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Even years after Grace’s death, I was still a broken wreck, unable to be the parent my daughter needed because I had to work.
The only comfort I appeared to have found was at the bottom of an empty glass, even though I knew I couldn’t rely on alcohol to solve my problems and it would eventually make me less capable of taking care of Layla.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Dawn brought more than daylight with it the following morning. It brought clarity of mind despite my hangover. Somewhere between night and day, I’d had an image of my sad little girl looking lost and waiting for me to come home. It wasn’t a lie… call it a sixth sense, but I knew my baby’s needs were growing.
Being a latchkey kid myself when I was growing up, I’d had my share of those feelings. Where my parents worked hard, they never took the time to really get to know me. Maybe ‘took the time’ isn’t the right way to describe it; perhaps ‘had the time’ was a better description.
However, the same didn’t apply to me. There was enough money in the bank to last a lifetime and then some. There and then I decided the counselors were wrong. My place wasn’t doing what I did before; it was doing what came after.
Where I should have been wasn’t a thousand miles from home making other people happy, while my daughter and I sucked it up and suffered in silence to keep the record company and promoters happy.
If my followers truly cared about me and my music, they’d understand I needed the space to work through my grief—even years later—and to support my daughter away from the public eye. So, as if I had walked out of my haze, I realized where I needed to be and I called Derek, my manager, to tell him to cancel the last three shows.
“You sure you want to do this? People will have gone to a heap of expense to come to Bueno Aires for the gig,” he asked, his loaded question designed to guilt me into performing. “Some will have travelled the length of South America,” he added as if this would change my mind.
Obviously, it wasn’t a decision I had taken lightly, and I was sorry to those I’d inconvenienced and let down, but most them weren’t living their lives for other people. It felt time I took charge of myself and did the same.
“Yeah, I’m sorry, but I’m out,” I stated firmly. Derek knew I was no stranger to hard work before Grace died, and I loved my fans and followers. His problem wasn’t my problem because I loved my little daughter, and it was about time I demonstrated this.
“At least get a doctor’s certificate for stress or something; otherwise it’ll cost all parties involved the same as the gross national product of a developing country.” I nodded even though he couldn’t see me. He was right, this way the fans would get their money back.
“Done. I’m flying back to Richmond, Virginia today. I’ll ask the doc for a home visit for tomorrow.”
“Well, if you’re sure?” he said hesitantly, and I could practically hear him swear in his head. “I’ll get onto the promoters and set the shitstorm in motion. Any idea how long you want to take out?”
“Indefinitely. Years, if I need to. For good, if that’s what the record company decides.” Once I had made my mind up, there was no going back. It felt strangely liberating.
Quitting the call, I breathed a sigh of relief and checked my chunky gold Rolex, a gift from Grace for our first anniversary. It was 7:30 a.m. Layla will be eating breakfast.
Selecting the Skype app, I called Harper’s phone and seconds later she replied.
“Hey, Harper, how’s my baby?” I asked, noting my voice sounded lighter than it had since the moment I found out about Grace.
“Oh, hi, Cole, she’s becoming sassier and smarter every day, not to mention how cute she is,” she replied. Harper my daughter’s nanny’s sweet face beamed a bright sunny smile before she turned her cell camera around to show me Layla.
“Layla, your daddy’s on Skype.”
Throwing her head up to look at the screen I noted Layla’s jet-black hair in two thick bunches at the sides of her head.
“Daddy,” Layla mumbled excitedly around a mouth full of Froot Loops that almost fell out of her mouth. She clamped her hand over it and quickly disappeared when she jumped down from the counter stool.
Next thing I knew, the screen was shaking.
“Hold on, Layla.” I imagined Layla tugging on Harper’s arm. “Give me a sec, Cole,” Harper instructed me as she laid her cell on the counter and I watched the kitchen ceiling fan whirl fast above it.
Seconds later, Layla’s little out of focus nose came into view, followed quickly by her mouth as it grinned widely in closeup. I heard Harper gently admonish her, “No, Baby, you have to hold it a little farther away or Daddy will only see part of your beautiful face.”
“Oh, okay, but I want to kiss him,” she replied, sounding a little confused at Harper’s request.
“Of course you can kiss the screen when Daddy has finished talking to you, but for now you have to let me hold it so as you can talk with him and see him at the same time. If it’s too close, you won’t see his gorgeous face when he’s talking.”
“Ah,” she decided like she suddenly understood. “I see you, Daddy, do you see me?” she asked, leaning forward again and not completely trusting Harper’s word.
“I do, Baby, and you look even more beautiful than you did yesterday,” I told her honestly.
The shy smile in response was to die for. “Look at me, Daddy, I’ve got brunches.” Twirling her hair in both hands she gave me a toothy grin.
