My breath catches a little bit. Why does he say those things? He can't say those things to me. I pull back a little and look at him, shaking my head, letting him know that we've crossed that line. I've let him go, and it took a long time to stop wishing things were different. He looks unsure for a minute, and I scramble for something to say, ultimately coming up with nothing. I don't want to go down that road right now. "I want to write," I finally say, turning away and grabbing one of my bags. I feel him watching me as I dig for a journal, and ignore his frustrated exhale.
Hours pass quickly. He fiddles on his guitar, naps, and busies himself on his laptop while I write and stare out the window. We don't say much, but it's comfortable. We've spent a lot of hours on airplanes together, and it feels familiar and comforting somehow to be in the same space, even if it's 35,000 ft. above the ground. I should be asking about his plan. Does he want me to stay with him? How long is the recovery? What kind of surgery is he actually having? Is Kristen just on vacation while he's in the hospital or is she not coming back?
There's definitely more to that story.
I assume I'll be staying with him. No one wants to be alone while they're recovering - especially Lindsey. He acts like a loner. In some ways, he is. But he needs a woman. He needs to be taken care of. I guess in some ways we all do. I don't do well alone either, but I'm better at surrounding myself with people that make me forget how hard it is to wake up alone every day. I idly wonder how long Kristen has been gone. Has he been on his own for a while? What about his kids? He adores them. That would kill him.
"It's my weekend with the kids," he says, as if reading my mind. "I wanted to see them before I'm laid up."
"Your weekend?" I look over at him, an obviously confused.
"I told you they were gone."
"You didn't tell me there were custody agreements involved."
"That's what happens when you get divorced."
"What?!"
"Oh, don't act so surprised, Stevie. Everyone knew she was going to be gone the minute marriage required anything of her."
"When did this happen, Lindsey? Why haven't you told anyone?"
He shrugs. "A couple months ago. But it's not like this hasn't been coming for a decade."
How could he not have told me this? My mind is racing, and I start to fire questions at him without mercy. "Have you moved? How did you keep this quiet? What about the kids?" They're all logistical questions. I'm not ready for him to explain why he waited two months to tell me.
"Stevie, it's okay. Everything is good, alright? I kept the house. She moved into the one down the street so the kids are over all the time."
I turn away and stare out the window again, my mind reeling. How does he think he can just drop this on me? I don't like being blindsided. "I wish you'd told me."
"I didn't know how."
"It's not hard. You call me and say 'Hey, Stevie, I'm getting a divorce. I just thought you should know since you're my best friend.' You should have told me."
"I should have," he relents, sitting next to me. "We both know that this complicates things. I wasn't sure how you'd react."
"I'm not sure either," I say honestly. "This is weird, Lindsey."
"Is it, though?"
It's not. And we both know it. "Can we just get you better please? I can't do all of this at once."
He nods. "Thank you for coming with me. I couldn't imagine doing this on my own."
"What are they doing to you?"
"I have a bad valve. They're replacing it."
"I don't know anything about heart surgeries. How serious is this?"
"Well, it's not good. But they think I'll be okay."
"How long is the recovery?"
"A month or two."
"They don't know that you'll be okay," I say, unable to keep the fear out of my voice.
"No, they don't."
I don't say anything else, but lay my head on his shoulder. Before too long, we're landing in Los Angeles and a car brings us to his house. It's more like the house I remember him having in the 90s. Pre-Kristen. Her things are gone. There are guitars everywhere, records strewn across the floor in the living room. It's raining, and the sun has just set behind the hills. He has always loved this view.
I stay downstairs while he carries our things to his room, trying to wrap my mind around what comes next. This is exactly where 25 year old Stevie pictured herself. Sharing a house with Lindsey, taking care of him, a lifetime of music and love and travel and romance to write about while we get old. It's funny how things come full circle.
I just never thought it would be this hard to get here.
