No Tomorrow: An Angsty Love Story

Lyric and I are enjoying a lazy, rainy Sunday morning together on the couch. I’m immersed in a new book with Archie on my lap, and she’s clicking away on her laptop. Blue flew in late last night to stay with us for a few days before he has to meet up with the band for their next show. He looked utterly exhausted when we picked him up the airport, and he was sucking down Red Bull like water in an attempt to keep himself awake to talk to Lyric and me.

By the time we got home from the airport he was suffering from one of his horrible headaches. He crashed on the bed, but tossed and turned from all the adrenaline and caffeine in his system, so I gave him one of the Valiums I have for the occasional neck spasms I get. That seemed to calm him, and he finally fell asleep. I snuggled up to him all night while he slept, stroking his face and his hair, whispering how much I love him. As he slept, a tiny worry nagged at me about the medicine. I tried to remember what Reece and I had talked about and I wondered if I did the wrong thing by giving him anything at all. Wouldn’t Blue know to tell me he couldn’t take it, like he did in the past, if he thought he shouldn’t? I slowly rubbed his tense back and shoulders, praying that no ill comes of my well-intentioned action. He’s sleeping soundly and that’s what he needs. I don’t even care if he sleeps the entire time he’s visiting as long as he gets to rest and feels loved.

“I want to show you something,” Lyric says, opening her laptop lid. “Look at him.” She turns the laptop sideways to show me an adoption page from a nearby pet rescue. The page is filled with photos of an adorable little brown and white fuzzy dog with one floppy ear and one straight ear, and big sad eyes. “Look at his little face, Mom. He looks like Acorn only younger and kinda sad. His profile said he was thrown out of a car. How could someone do that?” Her voice cracks and her bottom lip quivers with emotion. “He must feel so unwanted. He’s too lonely now. Someone has to love him.”

She is so much her father sometimes that it’s scary.

I put down my e-reader and look closer at the photos. I read the detailed bio about the adorable dog that I know will probably be frolicking in our backyard this time tomorrow.

I think I want the lonely little dog just as much as my daughter does. Maybe even more.

“Can we go see him today, Mom? See if he’s the one?”

“We’ll ask Blue when he wakes up, okay? This is a decision we should make as a family.”

Her face lights up. “He’ll love him. I know he will.” She closes her laptop. “I’m going to go play my harp for him while he’s sleeping. He likes that.”

My heart swells with love for her as she goes off to play soft relaxing melodies on her harp for her father. She and Blue have developed a strong emotional bond, and she has taken on an almost protective role when it comes to him. He’s amazingly patient and nurturing with her, always making her feel special and supported no matter what. Not once has he wavered in his commitment to her—or to me—since we became a family.

It’s as if having love in his life has turned Blue inside out, and the man I always believed was inside him, is now on the outside.

“Thanks, baby,” he says when I join him on my small back porch with a cup of tea for each of us. He’s doing something he doesn’t get to do much of anymore—watching the misty rain fall.

“You look much better today.” I gently push his damp hair from his face. Twelve hours of sleep and a hot shower has done wonders for him.

“I always feel better when I’m home with you guys. I’m just pissed I lost a night with you by sleeping so much.”

“We didn’t lose anything. I got to have my way with you all night while you slept,” I tease.

“Figures,” he grins and sips his tea. “I miss all the good stuff.”

I wrap my hands around my warm mug. “Has Lyric talked to you yet?”

He nods slowly, a smile spreading across his face. “Yup. Hope it’s okay I told her we’d all go over there in about an hour?”

I smile. “Of course. I think a dog would be good for all of us. She’s been waiting a long time, but since it looks like we’ll be staying here for a while since you guys added more dates to your tour, then I think we should just go for it. There’s really no reason to wait.”

“I promise after all this tour shit we’ll get a bigger house together so all our stuff is one place. So we’re all not going back and forth from here to Seattle all the time. I hate it.”

“We don’t mind at all. As long as we’re together, that’s all I care about.”

A muscle in his jaw twitches. “I’ve given you guys nothing. First Josh gave you a home, then you got one on your own. Aren’t I supposed to take care of you? Lyric’s not a little kid anymore, she must see what a fucking loser I am when it comes to taking care of my own family.”

I have no idea where this sudden negativity is coming from.

“Blue, she adores you. Her mind doesn’t think that way. She worships you. How many daughters can sit and talk to their fathers for hours about music and art and poetry? How many write songs together? Who sings her to sleep when she doesn’t feel good, even if you’re thousands of miles away in a different time zone? That’s all you.”

He stares into his tea but doesn’t say a word.

“She also gets to see how you treat me. How you open doors for me, and leave me love notes. How you cook for us. She sees how you always make time for us, no matter how busy and crazy you are with the band. She sees how you treat me with love and respect. She sees how you’re always so friendly to your fans and you never blow them off. That’s taking care of your family, Blue, and trust me, our daughter sees that. She knows her father isn’t just some rock star. She knows you’re an amazing person.”

A tear glistens in the corner of his eye and even though it’s just a tiny drop I feel as if we could both drown in it.

“That’s all I ever want her to see, Piper.” His voice is strained, as if it hurts him to speak the words. “I don’t ever want her to see the other side of me.”

Going to the pet shelter is a harrowing experience that I wasn’t expecting. All these dogs in rows of pens, barking, yelping, jumping. They stare at us with their pleading eyes as we walk up and down the rows. Lyric’s smile deteriorates with every step and she’s clinging to Blue’s hand with both of hers.

“Here he is,” the volunteer announces, stopping in front of one of the cages. The dog is huddled in the corner in a ball, trying to make himself disappear. “He’s been here for six months. He’s very quiet, never barks. Doesn’t play. He goes days without eating sometimes. He was a bit of a mess when he got here, he had a broken leg and was scraped up pretty bad, but he’s all healed now. We have some really adorable, playful puppies if you’re looking for a nice pet for your daughter. I have to be honest, this dog is depressed and probably won’t make a good pet.” She narrows her eyes at Blue and her forehead creases. “Do you know you look like that guy from that band?”

“Unlock the pen,” Blue says, his eyes riveted to the dog. “Now, please.”

The girl obliges, and Blue immediately enters the pen and slowly approaches the dog, who’s watching him with wide, terrified eyes. Blue kneels down, whispering softly to him, and gently strokes his head. The dog stills under Blue’s petting, as if he’s holding his breath.

“He’s so scared,” Lyric whispers beside me, and I wonder if maybe this is a bad idea. Bringing a dog home is supposed to be a happy experience, not a total downer.

While still petting the dog, Blue reaches into his pocket and pulls out a few small pieces of food and offers them to the dog one by one, first coaxing the dog to stand, and then slowly leading the dog right into his lap.

Sliced roast beef.

He must have taken it from the refrigerator before we left the house.

I laugh a little and shake my head as Blue picks the dog up and cradles him against his chest, then carries him out of the cage for us to gently pet. He’s adorable, but does indeed have the saddest eyes of any animal I’ve ever seen. His tail is wagging ever so slightly, though, as Lyric kisses its forehead.

“We’re gonna take this one,” Blue tells the worker.

A half hour, and four pages of paperwork later, we’re driving home with a sad-eyed little dog who has a rather shocked look on his furry face now.

“You’re never going to get hurt again,” Blue is whispering in the back seat next to Lyric, who’s holding the dog in her lap. “And you’re never going to be scared or lonely or hungry again. I promise.”

“We have to pick a name for him,” Lyric says.

“No, you have to wait. He’ll tell you his name.”

“How?”

“You just have to sit with him for a while, and talk to him, and look into his eyes. And suddenly, his name will pop into your head. It’s like special dog telepathy.”

I glance at them in the rearview mirror, and Lyric is smiling, totally buying Blue’s theory.

“Did Acorn tell you his name?” she asks.

“Yup. Exactly like that.”

“Is that how you got your name, Blue? Did it just pop into your head?”

He turns his head to look out the car window. “Yeah. One day I woke up with wings and I could sing, and suddenly my name was Blue.”

His words sound poetic—like the words from his songs. And I can see that Lyric believes them as such.

But something deep in my gut is telling me they’re not just words at all.