched in the gut. Sweat pooled at his hairline. He felt dizzy and weak.

Chelsie. He had to tell Chelsie.

Noah fumbled with his cell phone, his fingers trembling. He paced the hallway back and forth. Back and forth. Chelsie picked up on the second ring.

“Hey, Noah.”

“I’m at Presbyterian. Can you come?”

There was a pause of silence. “The hospital?”

“Yes. Can you come?”

More silence. “Noah. What happened?”

There was fear in her voice. There was panic. Noah choked on his words. “It’s Sam.”

***

Chelsie raced through the emergency room doors, her eyes searching for Noah. She spotted him sitting in a waiting room chair with his head in his hands. She rushed to him in her frumpy sweater and house slippers.

“Noah?”

His name was a question. A query. It was a yearning for answers, an apology, a solace, a hug, and a quiet consolation all in one breath. Chelsie found herself crouching down in front of him, placing her body between his legs. She pressed her unsteady hands on each one of his knees. She noticed them trembling ever so slightly beneath her palms. Noah raised his head, and their eyes locked in a powerful hold.

“Noah.”

This time it was permission. Permission to break and permission to cry. Permission to scream, and curse, and blame, and crumble.

He did break. He let his head fall between her breasts, his body overwrought with painful sobs. Chelsie pulled him closer and rested her cheek against the top of his head. She ran delicate fingers through his hair. She felt his warm tears stain the front of her sweater.

She held him. She stroked the back of his neck until his tears subsided. Noah’s face was pressed up against her heartbeat, and Chelsie hoped it was saying all the things she could not put into words.

“Mr. Hayes?”

They looked up to see a man in scrubs standing before them with a clipboard in his hand. Noah nodded.

“I’m Doctor Altschuler. I have an update on your son, Samuel.”

Chelsie rose to her feet and slid into the seat beside Noah. She didn’t know what had happened to Sam, except that he fell. That was all Noah had said before she dropped the plate she had been washing and watched as it disintegrated into a thousand tiny shards on her kitchen floor. She’d left the condo so fast she had forgotten her purse and to change out of her slippers.

“Is he okay?” Noah was sitting up straight, his eyes troubled and bloodshot.

Please be okay.

The doctor smiled, and Chelsie’s chest fluttered with hope.

“Your son looks like he’s going to be okay. He suffered a severe concussion and cerebral adema, which is swelling of the brain. We had to perform a ventriculostomy to drain the fluid and relieve the swelling. The fall also broke his proximal humerus, which is the upper arm bone. Luckily, the fracture looked clean, so we did not need to operate.”

“Oh, thank God,” Chelsie muttered, placing her hand on Noah’s shoulder. She glanced over at him and she could see the fear wash away. His features softened and his body relaxed.

“Can I see him?”

Dr. Altschuler shook his head. “Not just yet, I’m afraid. He will need about ninety minutes to recover before we allow visitors. I’ll have the nurse come get you shortly. Sam will be transferred to the pediatric unit in roughly twenty-four hours for monitoring. If all continues to go well, he can go home in a couple of days. Are there any other questions?”

Noah swallowed. “Is he awake?”

The doctor nodded. “He’s conscious. The effects of the anesthesia are still wearing off, but he should be fully alert in no time.”

Noah rubbed his hands over his face and leaned back. “Thanks, Doctor.”

The doctor offered a tight-lipped smile and disappeared down the hall.

Chelsie squeezed Noah’s arm. His eyes were closed, and she wondered what was going through his mind. “He’s going to be okay,” she whispered.

Noah’s eyelids fluttered. He placed his left hand on top of hers as she massaged his forearm with her thumb. His eyes blinked open and he turned his head to face her. “Thank you for coming.”

“Noah, you don’t have to thank me. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be right now.”

Half of his mouth curved upward as if he wanted to smile but didn’t quite have the energy. “People talk about how hard it is being a single parent,” he said, propping his ankle up on his opposite knee. “They talk about trying to work a full-time job, getting the cooking and cleaning in, helping the kids with school, trying to be present for all those special moments. But they don’t talk about moments like this.”

Chelsie drank in his words as she studied him.

“I can juggle all those other things,” he continued. “But not this. I couldn’t do this alone. If I didn’t have you, I…”

His voice trailed off, and Chelsie squeezed his arm again to let him know she understood. “I’m here,” she assured him. “You don’t have to do it alone.”

They sat together in silence until the nurse fetched them an hour later.

Seeing Sam in his hospital bed with a bandaged head and arm cast was heartbreaking. He was so tiny, his legs only taking up half the bed space. Despite his condition, his eyes lit up like it was Christmas morning when they walked in.

“Daddy! Miss Chelsie!”

Chelsie felt new tears threatening to spill. He was so happy – even after all he had been through.

“Oh, Sam, you’re so brave,” she told him. Chelsie stood back while Noah made a mad dash to his bedside.

“Sammy,” he said, climbing onto the bed and pulling his son into his arms. “My brave boy.”

“I’m sorry, Dad. I didn’t mean to fall. I hope you’re not mad.”

“I’m not mad, Sam,” Noah whispered. He was kissing every inch of his face. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“They gave me a popsicle and said I was a good boy!”

Chelsie beamed at him. “You’re a very good boy. You deserved it.”

He smiled widely at her. “Miss Chelsie, come sit wif us! It’s like a slumber party.”

She hesitated for a moment. Would she be interrupting a significant father and son moment? She wasn’t Sam’s mother. She wasn’t Noah’s girlfriend. Where did she fit in?

Chelsie eyed the narrow available bed space on the opposite side of Sam and carefully approached.

Right here, she thought as she laid down, her body just barely fitting in beside him.

She supposed titles didn’t matter. She loved Sam and she cared for his father. Maybe she would never be exactly what Sam needed in his life, but she would never stop caring about them both.

Chelsie wrapped her arm around Sam’s small frame. Her hand reached for Noah, and he squeezed it gently. Their eyes met over the white lump of hospital bed sheets and for one powerful second, everything felt perfect. Absolute. It felt as if the universe had strategically placed her on that bed with those people at that exact moment.

What did that mean? She had felt a similar feeling while leaving Noah’s house the other day.

Home.

It was confusing. She couldn’t begin to understand it. The bed was squeaky and uncomfortable, and the blanket scratched at her skin, and yet, she had never felt more content.

“Miss Chelsie?”

“Hmm?” she answered.

“I love you.”

Chelsie had not been expecting those words. She was not used to being loved. In her experience, love was control, abuse, and violence from Ian. Love was toxic.

This wasn’t any of those things. This was the purest thing on earth. Chelsie felt overcome with emotion and she buried her face into the edge of the pillow to catch her falling tears. “I love you, too, Sam,” she said quietly. Noah squeezed her hand again, but she couldn’t look at him. She couldn’t let him see how her heart was about to burst inside her chest. She couldn’t show him the truth: she had never, truly been loved before. Only the dry, itchy pillowcase would be privy to her secrets.

“How about some cartoons?” Noah suggested.

“Yeah!” Sam squealed.

Noah let go of her hand, and Chelsie felt the bed shift as he reached for the television remote. She poked her head up, wiping away any remnants of her epiphany. Soon, SpongeBob SquarePants filled the small recovery room and the afternoon progressed uneventfully. Sam seemed back to his usual self. Nurses bustled in and out of the room, and Noah and Chelsie took turns stretching their legs and making coffee runs. Day turned into night and it wasn’t long before Sam was sound asleep on his cot.

“You should get going,” Noah said as he sipped his watered-down hospital coffee. He rotated the styrofoam cup between his hands as he spoke.

“I don’t mind staying,” Chelsie insisted. “I already told Devon it might be a late night. He’s going to stop by to visit tomorrow.”

“Yeah, he texted me that, too,” Noah replied. “I’m serious, though. You should go home and get a proper sleep. There’s not really enough space for both of us here.”

Chelsie was torn. She was exhausted, but what if something happened to Sam overnight and she wasn’t there?

It was as if Noah had read her mind. “I’ll call you if anything changes,” he assured her. “But I feel like we’re out of the woods.”

She relented. “I suppose. It just doesn’t feel right leaving you alone.”

“Hey.” Noah stood from the couch and stepped over to her. “You’ve done enough. You’ve been my rock this entire day. I swear… I would have lost it if you weren’t here.”

Chelsie looked away. His gaze was too intense. It felt like he was staring into the very naked parts of her soul. He was spying on all the broken pieces she kept locked away and hidden.

She froze when he took her chin into his calloused hand and tilted her head upward, forcing her eyes on his. “Hey,” he repeated. “Thank you.”

It was a simple ‘thank you’, but it felt like so much more. Everything felt like so much more with Noah.

“You’re welcome.” It was a miracle she’d managed to speak under his gaze. What was he thinking? What was he trying to see?  “Goodnight, Noah.”

“Goodnight.”

He took a step back and pressed his coffee cup to his lips. Chelsie turned away from him, stopping only briefly to glance at Sam. She smiled.

As she left the hospital, a chill washed over her. She knew it was for the best, but she couldn’t help but feel a magnetic pull back into that room.

There was love in that room.