Sing

by Vivi Greene

  Sid kneels to point through a low half window. “That’s Noel’s shack,” she says, pointing to the little house with the clothesline. “He moved out there when he came back. It used to be my mom’s painting studio. He cleaned it up and put a mattress on the floor. It’s pretty cozy.”

  I smile, trying not to feel sad about the idea of Noel sleeping on the floor in the room where his mom used to paint before she left them. I think of my own mother, of all the afternoons we spent together in the kitchen, doing my homework, singing along to the radio, watching sappy movies on her bed.

  “All right, you two, enough yammering,” Lew calls from downstairs. “It’s time to get down to business.”

  “Business?” I ask.

  “I was afraid of this,” Sid muses, shaking her head as she leads me back downstairs. She stops short on the landing and turns to whisper in my ear: “Listen, if you want to get out of here, just tell him you’re having lady troubles. That’s what I usually do.”

  I fight back a giggle and peer over her shoulder into the living room, where Lew is on his knees, opening a black case on the floor.

  “Dad, can we maybe do this another time?” Noel asks. “We’re sort of in a rush.”

  “What rush?” Lew asks, clicking open the metal latches. “You going fishing?”

  “No, but—”

  “But nothing,” Lew interrupts. “Take a load off. Lily and me are gonna jam.”

  He pulls a short, rounded instrument from the case and fits the strap over his shoulder. “Is that a mandolin?” I ask in awe, reaching out to touch the smooth body, the old, rusted strings.

  “See? I told you she’d be impressed,” Lew says, sitting on the couch and starting to tune the strings, one at a time.

  “Dad used to play in a bluegrass band,” Sid tells me, standing in the hall, her face a muddled mixture of pride and embarrassment. “They opened once for Bob Seger.”

  “Pete Seeger!” Lew corrects. “It was at an anti-nuke rally over on the mainland. Really nice guy. ‘This Land Is Your Land.’ You know it?”

  Lew plays a few chords and starts singing, his rough voice smoothing out into a sweet, clear tenor. I raise an impressed eyebrow at Noel, who is cringing by the door. I take a seat on the floor. It’s a song I haven’t sung or heard since music class in the fourth grade, but somehow I remember most of the lyrics.

  Sid sits beside me and joins in, urging Noel with a kick to his ankles. Noel shakes his head and crosses his arms defiantly, but when I catch his eyes, they’re smiling.

  21

  48 Days Until Tour

  July 26th

  AS NOEL TAKES the turn out of his driveway and we start down the main road, K2 pulls out from his hidden spot to follow close behind us. Lew insisted that Noel drive me home, despite repeated assurances that I could manage on my own. “I don’t care what’s ‘in’ these days,” he’d said over dessert—defrosted frozen cream puffs and a pint of Ben & Jerry’s. “This boy was raised with manners.”

  “Thanks for doing that,” Noel says with a grateful sideways glance. “I knew Sid was going to geek out. But I hoped my dad would keep it together.” At the door, Lew passed me a mix CD he’d made of all his favorite folk classics, each title written on the paper sleeve in tiny, deliberate print.

  “They were great.” I tap the CD lightly against my knee. “It’s been a while since a guy made me a mix.”

  “Careful,” Noel warns. “He’s working up to asking if he can tour with you.”

  I stare ahead through the windshield. A light rain has started falling and the windshield wipers squawk eagerly across the glass. There’s a flutter in my stomach as I think about tour. The summer days are passing in hectic clusters. Soon, it will be time to get back on the road. There’s a part of me that misses working, performing, the comforting chaos of being in a new city every few nights. But it means leaving the island. Leaving Noel. The idea of not seeing him every day makes my heart lurch into my throat.

  I reach for Noel’s hand and stare at our fingers locked together over the console. We still haven’t talked about what comes next, which, I’ve learned, is pretty much a way of life around here. When there are fish to be caught, fires to make, and houses to build, there isn’t much time for worrying about things that haven’t happened yet.

  The truck slows as Noel turns down our driveway, bumping over the potholes, his tires splashing through muddy puddles on the road.

  “You guys expecting visitors?” Noel asks suddenly. I follow his gaze into the darkness, where an unfamiliar sedan is parked in front of the house.

  “No,” I say. “Pull over.” Noel edges the car to the side of the driveway, where we’re hidden by underbrush. My pulse quickens and I reach for my phone. Whenever Ray nags me to lock up at night, I tease him for being paranoid. This place feels about as dangerous as a Disney movie. But now I’m glad the guys are close by.

  K2 rumbles past us in the Escalade, his headlights lighting up the uneven shingles on the front of the house. We watch as he gets out of the car and walks deliberately around the sedan, checking the plate and peering inside the darkened windows.

  Suddenly, a tall shadow moves near the front steps, and K2 hurries to cut him off. I squeeze Noel’s hand harder, until the figure moves into the light and I can see his face clearly.

  “Is that . . .” Noel starts.

  “Jed?” I squint through the windshield, pulling my hand from Noel’s and reaching to open the door.

  “Wait—” Noel calls after me. I hurry out of the truck and walk quickly through the rain.

  Jed and K2 are shaking hands when I reach them, chatting about the weather and the rambling journey from the city.

  “What are you doing here?” I interrupt, my voice shrill and harsh. Jed looks at me, his wide, expectant smile faltering only slightly. K2 gives us a curt nod and retreats to the SUV.

  “I tried texting, but you didn’t answer,” Jed says, his broad shoulders hunched against the rain. “And I know how much you love surprises.” He holds his arms out wide, an uncharacteristically goofy smile spreading across his face. “Surprise!”

  I stare at him, my brain racing to process his presence on this road, on these steps, on this island. He’s wearing dark-wash jeans and a beige cardigan with a floppy cowl neck, his hair damp with rain but still arranged in a perfect wave across his forehead. As much as I want to feel nothing, my heart trips and races, an eager warmth spreading throughout my body. We’re not standing in the rain. We’re back on the big leather couch at his apartment, his long legs draped over mine, my hand in his hair, absently twirling that perfect wave while he hums a new melody.

  “Everything okay?” I hear from over my shoulder. My eyes dart furtively to the damp ground. I hear Noel’s footsteps behind us on the gravel.

  Jed looks past me and I see his body shift, as if he’s suddenly grown even taller. He extends his hand to Noel. “Hey, man,” he says. “I’m Jed. Didn’t mean to freak you guys out. This place isn’t much for streetlights, huh?”

  Noel shakes Jed’s hand quickly before stuffing his fists in his pockets. “Guess not,” he says. “Lily, I’ll, uh . . . I’ll call you later?”

  I look from Noel to Jed uncertainly. “Sure,” I say. Noel lingers, and I lean over to give him a quick peck on the cheek. It feels forced and stupid, and I wish I hadn’t done it, but my thoughts are still scrambled and I’m feeling suddenly faint.

  “Seems nice,” Jed says, watching as Noel reverses down the driveway, his headlights fading away.

  “He is.” The rain is coming down harder now, the sweatshirt I borrowed from Noel earlier getting damp and heavy.

  Jed gestures toward the house. “Is it okay if I come in?”

  I stare at the screen door a long moment, as if it might be able to give me advice. It takes a lot to leave me speechless, but I’m having a hard time understanding what I’m supposed to do next. It’s almost as if Jed and the island have existed in two entirely different physical dimensions.
It feels impossible that they’ve suddenly collided in the cottage’s front yard.

  “Lily?” he asks, reaching out to touch my arm. It sends a programmed shock down my spine.

  I pull my arm away. “Of course,” I say, my voice formal and overly chipper, before starting up the porch stairs. “Come in.” Tess and Sammy are at Maya’s for dinner, so for better or for worse, we’ll have the place to ourselves.

  Jed follows me, ducking inside the small front door. His tall frame dwarfs the furniture as though he’s stumbled into a miniature diorama. “Cute house,” he says, glancing up the stairs and into the living room. I have the urge to stand in front of him, to block his view, to protect this place from his prying eyes.

  I take a steadying breath and walk into the kitchen. “Would you like some tea?” I ask, sounding very much like a middle-aged housewife.

  Jed sits carefully at the edge of the worn upholstered couch in the living room. “Yeah, or coffee,” he answers. I sigh, standing in front of the coffeemaker, annoyed by the prospect of having to brew a whole pot. “Actually, tea’s great,” he calls out, as if reading my mind.

  I fill the kettle with water and catch a glimpse of my reflection in the window over the sink. My hair is wet and flat and my mascara has run into dark pools at the corners of my eyes. I wipe them with the side of one finger and attempt to arrange my hair into something flattering. I silently reprimand myself for caring so much about my appearance, but I know that it’s no use. No matter what’s happened between us, I’m still that eager-to-please, nerdy little girl, awestruck that Jed Monroe is casually sitting in the other room.

  I pull down two mugs and wait for the water to boil, my mind racing with questions. What is he doing here? Why now? How did he even find me?

  My phone buzzes—Noel. I consider ducking out onto the porch, telling him everything is all right. But I can already hear the strain in my voice, the unconvincing tremble. I decline the call and leave my phone on the counter.

  “Thanks,” Jed says as I join him in the living room. I place the mugs on a pair of matching tile coasters and sit across from him in one of the high-backed antique chairs, my posture straight and rigid. I clutch the mug with two hands but it burns my palms. I stare at the foggy wisps of steam.

  “Terry told me how to find you,” Jed says finally. “Don’t be mad. I didn’t give him much of a choice.”

  I smile tightly. “There’s always a choice.”

  Jed shrugs. “I gave him my Yankees seats. Behind home plate. Plus, he likes me.”

  Unfortunately, he’s right. In fact, I was surprised that Terry didn’t put up more of a fight when we broke up. He was always saying how well Jed and I complimented each other. High praise coming from somebody who could find fault with Mother Teresa if he thought she looked at him funny.

  “After I pled my case, I think he felt like you should at least hear me out.”

  “Your case?”

  Jed clears his throat. “I made a mistake,” he says. “More than a mistake. I was an idiot. If I could take back the last few months, if I could go back to the way things were . . . you made me happier than I’ve ever been in my life, Lily. We were good together. Weren’t we?”

  I lean back in the stiff chair. It’s like he’s reading from a script I wrote for him in the days and weeks after we first broke up. It’s exactly what I dreamed he would say. But now, the words sound different and almost hollow, like the meaning behind them has gotten lost. “I used to think so,” I say.

  Jed runs one hand through his thick dark hair, droplets of rain landing on his shoulders. “I got scared. One of the guys showed me some dumb article online that said we were getting engaged. That weekend you wanted me to come home to meet your parents? It said I was going to ask your dad’s permission to propose. I know it’s stupid. I should have just ignored it. But I panicked.”

  I stare at the faded Oriental rug, the ornate pattern warped through the thick glass of the coffee table. “The weekend of my grandparents’ anniversary party?” I ask, working it all out in my head. It was true, what I’d read in the tabloids. He’d lied about not being able to come. But it wasn’t because he didn’t want to be there. He’d heard a rumor, and he’d been scared that it was true.

  “I’m sorry,” he says. “It’s just . . . it’s a lot of pressure. You have to know that.”

  “Pressure?” I ask. My face is warm and I feel a rising in my chest, like all the things I’ve been wanting to say to him, to ask him, are pushing up through my ribs. “Pressure to do what?”

  As far as I knew, our relationship had been exactly what we both wanted. We worked hard, and what little downtime we had, we spent it together doing low-key, normal things. There was no drama. There were hardly any fights. I can understand feeling freaked out by a rumor online, but at the end of the day, was it worth throwing away everything we had without so much as a conversation about it? “I never asked you to do anything you didn’t want to do.” I can feel righteous anger starting to spread inside me.

  “I know.” Jed shifts uncomfortably. “It wasn’t you. It was . . . everyone else. Everyone on the planet is rooting for you, Lily. They want you to have this perfect love story. A surprise proposal, the perfect ring, a storybook wedding. Do you have any idea what it feels like to be single-handedly responsible for Lily Ross’s fairy-tale ending?”

  Jed’s eyes search mine. I suddenly see the guy I first fell for, the guy on the balcony doing his own thing, refusing to be like everyone else. Of all the people who could have been put in this position, it feels suddenly unfair that it was Jed. Jed, who hates public appearances as much as I love them. Jed, who spends weeks holed up in the studio, obsessing over every last detail of his music. No wonder he was feeling overwhelmed.

  “I wish you’d said something,” I say, softening.

  Jed shakes his head. “I didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t anything you were doing. There was no way for you to fix it. It’s just the way things are.” He shrugs.

  I stare at him. “If you hate it so much, why did you talk to the press?” I ask. “I saw the magazines. You made me look pathetic.”

  Jed looks at me squarely in the eyes. “Lily, I didn’t say a word,” he swears. “It had to have been somebody on my staff, someone who knows my schedule. It wasn’t me. You know how I feel about my privacy. I would never have done something like that.”

  There’s something so solid in his voice that it’s hard not to believe him.

  “Okay,” I say. “But what’s changed? What’s different now? Not my fans. Not my life. As soon as I leave here and get back on the road, everything will be just the same as it’s always been. I’m not interested in getting married. That’s, like . . . it’s a dream, and I want it someday, for sure. But not today. Not tomorrow.”

  Jed takes a deep breath and I can see the relief flooding him like a current.

  “That doesn’t mean people are going to stop talking about it,” I continue. “I could say I’m not interested in marriage, or a ring, until I’m blue in the face. But the magazines, the blogs . . . they aren’t going anywhere.”

  “I know that,” Jed says, “and I’m not saying I have it all figured out. I’m not saying I’m ready to . . . I can’t promise I’m ready to be your Prince Charming, if you’d even have me.” He clasps and unclasps his long fingers in his lap, looking shyly at the floor, before glancing up at me with a smile. “But I would like the chance to keep auditioning.”

  My shoulders relax as I fall back into the chair. Rain pounds on the window behind Jed and I still can’t believe he’s sitting here. Weeks ago, I would have given anything for a big romantic gesture like this one. I may not be twiddling my thumbs, waiting around for a proposal, but my fans are right about one thing: I am a sucker for a happy ending.

  Still, now that I’m here on the island, away from the insanity of my everyday life, I’m not even sure what that happy ending looks like. Is it me and Jed, making our music and being together, running around from
one event to the next, caught in the machines of our brands, our lives? I can see it, as clearly and easily as ever. Our lives together still make sense. Our relationship is built on the solid ground of our careers, and when our careers are everything, what else matters?

  Besides, I can’t help but muse guiltily, it would mean I could keep my old album. Maybe Forever could be Forever, again.

  But the memory of Noel’s face as he left in the rain, the idea of him sitting at home, wondering if this is it, if everything we were building could be snatched up in an instant, after one visit from that other, bigger life . . . there’s a sharp twinge near my heart. I can’t look Jed in the eye anymore. I stare into my tea, breathing in the hot steam.

  “I don’t need an answer right away,” Jed says. “Take all the time you need.”

  I study my hands, my mind, my heart still caught between two places.

  “But I was hoping you’d spend the day with me tomorrow.”

  I look up quickly. “Tomorrow?”

  Jed nods. “I have a couple of days off,” he says. “I booked a room in town for the night and was hoping you’d show me around. The weather’s supposed to clear up. We could go to the beach. Hang out. I don’t care. I just . . . I want to be with you,” he says, laying one hand on my knee. “I’ve missed you, Lily. A lot.”

  I swallow hard and look through the window again at his rental car, imagining him driving it back to the mainland, boarding a plane back to the city. It’s a long trip, and it would be a shame for him not to see the island at all. In the beginning, I imagined him everywhere we went, the two of us playing in the waves, cozying up with a blanket at sunset. The picture has faded, but now that he’s here, I can start to see flashes of it again. It’s easy to move on, to imagine a different future when he’s far away and Noel is so close. But now that Jed is here, right here, I feel pulled to give him another chance.

  “Just one day,” Jed promises. “Then I’ll let you get back to work. Terry says you’re doing some incredible things out here.”

  I stare at his hand on my knee, my skin warming beneath the weight of it. It feels strange and familiar at the same time, like a part of me is still stuck in the past, before everything changed, and a part of me is already different. I’m not sure it’s possible to go back, but I’m also not ready to give up. Not yet.