Through Chrissie's eyes

Relief

During the morning of the day the boys would arrive from the trip to Switzerland, I waited anxiously at home, Jimmy and Louisa still sleeping as I prepared to meet Brian at the airport. I'd missed him so much, not just me, but the kids as well. It was the first time Louisa and Jimmy had spent much time away from him. In Brian's absence, I noticed my little boy doing the same things I did. That questioning inside him, but he was afraid to say it. It was then that he mustered enough courage to tell me what bothered him.

"Mom" he called me over lunch, "why does Dad have to work away from us?"

"Oh my love ..." It was my immediate reaction, feeling my heart tight "I know you miss miss him, but it's something that's part of Dad's work, he had to go this time."

"But ... he ..." I felt Jimmy's embarrassment at that moment.

"It's okay to tell me, my love, you can trust me" I said, holding his hand.

"The parents of other children don't have to travel because of work" my boy said "and what if Dad had a job like that?"

My God, I thought, how could he be so just like me? And what could I answer?

"Jimmy, every father who works stays a little while away from his child, that happens, the fathers need to work, and this time, your father had to stay away, but soon he comes back, he promised, didn't he?" I said, with all possible tenderness.

"He did" Jimmy said between his teeth, still annoyed.

"And your father have ever lied to you?" I continued.

"No, Mommy" he said with a little more energy "never."

"Then you have to be patient." I smiled, understanding him completely, feeling the same way he did.

So, when we met Brian at the airport, Jimmy went a lot faster than I ran to meet his father, I just smiled to my husband while holding Louisa in my lap, both relieved to see each other, so close again.

"Hey, my little man!" Brian lifted Jimmy and hugged him, leaving him on his lap "how are you?"

"I'm fine." Jimmy smiled beautifully, so happy to finally get what he wanted so much these days.

As I approached him, before our words met, our lips met, long enough for me to feel ashamed of a kiss in public.

"Hi ..." I sighed, admiring the beautiful face of my husband, with a little tiredness here and there, for the trip, for some stress over the years, but beautiful as always.

"Hi, I can't believe I'm here" he gave me another hug and laughed "all I want is to go home ..."

"Don't tell me" I agreed, and then we went home.

Despite his tiredness, Brian was thrilled, and before he unpacked, he stood right in front of me, hands on his waist, looking at me excitedly.

"Bri ...?" I was just trying to figure out what his unusual idea was now.

"Chrissie, my dear wife, Chrissie," he said solemnly, his hands still around his waist.

"That's me" I said, half suspicious.

"It's over, Chrissie, it's finally over!" he laughed and held my arms carefully, without losing enthusiasm "Hot Space is recorded, mixed, and only need to be launch, but it's over!"

"Congratulations?" I tried, saying the best answer I found.

"I know it's an exaggeration, but I'm relieved, seriously." Brian had calmed down now "but wait, I brought you a gift."

"A gift?" I still wondered "You didn't have give a gift for a while ..."

At this, Brian's face filled with genuine concern, and I had to laugh.

"I'm kidding, Brian, you know I don't care about those things" I explained better, and he was quiet, handing me the package, I soon recognized that it was a new record.

"I ..." I murmured as I inspected the colored cape, a simple drawing that illustrated the features of Freddie, John, Roger and Brian faces "the cover looks beautiful, but I thought you didn't even want a copy of that album on home then why...."

"No, it's not the whole record" he explained. "Remember you wanted to hear" Under Pressure? It's just the single and the B-side. Now, put it to you to hear."-

"Ok" I did as he asked, and then we sat side by side to hear.

The first thing that dragged my attention was the bass riff, John's trademark, no doubt, and then the song that started simple was gaining more weight, not only by the addition of instruments, but by the content of the letter itself, it was really a cry for help, an apology for problems everyone had and yet ignored. Then slowly and softly the song ended. I think I just didn't cry hearing it because its rhythm wasn't melancholic.

"What do you think?" Brian asked.

"Incredible, definitely one of my favorites, really" I gave my honest opinion.

Then, in the days that followed, I went back to work with full force, organizing Hot Space, going to the shows, watching the interviews, while Louisa and Jimmy were in Gracey's care. Gracey, who in turn finally managed to ask the question she wanted.

"Mrs. May, I know it's kind of invasive" she started with her usual shyness "but it's just that, these days I stopped to buy some records, and there was one called "The Game" by the Queen band, and ... look, definitely , one of the musicians of the band is just like Prof. May, so the band he plays with is the Freddie Mercury band, like, Mr. May is super famous?"

"Super famous, I don't know" I had to answer the poor girl, since she seemed so agonized with the question "but yeah, sometimes it's hard to go out with him without him being recognized, then yeah, you're not wrong Brian is Queen's guitarrist, yes."

"Okay ..." Gracey only grimaced, clearly trying to process the information.

"But that doesn't change anything Gracey, he's still a normal human being, okay?" I felt compelled to advise.

"Of course" she nodded "because, Mrs. May, I can't associate Prof. May with a rock band, so on my part, it's okay, really."

"I knew it would be good to work with you" I smiled, taking that little bit of weight out of my conscience.

Later that day, we faced a press conference. At times, it could be one of my favorite types of events linked to Queen, when journalists were respectful and asked really clever and interesting questions. But this was very rarely, however, the media attack taught me to be smart, to anticipate what they would say, to think of a response that would satisfy them, but wouldn't deliver what the boys didn't want to answer. Still, it was sometimes impossible to get away from certain issues. I guess that's why over the years Freddie got used to being too rough with certain insensitive journalists. And it was no different at the press conference of the new album.

I sat in a place to watch everything, my gaze was connected to Brian's, he sighed before they started asking the questions, and I smiled, wishing it all went well. But not always what we hoped would happen, and the journalists attacked Freddie with all the fury, ready to extract information about his personal life. As I looked at him, I realized that my friend felt suffocated, both physically and inwardly. As much as Brian tried to focus on why they were there, releasing the new album (which he still hated, but was willing to talk about it for Freddie's sake), they didn't leave the band's lead singer alone. Always being our hero, Jim Beach closed the conference, dismissing everyone.

I saw Freddie go as fast as he could, part of me wanted to reach him and comfort him, but I knew better than anyone that in that moment he would rather spend it alone. I was afraid he wouldn't come to us to feel a little comfort after the attack he had just felt.

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