Page 40 of Three Months Yesterday

There are plenty of instances in my life where I’ve questioned my choices. If pursuing music and taking the record deal were the right decisions. If doing things differently would mean the accident never happened.

Letting my thoughts wander down those paths never pays off in the end, but it’s not a question of if my mind will go there. It’s a question of when.

“Beckett,” Madison whispers, her hand coming to rest on mine.

The touch is soft, but deliberate. She doesn’t hesitate or seem to question if it’s the right move, and she doesn’t pull away when my eyes finally meet hers.

“It feels weird to say I don’t love what I do when it’s given me so much, but the truth is, I question if going into music the way I did was the right choice.”

“We all question if we’ve made the right choices. I think that’s part of human nature.”

It’s wrong in a moment like this, but I have no control of the laugh that breaks free. “Sorry. I was just thinking the same thing.” I shake my head, letting my eyes fall to Madison’s hand where it rests on mine. “The what-if game. What a waste of time,” I murmur.

I don’t expect a response, but the next words out of Madison’s mouth might be the most profound question someone’s ever asked me.

“Which what-if keeps you up at night?”

People ask me about the night that haunts me plenty of times, but rarely in a way that isn’t looking for a new juicy headline. For that reason, it’s the one question I refuse to talk about publicly.

It’s one question I refuse to talk about at all. I’ve spent years in therapy and support groups and have still never spoken about it.

Then again, Madison doesn’t know a single thing about me. At least nothing that we haven’t talked about over the last week.

“What if I hadn’t played that show on Halloween when I was twenty?” I’m shocked by the wobble in my voice. Maybe I shouldn’t be, but it’s been eighteen years. I’ve learned to live with it.

“What happened at the show?”

“It wasn’t what happened at the show. It’s what happened on the way home from it.”

Madison’s grip on my hand tightens, but she doesn’t say anything in the silence that follows. Somehow knowing I need a moment.

There’s a tightness in my chest, one I used to feel all the time after the accident but now only experience on the nights I can’t escape my nightmare.

Can it be called a nightmare if it’s also a memory?

“It wasn’t anything special, just a random Halloween concert, and my parents decided they wanted to be there. Not only for the show that night but for the entire day. I should have fought them on it, but I loved when they were backstage.”

Growing up where I did, we were used to unexpected and crazy weather, especially in the winter, but Halloween was the middle of fall. No one predicted what ended up happening that night.

If there had been any kind of warning, I would have sent my parents home.

It was still early in my career, but my parents had seen me play a million times and this one wasn’t any different from the rest.

“It was colder than typical for Halloween, but nothing completely out of the norm for Boston. What took everyone by surprise was the massive ice storm that came through. I honestly don’t remember a single report about the storm, but maybe I just wasn’t paying attention.”

There’s plenty about that night I don’t remember, and considering everything I do remember, I’m okay with the gaps. There’s nothing missing from those memories that will make the aftermath any better. That will help me cope with how it all turned out.

“My parents had seen bits and pieces of my routine over the years, but they’d never experienced a show day from start to finish. What made them decide that was the day to see all of it, I still don’t understand.”

Madison’s thumb strokes across the back of my hand, but she doesn’t say anything, letting me guide this conversation at my own pace. I squeeze her hand in return, grateful for the quiet support.

“Instead of getting a hotel room in the city, we made the decision to head back to Harborview after the show. Which wasn’t a big deal since the drive is only about an hour.”

The drive back to my parents was also the perfect way to burn off the adrenaline I always have after a show.

There are a few ways to make the drive between Boston and Harborview, but all of them involve a combination of major six-lane highways and smaller one-lane routes. But even the small byways are important roads for the area, making them a priority during any kind of weather emergency.

Meeting Madison’s eye, it’s clear I don’t need to say what happens next. The tears in her eyes tell me she’s figured it out from the little I’ve said, but I still need to form the words, if only for myself.