Wedding Bell Blues Box Set

Let the Music Say I Do-7

It was a beautiful and unusually warm Sunday afternoon as I played the closing notes for Tristan Morris’ song dedicated to his husband Blaine, performed right after their nuptials. There wasn’t a dry eye in the room, and then Blaine bent Tristan over his arm and kissed the very life out of him as a thank you. Hooting and catcalls could be heard from the predominantly gay crowd, with a few relatives thrown in.

After husband and husband walked down the burgundy rug that passed for an aisle from the pagoda to their table of honor in the small park, I launched into my first set of the afternoon, getting into the zone.

The bar mitzvah last night had gone well, even as I tried to fend off the advances of the rabbi’s nephew who was visiting from out of town. It was a good thing I could play all the songs with my eyes closed, because my mind was everywhere else except the wedding reception. Specifically, it was caught up in thoughts of Joey.

In all my admittedly self-righteous behavior, as Joey would call it, I never stopped to think that there might have been something going on with him, too. I, who had accused him of being selfish and ego-driven, may have been just as guilty.

I smiled and nodded as wedding guests walked by my station. The whole time we were together, Joey didn’t share much about himself. He was never that forthcoming about his past. He’d always deflect my probing and do something outrageous to throw me off the scent. All I knew was that he’d left home at seventeen to pursue music, moving his way through a series of bands until his current and longest running success with Hail The Dead Marys.

He’d been approached many times for a lucrative contract, but he always said he wanted to do music on his terms. And he did. But that was just the top layer. I had never been able to get much deeper than his music persona because he wouldn’t let me—or anyone else—anywhere near it. It had been part of my frustration with our relationship, too.

I played a version of Aerosmith’s ‘Sweet Emotion’ as I pondered the fact that I may have seriously misjudged Joey Seever. In all my hurt and pain, I focused on what was being done to me. I didn’t even think about what he might have been going through. Not that he wasn’t still arrogant and self-centered. But it may be a cover for a fear that was deeper than even I could imagine. I owed it to him—to us—to get to the bottom of this, and I would start with an apology.

“Thanks for doing this, Jared,” a familiar voice said.

I grinned at the happy faces of groom and groom as Blaine and Tristan stood before me, arms around each other’s waists. They made such a striking couple, and it was obvious how much they were in love.

“My pleasure, guys. Tristan, that was the best I’ve ever heard you sing. I told you it would be great.” I smiled at him.

Tristan blushed, turning a little to put his head under Blaine’s chin and give him a hug. “I couldn’t have done it without your encouragement and training.” He kissed Blaine’s neck, then turned to me. “You helped make this a perfect day.”

“I’m glad. Congratulations again, guys. Go on, enjoy your reception, and all the best in your new lives together.”

The two men beamed at me and then, holding hands, moved away to walk through the crowd of well-wishers.

* * * *

The minute I got home, I texted Joey. I didn’t get a response. A few more attempts yielded nothing, so I called him. It went to voicemail. I tried another tactic and called Bruce, the bass player for the band.

“Bruce, hey. I’m trying to reach Joey. Do you know where—”

“Hey, man. I got a bone to pick with you.” He sounded uncharacteristically stern for such a laid-back guy.

“What on earth—”

“Joey’s put the band on hiatus, man, and he won’t listen to reason. You said something to him in the hospital after we left, didn’t you?”

I was having a hard time processing this conversation. “What do you mean ‘on hiatus’? Joey would never do that! He’ll play with a sprained wrist.” This couldn’t be happening.

“Yeah, well, he did it. I went to practice on Saturday afternoon, like usual, and he up and makes this big announcement about needing time away. It had to be you. No one else gets to him like you do. I wish you’d both get your heads outta your butts and make up already.”

I lashed out in self-defense. “Huh? You’re putting this on me? Joey only loves himself, always has. That’s why we broke up. Well, that and his freewheeling d**k. Don’t pin his self-pity bullshit and mid-life crisis on me. It’s just a stunt.” It had to be. I couldn’t be the reason he…could I?

“Don’t even try it. He’s never done anything like this. Ever. The only reason this happened is because you’re involved. You need to fix this, buddy. It’s serious.” Crap.

“Do you know where he is?”

“He’s up at the lake cabin. Didn’t say when he’ll be back.”

This was f****d up, big time.

“Geez. I’m sorry about all this, Bruce. I didn’t think he—”

“Look, I get that the guy is a major pain in the ass. But you two were good together, and if you could see past your issues with…Please bring him back to the band, Jared. You’re the only one who can.” He hung up without saying goodbye.

It was just like Joey to make this all about him. But, I had to admit to being a part of the reason for this particular debacle. I had to figure out how to bring him home.

I made a snap decision and called my students for the week, apologized for canceling their classes, and informed them that I had an emergency. I packed enough clothes for a few days and left the house at six o’clock the next morning.