Say you love me

Part 32

Busted flat in Baton Rouge, waiting for a train, while I's feeling as faded as my jeans...

"Pearl, baby, I love you, but if I have to hear Janis Joplin one more time I'll smash that record!" Chris shut off the record player, cutting off Janis's voice mid-word. Pearl sat on the floor, the album cover to Pearl on the floor, scribbling on it with her crayons. "But Mummy, it has my name and I like it!" "Well, I'm not sure Janis would be very happy to see you coloring on her record." Chris picked up the record sleeve and slid the record in, tucking it back onto the shelf.

"But she's in Heaven, Mummy," Pearl said. Smart kid. Sometimes too smart. "Just sit down and eat your oatmeal while it's hot," Chris said as she took her under her arm and sat her down in her chair. Their black Labrador, Raisin, trotted underneath the table,  thumping his tail and hoping for spilled food. "Mummy, why do we have to have oatmeal every single day?" Pearl poked at her food distastefully. Chris started washing the pot in the sink, the hot water steaming up the windows. Inwardly she sighed, this conversation happened everyday. Couldn't the kid just eat her oatmeal and like it?

"Put some milk in it," Chris said as she scrubbed the pot, wincing from the hot water. She adjusted the faucet temperature to more cooler. "Don't like milk!"
"Sugar then?"
"I like sugar!"
With a wet hand, Chris set the sugar bowl on the table. "Go crazy!"  Immediately Pearl started shoveling sugar into her bowl by the heaps. In no time her bowl looked like a giant snowy mountain. Pearl happily ate her bowl of sugar as Chris swore under her breath. She'd be bouncing off the walls by lunch. Well, technically it was her fault. She did say to go crazy.

Ring ring ring. The phone on the wall rang shrilly, sending Chris back into motion. She picked up the phone with a defeated sigh and said wearily, "Hello?"
"Christine?" Chris immediately recognized the voice on the other end, and nostalgia filled her. "Mick! Hey, how are you? How's the band?" She leaned against the counter, wrapping the cord around her arm like a teenage girl ready to gossip.
"Everything's great, Chris! How are you?" They talked for a few minutes, catching up to the present and talking about their current things. After the small talk was out of the way, Mick got to the point. Mick Fleetwood was not a man to beat around the bush. Fleetwood Mac was working on their new album, so far it was great but it was missing something, and could Chris maybe come in and lay down a few piano tracks? Just to spice things up? It definitely wouldn't go unappreciated.

Christine's stomach churned. She cast a nervous glance at Pearl, who was sharing her food with the dog, then considered it. Mick didn't ask for a favor unless he really needed it, how could she refuse? And it'd be nice to return to the studio again, somewhere she was considered a professional. Now she mostly played in bars and restaurants, and that wasn't enough to feed a parakeet. In her spare time she taught a few art classes, but she could hardly call her life lavish. She spent all her spare money on her daughter, making sure she had clothes and games and nothing to want for. Pearl wasn't spoiled, but she also wasn't deprived. 

But no doubt John would be there, and it was neither the place nor the time.
But she needed the money.
This all went through Chris's head in the span of a few seconds and before she knew it she was saying, "Yes, Mick, I'd love to help you out. When and where do I need to be?" Part of her was saying these words, and part of her was listening to herself say them. She prayed it wouldn't be so much of a disaster.
God just let him like her.
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Pearl struggled to catch up as they walked the steep ramp into the studio. She was wearing an adorable red jumper and looked cuter than ever. The only reason she was with Chris was because Alicia's mother couldn't watch her, she had some wine party to go to. Fuck you Mary Testerman, Chris thought to herself as she pushed open the studio door, Pearl in tow. Fuck you and your wine.

The studio was filled with noise, as usual. Pearl loved noise. As soon as they heard the first beats of drums, she was off and running for the source of it before Chris could stop her. Mick sat at his drum kit, pounding out a rhythm. He was into it and steadily climbing uphill,  but stopped as he saw a red little creature in front of him. "Well, who do we have here?" He said cheerfully as Pearl shyly smiled at him. "I'm Pearl! I like your noises," she pointed to the drum kit. Mick smiled as he took in Christine's duplicate. "Pearl? I think you look more like a Rose or a Ruby!" She giggled.

Chris caught up to Pearl just in time to see her on Mick's lap, drumsticks in hand, with Mick trying to teach her a song. "God, Mick, I'm sorry she's in your way but I had no one to watch her and..."
"Chris, it's fine! She's a little sweetheart! And she's damn fine on the drums, too." Okay, at least Mick liked her daughter, but Mick liked everyone. Christine smiled at Mick, then asked for the pieces she was supposed to play. She wanted to get this over and done with, then go home and go back to living inside her little bubble. 

Chris sat down at the piano inside the cubicle, headphones on, and started to play as she read. She played with ease, going back to when she was Christine Perfect in Chicken Shack, the tough broad who dated Fleetwood's bass player. She didn't notice that Pearl had wandered off.
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John was late to rehearsal. He was up all night debating about Christine and Pearl. Hell, he was still debating in his head as he parked his car and flew into the packed studio room. He nearly kicked poor Danny's amp across the room he was so rushed, but then he stopped when he saw the little girl sitting on his bass case.

John was instantly head over heels in love with her, like every proud father. Pictures did her no justice, she looked like Christine in every way. Even the way she moved was similar. He anxiously made his way over to her, then sat down on the floor next to her. Pearl offered a smile then said, "I don't like this chair." John chuckled. "Well, sorry to tell you, but that's not a chair, Pearl. It's a case for my bass." Pearl squealed. "Oooh, that rhymes! Just like Dr. Seuss!" She clapped her hands together.
"Where's your mummy, darling?"
"Playing piano."
"Do you know who I am?" John asked nervously. What had Christine told her?
"You're Dr. Seuss!" Pearl laughed at her wit. John's eyes misted over with tears for the lost years, because how could he have been so selfish to miss even a minute of this precious girl?
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Christine imagined this moment for years, and it was better than she'd ever expected, in a way. John was sitting on the floor next to Pearl, playing patty cake and singing Miss Polly, forgetting he was supposed to be playing his bass track.
"Hi, John," she said quietly, walking up to them and sitting down, as if it was the easiest thing in the world, as if they were a normal family. As soon as he saw her, he looked both shocked yet grateful; like a man who has seen a ghost yet also seen an angel. "Christine," he said, breathless.

You could compare this moment to the scene in The Scarlet Letter where all four main characters meet on the scaffold, but alot less dark.
"So, I see you've met your daughter." She gestured to Pearl, still sitting on the bass case. John nodded stiffly. Chris picked up Pearl, then stood.

"Maybe this isn't the right place to talk about this. Would you like to come over for coffee or something?" Without missing a beat, John said, "Absolutely." Pearl piped up, "No coffee, Mummy! I have my tea set and we can have a tea party."