Book Read Free

Your Song

Page 14

by Gina Elle


  I toss and turn relentlessly. I close my eyes and think of the disappointment etched on Amy’s face yesterday after her defense. I feel like a shit. I prop my pillow up higher and think of this psycho in my midst . . . could I have misled her, whomever she is, in some way? Moments later, my thoughts travel to Lara and think about how I’ve been the worst friend to her by not returning her calls to meet the new man her life. And, of course, all roads lead to Rome, which naturally brings my thoughts to Danny. I picture his smiling, laughing face in front of me. Like a dream, I try to reach out to touch it, but it vanishes in front of me.

  I assemble the silence within me and try to recall the sound of his voice. I try and try to listen for it, but, like a distant echo, his voice is fading. Why did he have to go? Where has he gone? Why can’t I remember his voice as clearly as I used to? With each passing day and year, I feel like he’s slipping away from me. How can I go on without him? The pain of missing him rips through me. And for the first time in three years, in the silence of yet another cold hotel room, I allow it to. Tonight, instead of running out and finding someone to distract me from the ache, I stay in and let the tears flow. We had so many more bike trails to ride together. We had so many more poker games to play. We had so many more memories to make. He was gone too soon. Michael Jackson’s soulful voice comes to me singing “Gone Too Soon”. Ain’t that the truth.

  Pillow soaked. Sobs easing up. The throbbing pain weakening. Sleep finally takes me.

  I’m cycling in midair. Like Aladdin, I’m on a magical ride through the sky, sitting atop my bike. Weaving in and out of the white, fluffy clouds, my bike takes me higher and higher. I’m free. I’m smiling. Danny is riding beside me. He’s ecstatic. As I reach over to touch him, he rides farther and farther away from me, out of my reach. I pedal faster and faster to catch up to him. He looks back at me laughing. Music is blaring in the sky and it’s coming from an old school boom box hitched to the back of my bike. I’m a cycling deejay, riding above the stars, changing the tunes with the flick of a button. Is this my heaven . . . playing my music on a bike riding with Danny?

  Danny, who by now is way ahead of me, turns his back and waves at me. I pedal more rapidly to get to him. He’s fading . . . I’m losing him . . . he’s shrinking in the distance . . . I can’t reach him. He’s gone. And I keep pedaling. Riding farther and higher into the bluest of skies. The pain of the uphill ascent is so intense . . . yet so cleansing. It’s so hard. But I push forward anyways.

  I’m awakened from the dream by the sound of my iPhone alarm on the bedside table. Time to start my day. I sit up in bed and put my feet on the carpeted floor beneath me. The dream is still with me. Danny, me, the bike, music. Danny so blissful . . . me not being able to catch him . . . his disappearing into the clouds . . . as hard as I tried, I couldn’t stop him . . . he had to go. I had to let him go. With that soothing thought in mind, I begin my day. One step at a time. At this point, I know no other way.

  13 “Someday, We’ll Be Together”

  From: Amy Sharma

  Date: Wednesday, June 13, 2012 4:31 PM

  Subject: Thank you

  To: Eric Martin

  Eric,

  Just want to say thank you for the flowers you sent this morning.

  Amy

  Okay, Amy is still mad at me. Gracious enough, though, to thank me for the bouquet of flowers that I decided to send her this morning. A guilt move on my part? I prefer to call it a conscience check. I’m not proud of the way I left Amy hanging on Monday, bowing out of our prescheduled dinner and blowing her off. I admit it was both ungentlemanly and in very poor taste to treat a friend the way I did. So, this morning I wanted to try and right that wrong by acknowledging her success at completing her defense. The card accompanying the flowers simply said, “Congratulations on your Master degree. Eric.” Could it have been more personal and heartfelt-sounding? I suppose so but the last thing I need is Amy reading into a message that I have no intention of conveying to her.

  From: Eric Martin

  Date: Wednesday, June 13, 2012 7:37PM

  Subject: Re: Thank you

  To: Amy Sharma

  Hi Amy,

  Wish I understood one word you said on Monday but I could tell you were spectacular.

  When are you leaving for your summer in the south of France?

  Eric

  I hit send and scroll through the long list of emails in my inbox. Holed up in meetings all day, this is the first chance I have had to login to my email account. Amy’s was the first one on the top of the page. I glance out my hotel room window at the majestic view of Canada Place, Stanley Park, and the waterfront all in one glance. What am I doing indoors when I’m in one of the most beautiful cities in the world? I grab my phone and my hotel key and out I go. The emails can wait.

  I walk for what feels like hours. From the hotel, I turned right and haven’t looked back. Weaving in and out of streets, alleyways, and paths I make my way to nowhere in particular. With both hands tucked inside the front pockets of my jeans and my phone buried in my back pocket, I feel light years younger. Dressed in a lightweight white t-shirt, an older pair of Boss jeans, and my blue Converse sneakers, I feel like a teenager all over again. Alone with my thoughts while enjoying the peacefulness I feel in the moment, I can’t remember feeling this carefree in years. I wonder what has changed.

  I continue on with my walk and find myself along Robson Street, downtown Vancouver’s premier shopping district. Uncharacteristically of me, I stop in front of a bookstore. Staring at the display of book covers in the window, it dawns on me that I haven’t read a book in ages. Cycling magazines, online journals, work-related reading, newspapers and the odd cookbook usually make up my reading material . . . but a book? I think hard and try to recall what was the last book I actually read from cover to cover. I think it was Lance Armstrong’s book It’s Not About the Bike and the follow up Every Second Counts. That was years ago. With that thought in mind, I stroll right into the bookstore in search of something interesting to read.

  As soon as I enter the doors, I’m met head-on by the largest book display of that trilogy I’ve heard Cate talk about with the other women in the office, Fifty Shades of Grey. Curious about all the talk, I pick up a copy and thumb through it but quickly put the book back on display when I notice I’m the only guy among many women standing around perusing these books. Suddenly, my thoughts turn dark. Another perfect place to meet married women . . . the Fifty Shades of Grey display at a bookstore. And, for once, I’m finding these thoughts troubling. I make my way to the back of the store where I thumb through some sports books, biographies, and various memoirs in order to distract me from the unease I’m feeling within. Nonchalantly, I pick up some comic books and I’m instantly reminded of Leslie and smile. Maybe I’ll buy a few and surprise her with them when I go see her on Monday.

  Classics. One of my favorite words in the English language is the word classic. I think of so many things when I hear the word . . . such as classic rock (“More Than A Feeling” was one of the best classic rock songs of not only the 1970s but of all time, in my humble opinion), classic style (a timeless white shirt or a simple black turtleneck) and even classic art (the age-defying Michelangelo in Florence, Italy). A classic in my mind is something that’s contemporary with all time and enriches the human mind and spirit in some way. And that’s when I spot it. A copy of the ultimate classic, “Les Miserables” by Victor Hugo. With the original weighing in at over 1400 pages, I opt for the abridged form. Yes, I admit it may be a bit of an ambitious read but I guess there’s no harm in trying.

  Having read up on the book online in preparing for Amy’s defense, I’m familiar with the plotlines and themes but am ashamed to say, I’ve never actually read any of Hugo’s passages. I walk over to the cash and purchase the abridged copy of “Les Miserables” and a few comic books for Leslie.

  Shopping bag in hand, I walk out of the store without even giving a second look to who’s standing at the Fi
fty Shades of Grey display. Now I have something to read in my hotel room tonight. Just the thought of it makes me think of Caroline. Think of all the questions I could mine from reading the book that I can now ask my classic professor.

  From: Amy Sharma

  Date: Wednesday, June 13, 2012 6:01 PM

  Subject: Re: Re: Thank You

  To: Eric Martin

  Eric,

  Getting over terrible case of food poisoning. Not leaving for France until Saturday now. Thanks for coming on Monday. Still mad at you.

  Amy

  Wouldn’t be the first time a woman is mad at me. I reply to her email with a simple Sorry and move on. Now back in the quiet of room 414 of the Fairmont Waterfront, I’m finally tackling the inbox. An email from my boss catches my eye. Apparently, there’s a meeting scheduled for the end of next week to announce new directions for the company. Looks like those rumors may turn out to be true after all . . . which means I may turn out to be a very rich man in the end. That lottery win, as I like to call it, could turn out to be a real life changer for me. Optimistically thinking, this sale could be just what the doctor ordered, the opportunity to start over and perhaps begin to live out some of my dreams. Last night’s dream about Danny comes flooding back to me. The two of us . . . on our bikes floating high into the blue skies. I wonder . . . I wonder . . . what are the possibilities . . . .

  Ping. Holy hell, an email from Caroline!

  From: Caroline Durand

  Date: Wednesday, June 13, 2012 7:16 PM

  Subject: Cookies and Birds

  To: Eric Martin

  Hi Eric,

  You combined some of my favorite things . . . cookies and good luck charms. How creative and thoughtful of you.

  Saving the bouquet to share with you one day soon.

  Thank you,

  Caroline

  I reread the email a few times and then quickly hit the reply button. One day soon?

  From: Eric Martin

  Date: Wednesday, June 13, 2012 10:20 PM

  Subject: Eloquent Professors and Sushi

  To: Caroline Durand

  Hi Caroline:

  Since we are on the topic of favorite things, I thought I’d share two of mine (see title). However, not together.

  Glad you liked the cookie bouquet. Are you feeling better?

  Eric

  I step away from my laptop and make my way to the bathroom for a quick shower. Shampooing my hair, I cherish this momentary sentiment of buoyancy that I’m feeling. Maybe I will get to see Caroline sooner than later. Warm thoughts fill my mind as I wash off the day. Some solitude, a long walk and last night’s comforting dream of Danny have all contributed to my feeling more . . . capable, strong, accepting. I towel dry myself and run back to my laptop too see if Caroline replied to my email.

  From: Caroline Durand

  Date: Wednesday, June 13, 2012 7:31 PM

  Subject: Feeling better

  To: Eric Martin

  Thanks for asking. I’m starting to feel better. Managing to keep down a cracker I ate an hour ago so it looks like I am on the mend.

  How is Vancouver?

  Caroline

  From: Eric Martin

  Date: Wednesday, June 13, 2012 10:34 PM

  Subject: Rain check?

  To: Caroline Durand

  Vancouver, as always, is breath-taking and spectacular. Bicycle-friendly, too, which makes it to the top of my list of favorite cities. Only thing missing would be you and then I would describe it as scenic . . . and stunning.

  Do you think your stomach will be able to manage dinner on Saturday night? My place?

  Eric

  P.S. I can serve crackers, too.

  One step closer to seeing her, fingers crossed. I get up and reach for my iPad lying on the bedside table. I need some music to keep me company. I hit the Songza app and find one of my favorite playlists, 1970s Hits. Ms. Diana Ross and her Supremes are singing “Someday (We’ll Be Together).” Yes, Ms. Diana Ross and the Supremes . . . someday Caroline and I will be together . . . hopefully Saturday.

  From: Lara Byrne

  Date: Wednesday June 13, 2012 7:45 PM

  Subject: Stranger

  To: Eric Martin

  Hey Eric,

  A dozen texts and we still can’t connect! Hope things are well with you, world traveler.

  I’ve been anxious to tell you about a client who came in to the spa. When can we get together?

  Rob and I are leaving tomorrow for the Bahamas for 5 days. I’ll call you when I get back.

  Where are you?

  Lara

  Now there’s someone else I should be sending flowers to . . . poor Lara. Anxious to tell me about a client of hers? Is she trying to set me up with someone? I hope not. I begin to type her a reply when my inbox pings once again. I peek at the incoming window box and I see it’s Caroline. Before I open it, I finish my reply to Lara.

  From: Eric Martin

  Date: Wednesday, June 13, 2012 10:51 PM

  Subject: Forgive me . . . please?

  To: Lara Byrne

  Hey Lara,

  Before you enter my name into some reality show called Canada’s Worst Friend Ever, I really want to say how sorry I’m for being such an ass. Forgive me, please? I’ve had a lot going on that I am anxious to tell you about too.

  I’m taking you and Rob out for dinner the minute you get back from frolicking in the sun, you hear? In the mean time, enjoy your time away.

  Call me!

  Eric

  P.S. I’m in Vancouver. Home on Friday.

  I’m like a kid in candy store when it comes to Caroline’s emails. I double click to open her email faster than the speed of light.

  From: Caroline Durand

  Date: Wednesday, June 13, 2012 7:49 PM

  Subject: Favorite Things list

  To: Eric Martin

  So, Vancouver is on that list as well, I see. Something else I just learned about you tonight . . . Getting to know you has been quite the drawn out process but I’m thoroughly enjoying every second of it.

  Saturday chez Martin sounds lovely. I’m bringing cookies for dessert.

  Caroline

  Yes! She’s coming to dinner. I yelp so loud I’m sure the guests in the next room think some major action is going on in here.

  From: Eric Martin

  Date: Wednesday, June 13, 2102 10:59 PM

  Subject: Drawn out process?

  To: Caroline Durand

  Getting to know me has been quite the drawn out process? Frankly, if it were up to me, you would have started to get to know me at a lunch I wanted to ask you out to when we were in the cab that day returning from the airport.

  Like Cosette, your ‘brown hair, beautiful eyes, rosy cheeks, pale skin and radiant smile’ captured my attention back in the terminal at O’Hare that morning. From that first glance, you did something to me and I haven’t been the same since.

  Wasn’t it Victor Hugo who said something about first glances, Dr. Durand?

  Eric

  Should I hit the send button? I hesitate. What if she thinks I’m some sort of freak? Am I laying my cards on the table too soon? I pause to think and decide that I’m just too old for playing games. I hit send.

  Ping. Another email.

  From: Amy Sharma

  Date: Wednesday, June 13, 2012 8:01 PM

  Subject: Answers

  To: Eric Martin

  Eric:

  I can’t leave for France without getting some answers. When are you back from Vancouver? I need to see you.

  Amy

  Oh, brother. More drama. I roll my eyes and shake my head. Too young and too demanding, I am so not in the mood for this. The Bee Gees’ Night Fever plays on my iPad as I type my reply.

  From: Eric Martin

  Date: Wednesday, June 13, 2012 11:03 PM

  Subject: Another time

  To: Amy Sharma

  Hi Amy,

  I don’t get back from Vancouver until late Friday night.
I’m busy with David on Saturday.

  Looks like we’ll have to get together when you get back from your trip.

  Safe travels,

  Eric

  How’s that for fluffing someone off? Again, I’m not proud of myself but Amy is just too . . . aggressive.

  Ping. An email from Caroline. What if she fluffs me off right now?

  From: Caroline Durand

  Date: Wednesday, June 13, 2012 8:04 PM

  Subject: Missed opportunities

  To: Eric Martin

  Lunch that day would have been a great idea. I apologize for leaving you hanging but I had an appointment I couldn’t miss.

  Looking forward to Saturday. Text me your address and a time.

  Caroline

  P.S. “The power of a glance has been much abused in love stories, that it has come to be disbelieved in. Few people dare to say that two beings have fallen in love because they have looked at each other, yet it is in this way that love begins and it is the only way.”

  Victor Hugo

  The sound of my iPhone ringing jolts me out of my trance. I’m reading and rereading Caroline’s email studying Victor Hugo’s words.

  “Hello?” I answer abruptly.

  “Eric, why are you blowing me off?” It’s Amy and she’s in the ring ready to fight.

  “Hi, Amy. I wasn’t blowing you off. I just won’t have time to see you before you leave.”

 

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