The Free Spirit

Cracks, 1959 (Part Three)

"Put your head on my shoulder, hold me in your arms, baby..."

August passed rather uneventfully, with the exception of a few concerts by the boys, a few doctor visits for Elton, checkups for Phil after his battle with pneumonia and the measles, Don's annual checkup, of which he protested immensely because that visit included a few inoculations, and so on. The boys recorded a bit more, although found themselves unable to record things that Wesley Rose didn't want tied to them, and periodically expressed their discontent over a beer in mine and Don's living room. "Why don't you two just get away from Rose and Cadence? There's plenty of excellent record companies out there," I said one late August night when I tired of their complaining.

"Like what? What do you know about record companies?" Don asked me, and I was somewhat taken aback by the sharpness of his words. I hated to admit it, but a lot of the things he had been saying to me recently were a bit on the sharper side. He hadn't even wanted to make love to me in almost two weeks, which was unusual for him.

"Excuse me. More than you'd think," I told him. "But I get it, clearly you don't want my opinion. You'd both rather sit here on your asses complaining about it instead of doing something about it."

"You ain't got no say in it, Catherine!" Don snapped, standing up somewhat angrily. "This ain't about you, in case you were wonderin'!"

"Never said it was, now, did I?" I replied calmly, but with attitude. "If that's your say on it, you can sleep on the couch tonight. There's no room for your nastiness in our bed."

"You can't kick me out of our bed!" Don protested angrily.

"Then I'll sleep on the goddamn couch! Enjoy the whole bed to yourself. Don't bother me when you go to bed or I swear to god, Donald-"

"You'll what?" He was challenging me now, and the only thing I could do was mask the pain I felt at his harsh words behind a concrete wall.

"I don't answer to you," I told him, and I turned on my heel and left them sitting out there, getting ready for bed and then curling up on the rather uncomfortable couch in our living room. When I woke up the following morning, I was surprised to find Don asleep curled up rather uncomfortably in the armchair beside our couch. I didn't have time to wake him and question him, as I had breakfast plans with Margaret and Elton, so I quietly got ready for the day and slipped out of the house unnoticed. When I arrived at Ike and Margaret's house, they were still at church, so I was met by a rather groggy Phil who answered the door.

"Mom and Dad are still out," he said, offering to take Elton for me.

"That's all right, I can wait," I said, handing Elton to his uncle, entering the house and setting my bag down on the floor. I almost didn't want to ask Phil if he knew what was going on with his brother, but part of me knew that if I didn't ask, I would never know how to solve whatever problem we were having. "Phil... I'm sure you've noticed by now that Don's been a bit... hostile... towards me... Do you by chance know what's going on? Has he talked to you?"

"I think he's just agitated about all this shit with Wesley. He feels stifled and Don's a creative free-thinkin' kind of guy. He don't like bein' held back," Phil replied.

"He doesn't think that I'm holding him back too, does he?" I asked cautiously.

"No, I don't think so," Phil said to me.

"So why is he taking out all of his anger on me?"

"Don's a very private guy, he don't tell me nothin' 'bout what he's thinkin'. Ya just gotta read him to know what's on his mind, and from watchin' him, I'm guessin' he don't really feel all that supported by ya. You're always tellin' him he's complainin' about this Cadence shit, and he don't need that."