Love Will (54 page)

But to me you were the one

An apparition stood in front of me

My vision insufficient; the allure

Of her, an angel, perfect as she was

She’d never see the same in me, I’m sure

“Open. Come in.” Her voice rang clear that day

I spoke. She talked. I heard her dialect

She whispered once, then shouted out my name

She sounded like a song, in retrospect

You were mine to keep

Be someone else’s ideal

My sun would always rise and set 

With the image of your smile

You weren’t meant to be my standard

Sure everyone needs that person

To hold all others up to 

But to me you were the one

“I love you” was never easy for me

Is this really it for us? Say no

She’s incomparable–no other woman can be

She’s the best of everything I know

You were mine to keep

Be someone else’s ideal

My sun would always rise and set 

With the image of your smile

You weren’t meant to be my standard

Sure everyone needs that person

To hold all others up to 

But to me you were the one

“I love you, kid,” Jon says as I begin to drift off, the image of Shea still fresh in my mind. “Rest.”

Chapter 23

The show in Fort Collins is our last in Colorado. We have two days off in the state before we head to our next stop. I’m still planning to pay a visit to the asshole tomorrow. With Jon gone and Shea still absent, I guess I’ll be taking a pretty expensive cab ride.

“You’re comfortable here?” Damon asks me backstage. I’d settled into a nicely-cushioned chair and had propped my feet up on a busted amp, the same place I was sitting at rehearsal this morning.

“Perfectly fine.”

“
Horizon’s
fifth on the set list.”

I give him a thumbs up and look to my right to see my acoustic on the stand, ready to go. The band hadn’t played the song since I’d been benched because Bradley couldn’t master the chord progressions, but we’ve been working on it all week. He’s good enough to back me up today, and I feel well enough to play. I think I could have played the show tonight if I just limited my movement, but Damon wanted to give me one more day off.

Even though Bradley struggled with our newer songs, he’s come a long way this week. I think he’ll be a decent replacement for me. He doesn’t write music, but his talent is evident now that his confidence issues are behind us.

He loves to read, so we’ve gotten along really well, discussing our favorite books. I don’t mind having a fellow nerd on the bus.

Alex hands me a set of earplugs just before the band starts. “You good?” he asks me.

“Great.”

He shakes my hand and walks off, returning thirty seconds later with my favorite brand of bottled water. I really like our new manager, too. I think Ben purposefully avoided the brand of water I liked just because he wanted to be a dick. Alex takes care of all of us, though. He’s an older guy with years of experience, and it shows. I think Ben was fine when Damon was up-and-coming, but he’s a genuine star now. He deserves a professional.

I watch my best friend through the break in the curtain, admiring just how good he is and how far we’ve both come. I’ll admit, though, I knew he was going to be somebody from the first time we ever performed together. I truly hope this tour isn’t the last one I go on with him. I’d hate for this to be it. I just feel like we have so much more to do together. I guess this is what my life is going to be about: balance. Finding balance between everything I’m passionate about and everyone I love.

It won’t be as difficult now as it would have been, say, a week ago. It’s not that I love her any less. I don’t. It’s just that I don’t guess she’s going to be a part of my life, moving forward, and I don’t have any say in it.
That
pisses me off. I always should have had a say. Had the tables been turned, I would have given her a chance to explain. I’ve been thinking about that a lot over the past twenty-four hours. Trying to put myself in
her
shoes.

If it was
her
with the reputation.

Her
with the questionable past.

Her
with the occupation known for philandering.

Her
with the guy’s number that she wasn’t completely honest about.

Or at least forthcoming with before all hell broke loose.

And all things considered, I would have wanted an explanation. I would have
needed
one. I would have stood there, frozen, with my heart bleeding out, until she gave me every last detail of why she had that guy’s number. I’d want to know how she spent her time with him. How they met. How they parted. I’d have to know all of that to make sure the love I felt for her was greater than any obstacle that came between us. I felt very certain–regardless of what she told me–that it was. Because I soared when I was with her. I felt boundless; the way I loved, it was limitless.

So how the
fuck
could she just walk away without even asking a single question?

“You ready?” Alex asks me, my guitar staring me in the face. I’d moped my way through the first three and a half songs, but at least it put me in the right mindset for
Horizon
.

I must not have deserved her love, and it does make me question if I deserve love at all.

“More than ready,” I say, standing up and taking a few deep breaths to stretch out my lungs and ribs. My body’s still sore, but some hefty ibuprofen is enough to quell most of the pain. It doesn’t help me sleep, but nothing really has been, anyway.

“Go kill ‘em.” He follows me through the curtains to the opposite side of the stage and sets a cushioned bar stool down in front of Bradley. Two sound guys are adjusting two mic stands in front of the stool as I take a seat and strum my guitar a few times. The crowd erupts in screams and applause, bringing an involuntary smile to my lips.
That feels nice
.

“Look who decided to join us…” Damon says slowly into the microphone. Another deafening chorus of shouts echoes throughout the club. “You guys know Will, yeah?”

“Yeah!!!”

“He was out stargazing in Denver and got mauled by a bear… I mean… it was a little baby bear… a plush one, actually. Truth be known, a girl beat him with a stuffed animal after a show.”

I nod my head, laughing with the crowd.

“You learn your lesson?”

“Don’t hit on girls who still play with toys?” I ask him.

“
Certain
toys are fine,” he says, matter of fact, and all the women squeal.

“That was a given,” I agree, and they scream even louder. When the noise level dies down, I look back at my best friend. “Why are you getting them all worked up, man? Aren’t we bringing it down here?”

“Yeah, yeah… I guess we are… have you guys heard this lovely little ballad that Will wrote?”

I smile as the audience responds accordingly.

“We’re gonna play a special version of that tonight with Bradley here backing us up. Here’s
Where Your Horizon Meets Mine.
”

As I play the song tonight, I remember when Shea put me on the spot and asked me to play it for her the second day I went to her restaurant. I close my eyes to block out my surroundings, focusing on that night and on her, feeling especially morose tonight when I can remember how much hope and promise I had back then. I hadn’t even kissed her yet. I’d wanted to.

She sat on the couch and wept while I sang the depressing song to her. I couldn’t watch her because her sadness made me want to cry, too. I remember wanting to find that connection with someone, and I’ve since found it.

I got a standing ovation when I was finished in the restaurant that night. Shea had said she hoped I’d never have to live through loss like I wrote about in the song. Sure, in the song, the girl chooses to end her life.

In reality, my girl chose to end the relationship. It’s still torturous. Either way, the girl chooses to leave the guy in a world where she doesn’t exist, and for that, the pain is still harsh and tangible and
so
unfair. I never had a say. I deserve to have a say.

Tears are rolling down my cheeks by the time we get to the bridge, and I can’t sing the harmonies anymore thanks to the lump that’s blocking my airways. I’m glad Peron’s got me covered. I keep my head tilted toward my guitar, pretending to focus on the chords. Being bent over like this is killing my ribs, but in truth, I really don’t want a crowd of a thousand people to see me crying–regardless of the fact that I know I’m not alone by the amount of sniffles I hear amid the near-silence of the room.

I do love that about this song. They’re enraptured. Totally swept up in the story. No one makes a sound… in fact, I always wonder who’ll be the brave person to break the silence, and will it be applause, or a general scream, or maybe someone will shout actual words?

So when the song ends tonight, we all wait for someone in the audience to make the next move. Seconds go by. I’m taking breaths–shallow ones, because I’m in pretty serious pain–trying to compose myself and trying to forget about–

“I love you, Will!”

My eyes open immediately, but are still cast downward toward the stage.

I’ve never heard those exact words yelled in that exact manner before, but I have heard my name shouted just like that many times, in that voice, with that slight Minnesotan accent. I struggle to get enough oxygen in my system to keep up with my pounding heart. I feel Damon’s arm around my shoulders.

“She’s at four o’clock. Right in front of the stage. We’ll see you in the morning,” he shouts in my ear. It’s the only way I’d hear him over the now-boisterous crowd, because once Shea pronounced her love for me, so, too, did the rest of the audience.

Keeping my head low, I glance in that general direction and see her there, mascara trails streaming down her face and her hands covering her mouth. I’m sure it’s probably shocking for her to see me like this. My eyes locked with hers, I stare at her until the noise starts to die down. It’s my cue to leave the stage so the band can continue on with the concert.

“Let’s hear it one last time for Will Scott!” Damon says. “Looking forward to having him back with us full time next week.”

I stand up and feebly take a bow, directing the attention back to my best friend. I walk off the stage and wait for Alex to retrieve the barstool before approaching him. “Hey, man. There’s a beautiful woman on the front row that I need you to rescue from the crowd. She’s in a pale pink puffy coat and a black and white striped cap. You can’t miss her.”

“And what would you like me to do with her?”

“Bring her to me,” I tell him curiously.

“What if she doesn’t want to come?”

“Oh,” I say, laughing. I guess that’s a fair thing to assume. “That’s my estranged girlfriend. Shea? The one who walked out on me the other day? I’m pretty sure she’s here to see me.”

“Oh! That’s great! Yeah, I’ll be right back!”

Another stagehand carefully puts my guitar away for me as I pace around behind the curtain, waiting to catch another glimpse of her. The second I see her, I push past the pain and walk swiftly to hold her in my arms. I finish wiping the makeup from her cheeks, but my impatient mouth can’t wait to touch her glossy lips. I don’t even give her a chance to inspect my eye, which I can tell she was about to do with her outstretched fingers. They end up in my hair, grasping it as we steal each other’s air in the most corybantic kiss I’ve ever had. My desperation and gratitude have collided with the purity of my love for her. Definitely an overwhelming moment for me that leaves me panting even more than I normally do when we break apart.