1985

We had a son four months later, a tiny baby with light hair and light eyes, and a scream that could cause me to go deaf from one ear if I wasn't used to the screaming from years on the road. We named him Hayden, after Harry's baby brother.

He was a precious gift in our lives, truly a miracle that we had him and he was as perfect as can be. Harry had been such a hands-on dad and even refused to leave the hospital room when I gave birth, threatening the doctor if he didn't let him stay.

After a few months of having him, I went back into the studio and recorded an album for three months. It was successful and currently, I was just about finished with a tour.

It was difficult I will admit, especially with Hayden getting older and Harry working on music himself. But I did it because it was part of me now. I couldn't just be a mother at home, I had to be out on the road and singing. I had to be writing and performing, it was who I was.

Today I sat in a salon that belonged to a friend of mine. She looked at me through the reflection of the mirror and smiled. “Why don't you just go by your name? Debra is a nice name.” I shook my head and ruffled the brown hair on my head. I was planning on going platinum blonde again. I had used wigs for the promotional pictures and on tour, but I really wanted my hair back the way it was since the wigs looked terrible on me. At least that's the way I saw it.

“Blondie is my name, and damaged hair is my game. Just lighten me up.” She nodded, beginning the process.

Billie got married a few months ago and his wedding was pretty nice. Lana, who was currently bleaching my hair, had moved in with him a couple of blocks from our house. She at one point went to beauty school in between tours and with Billie's help, opened the salon and had become a success.

Mitch had joined a band, quit, and then became a stand-in for guitarists. He, in his own words, said he just wants to play music. He recently worked with my good friend Joan as she had also gone and done the solo thing and became a huge success.

Josh had been busy as well, also joining a band. We recently ran into him at a record shop owned by my old friend Scotty who now owned a variety of record shops. He was just as much of a mommas boy, but he was well and that was all that mattered.

As for Pink, no one had heard from him since our last group meeting. It had begun to freak me out if I'm honest, we had planned on meeting again to discuss us performing at the Grammys together, but we hadn't heard a peep.

*

“What chord is this one?” Harry asked as he picked a string to our now two-year-old.

“E!” He squeaked.

Harry began strumming while I was fitted into my dress for the award show. “good job offspring, you too shall play guitar as good as your father.” I rolled my eyes at Harry's words.

“Can you please put on your suit so you can get tailored.” He saluted me and stood up to pick up Hayden and take him to sit on the ground with his toys. Harry had surprised me if I'm honest, he was just as good of a father as mine was with me and my brother.

The thought of my brother really put me down, he never talked to me the way I wish he would. It honestly had been years since we had a conversation and I guess he didn't think he needed to be around me since our mother died.

I learned something over the time I've been an adult. Not everything is perfect, sometimes people don't make up or get back together.

If this was a perfect world, my mother would have believed me when I told her about her ex-husband. My father would be alive and be my biggest fan, and my son would have grandparents. Harry's parents would accept their son and forgave him for a mistake he made when he was a kid. Harry would have never cheated on me either. I wouldn't be afraid of having one drink or being alone during a party, and our band would still be one big family.

But life isn't perfect.

I guess in a way it could be, I had my family and even if Harry and I argued, at the end of the day we were best friends.

*

One way or another, I'm gonna find ya
I'm gonna get ya, get ya, get ya, get ya
One way or another, I'm gonna win ya
I'm gonna get ya, get ya, get ya, get ya
One way or another, I'm gonna see ya
I'm gonna meet ya, meet ya, meet ya, meet ya
One day, maybe next week, I'm gonna meet ya
I'm gonna meet ya, I'll meet ya
I will drive past your house
And if the lights are all down
I'll see who's around-

“Stop stop stop!” We were at rehearsal for the Grammys when a very thin looking Pink walked into the room. Everyone gasped and the band ran up to tackle him down in excitement.

“Where the hell have you been, we had thought you didn't get our message?” Mitch asked him. Pink was dressed in an oversized flamingo printed shirt, tucked into a ripped pair of jeans. “You look like a tool.”

“Yeah well, I can't miss a reunion with miss blondie.” He kissed my cheek as I hugged him. “I've been in France.” We all smiled and nodded, but I noticed how frail he looked. He went over to talk to the bass player while we got set up.

I was drinking water when I noticed him popping pills and chugging down water. His eyes met mine and I gave him a look that I was worried.

Rehearsal felt good, the six of us performing was as if we had never stopped.

Afterward, we went out to eat at a nice restaurant, Harry and my idea for us to talk for a while with everyone. We caught up and then all ended up back at our house where we continued talking about getting back together as a band.

“This kid looks like you, Harry.” Pink stood at a distance away from our son who slept on the couch.

“He better.” Harry joked as we all laughed. “You can pick him up, he's a heavy sleeper.”

He shook his head and awkwardly went over to sit down. It was odd how he was acting, almost careful of not touching or laughing anyone. Pink went out to the balcony and smoked a cigarette while the rest of the guys looked at Harry's guitar room.

Although Pink and I never got along much, he had been one of the reasons I had gotten sober. He had defended me at times, and always reminded me that I was the voice of the band. So I went out there to talk to him and sit down.

“Gregory.”

“Debra May.” He smiled as I took a seat down beside him. “You nervous for the Grammys?”

“No, not really, if I don't win it's fine, life goes on, right?” he shrugged. “You want to tell me what's up?”

He stayed quiet for a long minute. I assumed he would make up some excuse for him being MIA and taking pills, but he came out with it as if he had been holding it in for too long. “I'm sick.” He began, “I thought it was nothing and then I found out that it's uh... AIDS.” My heart stopped immediately and I felt myself shaking.

“Oh Greg, wh- how?” He looked down and shrugged.

“The years of partying caught up to me I guess.” He shrugged. “I've been taking experimental drugs and all this shit but I know how this ends for me, Debra.” He chuckles. “The fame got to my head, and I thought I was indestructible. But you can see me and the world will see me. I'm not gonna make it, but I've come to accept what is.”

I walked over and hugged him tightly. The back door opened and Harry walked out with a confused look as Greg wiped away his eyes. “What's going on?”

“Nothing-”

“No actually, Harry can I talk to you man?” Harry nodded and took a seat while I went inside and tried to wipe my tears away.

They were out there for a while and eventually each one of the guys found out about Greg. Apparently, his mind was so full of ideas about his illness that he didn't want to hold the baby. Harry dragged him inside and sat him down, picking up our son and placing him in his arms. “Look at me.” Greg looked up at him. “You're our brother till the end with no bullshit. We will get through this. No excuses.” He nodded slowly.

*

Sadly there was a reason why Pink came back. Two weeks after our performance at the Grammys, Gregory died from some type of complication. He was in the hospital alone. Fans of ours waited in the rain with flowers and candles outside of the hospital when the news broke out.

We decided to cancel any plans of music...for now.

I knew one day I would play music once again, but right now this all felt too sad.

Much like Anthony, Greg wanted his ashes to be sprinkled over the Brooklyn bridge. We did as he asked, all together for the last time before we let our dear friend go.

“Gregory ‘pink’ you son of a bitch, we love you more than anyone in this world,” Billie spoke up. “We'll miss you brother. You know that the music wouldn't be good without you and no one will ever shake their hips on stage like you."

"Not even Deb." They all chuckled.

"We'll see you on the other side," I said up to the sky.

After his ashes landed against the water down below, we all stood there in the cold night and thought about what the right move was.

Should we go home or stay and talk more?

We decided all to hug and said our goodbyes going our separate ways.

Harry drove us home where our son was being watched by the nanny. I looked down at my stomach and then at Harry.

“If this one is a boy, can we name him Gregory?” A week before Greg passed, I had found out I was pregnant again. I was excited but hadn't been able to really think about it since everything had gone down so quickly.

Harry reached over and held my hand, kissing it gently against his lips. “I'm glad I met you, Deb, we can name the baby that.”

“I love you.”

“I love you more.”

He pressed the button for the radio and just as the beginning of my journey here to this moment, Led Zeppelin's Stairway to heaven played gently against my ears as we drove home.

The end.

*

Thank you all so much for the support on this story.  I loved writing it so much and I'm kinda sad it's over, but I wanted it to end this way.

Hope you liked it.

Thanks for reading. Xx

-k