Late October 2005 – My feet were killing me. As I pulled into the dark driveway, the headlights from my car startled one of the neighborhood cats rustling around in the garbage cans. I laughed and cursed at it as it ran off in terror into the line of trees beside my home, with its survival instincts and its remaining lives still intact. The wind was blowing hard on this rainy autumn night; a pumpkin that my son and I had carved for Halloween and placed on the front steps had fallen over onto the ground. I took a long look at my house from the front seat of my car and a slight wave of sadness came over me as I realized just how impossible the idea of me taking care of this place by myself really was. The motion sensing floodlights didn’t turn on the way they were supposed to I thought to myself, as I turned down the sun visor and pressed the button on the garage door remote control and waited for it to open. The light inside the garage went on as the door slowly lifted off the ground and retracted along the tracks, “well at least that still works” I muttered out loud as I slowly drove inside and shut the engine off.

Fumbling around inside my car; I gathered all of my things, and with my hands and arms full, I slipped my feet into my heels and got out of the car and walked towards the entrance to my house. It’s these small neat tricks of part acrobatics, gymnastics and pure luck which allow us to navigate the world in four inch heels without dropping the briefcase, purse, bags from the store, a bottle of water and a set of keys, but I wasn’t managing very well tonight.

I could hear the phone ringing inside the house as I tried to slip the key into the lock and open the door. One ring. “Shit…” Two rings. “All right! I’m coming!” Three rings. “Oh what the fuck”, as the keys slipped out of my hand and fell to the hard concrete garage floor. Four rings. As I bent down to retrieve the keys. Five rings. Finally the door swung open with the keys still hanging in the doorknob, and I ran into the dark house towards the nearest phone, tossing everything onto the sofa, my feet screaming in pain as I picked up the phone in the middle of the sixth and final ring.

“Hello! Hello? Hello! Grrrr!”

As I vented a stream of curses worthy of a drunken sailor, I groped around in the darkness and turned on the lamp on the end table; kicking off my heels in defiance of the pain towards the wall, not caring much about the shoes or the wall at the moment as I slumped down into a large wingback chair and started rubbing my aching toes. “Well they’ll call back if it’s important”

I sat in the chair and closed my eyes; my hand reaching up to rub my forehead as I debated which hurt more… my feet or the budding migraine I was fighting off. I nearly jumped off the chair as the phone started ringing again, but this time, it was coming from my cell phone buried deep inside my purse. I got up from the chair and quickly unzipped my bag and reached for my phone, glancing at the caller ID for an instant before flipping it open and answering the call. My heart raced a bit as I read the digits scrolling across the display.

“I wonder what he wants?” I said aloud. It was my ex-husband. It was Jeff.

“Hey…” I said into the phone as I sat back down in the plush chair and put my feet up on the coffee table. “What’s going on?” I asked.

“Hi Nina…Are you home?” he asked, “I just called the house.”

“Oh that was you?? Yeah, I just got in… I didn’t make it to the phone in time.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Is this a bad time? Can you talk now?”

“Yes. I’m okay. Just a little headache and my feet are killing me! What’s going on?”

“I need to talk to you… things are….well, things are getting a little crazy for me.”

“So I’ve noticed.”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

I smiled, “I’ve been reading your blog…you probably shouldn’t have told me about that you know.”

“Um, yeah…well…how long have you been reading it?”

“Since you met her.”

“That long huh?”

“Um….yeah… hers too.”

“Oh” he paused, “I’m… I’m going to Texas Nina.”

“WHAT? You’re moving to Texas?” I said nearly screaming.

“No! No…nothing like that… I’m going for a few days.”

“Are you fucking crazy Jeff? Isn’t she married??”

“Yes… she is.”

“Jeff” I started, “What are you doing?”

“I don’t know Nina… I just don’t know…”

September 1999, Monday – The phone was ringing. My husband had been on tour for about six weeks and he was coming into New England in the next couple of days. We’d planned on getting together at his hotel either after the show in Boston or the show in Providence, then he was off to Hartford then New Haven then New York City then Baltimore and then off to Europe, so it was now or wait another two months until the tour finished and I’d pick him up at the airport and we’d check into a hotel for a few days of alone time. I really missed him this time. Every time he went off on tour it was getting harder and harder for me. Sure, the money was great, he was making over three grand a week and all of it was being sent home. He didn’t need money on the road, but he had his per diem and yet he always managed to hustle money while he was out there. I didn’t want to know how.

I hated that our son was growing up without his father around, but whenever I brought up the subject, my husband would get defensive and accuse me of trying to tell him what to do with his life. I would always counter with, “well it isn’t like you’re uneducated… you have a degree, you can do whatever you want!” but it didn’t seem to matter. He was hooked on the lifestyle; the music, the element, the drugs. I hated it. I knew that there were things that happened when he was on tour that I didn’t want to know about. The all night cocaine binges, the drinking, and I worried about other women. He swore up and down that he was faithful, and I wanted to believe him, I really did, but somewhere deep inside I knew that he had done things that if I allowed myself to acknowledge would mean the end of everything.

It would mean the end of us.

The phone rang again. I was in the kitchen cooking dinner and reached across the counter and answered. It was him.

“Hey baby!” he said.

“Hi! It’s noisy there!”

“Yeah. Soundcheck. So what’s going on?”

“I’m cooking dinner…”

At times our conversations felt forced, almost as if he was calling because he had to, not because he wanted to, and other times we’d talk for hours, but those calls were becoming fewer and fewer, and it always seemed that the longer he was gone, the shorter our phone calls became.

“So what show are you coming to?” he asked me matter-of-factly, as if it was just decided that I was coming.

“Um… I guess Providence would be easier. That’s on Friday right?”

“Why don’t you want to come to Boston?” he asked.

“Well you said either Boston or Providence, and it will be easier for me to get a sitter on Friday. Why, does it matter?”

“No” he said slowly, “Not really. Providence is fine. I’m staying at the Biltmore. You’re going to come to the show first right?”

“I’m not sure. Can’t I just wait at the hotel for you?”

“Well don’t you want to see me first? Maybe we can have dinner and I’ll give you the room key if you want… either way… it doesn’t matter to me.”

“Okay, well, let’s play it by ear…what time should I be there?”

“Soundcheck is at four, so maybe if you’re there by five? I’ll leave your name at the door so you won’t have any problem getting in.”

“Okay”

After what seemed like an eternity of silence he finally spoke.

“Okay, so I’ll see you Friday then. Hey.. I’ve got to go, okay? I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Bye.”

“Bye….”

I hung up the phone and fell to the kitchen floor in tears. It felt as if my entire life was unraveling, that I was losing the man I’d loved, the man I’d married and had a child with. It was all going wrong and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

Friday, 5pm – The taxi pulled up in front of the venue. I spied a long row of tour busses and wondered which one my husband called home. There was a large, greasy looking guy standing by the door to the club; looking me over as I walked towards the door. Maybe I shouldn’t have worn my black leather mini-skirt and boots. I’m bound to attract attention dressed like this, but it was a rock concert and you’re supposed to dress this way, aren’t you? I suddenly felt very silly and terribly out of place.

“Whoa baby…the club ain’t open yet…” the guy barked at me as I walked up to the door.

“Um… I’m here to see my husband. My name is on the list.” I answered.

“Wait here” he said as he went inside, and then a few seconds later he stuck his head out the door and asked, “Hey what’s your name?”

Smart kid. “Nina…” I replied.

“Okay, wait a sec.” he said as he disappeared thru the blackened door.

A few minutes later he reappeared and handed me a lanyard with a laminated credential hanging from the clip. “Come on in…” he said as he held the door open for me and I walked inside.

The club was dark and stank of stale beer and cigarettes. There were people walking around on a stage full of band gear and it looked as if soundcheck had just wrapped up. I saw my husband standing behind the monitor console, smoking a cigarette and looking towards the stage. I walked up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder. He spun around looking a little started when he saw me, and then he reached over and pulled me against him, hugging me tightly and kissing me.

“Hi! Oh cool! You’re here. We just finished! You look… Wow! You look great!” he exclaimed.

“Yeah? Did you miss me?” I coyly asked.

“Damn straight I did… Wow… you look great Nina…”

“You don’t look so bad yourself.” I said as I reached out to take his hand, “So what’s going on?”

“Hang on… we’re about set here… so are you staying for the show or what do you want to do?”

“Yeah, sure! Whatever you want to do.”

“Okay, let me just let them know that I’m taking off for a bit, hang on.”

Jeff walked off towards a group of people who were gathered by the side of the stage. I could hear him talking and telling them that his wife was here and that he’d be back later. I leaned up against the long console where my husband did his work every night and waited. He came back over towards me a few minutes later with a few people and introduced me to everyone.

I wondered if they had wives or girlfriends back home waiting for them somewhere. It didn’t really seem to matter, and I wasn’t about to bring up a subject that I knew might make people uncomfortable, so I politely said hello to everyone and then Jeff and I left the club to find a restaurant.

I had no idea that my marriage was going to end tonight.

This is a true story. Some names will be changed as this story unfolds, and some details altered a bit to protect the privacy of others. This is a story of love, loss, frustration and triumph. This is my story.