Falling Under (31 page)

“Yeah. I do.”

“What does that mean, for you?”

He doesn’t answer right away. He swirls the amber liquid in the bottle, staring down at it, thinking. “It means I want to be around her all the time. I want to talk to her. It means I want a physical relationship with her. It means I think she’s talented and beautiful and amazing. My life isn’t the same without her in it. I miss her.”

I nod. “Sounds about right. Except…that ain’t love. That’s your
feelings
. How
you
feel. What do you want for
her
? You ever hear that old John Mayer song, ‘Love Is a Verb’?” He shakes his head. “Look it up some time. But do you hear what that means? Love isn’t just something you feel, Ben. I hate to sound like I’m Confucius or Yoda or some shit, but it’s just the plain facts. You like who Kylie is, and you want her. Okay, that’s all good and well, but so what? What are you going to
do
about it? Not to put too fine a point on it, or sound harsh, but you waited too long. Your reasons for waiting were admirable and respectable, and exactly what I would expect from a guy like you. But you lost your chance. Kylie’s in love with someone else, and I don’t see that changing. And even if, let’s say her and Oz don’t work out. Are you really gonna just wait around for that possibility? And if that were to happen, is that really how you’d want to get the girl? With her heart broken? On the rebound of pain? I know the feeling of rejection is fucking harsh, Ben. I do. Trust me on that shit. But having your heart broken when a relationship breaks down and ends, that’s even worse. You know what you had, and it was taken from you. It’s better to have loved and lost than never loved at all. Isn’t that how the quote goes?”

Ben shakes his head, swallowing the mouthful of beer he’d just taken. “Almost.” He takes a deep breath and then lifts his head, staring at the sky. “‘I hold it true, whate'er befall; I feel it when I sorrow most; ’tis better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all.’ That’s ‘In Memoriam A.H.H.’ by Tennyson.”
 

I’m impressed. “Damn, Ben. You can quote poetry?”

He shrugs, laughing. “Yeah. I like poetry. I get it from Mom, I think.”

I nod. “Pretty badass.” I pause to sip. “Well, see, sometimes I think that phrase is just complete horseshit. Losing love fucking blows and, yeah, you may have the memory of the time you had with that person, but you also have the absolute agony of having lost them. I’m not sure it’s an even trade.”
 

“Yeah, I wouldn’t know.” Ben’s voice is thick with bitterness.
 

I ignore that and keep going. “Getting back to my original point. Love is something you
do.
It’s active. You show it. If I relied on my feelings for Nell all the time, we’d have broken up a long time ago. We’ve gotten in some really bad arguments over the years. The kind where we’re both spitting mad at each other, can’t even look at each other. My
feelings
of love in those situations aren’t worth shit, because all I feel is wronged and pissed off and ready to walk away. But you know what keeps me from doing anything stupid? The
choice
to practice love.” I jab my finger into his arm as I emphasize the word. “The decision to ignore my feelings and focus on the fact that, even though I don’t
feel
the happy, fun, exciting emotions in that situation, I do love Nell and would do anything for her. Including apologizing for something I don’t agree that I did was wrong, or let her win an argument simply to get the peace back. Now, she’d get mad about what I just said, that I ‘let’ her win. And I don’t mean that in any kind of condescending sense, Ben. I just mean, fuck, whether I’m right or not, whether she’s right or not—diffuse the fight and apologize, or do whatever it takes to get back to where the feelings will do some good. And, in your case, you love Kylie, but what are you gonna do about it? Are you going to keep moping around, glaring at her, staring at her, getting mad when you see her and Oz together? Or are you going to make a choice to do what’s best for her?”

“Which means what?” Ben finishes his beer and sets the empty bottle into the empty square of the six-pack box. I do the same, and let him take a third.

I leave the last beer where it is, and try to find the right words for Ben. “You have to decide if you love her enough to let her go.”

“I’m
trying
to let her go, Colt! I don’t fucking know
how
!”

“No, Ben. You’re trying to
get over
her. Not the same thing.”

He gets up, stalks over to the creek, silent, thinking. “Whatever it takes to show her love, huh?”

I nod, even though he’s not looking at me. “Yep. Whatever it takes.”

“Walk away, you mean?”

“If that’s what it takes. No one wants you to…I dunno…
go
anywhere, but if the only way to move on and let her go, to let her have her own happiness, is to walk away from the situation, then so be it. And, honestly, sometimes, the only way past the hurt, the only way to really move on, is to put time and distance between you and the situation.” I stand up and move to stand beside him, clap him on the shoulder. “My daughter does care for you. She doesn’t want to cause you pain. She wants you to be happy. You were her best friend for a very long time, and she’s sad that she’s lost that. She’s said as much.”

Ben just nods, and I can tell he’s lost in thought. I walk away, lean against my truck, and watch a flock of starlings whorl in the distance.
 

“This sucks,” Ben says.

“Yeah.”

“Like, the only way I can think of to really truly walk away from the situation is just…leave Nashville. There’s nowhere here I can go that’s far enough away from her, from
them
. But where do I go?”

“Sometimes, Ben, there is no
where
. There’s just
go.
”
 

Ben laughs. “
Now
you sound like Yoda.”

“Trying, I am.”
 

He laughs again, and then lets out a long breath, rubbing the back of his head. “Thanks, Colt.”

I shrug. “What’s the point of getting old and going through a bunch of shit if you can’t pass on some wisdom every once in a while?”

We talk for a few more minutes, and then head back home. He’s quiet the whole way, but the silence is different. Less morose, less angry. When we’re back and parking in my garage, Ben thanks me again and heads across to his house. He doesn’t look back to see if Kylie and Oz are still on the porch, which I think is an improvement.
 

Nell meets me in the kitchen. “What’d you say to him?” She leans in for a kiss, then hangs on to my neck, standing on her tiptoes.

“I told him love was a verb, and that he had to let her go, if he really loved her.”

“John Mayer. Good choice.”
 

I laugh at the fact that she knew exactly which song I’d reference. “Yeah. The allusion was lost on him, but hey, it was worth a try.”

She goes flat on her feet and rests her head against my chest. “Do you think he’ll listen?”

I nod. “Yeah, I think he will.”

“Good.” She kisses my jaw. “I’m glad you talked to him. Someone needed to.”

“Where’d Oz and Kylie go off to?”
 

“Back over to his apartment.”

I frown. “I wish he lived in a safer neighborhood.”

“Me, too. But our choices are to let them move in together, which I know they’re already discussing, or let the situation stand as it is. I’m not comfortable with them spending time behind closed doors here.”

“Me, neither.”

Nell shrugs. “I have a feeling Oz is going to be getting his own apartment soon. Hopefully it’ll be a safer one.”

“Yeah, and Kylie will end up there as often as we let her.” I sigh. “Rock and a hard place.”

“Also known as ‘parenting,’” Nell quips.

I laugh. “Very true.”

She smiles up at me. “But, since the house is empty…” She slides her hands up under my shirt, and I grin down at her and let her peel my shirt off.

“Now
this
is a benefit to having an empty house,” I say.

EPILOGUE: There’s Only Go

Ben

I hand in my test paper and leave the lecture hall, step out into the sunlight, blinking as I slide my sunglasses on. That was my last final for the semester. Possibly my last final at Vanderbilt. I don’t know for sure. I don’t know anything for sure.
 

Well, that’s not entirely true. I know my heart is still cracking and crumbling under the weight of what I have to do. I know my truck is packed. Three duffel bags, five thousand dollars in cash and twice that in my bank account. A full tank of gas. No destination. No road map. I’m heading west, I know that much.
 

Except first I have three stops to make. First, my house. Give Mom a hug, tell her goodbye and not to worry. Then over to the stadium and say bye to Dad. They both know I’m leaving, and why. They weren’t real thrilled, obviously, but I convinced them this is what I have to do. I’ve promised to call every chance I get. Last stop? The recording studio downtown where Oz and Kylie are cutting tracks. Colt told me they were there. I have to say goodbye. I can’t just vanish on her.
 

I find a parking spot, walk a couple of blocks to the studio. I charm and flirt and smile my way past the receptionist and back to the booth where they’re playing. I step into the booth, say hi to the producer. Jerry, I think his name is. He holds up a hand for silence, so I bide my time. He punches a button, and the booth is filled with music, Kylie’s voice, Oz’s. Jerry slides the headphones down to rest on his neck.
 

A few more chords, and the song ends. Kylie and Oz haven’t seen me yet.
 

Then they do. Kylie’s eyes narrow. I wait, and I know she knows I want to talk to her.
 

“Let’s cut one more, Jerry,” Kylie says, never taking her eyes off me.

“Okay. What’cha got?” Jerry asks.

“I just wrote this one,” Kylie says. “I’m calling it ‘Not Your Me.’”

She shifts on the piano bench, touches the keys. Oz glances at me, then away to Kylie. He seems surprised, too, as if this wasn’t planned. When she sings, she stares at me, eyes sad, unblinking. Her voice is thick with emotion, lovely and surprising and perfect, just like her:

“
A lifetime of you and me

A lifetime of here we are

Day in day out of just be

Of talking free

Of easy and slow
 

But there have always been
 

Moments of what if

Moments of does he doesn’t he

Can we, could we, should we

Dismiss it, ignore it, pretend
 

I never had those thoughts

Put the wishes to an end

Live and breathe and move

Find a brand-new groove

Keep going and just be

You and me

Day in day out

You and me

Day in day out

And then like a flash flood

Like a sudden slide of mud

I’m in love with someone else

And you and me aren’t you and me

You’re you

And I’m someone else

You’re not you

And I’m still me

And who are we

Who are we

Where’s the we

We used to be

Discover does he doesn’t he

Has always been does he

Only I never knew

And the moments are too few

Too late

The time is gone

Long ago and long
 

And my heart is full of someone else

But you’re still you

I’m still me

There’s just no longer any we

Because your heart is full of me

But I’m not that me

Your me

I’m his me

And you want what can’t ever be

But you still look at me

As if all the we and all the what if and all the as if and all the used to be

Could ever add up to
 

A new you and me

And I don’t want this guilt

I don’t want this guilt

I don’t want you to wish

Don’t want you to keep hoping

Keep holding on and holding out

I want you to find your own someone else

Your own brand-new you and me

Your own fresh lifetime of here we are now

Day in day out

Of talking free

Easy and slow

I wish you could know

How much I miss you

How much I miss

The way we used to be

But god can’t you see

I’m no longer that girl

I’m not your me

I’m not your me.
”

I don’t deny the slicing ache in my heart. I accept it. It’s old news at this point. I let her see into me, let her see my hurt and my resignation.
 

Jerry glances at me, pushes a button, and gestures at me.
 

“Can I please have just five minutes alone with you, Kylie?” I ask.

She nods, slides off the piano bench. She stops by Oz, whispers in his ear, kisses him quickly. He nods, glances at me. I think he knows. I hope he does. I’m doing this for him, too. The guilt over having almost gotten him killed makes this all that much worse.
 

Kylie steps out of the recording booth, and I follow her outside, into the sunlight. We stand in an alley, dumpsters to either side of us. I put my back to a wall, wait for Kylie to quit pacing and face me.

“Ben, I don’t even know—”

“You don’t have to say anything,” I cut in over her. “Just listen. I’ve loved you for a long, long time. No, please, Kylie, just listen. You’re with Oz. I lost my chance. I get that. I hate it. It hurts. It fucking cuts me apart every single moment of every single day, is what it does.” I don’t bother to hide my emotions. “It makes me crazy. It should be you and me, not you and him. But I can’t change that. I know that. I really do. And…if I really do love you, then I wouldn’t want to change that. I’m just weak enough that I still
do
want you for myself, even though I know, I can fucking
see
that you’re happy with Oz. So good for you. Be happy.”