Nick pulled into his driveway, cutting the engine. That had turned out to be a complete waste of time since is Father wasn’t home. Getting out, he deactivated the alarm and headed into the house, tossing his keys down on the table. Walking over, he pressed the play button on his answering machine, grabbing the letter from Veronica before flopping down on the couch, pulling the letter out, rereading it, only half paying attention to the messages.
It was really stupid that a letter like that could make him so happy, there really wasn’t much to it, but he couldn’t help but read it again. Nick wondered what she was doing right now, what she was like, how her life was. Anything had to be better than what he was doing now, anything. He had to write her back, and this time he’d try to get more information from her, find out a little more about her life and what she was like. If he wanted to keep this going, they had to get beyond asking how each other was in every letter. Did he want to keep this going? Had he suddenly decided that he wanted this to go beyond a few simple letters to a fan?
Groaning, he set the letter aside, his thoughts drifting to his visit with his Mom. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t wallow in self-pity, he was doing a bang up job of it. It was easier to pity himself, no one else would. Was it so unreasonable for him to want people to stop and tell him how sorry they were, as if it was out of the ordinary for people to divorce. Part of him wanted the world to stop moving, for everything to just stay as it was until he got used to his life. The thing was, he didn’t have time to get used to it, simple as that. Between work and everything else, there wasn’t time, or maybe he didn’t make time.
Nick had always felt bad for people whose parents divorced, always figuring it was a feeling he couldn’t imagine or fathom and he’d been right. He never figured it was something he’d ever have to deal with. He’d suffered losses in his life, everyone did, but those losses hadn’t been that great, hadn’t been this. Nick’s family life had never been that stable, between his traveling around the world and then his Brother’s growing success down to his Sisters different things, it seemed nothing ever went smoothly. All families had their problems, why should his be any different? But it was different; not every family had majority of the members as entertainers or parents or in his case, parent who wanted to manage everything. It seemed that even from the very beginning, his life had never been ordinary.
Rubbing at his face, Nick shut it out, just like he always did and tried to focus back on the messages that were still coming.
Hey Nick! Man what’s going on? It’s been forever since we talked, you’ve been so damn busy here lately. I’m sorry to hear about your parents man, how ya holdin’ up? Yo, give me a call alright, we’ll get together, go out for a drink or whatever ok? Cool, call me, later!
Brent. God, it’d been forever since he’d last spoken to him. The thing with the band hadn’t been as successful as he would’ve liked for them. Nick tried, he tried hard to get Brent’s band going, and they still played gigs from what he heard in clubs around Tampa, but they never really caught on and they never did get signed. In some part, Nick felt that was his fault, he could’ve done more, tried even harder. It’d been hard with touring and everything and then he released his first solo album and got caught up with everything and soon, all calls and communication was practically gone. Brent was right, he had been busy, but not so busy he couldn’t call, it was the same with Leslie and his Brother and Sisters. In avoiding his parents and their situation, he was somehow avoiding all the people who really had nothing to do with it. It wasn’t fair, but as selfish as it was, he really didn’t want to have to deal with anyone that was either his family or close to his family, and Brent was. He was practically a Brother to him, and so like the rest of his family, he suddenly found he didn’t have time for him either.
Walking over, Nick erased the message and all the rest without listening to them. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, checking his voicemail to find he had one new message.
Nick? It’s Colette, why haven’t you called? You’ve been out of London for a few days now, you told me you’d call. Have I done something wrong? Please call me, I miss you.
Remnants of London trying to follow him home, shaking his head, he deleted the message.