A Love Ballad: A Fictional Memoir (Song for You Book 3)

by Megan Rivers

  He smiled and pushed himself out of the car. “See you tonight?” he said, winking.

  There's the Galvin I know. “If not sooner.” I wiggled my eyebrows.

  Then I watched him go off into the studio, hoping he found the best in anything that happened today. I double checked to make sure my phone was not on silent and then made my way to Meadow's townhouse.

  Meadow and I planned to spend the day at Disneyland. I was constantly checking my phone despite Meadow's eye rolling. “You're not his mother,” she said, eating an ice cream cone as we walked around Cinderella's castle. “It's not your job to check on him and rub his back.”

  Stopping her with a jerk of her arm, she could tell I was a bit irked with her behavior towards him. It had happened all morning and I finally had had enough. I nearly shot back. “No, Meadow. I'm not his mother, but I am his partner. We are a team. He's got my back and I've got his. You're my sister. I get it; you're looking out for me, but you have to let go. I know you haven't forgiven him, but don't take it out on me. I love him and you need to understand that sometimes that means not always agreeing with you.”

  Losing my appetite with the words that tumbled out, I threw my half-eaten Mickey Mouse popsicle into the trash can next to us. When I met Meadow's eyes, fear and sorrow swam between them.

  “Geez, Stie, I'm sorry.” It was at this moment that I felt a twinge of guilt when her whole persona deflated as she looked down at her feet. “I was out of line. I'm just having a hard time letting go of what he did.”

  I sighed, biting my thumb nail. “Maybe if you spent more time with him you'd see.”

  “Maybe,” she said, shrugging her shoulders. Her eyes met mine and they were glassy with regret. “I'm really sorry, Stie.”

  “Meadow, it's okay. We're not always going to agree on everything. I know it came from a good place. Now stop sulking, this is the happiest place in the world.” I elbowed her playfully. “Buy me some cheese fries and ride the Pirates of the Caribbean with me. I'll call it even.”

  “Can we get matching face paints?” she asked, raising her eyebrows. She reminded me of a little kid.

  She knew how much I hated make up, sunblock—anything on my face—but I relented. “Okay. But minimal coverage only!” Meadow smiled triumphantly and pulled me further into the park.

  After a truckload of junk food, meeting Cruella DeVille (Meadow's favorite character), and riding nearly every attraction, the day grew long and the sun hung low in the western sky. We were trying to find a primo spot to watch the night parade when my phone whistled that I had a text message.

  Galvin. Finally. After a dozen unanswered texts I sent him, I was becoming anxious. Swing by in about an hour? He wrote, using a happy face emoji. He never used emojis. I took it as a good sign.

  You got it! I'll have Meadow in tow. I typed back as music signaled that the parade was starting.

  Perfect, he responded with a winky face emoji.

  So, an hour later I found myself walking into the recording studio, with Meadow—our eyes painted like sparkly butterflies, and wearing matching red and black “Tweedle Dee” and “Tweedle Dum” tank tops. Meadow was also sporting a pink, glitter encrusted cone shaped princess hat that had tulle trailing from the top and down her back while I had on a pair of plain black mouse ears with “Stie” embroidered in the back with yellow thread. We were also eating cotton candy out of a large plastic bag. We were a sight.

  Entering the control room, there was a glass window where we could see Galvin and Aaron in the studio live room. When Galvin looked up, I waved and flashed him a smile.

  We couldn't hear anything from the control room, but I could tell Galvin let out a boisterous laugh because I could see his both rows of teeth and how his cheeks scrunched up his eyes as he tilted his head back and then hung it down, over his guitar, his body shaking in laughter. Aaron tried to hide his laugh by looking down and avoiding our gaze, but the sight of us was too comical, apparently.

  “Oh my god, Stie. That's Aaron Young,” Meadow said, jabbing me in the side. “Aaron. Freaking. Young.”

  “Yeah,” I said, giving her a look like it was common knowledge.

  She put her tuft of cotton candy back in the bag and put her hand up to her curly hair which was now windswept and frizzy. Galvin and Aaron walked into the control room, trying to reign in their amusement. Galvin kissed me on my sparkly purple cheek and asked, “So, you had fun?”

  “Oh, tons.” He still couldn't wipe the smirk from his face and I didn't mind. I was happy that he was happy.

  “Aaron, this is Christie,” Galvin said, putting an arm around my waist.

  “Ah, the infamous,” Aaron said, lifting his eyebrows and taking my hand. His black square framed glasses slightly slipped down his long but somewhat bulbous nose. “It's nice to meet you.”

  “You too,” I smiled, feeling the warmth of Galvin's beside me. “Did you get a lot done today?”

  He scratched the scruff on his chin and was about to answer when Meadow cleared her throat and rocked up on her toes. I suppressed an eye roll. “Sorry,” I interjected. “This is my sister, Meadow,” I said, motioning to my left.

  “Hello,” she squeaked meekly.

  Aaron's chocolate brown hair, which was swept to one side of his head, fell forward a bit. He jerked his head slightly so that it was out of his eyes and I swear I heard Meadow squeak. “Ah, princess,” he said, bowing slightly, referring to her hat piece, and taking her hand. “It is a pleasure.”

  I exchanged a look with Galvin, waiting for a classic Meadow response, but none came. When I turned in her direction, I saw the slightest shade of pink in her face. “Meadow is in the music business,” I offered a talking point, but Meadow just smiled. Neither looked away from each other. “She works for McKellar...”

  “Would you like a tour?” he asked Meadow, both of them still locked in their own world.

  She only nodded as he took her hand and led her into the studio, leaving Galvin and I flabbergasted in the control room. “What was that?” I asked Galvin.

  He raised his eyebrows and smirked. We watched them through the window as she took off her crown and he put a pair of headphones on her head. “I spent all day with him,” Galvin said, kissing the top of my head. “And he is the same amount of awkward/eccentric as Meadow. They are perfect for each other.”

  I clicked my tongue, impressed. “Sneaky, sneaky,” I sang through my teeth. Turning back, I watched Meadow and Aaron for a few more moments before I said, “It might be too early to say this,” I said, watching her smile and laugh, holding the headphones on her head as Aaron animatedly talked, “but I think introducing her to Aaron, all is forgiven between you too.”

  Galvin smiled and held me closer. He was happy.

  Over the course of the following two days, Meadow was on me like white on rice, dropping subtle hints about having to go to the studio, or checking in on Galvin, or surprising “Galvin” with lunch. “You said I should spend more time with him,” she would argue, giving me her big puppy dog eyes. I gave in every time, pretending not to know the real reason why she was so keen on spending time with “Galvin” all of a sudden.

  When Aaron and Galvin finished in the recording studio, he and I drove down to San Diego to spend a night at the beach to decompress before heading back to New York. We wanted to spend a day on just us. When we returned to L.A. the following morning, Meadow was in a tizzy about the fact she was supposed to go on a date with Aaron that Friday.

  The week flew by all too quickly. In the blink of an eye Galvin and I found ourselves driving back to the airport. “Each time we vacation in California, it gets better and better,” I mused, leaning my head against the headrest and soaking in the words of the appropriate “California Dreamin'” lyrics playing over the radio.

  Galvin glanced at me with a smile. “It does,” he agreed, grabbing my hand and giving it a squeeze. Nothing felt more “at home” than that moment in car, holding hands and dreamily reflecting on the memo
ries we made.

  XX.

  Bronze & Sun-Burned Circles

  “Thinking Out Loud” – Ed Sheeran

  For the next two years Galvin and I happily traipsed through our life. After his work with Aaron Young went gold, it gave him the confidence boost to sing again, often flying to L.A. for a few days, or meeting someone in town. He collaborated with Colbie Callait, Adele, Fleetwood Mac, Michael Buble, and even Paul McCartney (much to Trey's admiration) with favorable success. We also began to set up the non-profit Art of Song, which brought music and art programs back into schools that couldn't afford to keep those programs in the curriculum.

  Then, in January 2015, we made the decision to move in together. It was a hard choice to make, but we were always together anyway, in one apartment or the other.

  In mid-January, when the winds were bitter and the weather unforgiving, I was living among boxes, most of my life packaged. There was so much history in that studio apartment in Brooklyn. I went from having nothing to having everything in there. I shared it with Meadow and lived there with Antony. But it was time to move on. Leaving Brooklyn behind was a lesson in faith, a sign that I trusted the strength in our relationship. When the movers took the last of the boxes, and I sat there with slumped shoulders, looking at empty walls. My thoughts drifted back to my mother and our old apartment.

  Galvin walked in, pink in the face and had worked up a sweat helping carry boxes. He saw my hesitation and wrapped his arms around me from behind. He kissed my ear. “Are you sure you're ready for this?” he asked.

  I knew I had to close this chapter of my life before I could move on, but all those memories... I wanted to bottle them up.

  Turning to face him, I looked into his surging green eyes. “One hundred percent.” I looked down at his chest, my soul heavy. “It's just that after moving so much when I was younger, stuffing everything I owned into three suitcases, I...”

  “Wanted something permanent?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

  I nodded. “This is scary for me.”

  He kissed my forehead. “Would it help if I sang 'Baby, It's Cold Outside'?” he joked.

  A smile stretched across my face. “I'm not that desperate,” I said, rolling my eyes.

  It grew quiet again and I laid my head on his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breathing. “We're in this together,” he said, putting a hand on my head, holding me closer. And that, readers, is the mantra of our life together.

  Late that spring, in May 2015, I graduated with my Master's degree in Art History. I also had to attend a conference in Boston for work, so Galvin and I decided to make it an extended trip and stayed on Cape Cod for the weekend, renting a house in Yarmouth, on Lewis Bay.

  The morning we left town, I rented a small car and when I picked up Galvin outside our apartment, he exclaimed, “Seriously? This car fits on my keychain!”

  “Ha ha,” I said from the driver's window. “This thing gets 41 miles to the gallon, thankyouverymuch. I'm going to save so much money on gas.”

  He bent down to look at me through the window, his duffle bag slightly shifting off his shoulder. “Isn't work reimbursing you for expenses?”

  Good point. “Hmm. Well, I'm doing my part for planet earth. Are you getting in?”

  “That depends, do you have a shrink ray?” He tilted his head and lifted an eyebrow to exaggerate his question.

  I gave him the stink eye then jumped into the passenger seat.

  As we began our journey he put his sunglasses on and asked, “So what's the plan for this weekend?”

  Constantly checking my mirrors, I said, “We should make it there by five. I was thinking we could do dinner?” I glanced at him for his input and he nodded. “Then Thursday my day is full. The conference should be over by one o'clock on Friday. Then I want to drive down to Cape Cod—“

  “We have all day Saturday, right?” he asked, trying to act nonchalantly.

  “Yes. I want to go whale-watching. Then we come back on Sunday.” I glanced at the GPS on the dashboard then turned on my turn signal to merge onto the interstate.

  Galvin struggled to find enough leg room then precariously stuffed his bag into the backseat. “I can't wait!”

  After my conference was over Friday afternoon, Galvin drove the nearly two hour drive to the Cape—complaining only minimally about how cramped it was for his six foot plus frame. The metallic voice on the GPS led us to a quaint little gray house with blue shudders and white trim. The car tires crunched on the gravel in the small drive way. Pink and white flowers bloomed amongst the green bush surrounding the weather-beaten, rustic ranch rail fence and pale pink flowers grew in the window boxes just below the two visible windows.. “Oh, this is the most perfect little place,” I declared, opening the car door, hardly waiting to explore.

  The air smelled salty and clear—maybe a little fishy (literally)—and I took a deep breath. Galvin popped the hatchback, ready to grab our suitcases. I pulled his hand and said, “We'll get them later, let's check it out!” Unlike me, he was used to renting houses and staying in new places. I, on the other hand, was more excited than most adults would have been.

  When we walked in, the house was bright from the sun coming through the windows, despite the late afternoon hour. Wicker furniture hovered around a brick fireplace and an old map of Cape Cod (made to look circa 1800) was framed and hung on the wood paneled wall. Outside the small kitchen was a brick patio with metal framed furniture, a wooden outdoor shower, and a hammock tucked in among the greenery. “Oh, if I didn't love the city so much, I'd want to live here!” I said, carefully sitting on the hammock.

  Galvin smiled at me, enjoying watching me act like a kid on Christmas. “Maybe one day,” he mused.

  He saddled up next to me as we swung back and forth. “Hey,” he said, after a little while, when the fireflies started coming out. “I hear girls like long romantic walks on the beach... in the moonlight.” He wiggled his eyebrows and I couldn't help but laugh. Taking me by the hand, he pulled me up and we walked along the beach until we were too tired to think.

  The next day we went whale-watching. We saw nothing but the beauty of the horizon as it meets the open sea. When we returned to Yarmouth, we spent most of the day at the beach, sun bathing, swimming, reading, sketching, and talking. We had packed a picnic of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, barbecue potato chips, watermelon slices and root beer. We happily and contently spent the day together with the sound of the waves rhythmically recording our time.

  When the sun sunk low in the sky, we walked the quarter of the mile it took to get back to our little house, hand in hand. “I've got sand everywhere,” I stated, trying to run my fingers through my salted, wind swept hair. “Do you mind if I take a shower before we eat?” I asked, stepping through the front door.

  Galvin carried the bag that carried our beach picnic supplies and it slid down his shoulder slightly as he held the door open. He was in his blue board shorts and a white t-shirt. He definitely got a tan from our day in the sun, while I couldn't apply enough sunblock and still felt the back of my legs burning. His hair stood up in different directions, his skin glowing, as he shook his hand like it was no big deal. “Take your time. I'll whip up something for dinner.”

  I put my hand on his shoulder for leverage, leaned up on my toes and kissed his cheek before heading down the hallway.

  It must have been forty minutes later when the hot water started to get low and I emerged from the seashell themed bathroom. My wet hair hung down and cooled my sun burned shoulders as I changed into a light gray cotton dress; the coolness of the evening air relieving my sun-kissed cheeks.

  One of Galvin's beloved 1940 crooners played on the iPod dock on the kitchen counter. The air was spiced with the scent of fajitas and the countertops were messy with avocado skins, bits of tomato, and the skeletons of de-juiced limes. Guacamole! Yum!

  On the hunt for my favorite appetizer, I stepped out onto the patio where fairy lights lit up the surrounding plant
s and trees. Pillar and taper candles lit up the flat surfaces, making the atmosphere enchanted. The sound of the ocean waves traveled through the air from the shore nearby.

  Galvin was standing over the small table, putting silverware next to the pale yellow plates. “Oh, candles?” I asked, raising my eyebrows, impressed.

  He looked up and smiled. “Oh, I found them in one of the cabinets and thought, you know, why not?” he said, blushing slightly. He walked up to me and planted a kiss on my lips. “Come,” he said, taking my hand and leading me to the table. Pulling out a chair, he motioned for me to sit down. “I made your favorite.”

  Taking in his appearance, I fell deeper in love with him. He looked unbelievably attractive in that white shirt; it made his skin glow bronze, especially in the dim lighting.

  “Oh,” I said, impressed. “What's occasion?”

  Pushing in my chair, he stood next to me, one hand on his hip. “I don't need a reason to spoil you once in a while.” He said it like it was rehearsed.

  “Mm-hmm,” I murmured skeptically as he walked away.

  Turning, he remarked, “What was that?”

  I dipped a tortilla chip in the big bowl of guacamole and smirked. “Oh nothing,” I said in a sing-song way then turned around to face him. “I just love you is all.”

  It was his turn to murmur “Mm-hm,” then he walked into the kitchen to bring out the dishes of food he had prepared.

  That meal was perfect. Galvin was a much better cook than I was and we feasted on chicken fajitas, guacamole, and roasted vegetables in the salty night air. When I finally put my napkin over my plate, I let out a sigh and slumped in my seat a bit. “That was delicious. Thank you.”

  Galvin winked in my direction. “Any time, love.” He leaned back and put a hand on his full stomach. “You can do the clean up,” he joked.