SHORT STORY: "8 Sessions with West Brand" by Dexter Holls

8 Sessions with West Brand / by Dexter Holls

By: Lilah Gran

F O R E W O R D

I don’t usually write real life stories, but this is an exception, solely because he was my friend. West Brand came to me quite mysteriously. I never understood how he knew my real name, or my face, or even my location.

To think of the 8 sessions I sat down with him over a cup of coffee, over the phone, backstage after his latest gig, or over alcohol which by the way he has high tolerance of, his story got me well occupied. For the last 3 months that I came to know him, I realized the transition of our relationship. He was first a stalker, a client, then an acquaintance, then a friend. I wish there could have been more, if only he was still alive.

The reason why I am writing this, and publishing it, despite the fact that my agents’ are against the idea (at first), will be well explained on the written sessions that follow.

Before anything else, be sure you are equipped with basic West Brand knowledge. If not, for your easy reference, let me introduce my friend, Westley Brand, according to my memory. I met him when he was 36 years old and I, 39 years old, at JFK Airport in New York. I was scheduled for a flight to Los Angeles to meet an old friend, while he, for a show.

He looked rather normal during that first encounter. Looking back now, when they speak of his name, it is that first image that flashes in mind. Jet black hair he keeps messy and long to his shoulders. Tight, worn out, black pants. Huge combat boots. DIY-d band T-shirt of Nirvana. Sleeve tattoos.

I learned later on, he was wearing make-up then, to cover his unhealthy face. And his sunglasses helped cover the tiredness of his eyes.

I was never involved with anything rock and roll. As you all know, both my parents were authors. I exercised my imagination instead of my vocal chords, or any talent I might have had if only given the chance to shine. Not that I regret being an author. Writing will always be special to me, but there’s always something very intriguing on the dark side.

West Brand introduced me to his world – the world of the “Blood Biters” as their fans self-proclaim. His band was originally called “Brandless” until 1988 when they become “Blood Bite”. Blood Bite is one of the most well known metal bands that emerged in the 90’s, releasing hit songs as “Crest in my Chest”, “I Created Home”, “Just a Man Out of Words” and “Black Heart” among others.

West Brand created his own Brand of rock and roll music together with his other band members, Paul Heart, Dixon Chance, and Gerry O’stein. And as many mourns his death, so much more, including me, will be relieved of his passing, once they know of his tragic story.

Hence, this is why I am writing this story, also because he begged me for his own personal reason.

1 s t – s e s s i o n

Location: JFK Airport

Date: June 21, 2013 (Friday)

Time: 10:53 am

The following dialogue is stitched up from my memory, it may contain extra humor.

West Brand: Your flight’s delayed?

Dexter Holls: Yours too?

He nods, taking off his sunglasses. He let his eyes linger on me for a brief moment before extending his hand.

WB: The name’s Brand, West Brand.

DH: Dexter Holls.

WB: I’m a rockstar.

DH: I suppose so, and I’m an astronaut.

Now before you Biters chew me off, let me just say that I had no idea who he was at the time. Like I have mentioned, I wasn’t a fan of rock and roll, though I have heard of the band’s name of course. My life just never required me to memorize band members before.

He tried to laugh then, and that’s when I knew he wasn’t joking.

WB: You’re not an astronaut. You’re not even Dexter Holls.

DH: Excuse me?

WB: You’re an author. But your real name is (bleep). Dexter Holls is just a fictional character you decided to give life to, by becoming him.

I was perplexed at how he knew that much. I have stayed anonymous for a reason, and I thought I was successful. I have been Dexter Holls for 12 years, and no one has ever known my real name besides my colleagues and family.

DH: How did you know my name? How did you know me?

WB: It doesn’t matter. I did my research because I need you.

DH: You need me? For what? A picture? An autograph?

WB: For my story.

DH: Your story?

WB: Our story.

DH: Our story?

WB: Your million dollar story.

DH: I don’t think I understand what you mean.

WB: Of course you don’t. Because that would require time and a cup of coffee.

Location: JFK Airport, Starbucks Coffee

Date: June 21, 2013 (Friday)

Time: 11:31 am

The following dialogue is now backed up with a voice recording.

DH: So, what is this about?

WB: I need you to write my story.

DH: Your story? You need a publisher for that, not an author.

WB: Yeah, but that would take forever. Besides, I write lyrics, not paragraphs.

DH: Why do you want me to write your story?

WB: Because it’s the only way to find her.

DH: Her? Who?

By this time, I had already grabbed my notebook and my pen.

WB: Leigha Clark.

DH: Who’s Leigha Clark? And why do you need to find her?

WB: Because I love her.

Silence, as he spend a few seconds staring blankly at my café latte.

DH: Why do you think I’d write your story?

WB: Because it’s a good one.

DH: Why is it a good one?

WB: Because it’s my story, our story.

DH: Your love story?

WB: My tragic story.

DH: You said you need me to write your story so you’d find her. How will that happen?

WB: Because she’ll read anything you publish.

DH: Why?

WB: Because she’s a huge fan of yours. She’s been following your books since “The Goddess of Whisper” (My debut novel). She hasn’t missed one. It’s the only way.

DH: Don’t you know where she lives?

WB: Not anymore.

DH: Why?

WB: Because I left her, and when I came back, she’s gone.

DH: But I write fantasy fiction, not romance.

WB: Good stories shouldn’t be classified, as good music shouldn’t be labeled. Besides, it’s not just romance. It’s life. A story summarizes life, right? A life is a story. My life in particular, is a very interesting one.

Perhaps it’s his conviction that his life is interesting enough to tackle or maybe it’s his persistence or his clever words as well. Regardless, this conversation led to the actual aircraft, as it turned out, we are both flying the same. And he had also booked the seat next to mine, which is obviously not a coincidence.

Location: Boeing 767-200, on route to Los Angeles, California

Date: June 21, 2013 (Friday)

Time: 3:15 pm

WB: Should we start?

DH: We had already started.

WB: I mean, shouldn’t we start from the beginning?

DH: What, the day you were born?

WB: Yes.

DH: Okay Mr. Brand, take me to the day you were born.

WB: My name is Westley Brand. I was born in San Francisco, in California, but I was raised in the Philippines. Both my parents were doctors. My Dad’s originally from New Jersey, but my Mom grew up in San Francisco.

DH: How did you end up in the Philippines?

WB: I’m half Filipino, and half American. When I was around 13, my Grandmother from my Mom’s side got really sick, and my Mom felt the responsibility to spend her last few days with her. So my Mom and I left Dad to see Grandmother. At first I thought it would only take a year or so, but when my Grandmother died 2 years later, we never left. Instead, my Dad joined us in the Philippines. It took longer years before they were able to practice medicine in the Philippines, and at the time, I had also established a life there.

DH: But you said earlier you’re the vocalist of Blood Bite right? (There was an earlier recording I decided not to include here). You obviously sing very well (I have heard one or two of their songs, yes). When did you start singing? Do your parents sing too?

WB: No, my parents are just doctors. Always so strict. Always so right. Always so white. Always the opposite of me. I always wear black, ever since I was young. I’ve been in love with rock and roll ever since I can remember. I’ve always been singing too. I had guitar, piano, and voice lessons when I was about 6 years old and my parents didn’t care. Not at first. They thought it was just a hobby. An extra talent, just in case. But they didn’t know it’s always been so much more to me. I wanted to be rockstar ever since, and I never told anyone but my Grandmother. She was the one I had a connection with. You see, she sang too. In fact, she let me see her tattoos, as I let her see mine. Yes, I’ve had my first tattoo at age 12, without my parents knowing. A good friend of mine’s brother did it, and I really thought it was super cool. Grandmother understood me, so it nearly killed me when she died.

DH: Where’s Leigha? Is she from the Philippines? Or from San Francisco?

WB: Leigh’s Filipino. I met her in high school. She was a year younger than me. I was a senior and she was my junior. You don’t understand. I played around a lot. Like… a lot, especially with girls, but not until I met her. Not even after that. She was different you see. She gets me. She understands me too. She reminded me of the brief affection I shared with my Grandmother. I guess in a way she’s like me, broken, but no, not really. We’re not identical. She’s strong. She’s smart. So magical. So cool. So perfect for a guy like me. She’s the most understanding person I’ve ever met in this planet. And God how I wish I have listened to her.

DH: Describe her for me. The way she looks. When you think of her, what image do you see?

WB: She’s short, at least for my height. I’m 6’4” and she’s about as tall as my shoulders. She wears something she made up. Battered jeans covered with patches and layers upon layers of accessories. And then there’s her favorite Converse. Her hair’s all tangled and dyed streaks of pink.

DH: So she’s a rockstar too?

WB: Like I said, she’s not the same as me. We’re both broken, but she can be mended. We both wear black, yes, but she wears it for concealment, and I wear mine for expression. If you tear up my skin, you’d see the same me on the inside. But when you tear up hers, you’d see an innocent girl, full of wonders and hope, full of something I’m not.

WB: So you saw this, and left? Or she saw this, and left?

DH: We both saw it, and fell in love. It’s the most wonderful attraction. The perfect combination. It was young love, but it was real love.

The conversation was cut because I was too sleepy to listen further. And his descriptions were so deep I need my mind’s full function to appreciate.

2 n d – s e s s i o n

Location: Room 1701, Beverly Hills Hotel

Date: June 22, 2013 (Saturday)

Time: 9:12 pm

WB: How was your friend?

DH: He was fine. Just a little paranoid.

Silence, at this time I glanced at the bottles of alcohol his center table held.

DH: You’ve been drinking all day?

WB: No. Just for two hours.

Silence.

DH: Anyway, yesterday, at the airplane, you were saying you and Leigh were madly in love, yes? This was in high school?

WB: We weren’t, I guess the term is “official” in high school, of many reasons. At the time it felt so real I did not need confirmation. We just enjoyed each other’s company that’s all. Besides, she was eager to tell her parents first before we actually start “dating”. I also did not want to rush. She said we should wait and all. I wanted to meet her parents then, and ask “permission”, but she said she’s not ready to tell them. So we let it simmer. It went on my entire senior year. But when I graduated, I knew I needed to make a move. I was just about to, you know. But I had my own complications. Graduating high school doesn’t just mean graduation, it means going to college. And I did not want to go to college. I wanted to pursue the band, but at the time the band I put up in high school along with some schoolmates of mine, is no longer practical. Our drummer left, together with our bassist claiming they needed to focus more on college. My best buddy, Mike, and I, remained in the band, but since there are no more school events to participate in, the band is basically kaput. We parted ways, that’s it.

DH: You had a band in high school?

WB: Yes. The name’s “Bob Whiskey” just because. It was good times, you know. We had extra space back at home, which we made as our jamming spot, and I’d write songs here and there with Mike. Then we’d perform at school events, and students loved us. We’d compete with inter-school Battle of the Bands and we’d win because we’re really good.

DH: But Bob Whiskey disbanded after high school?

WB: I suppose so, since Mike and I were the only ones left.

DH: What about college? Did you go to college?

WB: For one semester, I did. But summer before that, I left home. I wanted to rebel, so I asked a good friend of mine who knew somebody who has an apartment if I can stay over for a while. He said yes of course, so for a span of almost 2 months, I was living at some stranger’s place, trying to figure out what to do.

DH: Did you get a job?

WB: No, not at the time. I was basically just slacking around. The stranger I was living with was probably pissed off at me, but was too nice to deny his food and loft.

DH: What made you change your mind about college?

WB: Well, Leigh did. She made me come back to my parents’ because she knew I was doing absolutely nothing with my life. She’s always my life savior, you know. She’s the only good thing in my life, everything else is pitched black.

DH: So then you went to college for one semester?

WB: Yes. My parents wanted me to pursue medicine, just like them. They have arranged everything, so I did not need to do anything else but show up in class… still I did not, for the most part, no. I would cut class, and hang out with random messed up people. Drink and smoke afterwards. Because of college, I had to be miles away from Leigh. It led to us being comfortable with the semi long distance situation.

DH: Was that okay?

WB: Of course not. God, I missed her so much.

DH: Hold on, let me clear something here. At this point, you and Leigh… you’re officially dating?

WB: No. No, not yet.

DH: Okay, go on.

Silence.

WB: Well, I left college.

DH: What did your parents say? Were they okay with it?

WB: No, my Dad especially, was furious. I left college just the same as I left home.

DH: Again?

WB: Yes.

DH: And where did you go this time?

WB: I met this cool dude, Patrick, from school.

DH: College?

WB: Yes. Pat and I did Performing Arts for a while. Well, he’s been doing it for one year before I came along. But we were put to perform as a band together for one school event. Perhaps the only school event I attended. Pat played the bass, and he was really nice. He would actually talk to me, you know. I would pull away, but he would insist. And then I started talking to him, and I found out he and I share the same vision – to tour the world, and perform in front of thousands of people. But that won’t happen indoors. To make it happen, we had to step out of school property. Pat and I went to music lounges and bars and dealt with people who shared the same interest as us, until we met Cedric.

DH: Who’s Cedric?

WB: Ced’s a drummer, and he was desperately forming a band when we met. So automatically, Pat and I got easily in. I was lead vocal, and Pat was the bassist. After a while Chris came along, and played guitar with us. At the time, the band felt so right. It was called “Monokrum” and we managed to play some bigger gigs. Ced knew a lot of people because he’s been doing it for a while. He was 26 when we met, and I was 17. He introduced me to a lot of things, and I guess in a way, he was my mentor. He knew the right people, with the right job, so I felt really safe with the band. I also wrote songs with him, and we’d perform it live. It was an incredible experience for a newbie like me. I really believed it was the beginning of my career, and I guess it is. Ced’s taught me so much in songwriting, I will always be thankful to him.

DH: Where is he now? Are you still in contact with him?

WB: Sadly he passed away just last year. I went to his funeral, you know. And everyone I knew was there. It was a reunion. Ced’s been wanting one for a while, but I was always busy so I couldn’t come. But he, Pat, and Chris remained very good friends.

DH: Were you able to say goodbye?

WB: Not really no. The last I talked to him was months before he died.

Silence. That’s when I realized he did not answer my previous question. For the conversation to continue, I needed to distract him because he really looked like he was about to cry. I don’t think he noticed me noticing it, but his last few words sounded unstable. Surely, this Cedric made him very emotional. He was glancing away at this point, perhaps to conceal a tear.

DH: So, where were you staying at this point? Where did you go when you left home?

WB: Ced offered his loft. He was renting an apartment, living on his own, and he let me stay. Like I said, Ced helped me a great deal. He knew a friend who works on a restaurant nearby, so I was able to work at daytime. It was that during the day, and we’d perform as a band at night. I was living the life, you know. I was happy… very happy. Money was very tight, yes, but I was happy. We’d party almost every night, and meet tons of girls, and just interact with people just like me. It was amazing.

DH: What about Leigh? Are you still in contact with her?

WB: Of course. I would call her and text her everyday, and when I get the free time, I rush down to her. We’d hang out in her room at her house, and cook our own food, and watch television, because I didn’t have the money. It was slightly embarrassing, but she was very considerate. I couldn’t ask for more.

DH: Why? What’s your usual hang-out?

WB: Before I left home, I was very spoiled. I would get anything I want without even asking permission. If I wanted a new guitar, I can get it. If I wanted a car, I can get one. We’d drive around with it, Leigh and I, and go to the most random places, and get adventures. We’d go nature tripping, and waste lots of money on shopping. We’d eat all the time on fancy restaurants, just to mock their menu. We’d go to theater shows, because she loved those, and whenever our favorite bands’ were in town, we’d go and see them. We’d watch cartoons because we’re cheesy like that, and run around the mall just pissing people off. It was our definition of fun. I used to shower her with gifts, and would constantly surprise her because she enjoys those. It was perfect. But then I lost it all. I only had enough money to spare for transportation, because I had to leave my car. So instead of nature tripping or going to really cool places and events, we’d just hang out in her room and talk. I’d be working out a song, while she does her nails. Sometimes we would put our favorite songs on speaker, and dance around like lunatics. And then we would go to the grocery store to pick the cheapest ingredients for our next dish. It was very simple, so different from what she was used to do, but we still made it fun. Instead of shopping, we’d go window shopping. And even though my incapacity hurts, she would constantly assure me everything’s fine. At the time, she was my backbone. I wouldn’t have survived it without her support.

DH: You would spend time at her house, you say? What about her parents? Have you met them yet?

WB: No. At the same time, her Father left for work abroad. Leigh’s parents were separated, so she only lived with her Father. But I met him eventually because he would video chat with her. I first met him on Skype, and he was really nice. I guess he was okay with it because he’s away and I can protect her while he’s gone. Leigh was more shocked than I was because she expected it worse. She thought her Father would discredit me, but I really believed – I didn’t tell her this – that even though Fathers would often say this to their daughters, (not to get involved with a guy) they’re only after the guy’s conviction. And I was up for a challenge. Leigh described him as very scary, and yes I was a little scared, but I really believed he’s just waiting for that one guy who loves her daughter enough to face him. And I did. It turned out quite pleasant. He allowed me to spend time with her, with conditions that I gladly respected.

DH: Does Leigh live alone? Why not live with her then?

WB: No, Leigh does not live alone. Her Father’s gone, yes, but he left her nanny with her. Besides, she was still underage. I did not want to leave her Father’s good side.

DH: What about the Mother?

WB: Oh I didn’t meet her until later on. I was already modeling at the time when Leigh’s Father visited the Philippines. We all went to dinner. And it was the most awkward evening of my life. But of course tomorrow came, and I was able to breathe again, this time more freely, because now I can call us “official”.

DH: Is being “official” something you guys agreed on after the dinner? Isn’t that something unspoken?

WB: Not for us (laughs). We literally talked about it. I did not want to believe something I’m unsure of, so we needed it.

DH: What about your parents? Has she met yours?

WB: Well, yes, but not officially. She knew my relationship with my parents is very awkward, and she respects it. It’s not as if she supports it, but she wouldn’t butt in all the time, you know. And I really appreciate that. She came to my house before when I was still in college, and my Mother was home early so they met. It was very casual, both said hi and that’s it. But she hasn’t met my Dad, not ever. Just my Mom.

DH: You have mentioned modeling. How did it come to that?

WB: (yawns) Maybe we should continue this next time. Come to our show… here (handing me a piece of paper with the gig’s address and time). It’s on Monday night.

Silence. I was about to say a word, but he didn’t let me. He left me still staring at the piece of paper he must have prepared before I came to his suite, as he walked over to a door.

WB: Don’t need for goodbyes.

I stood up awkwardly waving goodbye instead.

3 r d – s e s s i o n

Location: Music Bank, Hollywood

Date: June 24, 2013 (Monday)

Time: 1:01 am

At this point, I had already grown attached to West Brand’s story. I had done my own research of his life, while waiting for his Monday gig at the Music Bank in Hollywood. The time indicated on the piece of paper is 8:00pm, which I assumed was the time the concert will start. I arrived past 7:oopm, and I saw how many people were in line to see them perform. It was then I realized I didn’t have a ticket. West only left me a piece of paper which doesn’t guarantee entrance. I’m sure if I see him he’d let me in, but of course, he’s probably conditioning right now. He has after all, a show to attend to.

So I parked my car blocks away, and headed to the ticket booth for a ticket. It was almost 8:00pm when I reached the window, but I managed to grab one before the last. I entered the venue packed full. It was an all-standing concert. But the hunk at the entrance knew my face somehow, and instructed me someplace else. He led me to a fire exit, and through it, I ended up backstage. The hallway led to a room that is West Brand’s dressing room. The hunk who accompanied me ushered me in, and I was unsurprised with what I saw. The room was a square with mirrors on both sides. The other end has a stash of clothes on a rack. There’s a center table, and a velvet sofa. It was dimly lit, but I can manage to see two blonde women at the sofa. They were drinking liquor, and the room did smell like cigarette. The blondes wore heavy make-up with tons of hairspray, and they looked at me as if they were expecting me. I wasn’t a fan of fishnet girls as I would like to call it, but they did keep me entertained (by “just” talking to me and offering me food) for the rest of the show. Blood Bite’s sound radiates through the walls, and I watched with the girls, the stage, on a TV screen provided in West Brand’s dressing room.

Hours afterwards, West Brand showed up at the door, only to change clothes. That’s when he signaled the women out.

Thinking back, I think this is how it went.

WB: Ah there you are!

He reached me for a bear hug. He smelled like alcohol.

WB: I heard you bought a ticket? (laughs) You don’t have to! You know my handwriting is enough to let you in.

DH: I didn’t know.

WB: Did you enjoy the show?

DH: Well, it’s not like I was a part of it. I was literally just watching you on TV.

WB: Ah (laughs) of course.

Moments later he appeared through the curtains all dressed up neatly.

WB: Do you want the girls back?

DH: No. I’m happily married, thank you.

WB: Oh (laughs). I still have to do meet and greet. Meet you back in an hour.

West Brand came back exactly an hour later and finally we were able to talk.

DH: Do a lot of people get in through your handwriting?

He was chewing off his apple at this point.

WB: Well, you’re the first guy.

DH: I see.

DH: Are you sober?

WB: Of course.

DH: Can we continue?

WB: You sound very demanding, as if you’re desperate to let this story out.

DH: Well, I am.

WB: Good. Because it’s our story.

He flicked his eye then, which I did not clearly understand at the time. I shrugged it off and went on with the session.

DH: I went to your Wikipedia page.

WB: Did you?

DH: Yes, and it did say there “former model”.

WB: (laughs)

DH: So you modeled?

WB: But first let me get back with my story.

DH: Sure.

WB: Anyway, while I was working at the restaurant - by the way, I wasn’t waiter at first, because I didn’t know how to handle the trays and all of that. I was the dish-washer. But then the owner saw my beautiful face, so she let me out of the kitchen. I served there for months, trying to tie back my long hair. I had to wear long sleeves for my uniform which helped cover my tattoos. I used to have my lip pierced so I had to take it off before work, and put it back on for the gig. I was living a double life.

DH: How did the modeling gig began?

WB: His name was Ryan Cortez. It’s not his real name by the way. I don’t want to reveal his identity, I’m sure you understand that?

DH: Of course.

WB: He’s huge in the modeling industry back in the Philippines. I served him one afternoon when he came to eat at the restaurant, and he saw potential in me, I guess.

DH: You were scouted?

WB: Yes, Ryan helped me big time. In fact, I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for him. He got me into modeling, and at first I was uneasy because I don’t want people to style me. All of my life, no one has ever told me what and what not to wear. I would experiment my own image, and I didn’t think modeling was a job for me.

DH: But you took it anyway?

WB: Yes.

DH: Why?

WB: Because I needed the money, and he promised to help the band. He said he’s get us to record, and help distribute demos, so I thought I’d give it a chance.

DH: And how was the experience for you?

WB: The experience was amazing, but I merely had time for anything else. For a while, I continued working at the restaurant, but it became too difficult after a while. Ryan told me to quit, and I did because modeling took care of the rest. I was in demand because of my face and my “natural edginess” as they would describe it. I had the “rocker” image, and I guess I was lucky people didn’t change me too much. Ryan found a spot for me in the industry, something different, and something lacking. As everyone else portrayed the “high fashion” image, I was the rebel dude. I was the edgy guy. I started modeling for small boutiques, until I became the image of Beauty and Tony Salon for the Stars. That was the best thing ever because I had haircuts and spa and anything beauty related stuffs for free. I was living the celebrity life. Then after a while, I also began doing commercials.

DH: So you were big endorser in the Philippines?

WB: Yes. I was big. It’s funny because it’s unplanned. It just happened. See? Ryan changed my life, literally. People started recognizing me. People would take pictures with me, and recognize me whenever I hit the mall. Even my high school friends demanded a reunion with me. But at the time I was so busy, really busy. My schedule became tight with photo-shoots, and interviews, and guestings. Monokrum had to miss a few gigs because I needed to be somewhere else for a photo shoot.

DH: What about Monokrum? Were they okay with you modeling and missing out shows?

WB: At first, yes. They were really supportive of me. Besides, at the time, Ryan found us an agent, Billy, who helped us with some demos to hand out to label representatives. All we had to do then was wait.  

DH: Billy Borja? Your Manager?

WB: Yes.

DH: So, this Ryan found you your current manager?

WB: Yes.

DH: Wow! Everything’s really turning great at this point, isn’t it?

The moment I said the words, West Brand’s face suddenly dropped. He sighed and looked away. I tried getting back his attention but I didn’t get any. After a while he dismissed me because he said he didn’t realize how tired he was. I left him wondering what happened next in his story. Whatever it was, he probably wasn’t happy about it.

4 t h – s e s s i o n

Location: My House, Central Park, NY

Date: July 9, 2013 (Tuesday)

Time: 2:50 pm

Days passed and I didn’t hear anything from West Brand. Not an invite. Not an appearance. I didn’t have his number so there was no way for me to call him. I guess he sounded so desperate to get his story published, I thought I wasn’t… until I realized I was.

One day, out of the blue, my door rang on a July Tuesday afternoon, the day after my wife left for Africa to volunteer at some Animal Protection program she’s been involved with for years.

West Brand came into my house unexpectedly but I would lie if I say I wasn’t relieved.

WB: Cozy house.

DH: Thank you.

WB: Your wife is beautiful. (He had one of our framed family pictures on hand)

DH: Thank you.

WB: What’s her name?

DH: Rose.

WB: No wonder. She’s as delicate as one.

Having this conversation with West about my wife was not only awkward, but also an agony, so I invited West Brand to sit down so we can continue his story. His life after all had been bugging me for days.

DH: How’ve you been? I heard you were rushed to the hospital the other day?

WB: I’m fine. Just got stressed out.

DH: Are you sick?

WB: Do I look sick?

DH: It’s hard to tell. You’re wearing make-up.

WB: Then there’s no point knowing.

DH: Okay. Well I’m glad to see you again.

WB: Thank you.

DH: So the last conversation we had you had told me about your modeling and what had happened after that. Monokrum was handing out demos. You just met your future manager, Billy Borja. Ryan Cortez introduced you to him. You were becoming a star. Everything’s great isn’t it?

Silence.

DH: What about Leigha? Was she supportive of all the changes in your career?

WB: Of course.

DH: But between recording demos with Monokrum and modeling, how do you still find time for Leigh? Do you still go to her house and watch cartoons?

WB: Yes, of course. Well, sometimes. I mean, we’d talk everyday, but the longer it gets, the harder it became for us to actually spend some time together.

DH: And Leigh’s okay with it?

WB: Absolutely, and that’s what I didn’t understand. She was very understanding to the point that I’m not understanding why. I had doubts. Because I was away all the time, I became paranoid of how she spends her free time. I started picturing things. I wondered if she was seeing someone else or just don’t care anymore.

DH: Why, did you find anything suspicious?

WB: Well, no. I was just paranoid.

DH: Did you confront her?

WB: Yes, and we fought. It was our first big fight. I started accusing her and she started blaming me. We didn’t talk for almost a month. It was horrible.

DH: You shouldn’t have accused her of things you cannot prove, especially if it’s only a product of your own imagination. Based on how you described her, she seems just like a very nice person. Besides, your career has just boost up. Having her deal with all the consequences of success is something you should be more appreciative of. If she was understanding enough to support you, then you should be understanding enough to trust her. Besides, looks to me as if she trusts you too.

Silence. West Brand only stared into my eyes as if he expected my little pointless advice. It’s all in his past anyway.

WB: Why? Do you trust your wife?

DH: Of course.

WB: And she trusts you?

DH: Of course.

WB: How long have you been married again?

DH: 9 years. And it’s been the most amazing ride.

WB: Do you think you know your wife very well?

DH: Of course. I mean I don’t know everything about her, but I know her well enough that whatever it is she’s not telling me is not important.

Silence. More staring. Still awkward.

WB: I guess you’re right. But at the time, everything was spinning at 360 degrees I couldn’t keep up. I didn’t know how to keep up.

DH: Did you settle things with her?

WB: Of course. It took a while, but love still pushed through. And we were stronger than ever… is what I thought. You know when they say distance help you realize things? No. Distance can ruin things.

DH: But the short break helped right? You realized you still love each other regardless of the circumstances, so you decided to give it another chance. You said it yourself, it made you stronger.

WB: Yes, but not for long. Distance apart helps. But distance away doesn’t.

He stood up abruptly then, and bid goodbye. But before he left my house, I made sure I had his phone number.

5 t h – s e s s i o n

Location: Over the phone

Date: July 24, 2013 (Wednesday)

Time: 6:36 pm

My last conversation with West Brand didn’t felt right. He was more temperamental, and his thoughts worked in circles. I thought he needed time to unwind, so I didn’t call him afterwards. It took about two weeks for me to realize he’s not showing up anywhere.

So I called him.

Three rings and he answered.

WB: Hello?

DH: West Brand? This is Dexter Holls, how are you?

WB: I’m good. Good. Just good.

DH: I was wondering if we can talk now? How about we continue that story of yours?

WB: Oh, okay.

DH: Are you home?

WB: No I’m in Florida, for a gig.

DH: Oh wow! Are you sure I wasn’t disturbing anything?

WB: No I’m resting in my suite. I’m sorry about last time by the way, I was not in the mood.

DH: I realized. But it’s okay. Can I ask you a question?

WB: Anything.

DH: Can we skip to how you ended up back in college? I heard from a source that you went back to college a year after you started modeling?

WB: Yes, I did. I took Fashion Design and Merchandising.

DH: Did you make up with your parents?

WB: No.

DH: So, you managed to save up for school?

WB: Well… no.

Silence, and then his voice dropped as in hazed.

WB: Ryan helped me.

DH: Ryan got you to school? As in a scholarship?

WB: Not exactly. He loaned me, I suppose.

DH: So he paid for your school? Why?

WB: Well, I said I was interested in fashion.

DH: I see. But what about modeling? And the band?

WB: We laid low after school. Ryan handled everything. He made sure I had spare time for school and the band. He and Billy really worked things around.

DH: You became busier?

WB: Well yes. But things changed for the better. I moved out of Ced’s apartment and got my own house and car. Well, they’re Ryan’s but I was able to enjoy things I missed. The luxury of my old life. Besides, with a car of my own, I was able to visit Leigh from time to time without so much hassle.

DH: So Ryan just loaned you? He got you to school, got you a car and an apartment?

WB: Yes.

I can’t pin point exactly, but something felt strange about his story. It’s just from where things were going, West Brand’s only positioning himself for trouble. To owe somebody that much isn’t the most logical choice.

WB: (laughs) I know what you’re thinking. Everybody thought the same thing. Leigh and I fought about it.

DH: What did she think?

WB: She thought it was too much –

DH: It is.

I don’t know, but I totally agree with Leigh.

DH: There’s a catch.

WB: Of course.

DH: What does he need?

WB: 25% cut off my future earnings. I say I’d pay him off.

DH: That would take years for you to earn, all the money he spent for you. I guess he really saw something in you, didn’t he? He like… adopted you.

WB: Well, there’s more.

Silence.

WB: He asked for one more thing.

DH: What?

WB: Did I mention Ryan’s gay?

Finally it clicked. All the help. All the support. All the attention. He wanted all of West Brand.

Silence came after that. I guess he knew I figured it out.

DH: Why did you agree?

WB: I had no choice.

DH: Why would you say that? You could have said no.

WB: You don’t understand. I was desperate then. He gave me a new life. He gave me a future.

DH: You could have just made up with your parents. Did you even try? Maybe they changed their minds about supporting your music. Maybe, if you give them another chance. They’re the one who’s supposed to give you a future, not some random guy who only wanted you in bed.

WB: No it’s not like that.

DH: No?

WB: Ryan’s a good guy. Yes, he may have asked for something some people may not give him, but he asked me. I’m his friend. He’s lonely and I’m –

DH: Oh my Gosh! You love him?

WB: No! Not romantically! I was just helping him, as he’s helping me.

DH: Do you realize the consequences of what you did? You were basically cheating on your girlfriend, moreover with a man! Oh the horror!

Silence.

DH: Did you enjoy it?

Silence.

DH: Did you?

WB: No! I wanted out the more I stay, but I couldn’t. The only way for me to live with myself is to think of it as if helping out a friend.

DH: And Leigh? That’s certainly not helping her. Did she know anyway? Is she aware of it all?

WB: No. Come on Dex! How am I supposed to say it?

DH: Like, “I love you, but I’m having sex with a man. But don’t worry he’s just a friend, and he’s paying for my parking tickets.”

WB: Dexter…

DH: How did you end up in that situation? I can’t believe it. Did you even think of how Leigh would feel?

WB: I don’t know. Maybe not at the time. So much things were happening, I didn’t have the time to think. Besides it’s not like Ryan and I sat down when he told me of his conditions… it just happened!

DH: So you lied to Leigh? You continued seeing her?

WB: It didn’t matter because at the time we weren’t even talking. It turns out she’s been in contact with my Mother since the day they met, and has been constantly updating her over my life. I didn’t know Leigh’s worries about me getting involved with Ryan and his “gifts” reached my Mother –

DH: Obviously for a reason.

WB: One day, Mother just showed up in my new apartment, and Leigh was there, and we all got into this huge fight.

DH: So let me get this straight. You are still dating Leigh when you were casually having sex with Ryan to get his help for school, and your house, but Leigh only thought what? That Ryan was just helping you out of what? Sympathy? Because he believes in you? That’s crap. Maybe Leigh found out.

WB: Of course she did, but not after a while. I told Leigh Ryan wanted 25% cut of my future, and she said it was too high. She said I would regret it, and that I would be caged up for the rest of my life for getting involved.

DH: She has a point.

WB: Ok, well, I was 19, and was having a burst of life, so of course I didn’t listen. But to think that she told my Mother about it really angered me.

DH: Maybe she thought your Mother could stop you if she couldn’t.

WB: Well, things got worse instead. I started pushing Leigh away, and I’ve gotten more rebellious of my parents. I would party, and drink, and smoke all I can. And I didn’t care. I was famous, and most wanted, and rich. And besides… I was disappointed with Leigh.

DH: Disappointed? She was trying to help you for being a jerk instead of breaking up with you and moving on with her life.

WB: Yeah, but I thought she wasn’t being supportive, and she stopped caring anymore of my dreams and aspirations. That her feelings changed. That she can’t understand me anymore. I get it, okay? I was a jerk, and I absolutely regret most of the things I did then, but I didn’t see it at the time. All I saw was Leigh slipping away from me.

DH: Please don’t tell me she totally slipped away.

WB: Let me tell you this, Leigh and I went on a rough patch for months. Everytime we’d try to fix it, it gets worse. It took about two months until she walked up on us.

DH: Us?

WB: Ryan and I, in my apartment.

DH: Oh my gosh… okay, so that’s when she found out? About the arrangement?

Silence.

DH: Take me there West Brand. What happened?

WB: It was my pride that made it last two months. I was too proud of myself. Besides, I thought I was a growing star, and everybody wants to be around me. I waited for Leigh, only to remind her I’m the bigger of her. That she needed me. She’d call me, and I’d play hard to get. Once again, I really was a jerk.

DH: I think we established that already.

WB: Okay, you know what? Maybe should continue this next time. I’m tired I realized.

DH: You hurt Leigh, and she left you. But now what? You want her back? You want to find her to get her back?

WB: Good night, Dex.

He hung up then, and I admit, I was mad at him. I was mad at the young him for all the crazy things he did, all the wrong decisions he made. But then again, all of those led him to the present state, to the rockstar West Brand, to finding Leigh, who for some reason I feel some connection with, to come to me to find his long lost love, to entrust me with his story.

It was that session I realized this has been more than an interview, but a conversation with a friend who needed someone to lean to.

6 t h – s e s s i o n

Location: West Brand’s Condominium, Pent House, NY

Date: August 12, 2013 (Monday)

Time: 10:24 am

I was ready to talk to West soon after he hung up that last session. But later that night, I was reminded of my flight to Singapore for a talk at some University. It took weeks before I heard his voice. I got his voice mail August 6, and he invited me at his condo 12th of August.

WB: You’re mad at me.

Not a question. But a statement.

DH: Not anymore. Are you?

WB: I’m not mad at you. In fact, I expected your reaction. For a long time, I was mad at myself too. But I had learned to forgive myself.

DH: How long did it take?

WB: Just until not too long ago.

DH: So all the previous years you hold a grudge to your old self?

WB: Yes.

DH: What made you forgive yourself?

WB: When I met you.

DH: Me?

WB: You seem to be a great guy, Dex. Thanks for listening to my story.

Silence.

DH: Well, you’re welcome. You’re right though. Your story’s very interesting.

WB: Our story.

More silence.

DH: So, what happened to Leigh? Did you two make up? Or was it then that ended your communication with her?

WB: (sarcastically laughs) Everyday I am reminded of her reaction when she saw me with Ryan that day. So much rage. So much pain. I ran after her, but she was so mad I couldn’t even get close to her. I’ve never seen such an emotion from her, or from anyone. It hurt me. I started seeing what I couldn’t see before. I started accepting I was a jerk. I chased after her. She stopped calling me, so I called her. I called her and went to her house to apologize, but she would push me away. I have hurt her, and her pain hurts me. I was just lost at the time. Everything was in fast forward until then, when everything just stopped. I saw the man I had become. I saw that my strive for a better life consumed me. I had sacrificed Leigh, whom gave me the initial strength I needed, just because I think people around can provide the same. But no. It was different. Being away from her, and knowing it might be permanent nearly destroyed me.

DH: What about Ryan? What did he say? He knew Leigh, right?

WB: Things changed between Ryan and I after that. He seldom shows up on my apartment, and he doesn’t call as often. I think he also realized what he has done, and perhaps he was distancing himself.

DH: Did he talk to you about it?

WB: No.

DH: What about Monokrum at this point? And your modeling? And school?

WB: Monokrum was fine, still waiting for any go signal, but still fine. Modeling was fine too, and so as school. It went on for another year. Leigh and I were still not talking, but I focused more with what’s in front of me. I tried to live without her, though difficult. Ryan and I eventually stopped doing it, as if nothing happened, and –

DH: The sex stopped?

WB: Yes.

DH: What about his “gifts”? You still went to school right? In fact, you finished four years of college.

WB: I did.

DH: What about the demos you sent in, no response at all?

WB: Not until a year later. Billy called in, and said that a friend of a friend of a friend of a friend knew somebody who listened to the tapes and liked our stuff.

DH: Really? So you were signed?

WB: No. Not yet. They called us for a live audition. And when we came we thought we’d get signed then. But no.

DH: You didn’t?

WB: We got rejected. But whatever, because we didn’t give up. We continued playing gigs around Metro Manila, and our fanbase started to grow. Even without a record label, we were able to release an EP. We sold it and gained a few cash, but it wasn’t enough. And just before I got another call from someone who was present at the time we auditioned, Ced decided to leave the band.

DH: Ced left Monokrum?

WB: Well, he got married. And we had no choice but to support his decision. Of course, that led us on without a drummer.

DH: But you got another call.

WB: Yes. That’s the point. I did get another call. Just for me. Not the band.

DH: Who called you?

WB: Gregory Banares from Newborn Music. He wanted me as a solo artist, which I didn’t want. I never wanted to fly solo. I wanted to be in a rock band. So I declined. Billy was supportive though.

DH: You declined an offer?

WB: I did. The next couple months Monokrum went on playing gigs one drummer after another. No one lasted long enough to commit. You remember Pat? He was one of my best dudes. For a while, we shared one vision, but I guess his, shifted. He stopped caring for the band as much as I did, and only went along with it because of me. The band that I believed in was falling apart, so we decided to break it off.

DH: You disbanded.

WB: Yes, but in good terms, of course.

DH: Did you create a new band?

WB: No. At the time I had lost faith to the musical me. I figured maybe I wasn’t really fit for the job. Billy would talk me into pursuing a solo career but I wouldn’t budge. I shifted my focus to fashion design instead. And on my senior year, I joined the Annual Amateur Fashion Design Contest at my school which was a big deal to anyone majoring in my course. The contest took about 6 months of my life. In the end though, right before Graduation, I won the contest.

DH: What’s the prize?

WB: A scholarship to the most prestige Fashion Design School in the Philippines, and a chance to work with top designers. Of course, there’s also the prize money.

DH: Wow! How was the contest like? How many were you?

WB: We were 24 students. There were three stages. The Themed Stage, announced days prior so the student can prepare. The Mystery Box Stage, announced only hours away. And the Creative Stage, rule-free. The contest was tough, and I didn’t expect to win.

DH: Why did you think you won?

WB: Everyone said it was my last piece. My creative piece.

DH: What did you make?

WB: A dress. A dress I can only see one person wearing.

DH: Leigh?

WB: Leigha.

DH: So she inspired your piece?

WB: She inspired everything.

DH: Okay, so you were pursuing the fashion industry. What about music? You didn’t give it up because if you did, you wouldn’t be here. How did you end up where you are now, West? What changed along the way? Why are you a rock star instead of a designer, even a model now?

WB: Easy. Music is my one true love. When it gets down to choosing, I’d always choose music.

DH: But you were offered a scholarship, right?

WB: I didn’t take it. I left right after graduation. 

DH: Left to where?

WB: To give music another chance. I went to Hollywood.

DH: How? Did Ryan take you to Hollywood?

WB: No, Ryan and I never really talked after the whole incident. And when I left for Hollywood, he never said a thing. He still lends me money, of course, but nothing more out of it. Not even the 25% cut. All my talent fee, and extra money from gigs, I saved up to pay off my debt.

DH: Did you pay it off?

WB: Not until years later.

DH: How did you end up in Hollywood?

WB: Right before graduation, Billy called. He said Gregory Banares called, and he had another offer. So we went that same week. And he introduced us to his good friend Chuck Banes, who works for Nucop Entertainment, Inc. based off in Hollywood. He said Chuck’s looking for the perfect vocalist for a rock band he’s been working on. So he flew us straight to Hollywood right after graduation to audition.

DH: I assume you got in?

WB: Yes. The band consisted of five guys including me. And we called it “Brandless” based off my surname. Yeah, they thought it was cool. (laughs)

DH: So that’s when it started. You left Philippines. You left modeling. You left… well maybe not Fashion Design, because you have an online apparel store. But you left Leigha.

WB: You say it so casually, but it’s the most difficult decision I’ve ever made so far. I didn’t just thumbs up the offer, Dex. I took time. I went to seek Leigha again after a long time.

DH: Really? And?

WB: Well, she –

Right then, West Brand’s phone rang. He said he needed to rush somewhere for something he didn’t tell, so I had to leave.

I left.

7 t h – s e s s i o n

Location: My House, Central Park, NY

Date: August 30, 2013 (Friday)

Time: 5:00 pm

Several days later, I called West to stop by at my house to continue our conversation. He arrived 5 o’clock sharp.

WB: Your house is always empty.

DH: Yes, well, my wife’s with her friend, and my children are at my Mother’s. I’m bored, so I called you.

WB: Oh.

Silence.

DH: So tell me now. You saw Leigha and what happened?

WB: I asked her to come with me.

DH: To Hollywood?

WB: Yes.

DH: Was she still mad?

WB: Well, no, since she let me in her house anyway.

DH: How was she? It’s been years since the last you saw her, right?

WB: She’s different. She’s skinnier, and tanner, and much more … girly. She wasn’t the Leigha I first met. First off, she was wearing a floral dress, and heels. Her hair’s been long, tidied and curled. Her nails are manicured to perfection. And she spoke more softly. It was like… she exchanged her Converse for some designers, I almost didn’t recognize her. But I realize now, it must have been the girl she really was, underneath the black. It was the person she was concealing. And the girl I met was the fake one. That the Leigha I met wasn’t real. But it didn’t matter for me. I still love her, and so I asked her to come with me.

DH: What did she say?

WB: Well, we had another fight. (fading laugh)

Silence.

DH: What did she say, West?

WB: Something about we broke up, that she doesn’t care anymore, that she’s not coming with me, that –

Silence.

WB: - she doesn’t love me anymore.

DH: And what did you say?

WB: The opposite. That I want her back, that I’ve always cared, that I want her with me, that I still love her, that I want to marry her.

Silence.

DH: You proposed?

WB: And got rejected.

Silence. Mainly because I didn’t know what to say.

WB: Anyway, I thought for the last time, you know, she’d take my side. For the last time, I believed she would still understand and support me. But she didn’t.

His voice dropped, but recovered just as instantly.

WB: That meeting was the last I saw her, and the last I said was a lie. She was telling me she doesn’t love me anymore, so I told her in the end that I love her still, yes, but not to the girl standing in front of me. I fell in love with the girl who cuts her own hair, who wears band t-shirts, not the girl she was then. I told her she changed.

DH: Not the real her?

WB: Not the way she portrays.

DH: Did you?

WB: What?

DH: Did you only love that dark, troubled girl you met in high school, or the real her who may not wear the clothes you want her to wear, or look the way you wanted?

Silence. And then my phone rang.

WB: Who was that?

DH: My wife. She’s on her way.

WB: I see.

DH: So, which one did you love?

WB: I loved neither, because if I wanted a girl who cuts her hair, I’d love a hairdresser. If I wanted a girl who wear band t-shirts, I’d love any of my fans. Lots of them would die for it anyway. (laughs) I just… said those things to Leigha back in the day because I was mad. I was really mad.

DH: But you don’t mean it?

WB: Of course not. In the end it’s not her clothes I missed, but the way she playfully punches me in the arm when I tease her, or when she forcefully laughs at my jokes, or the way she smiles at my tears giving me enough strength to face life. It was the way she burps after drinking so many soda, or eating toast with ketchup instead of butter, or would walk so fast I struggle to keep up. It was the funny faces she makes on camera, or the song we sing in my car and of course her beautiful singing voice (laughs). The way she sleeps with her mouth open, and the face she makes when I fail to make her smile, but she smiles anyway for my attempt. It was her serious face whenever she focuses to do something and I keep on butting in (laughs). It was when she accidently wears t-shirts inside out, and wear my clothes that are obviously too big for her. The sound her sneezes make, the way she inhales and holds it whenever she kisses me. The way her eyelashes felt on my skin when I’m kissing her, and her body heat. I missed the way she looks up in the sky to welcome the day, and closes her eyes when listening to a new song I wrote for her. I missed our petty fights, or when I try to style her. I missed the way she laughs on horror movies, and talk to the wind as if alive. I missed the way she takes up all the space in bed, and when we snuggle, she plays with my chest hair. I missed the way she touches my hair just to piss me off, or pull my clothes when she wanted me to follow her. I missed the way she whispers I love you, and whenever she cusses. It wasn’t the clothes really, but the girl I took advantage of, the girl I lost, the girl I hurt, the girl who believed in me when no one else did. That’s the girl I loved.

And then the most painful thing happened. West Brand cried. And then just as fast as the tears dropped from his eyes to my carpet, he wiped them off of his face and ran to the door.

8 t h – s e s s i o n

Location: Over the phone

Date: September 18, 2013 (Wednesday)

Time: 2:10 am

The next days, I tried contacting West Brand but he didn’t answer. I went to his condominium the next day but he wasn’t there. More days came and I became worried, not because he might not finish his story, but because from what I realized, he was right. He had only forgiven himself not too long ago. He had been holding all his pain since his old self, and to think of how much it cost him, I just couldn’t imagine. I wanted to talk to him, not to hear his story anymore, but to comfort him. Because West Brand just became my friend.

I was awoken, 18th of September around 2 o’clock in the morning with my phone ringing. And when I answered it, it was West Brand. He sounded groggy, and tired, and weak. Over the phone I still felt his pain and his agony.

WB: I need to finish the story.

DH: Of course. But at this time? Are you okay?

WB: Brandless released two records, and the last one was a big hit. However –

West Brand went on without letting me butt in. I realized he was too eager to finish his story, as if it’s going to be my last conversation with him.

It was.

WB: - I was a big mess. I rebelled. I fought with everyone. Sooner than later two members left the band… and it took another year to rebuild a new one.

DH: The Blood Bite.

WB: The Blood Bite.

Silence.

DH: West, have you ever contacted your parents?

WB: They’re dead.

DH: I mean, before so?

WB: No. I didn’t.

Silence.

WB: I didn’t.

Silence.

WB: I should have.

His voice started fading, and I began to worry.

DH: West, are you still there?

WB: I’m just really really tired. I’m just so tired.

DH: Why don’t we continue this tomorrow? I’ll stop by at your condominium around 10 o’clock, how’s that?

WB: So tired. I’m going to rest. I’m going to sleep.

DH: Okay. Good night, West. I’ll see you tomorrow.

And he hung up the phone, before my wife came to the room to ask me who I was speaking to. And when I told her it was West Brand, everything – from the very moment he showed up in my life, up until that very moment – finally clicked. It finally made sense.

My wife’s reaction when I mentioned West Brand that morning was a complete surprise. It reminded me of the same reaction whenever her past is brought up. Her first love, the pain it caused her, and why she changed her name. That’s why I never asked her too much about it because I knew it only brings her pain.

But now, I need not to ask anymore.

I already know.

I would never understand how West Brand found me. Was it through my wife? I would never know whether West found out about my wife only when he first came to my house, or way before that.

I could never find out what happened next in his story, the journey of Brandless and Blood Bite in details. I could never find out whether he reunited with Ryan years later. I could never find out how he knew of his parents’ death. I could never find out how he tried to look for Leigha, or what inspired his band’s big hits. I could never ask anything else. And there is so much to ask. So many questions that still linger in my thoughts.

I could never find out because he passed away the next day. I know because I came to his condominium and all I saw was a lifeless rockstar.

But I guess that’s just the magic of it.

That’s why West Brand’s life is an interesting one, because there are so many questions in between. It leaves you wanting more. It leaves you thinking. It leaves you asking questions. It leaves something in you… maybe a scar, or a memory, or a reminder that life is a story.

I should have been mad at him, for hurting my wife in the past, but all I felt was remorse.

I never knew I was, after all, a part of his story.

Our story.