- Lady Antebellum, Need You Now -

* Hey. We're back with a new story about Obstruction.

I will try to continue naming the chapters after songs, but as Obstruction at this point have a string of their own (very fictional) hits, I will try describing mood rather than envisioning cover-versions.

I have chosen to open with the most heartbreaking song I know, because this chapter was killing me and the lyrics matched the mood I was going for.

I hope you'll enjoy reading this story.

Don't forget to hit the little star at the bottom! Thank you!*

I was in my studio putting the finishing touches to a painting when the doorbell rang. With a deep sigh, I placed my brush in the holder and wiped my hands on the rag I had in my belt before going into the hallway towards the door.

"Ayame! Sebastian! Your dad is here!" I shouted up the stairs, hoping they would hear me over the music and whatever else they were doing.

I was still living in the house I grew up in. It was comfortable and safe.

Empty and lonesome.

Cold and abandoned.

I opened the door to see Ethan. Softened by age, his hands in his pockets and still as handsome as ever. I fought back the feeling of my heart cracking open as I nodded politely.
We stood in silence for a while, not looking at each other.

"Painting?" He asked with a nod to a blue stain on my arm. I probably had another stain at my hairline after pushing my hair out of my eyes.

"Yeah. Got that exhibition opening in a month," I replied, suddenly aware of my own unkempt appearance.
I had been using my recent insomnia to paint. I knew I looked tired and drawn from lack of sleep. My clothes were rumpled and stained. Some of it was paint. Other could be coffee or food.

"Good," he said.

The silence between us was deafening. I tried my best to not look at him, but ended up with him in my peripheral vision. His hair still hung across his face, just like it had all those years ago. With a motion as familiar as my own heartbeat, his hand ran distractedly through his hair, messing it up and making it fall in soft waves.

He still took my breath away.

Behind me I heard clattering of feet down the stairs and our 15 year old son came bouncing out.
Ethan's face lit up at the sight of him

"Dad... can we go to the music shop? I neeeeed new strings!" Sebastian asked.

"I told you. There are loads of strings in the basement," I said.

My old basement lounge was a fully functioning sound studio where Seb would spend all his time if I let him. He had inherited his dad's talent for music and his slender build in combination with my hair and eye colour.

"Yeah but they are 9's and 10's..." Seb whined.

"What's wrong with 9's?" Ethan asked.

"Oh. I came across this guy on-line who plays on 8's... and its sooo cool!" Seb enthused.

"I've got a guitar with 8's at the flat. You can try that. Just be warned, they are thin and not very comfortable," Ethan smiled at his son and ruffled the boy's hair.

"Sweet," Sebastian said bouncing on his toes before the silence descended over us again.

"So?" Ethan said again facing me.

"So?" I asked.

"Did Simon phone you?" He asked.

I nodded, not sure what to say to the man I had spent most of my life with. There was a soreness in my throat and my face felt ready to break open. I missed him so much it felt like a gaping hole where my heart should be. His presence was still enough to give me goosebumps.

"So you'll be there?" He asked.

"Yeah," I replied with a nod, not trusting my voice to a longer reply.

"Good. I mean... It's been a long while since we all were together..." Ethan mumbled and I got the feeling he wasn't just talking about Obstruction.

I braved a look up at him to see his grey eyes, as beautiful as ever, fixed on me with a trace of sadness hidden in the golden brown swirls. I knew my eyes showed the same, so I looked away. The silence dragged on.

"Aaand it's awkward again," Seb muttered under his breath and walked over to sit in Ethan's car.

"Izzy..." Ethan started, but I silenced him with a small shake of the head.

I wasn't ready for him to formalise our break. I didn't want to hear the word divorce. The fear of ending our more than 20 years together left a bitter taste in my mouth and a heavy rock lodged in my gut.

He tilted his head like he used to when he wanted to push my boundaries.

"You moved out, Ethan...," I said quietly.

We had been so close. Him on lead guitar, me as singer of the rock band Obstruction. Together with our two best friends, Simon and Oddball we had owned the music charts and lived the rock star dream.

Twenty years on tour. Working together, living together, doing everything together. When Obstruction came to the point where we all needed a break and a quieter life, Ethan and I had slowly lost each other.
On tour we had purpose. We had direction. And when we weren't on tour we were writing new songs or recording. Even during breaks I'd had my paints and arts while Ethan had spent time playing classical music on his violin.

Almost five years had passed since Obstruction took a hiatus from fame and travelling. And as Ethan was stood there in front of me, outside the house we'd lived in and raised our children in, it occurred to me that I missed Obstruction. I missed touring. I missed being on that stage and hearing fans scream our lyrics back at us. I even missed the nagging fans sneaking a photo or bugging me in the supermarket. There was a certain sense of humility at the sight of people standing in line just to meet us. I'd never thought we were anything special. Just four people making music, but somehow, all those people liked what we were doing. I missed feeling like I gave them something. I missed how the four of us could create something that our fans liked. I missed hearing how they had used our songs at funerals and weddings and them telling me how their baby was dancing to our music.

I missed looking over at my husband and seeing a proud smile on his face as we nailed new songs and perfected arrangements. I missed his shy smile as I read his ideas for lyrics and caught his subtle love declarations. And I missed singing those lines back at him, meaning every subtle syllable with every one of my heartbeats. I missed kissing him as we cooked family meals together and his arms around me as we proudly saw our children achieve their goals. We were supposed to be together forever.

It appeared to be an illusion. I wondered if my love for him had burned too bright, if we had burned out. Somehow, everything had become a habit. For the last year, we hardly spoke to each other and when we did it was mostly about the kids. We never argued, it was just as if our love had died. But then, that didn't explain how I was still drawn to him, like metal to a magnet. I still loved him.
Three months earlier, the love of my life had walked out of my house and my life with his suitcase and his multitude of instruments, leaving the house silent and my heart with an empty space.
Neither of us had yet to mention the words separation or divorce. I dreaded the day we would have to bring it up.

We hadn't even actually broken up.

He had just gone.

One morning we'd had breakfast when he looked at me over his coffee cup.

"Izzy. We need a break," he said.

"A break?" I asked.

"Yeah. I'm gonna live somewhere else for a while," he whispered.

I had looked at him and nodded. I had known it was coming.

An hour later he had driven over to Oddball's house to live in his garage flat.

And now he stood there, waiting to take our children for a week.

That had also just happened.

He'd just turned up one day and the kids had gone with him only to return a week later. That had become a rhythm too. One week with me, one week with him.

As he stood there, waiting for our daughter, I realised we'd not actually ever had a real conversation since he left. It was all single syllables and awkward silences. Not hateful or hostile, but weirdly friendly, with a feeling that if we said one wrong word a black hole would open up and swallow us.

I couldn't bear the idea of hearing any reasons. I didn't want to know how he was doing or if he was dating.

There was a moment where he opened his mouth to say something else when Ayame arrived.

"Hey, dad?" Aya said as she arrived lugging a big bag..

"What do you need all that for?" I asked, grateful to have her to focus on.

"I'm staying at Dad's for a week. I need clothes," she replied as if that was a given.

"Because your wardrobe at the flat isn't already full up?" Ethan asked with a small laugh.

I'd always loved that laugh. Quiet, warm, understated.

"Oh... that's old stuff," she said.

"Yeah. Two weeks old some of it," Ethan smiled.

Aya rolled her eyes with the best seventeen year old dramatic flair she could muster.

"Anyway," Ethan sighed and pulled out the car keys from his pocket.

His slender fingers played with the key chain. Why did his hands always have this magic effect on me? Maybe I was reminded of all the times the calloused fingertips, rough from years of playing string instruments, would touch my skin. How he'd sweep my hair behind my ear and stroke across my cheek. Or how his fingers would brush across my hip, carefully, cautiously even after fifteen years of marriage, as if he was asking my permission to move them further along.

His grey eyes had the same allure. Hypnotic. There were these little flecks of golden brown in them that shifted and changed with his mood. When he was looking into mine it always took a conscious effort to look away.

"See you at Simon's?" I asked.

"Yep," he nodded.

"Bye mum. Don't forget to eat," Ayame said and gave me a hug.

"Eat?" Ethan asked, studying me.

"Yeah... Mum doesn't eat when Seb and I are away," Aya casually informed as she started dragging her bag towards the car.

I knew what she was doing. Aya had inherited Ethan's shrewd attention to detail. That comment would have been carefully planned.

And she got the reaction she was after.

Ethan looked at me more closely, taking in how his own old shirt hung off my frame.

The weight had fallen off me. I only cooked when my kids were home. The rest of the time I had no appetite and more or less lived on coffee.

"You've got to eat!" he said, the concern audible.

My chin was threatening to tighten up from the worry in his voice. If he still cared, why wasn't he here?

With me.

In our home.

I looked back at him, noticing how he had gained weight. His previous habit of jogging had obviously not been a priority. I wondered what he spent his time on when the kids weren't at his house. The tired look on his face told me he wasn't taking care of himself as he'd used to.

"And you need to eat less," I forced a smile with a nod to his wider middle.

He smiled back.
There was another weird silence. My eyes wanted to meet his, search for the love I once used to see in them.

But he had walked out.
He had made that choice.
He had decided to leave me.

And I couldn't make myself search for something I feared I wouldn't find.

"All right... I'll have them back next week. And I'll see you this weekend chez Frye," he said and almost as if by old habit he leaned in towards me for a second before straightening.

"Yep. Bring the kids. Nico and Seb were talking about starting a band. If Odd brings Hale, they might actually have something to work with," I said, forcing a light tone.

"Okay," Ethan said and turned to walk to the car.

I couldn't find any strength to look away from him.
I missed him so much it hurt and with every step he took it felt like he was taking another chunk of my soul with him. Eventually he sat in the car and with a small wave, he was gone. And both my children were gone with him.

I returned to my studio and looked at my artwork in defeat. My inspiration was punctured and near gone.

The house was so quiet.

No footsteps or kids shouting.

No practising of instruments.

No heart.

No soul.

I had no desire to continue working on the almost finished piece in front of me.

I landed heavily in the wheeled office chair next to my drawing table and rested my head back on the plush leather fighting the tears that filled my eyes.

With my hands over my face and some focused, deep, slow breathing I felt the heavy tears roll away from my eyes and fill my ears. I could not allow the sobs to erupt, but the tears were searing hot and impossible to hold back.

Five minutes later I heard the door open and hurried footsteps run along the hallway towards the stairs.

"I forgot my. .." Aya called in to me before she stopped in the doorway to the studio.

"Mum?" she asked, having seen my posture, my red eyes and the way my face simply refused to give a smile.

"Do you want me to stay here?" she asked, concerned.

I shook my head. Ayame, unlike her brother had understood the situation. The break up of Ethan and me had been toughest on her. She would cook me breakfast after a restless night and come into my studio to play her cello while I painted. All to keep an eye on me. I was letting my daughter take on the carer role over my broken soul.

"If this is about Dad..." she started.

I shook my head.

"You'll have to talk about it at some point, Mum," she said quietly.

"I will," I mumbled.

"Right. I've got to get my violin. We're going to Granny's for dinner," she told me.

I nodded, remembering the happy chaos of music and people at the Ryder's house. Ethan's four siblings were almost all musical in some way and dinners usually turned into some kind of crazy jam session. His older sister Dina had three children, whereas his brothers, Sean and Mio, were still both single. Mio by choice, Sean by fluke of fate. Ethan's younger sister Selma was married to Obstruction bassist, and my best friend from childhood, Simon. Their two children, Nico and Juniper, had grown up on the road with our two.

Seb and Aya loved these Ryder family dinners. Both of them had the musicality in their blood. Ethan had bought Ayame her first violin when she was two. By the time Sebastian was born she could handle simple melodies. Before she started school, she read music notes and now, at the age of 17 she lived for the music. Her instrument of choice was her cello, but like her dad there was no instrument she couldn't handle. Seb stuck mostly to the guitar and bass, although there was nothing hindering him from playing piano or drums. Where Ayame had her feet firmly planted in the classical world, Sebastian preferred rock.

I smiled warmly at my daughter.

"Go enjoy yourself. Give Granny Rose a hug from me," I said.

She hesitated a second before coming over and giving me a hug.

"You could come too...Uncle Simon and Aunt Selma will be there. Granny won't mind," she said.

"I've got this to finish," I said sweeping my hand out to indicate the easels and sketches.

Most of my artwork was created over the last 20 years. Select pieces were already in storage at the gallery. Theo, the curator, had a plan to show my broad scope and how my time as a rock star had influenced my work.

I had gone from portraits to focusing on details to abstract representation of music.

The whole point of the exhibition was to gain credibility as a serious artist. To sell my work and build my second career instead of going into old age as a washed up, has been, rock star.

I was finishing my last piece. A canvas of black and blue streaks crossing with grey and brown waves formed the background for a wilted blood red rosebud.

It was dark as midnight and the heaviest piece I had ever made.

On a different easel was another painting of a ring broken. It was abstract enough to look like any broken circle but for those who knew me, the resemblance to my engagement ring was obvious. Ethan hadn't seen any of these paintings yet. I didn't want him to know how much his absence hurt.

"Dad's hurting too you know," Aya commented as she studied my broken ring.

"He left, Aya. He's not here," I whispered.

My daughter, wise beyond her years studied me, my stained hands and my tired face.

"Go get some sleep, Mum," She said.

I nodded.

"Be good. I love you and your brother so much," I said as I hugged her again.

"I know mum. We love you too. And we both hate to see you this down," She said before she left the room, her hair sweeping over her shoulder as she turned.

She had my waves in Ethan's hair colour. Her eyes were grey with flecks of green.

With a pang of maternal pride and artistic observation I saw how my daughter had turned into a true beauty. Several model agents had asked for her to be the face of some brand or other from she was quite young. As a daughter of two famous rock stars and with her looks she had the potential to become a success in entertainment. So far, she had turned everything down. She had grown up backstage and knew what it meant to be in the limelight.

When the children were small we had tried to shield them. By the time the rest of Obstruction had children, we made a deal with the paparazzi. They would be alerted of some select days out when they would be allowed to snap our families, in exchange they left the kids alone the rest of the time. It seemed to have worked. Most of the time we could walk down a street unnoticed. Maybe on occasion a photographer would take a photo after a wave as if to ask permission. We'd usually wave and smile back.

Ayame had been a favourite with our fans from birth and her winning smile had won over the press. Now as a teenager she was trying to find her own place in the world. She had settled in an ordinary school where her rock star daughter status was underplayed and she thrived on being ordinary. Considering her beauty, I wondered why she hadn't brought home a boyfriend yet, but secretly I was hoping she was able to protect her heart.

Her cousin Isaac was only a few months older, but his mum, Ethan's sister, Dina, had told me he's already started sneaking girls out in the early hours of Sunday morning.

I worried about my Aya falling into the trap of becoming one of those girls.

Not with Isaac but with some other boy.

And I worried about Seb.

He looked a lot like his dad, meaning he would attract some attention as he grew up. And he was outgoing in a way Ethan never had been. Together with Simon and Selma's son, Nico he was unstoppable. Those two, cousins and best friends, had been a hurricane from the day they would walk. When Oddball adopted the siblings Hale and Elsie, Hale was already three years old and fit right into the mayhem of Seb and Nico. The terrible three were a destructive force. Only a few months apart in age, they had grown up as Obstruction mascots, sneaking into press conferences and charming every journalist they encountered on the way.

I did not look forward to the moment when Seb would discover his own appeal. I dreaded the broken hearts to trail in his wake.

I loved my children. They were my life and soul and my reason for getting up in the morning.

There had been moments where I feared that life on tour with Obstruction was a bad idea, but we tried to set our tours for summer holidays and when we couldn't we scheduled a slow pace, allowing for excursions and day trips. It was all in all a good life.

When Nico, Seb and Hale were school age, we all decided to hire a tutor to go on tour with us to home school the children together. After all, with our two, Oddball's two and Simon and Selma's two, there were enough of them to teach.

Simon's youngest, Juniper, was a few months younger than Odd's Elsie, but in no way the shyest. Both Simon's kids had inherited his cheeky smile and blue eyes teamed with both parent's sense of easy humor and charm.

I listened to Aya's steps on the stairs, in her room and her return down the stairs, savouring the noise of life in the house.

"You sure you're okay, Mum?" She asked on her way out.

"I'm fine sweetie. Go!" I smiled.

She stopped for a few seconds.

"Do you want me to tell dad to move back home?" She asked and unwittingly ripped the scab off my bleeding heart.

"No... Don't do that," I shook my head.

"You know... It would be easier if you just... spoke together?" She said in her typical old soul manner.

"I know, Aya. We will... soon," I promised and dreaded the conversation ending in the word divorce.

"I'll see you on Saturday," Ayame said and disappeared out the door for the second time that day, leaving me in my studio with my own broken heart and my memories.

***

First chapter of my new story!

Please let me know what you think!

Your votes and comments mean the world to me!

xxx Marit