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Everything I've Known	By : SolusNemo Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > MEST Views: 1142 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of MEST. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Seven: Tainted Love

Sometimes I feel I’ve got to run away
I’ve got to get away from the pain that you drive into the heart of me
The love we share seems to go nowhere
I’ve lost my lights
I toss and turn I can’t sleep at night.

It took an hour to drive to the stadium Mest was to play at. Abigail turned into the large parking lot and drove around to the back of the building, glad that there weren’t many cars in the front lot. She parked in a space next to a rather new Saturn Ion. Almost instantly she regretted not driving her moving truck to Vermont. Normally she only took the moving truck when carrying larger loads, but if she had it with her now she could lock the sculptor up safe. Getting out of the Ford Abigail locked the doors and started toward the front of the building.

When she entered the stadium and found her way to the stage doors Abigail dug her wallet out of her pocket. Abigail walked up to a burly security guard standing in front of the double doors, arms crossed and looking out ahead of him. “I’m Abigail Lynch, Matt said he gave you my name ...”

The man nodded.

Abigail took her driver’s license out of her wallet and held it up for the guard to see. When he stepped aside she nodded her thanks and went through the doors.

The room was quite large. An empty space served as the crowd housing, the stage looming over that at the back of the space. Mest was giving their instruments a final tune check before it was too late. They looked like ants from where Abigail was standing, working up her courage to make her presence known. She didn’t know why she was uneasy, but she pulled her moist bell shirt sleeved down over her hands anyway. What was she suppose to say?

Matt looked up and noticed her before she made a fool of herself. He set his bass down, leaning it against one of the many amps, grabbed something lying near a towel and leapt off the stage. He was grinning as he strode up to Abigail, hiding what he was holding behind his back. “You made it in one piece, I see.” Kissing her cheek he wrapped one arm around her in a hug. When he pulled back he still had that goofy grin on his face. “I’m really glad you could make it. Here.” He pulled a bouquet of tulips from behind him.

Abigail smiled and took them from him. “Such a gentleman.” They were still cool and held together with a rubber band, the ends cut diagonally and slightly dripping with water.

“I know that they’re your favorite. We had them soaking in a bowl of water in the back until a few minutes ago.” He bounced on the balls of his feet, excited that she was there.

“Thank you.”

Nerves acting up Matt took her hand and led her toward the stage. “I’ll get my ass kicked if I don’t introduce you, so ...” With his free hand he began pointing to the rest of the band, “That’s Tony, my cousin, Jeremiah — Jere or Miah for short — and Nick hiding behind the drums.”

“Pleased to meet you.” Abigail said softly, shy.

There were scattered greetings as the guys wondered where the usual Matt went. They weren’t used to their bassist acting like this: madly in love. It was both worrying and comforting at the same time. “We’ve heard a lot about you.” Nick said, exchanging his broken drum stick for a new one. “You’re just as I’d pictured only a little taller.” He smirked, but that only made Abigail feel more self-conscious than she was before.

“If you want you can listen to us run through our set. After that you’ll have to go backstage and watch us from the best seat in the house.” Tony offered, glaring at Matt to get back on stage.

-

She sat crossed legged on the bed, her faded nightshirt draping over her thighs. Brennan was getting out of his work clothes, tossing them into the hamper at the foot of the bed next to the bench; Abigail would lean forward and put them where they belonged if a piece of his power suit missed the wicker basket. She was studying him for the first time in years. He never worked out anymore, but he was still surprisingly fit, though his calves weren’t as large as they used to be. Grey hairs were sprinkled through his head from stress, stubble on his face in efforts to grow a beard. His face was stern, more so when he had his reading glasses on. At one point in her life Abigail would have called him handsome, but now that word didn’t seem right anymore.

The full length mirror was at the corner of the room, more of it resting against the half wall (the one they had build their first month in the loft for privacy, and to place potted plants on top of). Abigail leaned to the left, watching her face poke out behind Brennan’s back. Her hair was back in a weak ponytail and her face was pale without make-up on. She had laugh lines already, no other wrinkles or lines. She looked like a thinner version of her mother, something she always hated. “Why did you marry me?” She asked, raising her eyes to look at the reflection of Brennan’s face.

“Because I love you, honey, that’s why.” He answered, stopping the task of unbuttoning his shirt. His eyes looked at his wife’s reflection. “More than anything.”

Abigail nodded slowly. She found herself not as gullible to that as she once was. “Do you remember our wedding day? When your father offered to drive us away from the church and to town hall? He didn’t like the huge wedding idea either. And I said no because my mother would hit me upside the head?”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“When we got to the reception your drunk uncle ate half the cake, so we had to go to Dairy Queen and get an ice cream cake at the last minute. I was crying, do you remember?”

Brennan turned around. “What’s this about, Ab?”

“Eating that chocolate ice cream cake was better than standing in church in front of 200 hundred people, wearing that dress I didn’t want to wear and having the kind of wedding I didn’t want to have.” She stated.

He looked like he wanted to say something other than “I know,” but he didn’t. After two minutes of silence Brennan got his night clothes from the dresser and tossed them onto the bed, taking off his shirt to change. “I’ve been thinking a lot. I know how much you want a family ... when this cycle of your pill ends we can try for a kid.”

A bucket of mixed emotions was dumped onto Abigail’s head. “You loathe kids, Brennan. This isn’t just some thing were the child goes from infant to 18 and off at college in one day. Besides, I’m afraid I might miscarry if not die.”

“You’re overeating.”

“Caren Carpenter died from her sudden weight gain, her heart gave out. Who’s to say that won’t happen to me having to support two people in one body. I was sick for a long time, Brennan, you have to realize this.”

He was working on his pajama pants now. “You’re not Caren Carpenter.”

“Well, duh. But I still went from near death to 150lbs to near death and back to 144lbs. My heart isn’t that of a race horse.”

“First you say you want to have kids, but now you want to play your little eating disorder card for not wanting to have one? Forget I ever said anything if you want to cop out!”

“Brennan Westly Lynch I was anorexic. This is in no way a fucking cop out! Pardon me for having a fear of dying while birthing your son or daughter.”

He shook his head, cramming the rest of his clothes into the hamper. “I said forget it! Come to think of it I really don’t want a snot nosed brat running around the house.”

It was rude to think about other things while at a concert, but something (whatever it was) triggered another memory. The chanting of the young crowd had slowly faded away, replaced with that recollection, and came right back louder than ever. For the most part Abigail was having a great time, standing backstage and watching the guys sweat every last drop of water out of their systems. Right now they were finishing up Hotel Room, one of the slower parts of this fast paced night. She could see Matt from where she was standing, far off on the other side of the stage, his once plain blue tee-shirt now a dark navy blue. Everything seemed to be in slow motion except the music. The lights shifted from pinks to yellows to blues, pigments almost visibly bouncing from place to place. It was almost magical in way. This was the first concert she had ever been to, which made her want to bottle up this moment and set it on her mantle piece. She could have cried from the joy and shame.
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- 8
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Everything I've Known