Not Just A Roadie / Queen Fanfiction

29 • Letting Go

the rest of the afternoon was very enjoyable. luckily, I'd managed to wangle my way into getting stuffing. but only because I talked Chrissie into making Brian give me some; and he'll do almost anything for her.

"I'm gunna have to make up for that one later," she tutted at me, returning her seat on my left hand side after having a word with Brian in the kitchen.

"well, enjoy," I laughed, whilst she just chuckled along too and put her hand on her cheek, resting her elbow on the table.

———

on the drive back from Brian's, Jenny was awfully quiet and I was beginning to get concerned. I took one hand off the gear lever and placed it gently on her knee. "you okay?" I asked her, tearing my eyes away from the road for a moment to steal a glance at her face.

it was scrunched up in a look of confused concentration. "urr...yeah., just thinking," she replied vaguely. I knew something was up and I wasn't going to let it go as it was clearly bothering her.

"tell me when we get inside?"

"okay..."

we crossed the threshold and kicked off our winter shoes, along with lazily throwing our coats on the rack. Brian had made sure that everybody's stomach was about to burst before we left. I enjoyed every minute of it, both the company and the food, but now I felt ready for a good nap.

"tea?" I called from the kitchen, about to flick the kettle on.

"think I'll just take water," Jenny came through and took a glass from the shelf. deciding I couldn't actually be bothered to make a cuppa, I copied her and filled a tall glass with cold water from the tap. taking a sip and placing the glass on the counter, I took a few steps closer to Jenny and held my arms out to her.

she put her glass down too and walked into my embrace, joining her hands around my waist. I rubbed her back and kissed the top of her head, "what's up?" I asked again.

JENNY'S POV

his voice was so gentle. I felt so relaxed and safe. but I also couldn't remember ever feeling so vulnerable in my entire life. I'd always been so headstrong, confident and independent. it was since I'd met the band that I became more reliant on them, specifically Roger. this led me to think: was I thinking the right thing? was I making the right decision?

so much had happened within the past 2 months that my mind couldn't catch up with the rate at which life was bolting past me.

I closed my eyes and slowly inhaled Roger's scent. he smelled of subtle cologne and this house. for the record, since the first time I stepped in this house, I felt every aspect of it connotated to home. the layout, the messy but not untidy look, the pictures on the walls and the smell of linen and pine.

"i need to call Russ and let him know what I'm doing."

"what do you mean?" Roger elaborated, still holding onto the hug, as was I.

"well we mentioned me going back on the 31st. but I'm having such a good time with you and the band and to be away from my lifestyle back in America that I'm not sure if I want to go back. you know, get a job, find a place to rent here and stuff. just anything not to go back to that route 402 rest stop."

there we go, I was out with it. to say Roger looked concerned as he loosened the hug to look at me was an understatement. in fact, his eyes looked like they were about to pop out of his head and I was getting worried.

"oh, darling..." was all he could say before he pulled me back into the tightest hug I'd ever had the pain of experiencing. the sentiment was nice and I understood that he felt awful about my situation, but he was also crushing my lungs and I kind of needed those.

"um...Roger...kinda need to...breathe..." I croaked and he released his arms slightly, still holding me in a tight (but more breathable) hug.

"i was thinking about that too. please don't go." was all he said, was all he needed to say for me to want to stay more than I'd ever contemplated.

"then I'm not going anywhere," I looked Roger in the eyes and kissed him hesitantly but joyfully. we were sort of a thing now I guessed which I was over the moon about, but after everything, I'd have to get used to physical affection that wasn't hugging. "I am gunna have to phone the bastard up now though."

"what time is it in America?" Roger asked, making his way over to the phone. he took the phone off the receiver and handed it to me. I started spinning the dial nervously, my hand shaking slightly, very aware that what I was about to do was irreversible.

"about 2pm ish. Russ'll be having his early afternoon wine by now. hopefully I'll catch him sober enough to remember the conversation..." I filled Roger in as I waited for him to pick up on the other end. I knew this was going to cost the earth, so I made a mental note to pay Roger back when I got a job.

"ello?" came Russ' gruff voice from the other end of the line. it sounded even more gravelly than usual through a phone, all crackly from the poor quality of such a long distance call.

I shivered at the sound of Russ' voice and I was glad Roger had left the room to give me privacy, but he was only a shout-through-the-hall away. "Russ. It's Jennifer. Jennifer Harran."

"I remember you. you ain't been back for months and months."

"I know. and I'm not coming back, so you can sell all my stuff," I mustered the courage to say with semi confidence.

"you don' wan' none of it?" he said in surprise and it gave me glee to hear shock in his voice after all these years of it being laced with malice.

"no...I brought with me everything I wanted. you can sell the lot to buy more booze and god knows what else. goodbye." and with that, I hung up the phone. I wanted to make the conversation short not only so that I didn't have to talk to Russ for longer than I felt necessary, but also to spare the amount of money I now owed Roger which was undoubtedly mounting up to a few pounds.

I walked through the hallway and to Roger's room where my bag was kept in the bottom of the wardrobe. pulling open the doors, I rummaged in my purple duffel bag until I found the item at the bottom that I was looking for.

carefully, I pulled out the A Night At The Opera record and held it in my hands for a moment. then I turned it round and read my father's handwriting written in his marginally untidy scrawl on the back cover.

"my beautiful Jennifer,
what a headstrong young lady you have grown to be. I've never been prouder and never will be.
I'm sorry I have to leave you in this way, but I trust you to be the sensible, beautiful young lady I had the honour of raising.
I love you with all my heart,
Papa"

I sat on the grey carpet, tears trickling down my cheeks. somewhere that felt like a million miles away, I heard the creak of a door and felt a warm hand on my shaking shoulder.