by Shey Stahl
I didn’t care what anyone thought. All I cared about was my pain and I wasn’t going to do a damn duet with my ex-girlfriend. Imagine if Bentley heard that. No goddamn way. She’d think I was with her, and as far as I was concerned, I needed to remain single. She needed to know I was waiting for her and “Everlasting Light” was the perfect way to do it. I knew it’d take more than a song to prove my love for her, but it was a start.
Right?
Either that or she’d think I was a lunatic.
I was scared it wouldn’t work. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to believe it either, like I said, I knew she felt that way, but I was scared. Scared of hurting her and scared of her hurting me.
David stared at me in confusion. “What about this other song you told me about, ‘Pinky Swear’?”
“I want to add that one to my tour. I don’t want to record it for the album.”
“Is ‘Everlasting Light’ one you think can work with the rest of the album?” I nodded and David pinched the bridge of his nose, his elbows resting on his dark cherry wood desk. “It sounds fine. I’m not going to try to understand what you’re going through, Beau, but we can’t keep messing with it.”
“Then let me add ‘Everlasting Light.’”
Drawing in a heavy breath, his chest puffed out, and a subtle shake to his head as he adjusted his tie. “You have studio time today. I want to hear a rough cut of this song tonight.”
Nodding, I was out the door immediately before he could give me any other stipulations.
Miles met me at the studio that afternoon. He was with me all the time and was now working on setting up his own studio, so being around Nashville was right up his alley.
“What are you doing?” he asked when he heard a few takes.
“What are you talking about?” We were taking a break, me drinking water and looking over the upcoming tour schedule, and him eating a hamburger getting ketchup all over the place.
“Well, the way I see it, you’re hoping this song will make her see that you still love her. That’s your plan, right?”
“It’s a plan.” I smiled weakly. “Think it’ll work?”
“Well,” he chewed slowly for a minute, then wiped his mouth with a napkin, “it’s plan A, and you still have twenty-five more letters in the alphabet if that one doesn’t work. You got time.”
The thing was, I didn’t feel like I had time. I needed her to see I couldn’t do this without her. It had already been too long as far as I was concerned.
Sometimes I wished Beau would have cheated on me, because then I would have had a reason to have pushed him away, instead of this empty space I now had from not having him in my life.
Or Dixie…
How could it be I had both, for such a short time, but yet they both affected me so much I didn’t feel like living, or going on was worth it anymore.
As I stared up at the blue-lit, early-morning sky, I prayed for closure after another sleepless night. I breathed in deep and reached for the notebook beside me.
I still wrote to Dixie at least once a week. And every time I returned the next day, the letter was gone. I knew it was crazy to think she was taking them, but I felt crazy. I did.
Summer had arrived, and with it, the intensity of the heat, all reminders of Beau and that weekend that changed my entire life.
Somedays, I felt the pain more than others. It could be numbing and hopeless, like the last thing I wanted to do was get out of bed. Those were the worst, but I still got up.
Somedays, I would sit on the floor and stare up at the ceiling, whispering, begging, pleading with God to bring her back, and wishing Beau was there with me.
Somedays, I would be fine and the day was great. I would go throughout it and be okay. Not because I didn’t miss her, but because I had strength that day.
Somedays, it didn’t matter. Nothing did. Everything about life just fucking sucked and I wanted to give up.
I also knew it didn’t matter how many letters I wrote her, and how many disappeared, nothing would bring her back.
A million tears wouldn’t either, because I would know, I had shed about that many.
“You’re not crazy,” Dr. Tori told me when I was in her office, telling her about my letters disappearing.
She told me that every week because I asked her every week. I didn’t know if I believed her, because I trusted my letters I was placing on my daughter’s headstone were being delivered to heaven. I also bet it was her job to tell me I wasn’t crazy. Probably some suicide prevention law. Don’t tell your grieving patients they’re crazy when they think their dead daughter is stealing their letters.
I bet it was in their textbooks in school.
If that didn’t spell out crazy, I wasn’t sure what would.
It was crazy the things I did to feel pain too.
Anything but the pain in my chest.
I would fill the bathtub full of scalding hot water, submerge myself in it, hoping the feeling of my skin burning would make me feel something.
It didn’t.
I was still left with the pain.
Life seemed like a blur to me, every face forgettable but one, and at times, it seemed fitting.
I was in the studio, listening to the final cut of my album, biting my nails when “Everlasting Light” came on. It was the first time I’d heard it like this. You never knew how it would turn out when you’re in the studio, but I had to say, it was pretty fucking amazing.
“Beau.” David shook his head, breaking the silence in the room. “That is one of the best songs I’ve ever heard. Wow, you really put your heart into this one.”
I put my life into this one.
It was a song about Bentley, for her, yes, but the way I sang it had more to do with me and everything I was. It was everything I had been through recently with the loss of Dixie, and well, Bentley too.
Struggling to keep it together, I smiled and nodded.
Though I had some fear of how it would be received, I knew it was great because of what I put into it.
The song was rough, raw, voice breaking, but it was fucking perfect the way it was because it was me.
And then came the letdown I knew would follow. “While this is good, I think ‘Tail Lights’ should be the demo, though.”
“No.” I shook my head. “First single needs to be ‘Everlasting Light.’” I had arranged all of this ahead of time. Why he wanted to change it now didn’t make a lot of sense to me.
“I think—”
“No, David.” I stood, ready to walk out. “The first song released will be ‘Everlasting Light.’. You either give me what I asked for, or I don’t sign.”
Over the past few months, David had put up with a lot of crap from me, but I wasn’t backing down. This song needed to be the single.
“I just don’t see how that song is good for a demo,” he explained, trying to make me understand. “We need something upbeat.”
I snorted, uninterested in what they wanted. This song wasn’t about them, or anyone else. It was about her. “I don’t give a shit. It’s the song I want.”
“It’s rough.”
“It’s me.”
“I’ll do what I can.” David knew arguing with me wouldn’t get him anywhere. “I understand you’re trying to get your girl back, and this is your way, but you really need to start thinking about what it is you want, music or love. In this business, sometimes there’s not room for both.”
He had a point. I’d give him that much. It still wasn’t enough to change my mind.
“You do it, or I walk.” I knew David and Colt Records was my chance at making it, but if they were going to start changing shit on me now, how could I trust them later on when there was more money on the line?
David frowned. “I told you, Beau, I’ll see what I can do.”
In the end, they apparently saw it my way and “Everlasting Light” was released as my first single.
I mailed a copy of the CD to Bentley based on the address Blain
e gave me and wrote:
THE DAY my record was released during the last week in June, I started my tour.
I had worked for the last six years to get here, doing this, and it wasn’t anything like I thought it would be. It felt wrong, like something was missing.
At night, even after I started my tour, when I was alone and forced to deal with the loneliness I felt, everyone tried to intervene. Probably because I was drinking so much.
Even Payton, who was an opening act for me said something. I should have been excited to have my own tour—it was my fucking dream for as long as I could remember—but now all I could think about was Bentley and the life I left behind for this. She may have left me, but I felt like it was the other way around. My other problem was I refused to play “Everlasting Light” on tour, a song I made them put out as my first single and was nearing that number one spot on the Billboard 100. If it hadn’t been for the sold-out shows, I was sure the record company would have had something to say about that.
It wasn’t my idea to have Payton on tour, but my manager’s. I wanted to fire him for thinking it would be a good idea. For weeks, she’d been trying to get me alone. It was subtle at first and then downright blatant.
So when I heard the knock on my door after the show in Pittsburgh, I knew it would be Payton. She figured, and though I couldn't blame her, being on tour with me that we could pick up where we left off. It was why I didn’t want her as my opening act. It was why I refused to do a duet with her.
No way did I want her thinking we’d pick up where we ended.
I tried to keep my thoughts focused on the tour and making sure everything was perfect. Last thing I wanted was for her to think there would be a chance for us.
There would never be anyone else for me. Only Bentley.
“Hey,” I said, trying to offer her a smile, my cheek pressing into the doorframe. “What are you doing here?”
“You…look lonely.” She reached up to touch my face, only I gathered her hands in mine and pushed away from her.
Not only did I not want this, Miles and Wade would be back any minute with dinner.
I was lonely, but there was nothing she could provide. No matter how hard I poured myself into anything, it never compared to the way I felt with Bentley. Even sex. Though I hadn’t been with anyone since her, no one would compare.
I never liked one night stands and there was no way I was going back to that. Never saw the appeal, really. Sex was supposed to relax you, but any time I was with someone, for one night, I felt even more agitated and unsatisfied.
Sure, the during part was good, as was the coming part, but the after never left me sated. It was like I was on the edge, never quite experiencing all it had to offer.
There was times I even felt like crying, like somehow it’d destroyed a part of my defense and left me vulnerable, gutted and depressed.
Maybe it was because I was a man, but I wanted to feel something. As I looked at Payton, my stare dropped to her chest and then lower to her curves hidden behind a tight pink tank top and painted on jeans.
When she noticed my stare dropped, Payton wasn’t going to give me a moment of time to reconsider and was pushing me inside the room and onto the bed.
It felt good. Physical contact had a way of reminding a person how badly they wanted sex.
When I groaned, ready to push her away, Payton shook her head and pushed against my chest, making me lay back on the bed. “Don’t turn me down, Beau.” Her breath blew over me, whispering and needing something she thought I could provide for her.
Flat on my back, she straddled me, her hips lining up with mine. Probably because it had been a while, but I was hard at the slightest bit of contact and she knew it.
“You missed me, didn’t you, Beau?” Her hips rocked against mine. “I know you want me. What we have will never fade.”
I didn’t say anything.
I don’t want you.
I want Bentley.
Her eyes searched mine, trying to decide if I was going to deny her and they saw a drowning man, I was sure of it.
My head fell back against the mattress, my hands scrubbing down my face, remembering Bentley and the fact that, despite her not being with me, I hadn’t gotten over her.
I didn’t think I needed to explain this to Payton. I didn’t need to explain it to anyone.
Ripping my hands from my face, Payton’s kiss was sudden, capturing my mouth with an intensity I hadn’t felt in a long time.
At first, I returned the kiss, franticly even, as if just the feel of her mouth excited me and pushed me forward.
Grabbing her by the hips, I rolled her over, pressing my weight into her. As Payton bucked her hips into me, pleasure shot through my entire body just at having the contact down there. My body shook from the need to take this further, but I was reluctant.
Payton arched her back into me, angling her pelvis again and rocking with a little more force this time, slow, with a grinding motion I found incredibly satisfying.
In that moment, I didn’t care who was beneath me, just that I wanted it. I wanted sex in the worst way. Maybe then I could feel something.
Only what I felt was a memory of a girl I used to know.
He gave me light that night.
He gave me everlasting light.
Reality came fucking crashing over me as I heard the rain hitting the window outside my hotel room. It was a sudden flash of Bentley in the tent, and then again in my truck after Dixie…
Stop! Don’t do this with her.
“Payton,” I jerked back, gasping and sitting up on my knees. “I can’t.”
Her face fell with my words. “Why not?”
“Because a lot has changed since me and you.”
Everything has changed.
“I thought she broke up with you.”
“She did…” I shook my head moving from the bed to create more distance between us. “But it doesn't change the fact that I love her.”
And then her face was crushed, her expression shifting from sadness to annoyance because our love never compared to this, what I had now, or had with Bentley. If I could deny Payton now, maybe she’d finally understand.
“Fine,” she huffed, adjusting her shirt I’d somehow had up around her breasts. “Take me to have a beer at least.”
Miles and Wade walked in, lost in conversation and then looking from Payton to me, and then back to Payton.
Miles grinned, winking at her. “Me next?”
Payton snorted, rolling her eyes as she punched him in the stomach. “You’re such a pig.”
I nodded to the door, shaking my head at them. “Let’s go to the bar downstairs.”
No way was I drinking with Payton alone in fear of how that would be taken.
OVER THE YEARS, Payton and I had remained civil for the most part. I couldn’t help but feel a little bad about the way everything had worked out between us, because I cheated on her.
I shouldn’t have a problem talking to her either. The thing was, I couldn’t talk about this.
I didn’t want to talk. It was just the topic of how I was doing. “So talk to me. Tell me what happened.”
I shrugged my shoulders and looked over at her, and then back to my half-empty glass.
Payton sighed, running her fingers over the condensation forming on her glass, drops of water dripping onto the coaster in the process. “Did you…cheat on her?”
“No.” I snorted, knowing damn well she was going to throw that in my face. Why wouldn’t she?
“Explain then.”
I shook my head. How could I explain something I didn’t understand myself?
Disappointment washed over me, a twinge of pain rippling in my veins. “I wasn’t there for her when she needed me the most.”
It went down to that, it really did.
“She hasn’t been there for you, either.”
Chuckling at the irony of this, I sipped my beer. “Thanks, but don’t make it about her.” I set the glass
back down. “If you want to talk, we can, but not about Bentley.”
Shifting my eyes to hers, she gave me an odd look and then smiled weakly. “Fair enough. But…can I ask you one question?”
“What?”
“Why her?”
Why her? Hell, even I didn’t know the answer to that. If I did, maybe then I could figure out why, even after we broke up, I couldn’t move on. But I couldn’t.
“I don’t know the answer to that.”
I wasn’t lying. I didn’t. All I knew was my heart was taken that first night when this clumsy girl fell into my lap and there was no way I was getting it back from her.
IT WAS EARLY July and the last place I should have been was at a bar outside Talladega, contemplating going to Bentley’s apartment and begging her to talk to me, to give me an answer.
It was everything I could do not to bang down her fucking door and demand she hear me out, give me another chance.
The record company had me scheduled to sing the National Anthem at the NASCAR race in Talladega. Of course, I jumped at the opportunity.
“We need to get you laid,” Wade said beside me, as if this was something he’d finally decided on.
I couldn’t even look at him. “Why is that your answer for everything?”
“Because sex fixes everything.”
“Or it complicates it.” I took a drink of my beer. “How’d that work out for you when your ex-wife left you?”
He sighed, heavily. “You’re depressing.”
“You’re a bad influence.” Retrieving his phone from his pocket, he strolled through his Twitter feed. “Did you look at the Billboard Top 100?”
I couldn’t hide my smile. “No, but David sent me a message at midnight last night when it hit number one. It’s pretty cool.”
It felt rewarding to see her song topping the charts. Now if only she’d listen to the damn thing.
Since we were so close to Mountain Brook, I wanted to pull a John Cusack 1989 Say Anything move and stand outside her room with a boom box. Or do one better and stand outside in the pouring rain with my guitar like the lovesick lunatic I’d become until she heard the song.