Daphne was a hurricane almost from the moment she was born – delightfully so. Always there was some anecdote to be regaled, a missing sweater to be located, a playdate to be urgently set up. When she was in the house, you knew about it, that was for sure.
Maddie was different. Even at five or six years old, she had been a remarkably self-contained child – not withdrawn or timid by any means, but easily able to amuse herself, first with dolls and then with reading or drawing, before all were usurped by that that little pink guitar. It had never been unusual for the hours between lunch and dinner to pass without a sound from Maddie's bedroom, and nor had her mother ever given this a moment's concern. Until now.
Because Rayna worried about everything now; everything said and unsaid, every gesture and facial expression. Of course she never wanted to be this way – to turn into one of those hovering, anxious parents, so eager to please, to connect. And yet still, she found herself spending more and more afternoons like this: sitting on the couch, glancing periodically at her watch in permanent unease. What was she doing up there, anyway? What was she thinking?
Maybe she would just go and check in for a sec, Rayna thought, suddenly decisive. Offer Maddie a snack or something. That would be ok, right?
Right?
Or would it be too smothering?
No, surely it would be fine….
It would be fine.
And so it was that Rayna climbed the stairs that afternoon, peeping her head around the doorway of her daughter's bedroom. "Hey sweet girl," she began lightly, with a perfunctory knock on the doorframe. "What are you up to?"
Maddie glanced up from her laptop, tugging her headphones down. "Nothing. Just listening to music."
"Let me guess," Rayna smiled wryly, "Juliette Barnes or Deacon Claybourne."
Because, yes, the impossible had happened, and two names now competed for the top spot on the girl's playlist. While there was a time that this added variety might quite literally have been music to Rayna's ears, she had to admit there was actually no sweeter sound to her now than some nice, safe bubble gum pop filling the upstairs of her home. Boys and Buses, she'd think, recognizing the opening strains of the guitar riff from the kitchen. Thank you, Jesus. A reprieve.
Irony sure was a bitch.
Maddie smiled back a little shyly. "It's Deacon," she admitted.
Seeming to take this as an invitation, or the closest thing she was going to get to one at least, Rayna walked further into the room, perching herself on the side of Maddie's bed. "Whatcha listening to now, then?"
"Pretend It Isn't There."
"What's that?" Rayna replied absently, assuming she'd misheard.
"Pretend It Isn't There," Maddie repeated. "Someone uploaded a video of him singing it at The Bluebird, it's kind of cool."
She tilted her computer screen towards her mother, and Rayna peered down at the title line, at the frozen image of this familiar face in familiar surroundings.
She frowned. "Is that a cover?"
"Come on, Mom. Like Deacon's going to go to The Bluebird and play a cover," Maddie replied, as though there could be nothing more ludicrous. And Rayna had to admit, she kind of had a point.
"Can you…" she paused just long enough to wonder if this was a good idea, just long enough for curiosity to entirely get the better of her. "Can you play it for me?"
If Maddie was surprised, she didn't say so; she just shrugged and pulled her headphones out at the jack. "Sure."
And at the click of the button, Deacon's voice – that melancholy gravel that made Rayna's insides turn to honey - rang out through the room. It was funny, she thought, his voice at 45 seemed to her like the one he was always meant to have, even when he was 18 and just off the bus from Alabama. Of course, he'd been talented back then too, but there was more character about his sound now, somehow; his songs sounded more like he'd earned them. Entirely subconsciously, her eyes fluttered shut.
Well, it's almost been forever
That we've been playing it this way.
Feeling things that we must never
Ever feel or ever say.
It's so powerful what hovers
Here between us in the air.
But you are taken by another
So you pretend it isn't there.
Rayna swallowed thickly, the melody cutting straight through her, leaving her open and exposed in a way she would never have chosen to be in front of another human being, save for perhaps the man himself. This was a terrible idea. A terrible, terrible idea, how could she not have anticipated that it would be? Truly, she made one bad call after another when it came to this whole situation, what in God's name was wrong with her?
But still, she didn't hit pause.
And I feel the toll that it's taking
Waiting for what you can't give.
And deep inside me something's breaking
What a lonely way to live.
And it's been there since I found you
All this beauty and despair.
And just so I can stay around you
I pretend it isn't there.
That you're not wanting me
That you're not haunting me
And it's not still in me
This thing that's killing me
And my heart will be fine…
Rayna blinked furiously as the instrumental built towards its crescendo, refusing to let herself drown in this – not with her daughter sitting right there. Of course, it helped that she'd had some practice by now in dealing with this whole thing, with this brutal collision of her two selves. Maddie had already sourced any number of songs from one corner or another of the goddamned Internet – lots that she and Deacon had co-written when they were a couple, some that they'd written separately since. And Rayna just about had it down pat, she thought - the pleasant tone and impassive expression while she gamely offered some benign commentary on another little piece of her soul. Just enough to show willing, to keep her daughter from hitting the open road again.
But, then, intimate and all as many of those other songs were, they had been familiar to her at least – she could recite them like prayers. It was the sheer unexpectedness of this one, whatever it was, the heart-stopping newness of it, that hit her like a punch to the stomach.
Love continues to reward us
With all the pain that we can bear.
And though the end is rushing towards us…
We pretend it isn't there."
All the pain that they could bear. That sounded about right, she had to hand it to him.
And suddenly, Rayna smiled grimly despite herself; this was the closest thing to a real conversation she'd had with Deacon in three months. Oddly, it was kind of…a relief, or something. It felt good to have it back, that rush, that connection and confort.
"Mom." Maddie interrupted her thoughts. "Are you ok?"
The song was over, she realized then – maybe it had been for a while.
She rallied. "Of course, honey, I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be? Do you…" - she paused, reminding herself to keep her tone casual - "do you know when this is this from, sweetie?"
Maddie peered down at the computer screen. "It was posted like a year ago," she noted. "I guess it might have been written before then, though, I don't know – I haven't asked Deacon about it or anything. Why? Was that…I mean…" – she frowned, comprehension dawning - "have you never heard this before?"
"Uh…no," Rayna admitted slowly. "I haven't."
"Oh." Maddie said quietly, casting her eyes downwards. "Well… it's a good song. I mean, kind of sad, but…good."
"You been listening to it a lot?"
"All day," she confessed. "So I'm guessing…"she squinted up at her mother again, "I'm guessing it's about you?"
Rayna gave a small shrug. "This is honestly the first time I've ever heard it, hun. I don't know."
"Mom," Maddie said pointedly. "They're pretty much all about you."
"Well…" Rayna stopped short, pursing her lips. At this point, perhaps they may as well call a spade a spade. ""I don't know. But I'd say…I'd say there's a pretty good chance, yeah," she conceded softly.
They lapsed into silence then, Deacon's lyrics still ringing in their minds as both mother and daughter absorbed this reality, let it settle around them somehow, until Maddie spoke again.
"Hey, Mom?" she started, easing into the question to come. "You know how you said I could, like…ask you stuff?
Rayna tried not to show the dread that came over her like a wave. "Uh, yeah…"
"When you and Dad were married… did you and Deacon ever have, like, an affair or whatever?"
Rayna's eyes narrowed. "No," she said, certain and serious, with a shake of her head. And suddenly she could see more clearly than ever that this, right here, was why they hadn't: so that if her daughters ever asked the question, she'd be able to look them in the eye when she answered it.
"Ok," Maddie nodded slowly, as if she was filing away the information in her mind. "But…you wanted to. Right?"
Rayna shifted uncomfortably. This kid just did not let her off easy. She opened her mouth as if to say something, before closing it just as quickly.
"I…" she began again, her voice trailing off to nothing. "Look. It's like I told you, honey. I married your dad because I loved him. I wanted to be married to him. I wanted us all to be a family. And I wish for you girls that it could have lasted forever between us, but I guess it just…I don't know, I guess it just wasn't meant to be."
"Because of Deacon," Maddie concluded matter-of-factly.
"Well. He was…definitely part of it, yes."
"So what were the other parts, then?" she pressed, a little more challenge in her voice now.
Her mother sighed. "Sweetheart, I know you're not a little kid any more, no matter how much I might tell myself that you are. I know you're growing up - and I know you hate it when I tell you stuff is complicated," she added, rolling her eyes jokingly. "But all this really is complicated. I can barely wrap my own head around it most of the time."
Maddie shrugged. "It's ok. I think I get it."
"You do?"
She nodded. "All these songs…they're like a puzzle or something, you know? And I mean, it's pretty obvious; "Sideshow," "Loved And Lost," "Pour Me Something Stronger"…I don't know, like, a million other songs. And now this one? No offence or anything, Mom, but neither of you was exactly subtle."
If there was a hint of good old fashioned teenaged impatience in Maddie's arched eyebrow, there was nothing truly hostile about it, and Lord knew that was a hell of an improvement; certainly part of Rayna was all too willing to thank God for small mercies. But even so, there was no denying that it still jarred a little to find herself subject to such breezy assessment of her personal life – from her baby, no less.
The thing was, historically, Rayna hadn't particularly liked anyone weighing in on her relationship with Deacon – not her family, not the media, not his myriad of addiction counsellors. What was between the two of them was private; it was theirs. She couldn't help but flinch when others poked around blindly in it. And really, why anyone would even feel the inclination to involve themselves in what was just so obviously a two-player game had always been frankly beyond her.
She resisted the instinctive urge to put Maddie in her place, to tell her that all of this was simply none of her business. Because of course, in some sense, maybe it was her business now. Or maybe it wasn't - but either way, Rayna could understand why she'd be interested.
"You know, not everything is in the music, sweetheart," she reminded gently, taking one of her daughter's hands in both of her own.
"Do you still love Deacon now?" Maddie asked in reply, wide-eyed and unfaltering, as though this were only the natural response.
"…What?"
"You said not everything's in the music," she added by way of explanation. "But, I mean... that's pretty much the only thing that isn't."
Rayna blinked rapidly, momentarily taken aback. The funny thing was, though, after that she barely even had to think about how to take the easy way out. She had, after all, spent years deflecting this question – she'd be damned if a thirteen year old kid was going to be the one to trip her up.
She shook her head in mock exasperation, before reaching up to tap Maddie's nose, as if she were three years old again.
"Nosy girl," she said, smiling warmly. "I love you. And I love your sister. That's all you need to worry about."
She rose from the bed, a clear signal that she had nothing further to say on the matter. "Now. You want something to eat, honey?" she asked. "Can I fix you anything?"
Maddie shook her head. "I'm ok."
"Alright, let me know."
Watching her mother's retreating form, suddenly Maddie called out.
"When I was over at Deacon's yesterday, Megan was there," she said baldly, the words coming quickly, as though she were desperate to get them out before this window of opportunity closed altogether.
Rayna turned around. "Oh?" she replied noncommittally.
"Just for like 10 minutes." Maddie explained. "She forgot her cell phone or something so she came to pick it up."
"And…how do you feel about that?"
"About her forgetting her cell?"
"About her being around," Rayna clarified. "Because, you know, I can talk to Deacon if it makes you…feel weird, or anything."
Maddie shrugged. "It's fine, mom. She seems… nice, actually. Nicer than Peggy, that's for sure."
Rayna allowed herself the tiniest hint of a raised eyebrow, as if to suggest that this was a poor compliment indeed, before remembering how she'd sworn to be resolutely neutral in her assessment of Teddy's new wife, at least in front of the girls.
She cleared her throat. "Well…great, then. I mean, as long as you're good."
"I'm good," Maddie confirmed.
Rayna just nodded, moving to leave again before Maddie piped up once more.
"You know, mom, I think that if you just asked him to break up with her, he totally would."
A second time, Rayna halted in her tracks, turning back around in the doorframe to face her daughter.
"...I'm just saying," Maddie added defensively, a pre-emptive strike.
Rayna raised an eyebrow. "You're just saying?"
Maddie shrugged, all innocence. "You're always telling me and Daphne how you just want us to be happy, but…we want you to be happy too, you know. And I guess I was just thinking…that night that Deacon came round for dinner, before the CMAs and…everything…" – she bit the inside of her lip – " you seemed really happy, Mom."
And in that moment, Maddie sounded so sincere, she looked like such a little girl, that Rayna's breath caught in her throat. She didn't know if it was this out-of-the-blue kindness, this acknowledgement of her as a person and not merely a (failed) parent, or if it was that god-damned song or what. But suddenly, she was overcome by the urgent need to find a hiding place and just let herself cry.
She had been happy then, back when it had seemed, for a minute, like they could have it all. It really was best, she had found, not to even think about how happy she'd been – or about how she'd destroyed it. Or how he'd destroyed it. Or how, one way or another, they were back to pretending now, harder than they ever had.
"A lot of stuff's happened since then, sweetie," she said, her voice fragile with barely concealed emotion.
Maddie said nothing, just went back to her music.
She had listened to enough songs by now to know that there always seemed to be another, no matter the contents of the one before.
A lot of stuff could happen from now on, too.
For the record, I didn't write "Pretend It Isn't There" - Charles Esten did.