January 5th & 6th, 1972

     With very few exceptions, leaving for the next city straight from the venue is always hectic. Tonight was not one of the exceptions, so I retreated to the bus as soon as the band came off the stage. Anyway, I knew they’d only linger backstage for ten or fifteen minutes until Harry would be carting them onto the bus as well.
    I made conversation with the driver, but it didn’t even take three minutes before he excused himself to have a smoke. There was nothing against smoking inside the bus, but in the three weeks I’d known Francis it became clear he wasn’t the most comfortable when alone with a woman.
    Once I got settled, I pulled out my notebook and pen and turned to the page I’d left off at. The journal itself was only the size of a paperback book, but I’d brought two with me to make sure I’d have enough room for the whole tour.

    January 5th - Montpellier
    Arrived here mid-day, a beautiful city. Did some sightseeing during soundcheck, but was back for the show: a steady, low rumble of excitement until the lights came on. The roar could’ve broken the sound barrier! No hotel until the next city, so glad we’re leaving for it asap!

    Out of the corner of my eye I noticed someone boarding the bus, though I didn’t pay attention until they called my name. “Hey, Dale,” I replied.
    “I’m not bothering you, am I?”
    I shook my head. “No, not at all.” I scrawled one more word at the end of my sentence, even though a simple “TIRED” didn’t sum up my exhaustion.
    “I was wondering if I could bend your ear for a minute,” Dale explained as he approached. “Were you drawing?” he asked, noticing the now-closed journal in front of me.
    “Sit, if you want.” I gestured to the empty seats around me. “I was just updating my tour diary.”
    “I didn’t know you had one.” Dale chose the seat across the aisle from me as he spoke.
    “It helps me keep track of who needs a postcard and when, and I can comment on the show without being raked over hot coals,” I admitted with a chuckle.
    “Speaking of being dragged through mud,” Dale muttered, wringing his hands. “I’ve been thinking about my sister a lot.”
    “Have you heard from her?”
    He shook his head. “She moved house a few months ago, and I sent a letter while we were in Paris,” he elaborated. “We were there for barely a day, but I let her know I’d see her next time. I gave her the date of the show, but I can’t recall it now. I know it’s next week, though.”
    I flipped open my journal and glanced at the calendar I’d marked off. “Paris is next Thursday, and today’s Wednesday. So you’ve got seven days.” I continued reading from the page, seeing his next question on his face. “Nothing planned until that Sunday in Lille. It’s not too long of a drive, so I’ll guess we’d be leaving Paris Sunday morning.”
    Dale frowned. “Right.”
    “What’s worrying you?”
    “I wasn’t exactly welcoming last time I saw her,” he admitted quietly. “I got myself piss drunk and hoped I wouldn’t remember it, but I do.”
    Though Dale would sometimes give me a postcard for Sandra when I’d be on my way to mail my own letters, they hadn’t seen each other in over a year. She’d come to see him after the last tour’s date in Paris, but he’d ended the night by throwing cups against a dressing room wall, distraught by the news of his niece’s disappearance.
    “I’ve never quite been able to tell her things. Even when we were younger,” Dale continued. “There’s things I need to say but I’m not sure how.”
    I nodded, and took a moment to think. “Have you tried writing a letter?”
    “I send postcards, from time to time.”
    “That’s not quite what I mean. If you have trouble when you’re talking to Sandra, why don’t you write out the things you want to tell her? Then, when you need to talk, you can use the letter as reference,” I explained. “It feels a bit odd, but I had to do that at my job years ago and it helped me keep my head straight.”
    Dale hummed in thought. “It could work,” he noted. “I’ll tell you something, Emily. It makes me feel like a sap to admit it, but I love my sister and I don’t want her to be lonely.” Dale glanced out the window and got up from the seat. “The guys are coming out now.”
    I reached out, grabbing Dale’s hand to stop him from leaving. “It doesn’t make you a sap, Dale. It makes you an honest man.”
    He smiled, briefly squeezing my hand before letting go. “Thank you, Emily.”


    I'd trudged along beside Cameron once we arrived in Marseille around three o'clock in the morning, feeling immense gratitude for Harry and his role as head of hotel check-in. I had no energy for anything once we got to the room, and only managed to get undressed before collapsing into sleep while Cameron took a shower.
    I didn’t know what time it was now— that’s the wonderful thing about black-out curtains— but Cameron’s shifting had woken me. In the five minutes since I opened my eyes, he’d turned over twice and his legs had barely stopped twitching. ‘I wonder what he’s dreaming about,’ I said to myself.
    Cameron let out a loud huff and grimaced, though he still slept. Just as I decided to wake him, a strangled yelp escaped his lips and made my stomach lurch. I moved my hand to his arm just as he gasped and opened his eyes, jerking awake.
    “Cameron, are you alright?” I asked worriedly. “What was it?”
    He looked at me, and I could see in his eyes that he was slowly realizing where he was. “I’m, uh— I’m fine, yeah,” he muttered, slowly sitting up.
    I sat up too, and rubbed his back gently. “You’re awake now,” I whispered. “I’m right here.” I hadn’t uttered that reassurance in years, not since Liliane had moved into her own home, but they came to me without hesitation.
    Cameron’s muscles were tense under my hand but began to relax as the minutes passed. “Did I wake you?” he asked eventually.
    “No.” I shook my head. “Do you want me to turn the lamp on?” I asked, seeing him fumble with the switch. He nodded, so I leaned over the bed and clicked the switch. In the soft lamplight that filled the room, I saw the redness around Cameron’s eyes and my heart broke. “What happened?”
    Cameron didn’t answer, but I knew he was trying to explain. I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him close to me, holding tightly.
    “I thought you were scared,” I admitted in a quiet voice. “But you’re sad.” I felt Cameron shake slightly, and kissed the top of his head. “Just relax.”
    Time was a concept I no longer cared for; I would hold him like this until he felt the sadness leave him. For a long while our breathing was the only sound in the room, until Cameron spoke in a quiet voice.
    “It was my parents’ house, and I was doing something or other.” He spoke slowly, his head still resting against my chest. “I went to their bedroom and told my father to wake up.”
    Slowly, Cameron described the dream to me, though not without frequent pauses and some tears.

    He didn’t answer, and I knew something was off. I was never allowed to go into my parents’ room but I decided I had to wake my dad up. I went up to the bed and shook him and said his name but he was dead. I begged and begged and yelled for him to wake up.
    I heard a scream outside, so I ran out the room and then out the front door. There was a bit of snow on the ground, just enough to say it had snowed. My mother was in the street. She was just lying there on the pavement. I wanted to scream but I couldn’t make a sound.
    I felt a pat on my leg and looked down. A little girl was beside me, pinching my jeans and tugging at them to get my attention. She was five or maybe six years old, straight black hair and brown eyes. She looked up at me and asked “where’s Daddy?” but I didn’t know what to say to her. She told me she misses him, and I felt such sorrow.

    “That’s when I woke up,” Cameron mumbled.
    “Oh, my sweetheart,” I murmured, feeling his sadness. I dabbed his cheeks with a tissue and kissed his forehead softly. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”
    “You are here.”
    “You know what I mean.” I kept my arms tight around him, visualizing warmth and comfort pouring out of my chest and enveloping Cameron.
    I’d never seen him so affected by a dream, but I understood why it had upset him so much. He’d not only relived the death of his father and his mother’s accident, but a lonely child— much like he’d felt at that age— had come to him for help and he had nothing to offer her.


    We’d fallen back asleep more than once, but never stayed awake for long in between. Each time I opened my eyes, my legs were wrapped around Cameron or his arms held me close to him, neither of which I minded. He slept without any other dreams, thankfully, and his breathing was deep and slow when I heard a knock at the door.
    I moved out of bed as quietly as I could, but Cameron didn’t budge. I took my bathrobe off one of the hooks beside the door and wrapped it around me, tying it shut as I opened the door a crack and peeked into the hall.
    Willie stared back at me, looking amused. “Eleven o’clock and you’re still in your housecoat?”
    “Hold on,” I told him, and closed the door. I rubbed my face with my hands in an effort to wake myself up, then removed the chain lock and stepped into the hallway. “What’s up?”
    “I didn’t see either of you at breakfast, and I was wondering if Cameron would still be joining me later on.”
    “Oh,” I mumbled, sounding groggy. “Did you have something planned?”
    Willie shrugged. “We’d picked out a few instrument shops for browsing, yeah.”
    “Oh, that’s right,” I remembered with a sigh. I leaned back against the wall and gave him a sympathetic look. “I’d forgotten about that. I’m not too sure, Willie.”
    He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, looking mildly unsure of himself. “Everything alright?”
    “We haven’t really slept. Not much, anyway,” I admitted with a deep frown. “Would you be against postponing to tomorrow, before the show? I’ll ask him if he wants to go today, but I don’t know what he’ll decide,” I added hurriedly.
    “If Cameron looks half as tired as you do right now, he’ll be useless at shopping.” Willie chuckled lightly, but the hint of a smile on his face was shadowed with concern. “Tomorrow’s fine. I’ll be able to amuse myself today.”
    I nodded as I brushed a few stray strands of hair behind my ears. “Thanks.”
    Willie gave a slight nod of recognition, but didn’t budge. “Has something happened?” he asked quietly.
    I bit my lip, unsure of how to explain for a moment. “A nightmare. Well, a night terror, really.”
    “You?”
    I shook my head. “Cameron.”
    “Ah. I’m no stranger to those.”
    Willie looked thoughtful, and I felt a sense of understanding pass between us. It seemed that nightmares were more common than I’d thought.
    “He’ll need you then, Emily. More than he’d need me right now, anyway.”
    “Come on,” I scoffed. “You’re his best friend, Willie.”
    “I may be,” he replied immediately, a teasing grin on his face. “But I certainly won’t get into bed with him to hold his hand, and I know you will. Don’t bother mentioning the shops. Let him rest, and you get some sleep as well.”
    I smiled at him and nodded firmly. “Will do.”
    Willie pointed at me, as if daring me to not listen to him, then turned away and walked down the hall.
    I quietly chuckled to myself as I went back into the room, taking off the bathrobe and hanging it beside the door. I’d only put it on to answer the door and hide my lack of bottoms— other than my underwear, I only had a nightshirt on.
    Cameron stirred into waking when I climbed into bed. I brushed the hair out of his face and kissed his cheek. “How are you feeling, my love?” I whispered.
    “Mostly rested,” he mumbled as he stretched. “I don’t feel so shaken anymore. Were you out in the hall just now?”
    “Willie came around to see why we hadn’t emerged from the cave depths,” I explained with a chuckle. “Then he told me I looked like shit and to go back to sleep.”
    Cameron laughed along with me, and it lightened the weight on my heart to see it after the night we’d had. “You’re beautiful. Good night’s sleep or not,” he said softly, just before giving me a soft kiss.


    It was early afternoon by the time we noticed our hunger and ordered room service. We’d opted for pain doré, as I couldn’t resist the temptation of eating French toast in France, with jam and many cups of tea. If we hadn’t had to see anyone, I doubt either of us would have gotten dressed.
    After our late breakfast, I took a few minutes for myself in the washroom to brush my hair and wash my face, hoping to rid myself of the grogginess I felt. It almost worked, but it was Cameron’s wide and cheerful grin that pushed the sleepiness away from my mind.
    “What’s got you smiling like a senior with brand new dentures?” I asked jokingly.
    Cameron laughed along with me as I joined him, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I’m glad that you still love me, even when I’m a mess.”
    I kissed his shoulder and smiled at him. “Of course I do.”
    “Will you still love me when I’m old and grey-haired?”
    “Yes, and even when you’re just a brain in a jar,” I quipped, making us both laugh. When I looked at Cameron, though, I felt my cheeks warm. “Even when we’d just met, I felt like I’d always known you. Do you remember when you kissed me, the first time?”
    “Absolutely. I don’t think I’ll ever forget being that nervous,” he admitted with a shy smile.
    “I felt like I’d already loved you my whole life.”
    The smile that formed on his face made my chest flutter. I let him kiss me, soft and sweet, until he put his hand on mine and pulled away. “Cover your eyes for me, Emily.”
    I raised one eyebrow in question but did as he said, and covered my eyes with my hands. The mattress shifted as he stood, and even without sight I could tell that he’d walked to the other side of the room. Not even thirty seconds had passed before he was sitting beside me once more, taking my hands in his and bringing them down to my lap.
    Cameron stroked the back of my hand with his thumb as he began to speak. “I’ve spent a lot of time wondering what to say and how to say it, but I always ended up getting too philosophical.” He lifted his head and met my gaze, his own eyes shimmering. “I want you to be my wife, Emily. Will you marry me?”
    “Yes. Of course.” I was smiling widely and brought my hand to his cheek. “Sweetheart, of course I will.” Happiness welled inside me and my voice shook slightly.
    Cameron’s grin only widened once he’d kissed me. “No hesitation? No deliberation?” he teased.
    “It’s been decided for a long time.” I pulled him closer to me and kissed him, consumed with adoration. We’d been handfast for over a year and he’d told me then that he would marry me, but I hadn’t been expecting it to be today. With our faces barely an inch apart and my eyes watering, I touched my nose to his. “I couldn’t be any happier right now.”
    He took his hand away from my side and reached out of sight, though I’d barely blinked before he held a small box out to me. “Open it,” he urged, but opened himself when I did nothing but stare at him in surprise.
    The ring inside was beautiful, and I carefully held it between my fingers. A shining diamond set in stylized flower petals, made of the same gold as the band itself. “This is… it’s gorgeous, Cameron,” I whispered.
    He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to— his whole body radiated his contentment. He gently took the ring from me, and slipped it into place on my left hand.
    “There,” Cameron murmured, still smiling. “That looks much better.”