Standing By

Sixteen Years of Work Missing

(Adam)

I was a nervous ball of energy that I could not shake. I spent the entire last flight annoying the crap out of everyone around me. Rob and I, by some miracle, were actually seated together and he tried his best to distract me and occupy me, but my mind was already in Minneapolis. I wasn't even entirely sure of what he was saying; it all just sounded like a drone, buzzing in my ears, hearing everything but nothing at the same time. We were offered drinks, but I barely comprehended what the flight attendant was saying. He repeated himself three times before Rob took it upon himself to order me a pop. I'd taken a few tasteless sips before just pushing it to the side. I was just too preoccupied with our bag to do much of anything. I'd blustered through to Maryland, fretted to Cleveland, had been able to put up a mask of sorts and force myself to be somewhat functional earlier, but the closer I got home, to where it all started, my thin walls were crumbling and I could barely keep myself moving forward, the weight of what I'd done, my carelessness, was crushing me. How. Could. I have been. So. Careless. Just tossing my life's work around like it was little more than a used newspaper. Everything I'd ever done for this group. Sixteen years of sweat and tears, late nights, wee hours of the morning, collaborative efforts the could never be recreated. You'd have thought I'd be a little more careful with our music, our hopes and dreams. Wheee! I'll just toss it down—here! Pick it up? Really? Do I have to? Nahhh, let's just leave it wide open right here in this busy New York airport at the height of travel season, why don't I? Wide open, where anyone can get to it! Why? Because stupid me hadn't used the secure briefcase since 2013! Hell, I knew Luke had to have seen me with the canvas tote, using it for our stuff. He'd never once said a damn thing to me. Clearly, he should have—might have prevented some of this disaster. I might still have left it behind, but at least our work would be under lock and key. Sure, most of it was copyrighted, but not our works in progress! The material we were currently working on. Now up for grabs, courtesy of Adam Rupp! Can't wait to hear our new single on the radio, released by another artist! Ohhh God, what had I done?

I was just fixing to give myself another beatdown when Rob poked me in the side. "Adam. We're here."

I lifted my face from my hands and looked at him through hazy vision. "Huh?"
He regarded me, my pain mirrored in his face. "Hey, it'll be OK, I promise."

I looked up at him, feeling vulnerable as fuck, vaguely aware that I was trembling. Rob quickly waved the others along and took me in his arms.

"I'm so sorry, Rob," I whispered into his shoulders. "I really screwed up."

"Listen to me." He picked my head up and moved my face so I was looking straight at him. "Your mind has flipped to the worst case scenario. Everything will be OK. We saw to that in Maryland. Jim has the bag at the baggage carousel. You will go to the baggage carousel, you will find it, you will pick it up, and you will go on about your life. You got that? Adam? You listening to me?"

I nodded, working on finding my voice, which seemed to have lodged somewhere in my throat. "Yes. I am," I managed to croak out. God. Rob was being so forgiving. Much more forgiving that I was of myself. Much more than I deserved. I swallowed. "Thanks, Rob."

"Any time," Rob told me. "Let's go."

Finally, I pulled myself to my feet. We stumbled off the plan and made our way to the baggage carousel where he gasped out, struggling to catch his carry-on before he dropped it.

"Rob?" I asked concernedly. "Don't you lose it! I'm the one falling apart here—I need you to keep it together!" I was near hysterical.

Rob clamped a hand on my mouth. "Shush! OK. Plan B. I see Kelsey. She'll run interference. I will get our Home Free bag."