Public Secrets

realized—not a storm, but a gray, unrelenting rain.
Her father’s voice flowed into her ears, clear and somehow sweet despite the melancholy lyrics.
“I looked for your face / I called your name / You were the light / But shadows covered me / I lost the sun.”
She listened, struck as she had always been by the close, almost eerie harmony he achieved with Johnno. Her father’s voice soared up, hanging on notes, caressing them. The sad, hopeless lyrics went straight to her heart.

Why it’s Bev, she realized all at once. He was singing about Bev. To Bev. Emma’s eyes widened as her gaze fixed on Brian. Why hadn’t she seen it before? Why hadn’t she understood?
He was still in love. Not resentful or angry, but miserably in love.
She didn’t think, but only felt, as she did what he had asked and added her voice to his.
She didn’t realize that Johnno had backed off, leaving her and her father alone. It wasn’t a planned gesture when she reached out to take his hand. She wasn’t aware that tears had spilled over to cling to her lashes. Her voice melded with his as her heart did.
“My life is shadows without you / Without you / Dreaming of the light I wake to darkness / I lost the sun.”
As the music swelled and faded, she lifted his hand to her cheek. “I love you, Da.”
He brushed his lips over hers, fighting the need to let his own tears go. “Let’s hear the playback,” he called out.
It was nearly one before the session musicians began to file out. The best part of another hour passed before Brian was satisfied with the overdubbing. Emma watched her father pour a tumbler full of Chivas Regal and drink it like water over a technical discussion with an engineer. She didn’t want to be upset by it, not now, not when she was beginning to understand some of his pain. But neither could she sit calmly and watch while he doused that pain with whiskey.
She wandered out, then detoured to the bathroom to freshen her makeup. There had been some talk about winding down at a local club. Tired or not, she was going to go along, and keep an eye on her father.
When she opened the door, she could only stand in speechless shock. The pristine white tiles were streaked with blood. The smell of it, cold and metallic, mixed with the raw stink of vomit, had her throat slamming shut so that she reached up with her hand, pressing and squeezing to dear it. She backstepped quickly, nearly tripping before she managed to turn and race back into the studio.
“Da!”
He was finishing up his drink with one hand while struggling into his coat. The flush of success was on his face, but the laughter at something Johnno had said died when he saw Emma.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”
“In the loo. Quick.” She grabbed his hand to drag him with her. “It’s all over the walls. I don’t—I can’t go in.”
She stood back, gripping Johnno’s arm as Brian pushed open the door.
“Goddammit.” After one quick glance, he slammed the door again. “Get somebody to clean this up,” he snapped to Pete. Taking Emma’s arm, he started to haul her back into the studio.
“Clean it up?” She pulled away from him. “Da, for God’s sake, there’s blood all over the walls. Someone’s been hurt. We have to—”
“Get your coat, and let’s go.”
“Go? We have to call the police, or a doctor, or—”
“Ease down, Emma,” Pete murmured. “There’s no need to call the police.”
“No need?” She spun on him, then her father. “We have to call them.”
“We’re not calling anyone, and you’re to forget it.”
“But—”
“It’s Stevie.” Furious, Brian took her by the shoulders, and turned her to where Stevie had nodded out in a corner. “He’s using heavy again. You can’t jam a needle into any available vein and not lose some blood.”
“My God.” A horrible afterimage of the red-streaked walls flashed into her mind. “He’s doing that to himself? He’s killing himself.”
“Very likely.”
“Why aren’t you doing something about it?”
“What the hell am I supposed to do?” Snatching up her coat, he dragged it over her arms. “It’s his life.”
“That’s a despicable thing to say,” she whispered.
Stepping in as peacemaker, Pete touched her shoulder. “You can’t blame Brian, Emma. He’s tried, I promise you. We’ve all tried. As soon as the album is finished, we’ll convince him to go into detox again.”
“As soon as the album’s finished,” she repeated. “The bloody album.”