*****Chapter Two*****
It's been 2 weeks since I've seen Lydia and Thomas. She posted our picture on twitter and tagged me in it, with the caption saying 'Best night of my life'. After all of these years, it's still such an honor to see hard core fans like her, but deep down I know that it is becoming more and more uncommon. Sure, everyone knows who I am. But not many people truly notice me anymore. I still have a large fan base, but every year I can notice it shrinking. People these days are more interested in the young new artist, with their upbeat tempos and their 'swag', whatever the hell that means. At 46, people aren't very amused by me anymore. But hey, I'm not complaining. Give me one fan to sing to and I'll be completely fine.
The house is so quiet. Especially tonight. The kids went to their dads for the weekend, and considering it's Friday, I'm trying to find some way to get me through the next few days. Lately I've been trying to write more songs, but it's just not flowing like it did when I was younger. Like always, I ended up throwing my pen and cussing at nothing, my inner redhead coming out. Then I just laid on the couch, actually bored for the first time in ages. I've always had work, or some new project to tend to. But nothing was on my schedule, the disses were washed, and the clothes were in the dryer. So I just laid there. Eventually, memories of Brock seeped back into my mind. That's been happening a lot lately, though I don't know why. Brock and I were married 20 years. We've know each other our whole lives. When I left home at 18 to begin my career, he was the only one who supported me; no one else, not even my own family, believed in me. He had vowed to always protect me, which is something I desperately needed, despite how independent I knew I was. One time, he even drove all the way from Texas to Tennessee, when he was only 20, because he knew I was in trouble.
Brock has always been seen as a rugged cowboy type. He comes across strong, set in his ways, and maybe a little grumpy. But through all of our years together, he loved my in a way that I didn't think was possible. He protected me. He would hold me every time it would storm, and whisper the sweetest of words in my ear. Why he cheated on me, I'll never know. It was probably my fault. I got lost in my fame and almost forgot about him. He had his faults too, however, that lead me to act that way. But all of the details of our divorce is a story for later. When I think about him, I try to just brush it off. I can make it on my own, I know it. But still, this sitting and thinking doesn't doing me any good. I needed something to take my mind off of things. So, for the first time in 3 years, I decided to take a bubble bath.
The water was warm and smooth as it brushed against my foot. I allowed my leg to test the water, and after deciding it wasn't too warm, I dropped my robe and slipped in. As my body slipped into the water, I felt my troubles slip away. I had a glass of wine with me, and with every sip I was more and more content. I lifted my leg from the water and watched the steam rise from my skin. Twirling my foot around, I felt so at peace. That's when I saw my phone light up out of the corner of my eye. I reached over and looked at the screen. Seeing that familiar number, my breath caught up in my chest.
I've had his number memorized for 6 years now. I never wanted to save it in my phone, but I needed to know which number to avoid on those nights when he would call. I honestly can say I've forgotten about him. Sure, I think about it every now and then. But he hasn't talked to me in 4 years, so it's been getting easier to forget. Until he text me. I was still in shock, looking at the screen. 2 years of hell, 4 years of silence, and now he's going to send me a casual 'Hey stranger. How have you been?'. I quickly locked my phone and through it back down. I wasn't going to think about this. No, not tonight. I wasn't going to think about the pain he put me through, physically, emotionally, and sexually if that makes any sense. I wasn't going to think about the way he broke the remaining pieces of my heart. About the way he took complete advantage of me and my life when I was in my most vulnerable of times. But, as I sunk into the hot water, and the wine warmed my insides, I found myself thinking of something else. How did he do this to me? He could get in my head and make me forget all of the misery and regret of our relationship, and focus on the few nights of pleasure he gave me. Pleasure I needed so bad. I knew I shouldn't, but I laid my head back and closed my eyes. I shut out everything else, and began to play out the night we met. It was a night that marked the beginning of a horrible, horrible string of events that I've kept hidden from the people I've loved the most. But it was also one of the most daring, exotic nights of my life. He made me feel something I hadn't felt in years. John Callahan made me feel sexy. And sometimes that's all a girl wants. Am I right?