Free Unplugged (A Portrait of a Rock Star) by J. P. Grider

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    I couldn’t help it, but in between looking at Mara’s questioning eyes, I’d keep glancing down at the journal, wondering who the hell Brad was.  If she had a boyfriend, then I was definitely misinterpreting her  vibes.  Then again, if Brad was her boyfriend, then why would she be writing letters to him in a journal, instead of just talking to him.  Unless he was in the service and stationed somewhere, like Iraq.  Mara had noticed my deliberating.  “Brad was my husband.”  Obviously, I was lousy at hiding my thoughts.
    “Oh. I’m sorry.  I …um…”
    She cut me off.  “It’s okay.”  In and instant she cut straight to the point.  “Why are you here, Tagg?”
    Breathe, Tagg.  Why was this so damn hard?  “I… uh… I… I wanted to apologize … for my behavior before.  I shouldn’t have asked you to leave.”  She tried to interrupt me, but I raised my hand to stop her.  “Let me explain, Mara.”  My courage was finding its way back.  “What you had said was exactly what I had known.  Of course I take full responsibility for Crystal’s death.  Why do you think I’ve closed myself off from society for so long?”  This, of course, was a rhetorical question.  “I guess the reason your comment hit me was because I have never heard it said out loud before.  Oh, I’ve read the implications in all those tabloid magazines.  Hell, I’ve kept them all.  I look at them from time to time as a reminder, just in case I ever thought I’d might forget.  Like that’ll ever happen.”  The last sentence I said quietly, more to myself than to Mara.  “Anyway, hearing the blame out loud, in someone’s voice other than my own, well, I couldn’t handle it.  Not many people are …so blunt …when they’re face to face with me.”  I paused, so when Mara started to speak, I didn’t go on.
    “Tagg, I only said what I said to reiterate what I know you must be feeling.  Obviously I can’t know exactly what your emotions hold, but I could imagine.”
    I let out a non-humorous chortle.  No, she couldn’t even imagine the emotional horror I was suffering.  “Excuse me, Mara, but I don’t think you could even fathom what goes on inside of me.”
    “Give me some credit, Tagg.”  Mara’s beautiful but now tempestuous eyes were boring into mine.  The expression on her face was one of contempt and hurt.
    “What’d I say, Mara?  I only implied that unless you were living my life, walking in my Converse All-Stars, you couldn’t possibly fathom the guilt I carry with me.”  This was getting intense.  I had wanted to smooth things over and instead, I was making everything worse.
    “One day, my husband …Brad …and I had plans to go down the shore.  It was the end of summer, almost fall, and we had always loved the seaside at that time of year.  Children were back in school, people were back to work, their vacations already spent.”  Why was Mara telling me this?  She’d totally switched subjects on me.  But, she was really somewhere out there, probably reliving their wonderful day at the beach in her mind, so I let her continue.  “So, we picked a day during the week so that there would be even less people around.  We loved an empty boardwalk and an even emptier beach.  Brad had taken a vacation day and I had no classes scheduled that day.  So, our plans were set.  We were really excited to take a much deserved break together.”  Mara looked down, paused and then continued.  “But …well …the night before our trip, I had a sudden panic attack about my upcoming test on the Wednesday after.  So,” another solemn pause, “I had asked Brad if he would mind much changing his vacation day to Thursday so that I could spend Tuesday studying.  Brad was always so wonderful and understanding.  Of course he wouldn’t mind.” Mara sighed.  “The next morning, Brad went off to work and I piled all of my study materials on the kitchen table, made a pot of