Chocolate

  I sat down on my window ledge and took a steadying breath. Now that the initial shock from hearing Luke’s song had started to wear off, I felt like I owed it to myself to try and reel my jangled emotions back in before I did something drastic. Just hang on a second, Lyss, I scolded myself. If you don’t want to be in New York and do this job anymore, then that’s fine. You can find something else to do. But that doesn’t mean that you should go running back to Luke. Nothing between the two of you has changed. You’ll still have to make a bunch of sacrifices to be with him. And if you guys ever break up, where will that leave you? If you ever break up…if you ever break up…if…if…

  If.

  I paused. Why was I living my life in constant fear of that one little word? Seriously. Why was I automatically assuming that Luke and I were going to break up? Because all of my relationships before him had ended? Why did that have to make our eventual demise a foregone conclusion?

  For the first time, I felt like it didn’t. Luke was different than any guy I’d ever been with before. Our relationship was different than any one I’d ever been in before. What we had was different. Special. Stronger. We didn’t have to break up. I mean, my god, if the last four months were any indication, then I was pretty sure that I wouldn’t ever be able to quit him, even if I wanted to. I could change jobs, change cities, change everything, and I’d still want to be with him.

  And that wasn’t to say that being together would be easy. It wouldn’t. Luke and I were always going to butt heads over my career and his touring and where we were going to live. We were going to fight and slam some doors every once in a while. But that was okay. That was life. We’d find a way to make it work. We’d both give a little and we’d both take a little. We’d compromise. It was strange how different I felt about that now than when we were back in Chicago. I no longer minded the idea of making changes in my life for him as long as I knew that he was always going to be a part of it. And he would be. He would be.

  Wow. I almost laughed when I reached that conclusion. Now that I’d gotten here, to this mental space, everything that I’d been so scared of suddenly sounded ridiculous. When it came down to it, the only thing that mattered was that Luke and I belonged together. It should only ever have been that simple.

  A siren rang out in the distance. It was a sound that was more ubiquitous than any other noise in this city, but it was still dissonant enough with the quiet night to bring me back to reality. Because there was one rub in my otherwise flawless logic. Luke and I weren’t together. We hadn’t been for four months. And the last time that I’d communicated with him was when I’d dumped him. In a note. The memory of what I did still horrified me. I still hated myself for having treated him so badly. And I’d been the one on the giving end of that disrespect. I couldn’t even imagine how Luke felt about it. For that reason, I wasn’t at all sure that he was going to feel the same way as I did about us belonging together.

  But there was only one way to find out.

  I unlocked my phone that my hands had been fiddling with and pulled up my contact list. Then I scrolled down and let my thumb hover over Luke’s name. My heart was pounding. I wanted to call him. I wanted to hear his voice right now, to bridge the distance between us and end the silence. I wanted to ask him if there was still hope for us. But my phone screen went black again while I hesitated. A phone call just wasn’t going to cut it. Because I didn’t just want to hear his voice. I wanted to see his face. I wanted to feel his arms around me. I wanted to be close to him again. Plus, I was afraid that he’d see my name flashing on his phone and ignore my call. Getting slapped with the telltale two-ring-voicemail combination would be too painful to bear. But he couldn’t ignore me if I was standing in front of him. So that was what I would have to do.

  I stood up and started pacing around the fire escape’s metal caging, formulating a game plan. Okay, first thing was first. I needed to quit my job. That decision wasn’t about Luke, it was about me. I didn’t want to spend one more day here doing what I was doing. But after that, I needed to go to Luke. That was about him. I needed to find him and see if there was still a chance for us. Okay, I nodded to myself. Okay.

  With my newly formed resolve guiding my actions, I climbed back through my bedroom window and searched my nightstand for the folder that contained all of the essential documents that I’d brought with me when I moved. There was my birth certificate, some health insurance forms, and of course, Luke’s tour schedule. I dragged my index finger down the page until I found the date that I was looking for. Luke Davies would be in Manchester, New Hampshire tomorrow night. And so would I.

  As soon as I was done with that, I pulled my suitcases out from under the bed and packed up the paltry few things that I’d brought to this city. Then I opened my laptop and made arrangements to pick up a rental car the next day. Finally, I replied to my editor’s email, which felt like it’d come in two years ago, not two hours ago. But I didn’t give him the information that he’d asked for. Instead, I let him know that I needed to meet with him first thing in the morning. I needed to blindside him with my resignation.

  When all of that was done, I got into bed. I knew that I should try to get at least a little bit of sleep. Tomorrow was going to be a big day. Huge. Tomorrow I was going to find out if Luke was still saving a seat for me on that bus.

  I hoped like hell that he was.

  Get On The Road

  A part of me couldn’t believe that I was actually doing this, but here I was. Just like I’d done with Arthur back in Chicago a few months before, I was sitting in front of my editor, telling him that I could no longer work here.

  “…So, yeah,” I ineloquently concluded the little speech that I’d practiced in front of the bathroom mirror and on the subway this morning. I’d been deliberately vague about my reasons for leaving. He didn’t need to know that I hated it here. And I knew that if I mentioned Luke, all he would hear was that I was hightailing it out of town to go chasing after a boy. I mean, I was, but there was a lot more to it than that.

  At first, my editor seemed kind of shocked. “You’re quitting?” he asked slowly. “Here? Today?”

  “Yeah, I am. I’m really sorry to do this to you on such short notice,” I reiterated.

  “Here?” he asked again, as if he couldn’t quite wrap his head around the idea that someone like me would leave somewhere like this. Believe it, buddy.

  “Yes,” I confirmed. “I know I just got here and I know it’s unprofessional. But I recently realized that coming here, coming to New York, was a mistake. And I need to correct it. Right away.”

  As soon as I said that, his look turned from one of confusion to one of comprehension. “Ah, now I see,” he said. Then he launched into an explanation about how a lot of people, including the person who’d had my job before me, had left because they didn’t like living in New York. “It’s not for everyone,” he finished.

  “Yeah, I guess not,” I said, pretending that the problem was exclusively the location. All in all, he was surprisingly understanding considering that I’d treated this job more like a summer internship than an actual career move. He even said that he’d be happy to recommend me for another job, wherever I ended up. I thanked him and then made quick work of turning in the last of my assignments and tying things up with Human Resources.

  In less than two hours, I was back on the subway, bumping my way out to Brooklyn for the last time. There’d been no pomp and circumstance surrounding my departure. I’d just walked out the front door. I didn’t even have the quintessential bankers box filled with personal belongings sitting on my lap, since I’d never bothered to bring any pictures or plants or anything like that to my office. I did steal a few notepads with the Vulture letterhead on it on my way out though, because, I mean, come on.

  But now that I thought about it, it hadn’t just been my desk that was devoid of all things Lyssa. Nothing in my apartment was mine either, save for the duo of suitcases that were all packed up and sitting next to th
e front door. Soon they’d be gone too.

  When it came down to it, it was actually comical how little I’d settled in to this city. In under twelve hours, I’d been able to sever all ties with it so completely that it was like I’d never been here at all. I was like a CIA agent, ghosting away undetected. Except that unlike a real spy, I’d been telling everyone who would listen, including myself, that I was here for the long-haul. But actions speak louder than words I guess, and in the end, it was clear that I hadn’t made New York mine at all. Maybe a small part of me had always known that it wasn’t going to work out.

  At the rental car place in my neighborhood, I told the guy behind the counter that I’d be dropping their blue Ford Focus off in New Hampshire. I knew that there was a possibility, or maybe even more of a probability at this point, that Luke would tell me he never wanted to see me again once I got there. But it felt like bad juju to admit to some random dude at Avis that I wasn’t quite sure where I was going to end up. I didn’t have a backup plan for if Luke told me to get lost. I’d most likely drive back to Chicago to regroup. The time alone in the car would give me a chance to think about just what in the hell I was going to do with my life. But who knew? Maybe I wouldn’t stop there. Maybe I’d take this whole extemporaneous exodus thing one step further. I mean, L.A. had been nice. Maybe I’d hop on Route 66 and just keep on driving until I hit the Pacific Ocean.

  One thing at a time, I told myself as I started the car and pulled out into traffic. One thing at a time.

  Outside of my apartment, I put on my flashers, walked upstairs, grabbed my suitcases, and walked right back out again. I didn’t even take a last look around. And that didn’t have anything to do with the fact that I was double-parked. It was because I didn’t care. This place wasn’t my home and it never had been. I was going home. Even though it was to a city that I’d never been to before, I’d be home because of who I’d be there with.

  So without another thought, I hopped into my rental car and headed north.

  You’re All I Have

  “Welcome to New Hampshire – Live Free or Die.” I read the sign out loud as I passed it. Alright New Hampshire, settle down. No actually, I’d always liked New Hampshire’s state motto. It was inspiring, tenacious. Better than the statement of constitutional fact that was Illinois’ “State Sovereignty – National Union.” And right now, I needed a little tenacity.

  I’d been slightly on edge since I left New York, but now that I’d actually crossed into the Granite State, the nerves were really setting in. I had a lot riding on the next couple of hours, and I had no earthly idea how they were going to go. At least the sun had finally set to my left, so I was no longer being blinded by its harsh rays. I swung the sun visor back around and flipped it up above the windshield. I’d need to flip it back down again to check my makeup once I got to Manchester, but that was still a good half an hour away.

  Green freeway sign after green freeway sign counted down the number of miles I had left to go. Soon my knee started to bob up and down while I contorted my hand to pick at my cuticles. It was a weird habit, but one that I always reverted to when I was anxious. I no longer heard the monotone voices of the talk radio that I’d been trying to distract myself with the whole way up here. Sorry Ira Glass. I realized that listening to NPR was nerdy, but I couldn’t listen to music because I knew that it would only make me think of Luke, and then I’d get even more worked up about what I was about to do. And I obviously couldn’t drive in silence for five hours either.

  Let’s see, I thought when I was a mere ten miles away. It’ll be 7:00, maybe 7:15 by the time I get to the concert hall. Luke will be done with sound check and his opener won’t go on for another hour or two. That means Luke might not even be there. He might be out having dinner with the rest of the guys. I hadn’t forgotten his pre-show routine. Well, if he’s not there, then I’ll just have to wait…God, I hope I don’t have to wait.

  I’d been purposely avoiding making a plan or composing what I was going to say once I got there, once I saw Luke. Being totally open and honest with my feelings, and admitting that I’d been wrong on top of it, made me super uncomfortable. In fact, if there was a way that I could just hop on the bus after the show tonight and finish out the tour without ever having to explain my presence there, I would do it. But considering how long it’d been since Luke and I had seen each other and how I’d left things, I had a pretty strong hunch that he was going to insist on a discussion. Still, I knew that if I prepared a speech, I’d find some way to play down how I really felt or to put a spin on how royally I’d fucked up by leaving. So I didn’t. Instead, my plan was to shoot from the hip. Speak off the cuff. And other such synonymous idioms.

  I exited the freeway and started to wind my way through the quaint New England streets before my GPS instructed me to pull into the parking lot behind the venue. Calm down, Lyss. Breathe, I coached myself as my trembling fingers killed the engine. In the corner next to the stage door was a bus. The bus. I wondered if Luke was on there. I doubt it, I thought. I’d interviewed a lot of artists who were touring the country on a bus and never once had I sat down with any of them onboard. I’d been to hotel rooms, coffee shops, bars, and obviously backstage at their shows, but never on the tour bus. I assumed the reason was that if you lived on one of those things for an extended period of time, you wanted to get the hell off of it anytime it wasn’t moving. So I was going to have to search for Luke elsewhere, and backstage seemed like the most logical place to start. Actually, it was the only place to start, since I wasn’t going to go wandering around an unfamiliar city looking for him.

  My hands were shaking when I pulled down the sun visor to give myself a once-over in the mirror. I was really and truly freaking out now and the fact that I looked all wrinkled and smudged was not making me feel any better. Oh well, I thought as I dabbed on some lip gloss. There was nothing I could do about it now, and in the end, I hardly thought that some smeared eyeliner was going to sway Luke one way or the other.

  I took a deep breath and stepped out of the car. It was chilly here, like fall was a little bit further along this far north. Or maybe that was just my nerves making me cold again. I shivered in my t-shirt and jeans as I made my way to the stage door. As soon as I pulled it open, I predictably came face-to-face with a scary looking security guard just inside the entrance.

  “This area’s restricted,” he said while he put up one arm. The gesture was inadvertently funny to me, especially given how edgy I was. I mean, did he think that I was going to rush him? Even if I did, he was about triple my size. I think that he could take me.

  “I know, I’m press,” I said surprisingly calmly, considering how nervous I felt. Then I handed him my badge. Vulture had foolishly failed to take away my press pass when I’d quit, and as far as I was concerned, I was keeping it forever. I didn’t know if I would ever work anywhere that granted me as much access as this little square piece of plastic and I intended to take full advantage of it, mild fraudulency implications notwithstanding.

  Mr. Security took it from me and studied it. “New York, huh? You’re an awfully long way from home,” he commented.

  “It’s a special assignment,” I explained. One I made up myself and not sanctioned by any publication. “Uh, Max Appelbaum set it up,” I threw in for decoration. “He’s Luke Davies’ manager.” That’s right, name drop. Dig yourself deeper into the lie. There’s no way this could backfire.

  I stood there tensely while he looked at my badge for a few more seconds. Shit, I’ve been made, I panicked. But finally, he handed it back to me. “Alright, you can go on back,” he said. “The talent’s in the dressing room.” He pointed over his shoulder.

  Yes, I breathed a sigh of relief. Thank god that worked, because I would have sooner died than allowed him to go back and ask Luke if he should let “a Lyssa Lyons from Vulture” backstage. What if Luke said no? Or what if he walked over here and saw me getting boxed out by Mr. Security? The image would have only underscored h
ow much of an outsider to Luke’s world I’d become, and I didn’t want to paint that picture. Not ever, and especially not right now.

  My heart was thundering in my chest as I approached the door at the end of the dark hallway. My whole body was shaking and for a brief second, I thought that I was going to throw up. But I refused to run away. This was too important. Well, here goes nothing, I thought. Then I lifted one clammy hand and knocked.

  “Yeah?” came a male voice from within. Not Luke’s, but I recognized it anyway. I took a deep breath and stepped inside.

  And there he was. Luke. My Luke. God, I hoped that he was still mine.

  The second I saw him, it was like the world stopped spinning on its axis and instead started rotating around him. Or at least my world had. He was sitting on a couch flanked by the rest of his band. They were all deeply engrossed in a video game, frantically pressing the buttons on their controllers and making grunting noises in response to the flashing images on the screen. Aw, I’d missed the rest of the guys too.

  I waited quietly by the door until one of them looked up. “Holy…” was my greeting.

  That got the attention of the rest of the men on the couch, including Luke. I could literally see on his face the second his mind clicked and accepted that it was me standing in front of him. His expression went blank and all of the color drained from his cheeks. It provided a nice contrast to my own, which I could feel breaking out in a violent blush.

  “Hi,” I said meekly. I’d meant it as a salutation to the whole room, but with my eyes fixed squarely on Luke’s, I doubted that anyone else felt acknowledged.