Instead, the envelope concealed in the closet beckoned to me. Open me. See what I have to say. You know you miss him.
I rolled over and punched my pillow to fluff it up. If the spare bed wasn’t covered in artwork, I’d go sleep in there. Squeezing my eyes shut, I started reciting colors. It had always worked when I was a little girl and sleep wouldn’t come.
Red, carmine, maroon, peach, coral, pink, orange, apricot, copper, salmon, yellow, champagne, gold, amber, cream, azure, cerulean, sky blue… Crap.
I was beginning to hate blue. All shades of it, but especially cerulean. The inanimate object may as well have been shouting for all my ability to ignore it was accomplishing.
With a huff, I threw off my covers. I stomped over to the light switch and flipped it on as if it had offended me. My legs carried me over to the closed door of my closet like they’d been possessed. Inhaling deeply, I opened the door. As I moved into the closet, my fingers found the switch to illuminate the space. There were hundreds of things in my walk-in closet that could draw my attention, but my eyes immediately went to the back corner on the top shelf. Just one face of the box was visible from where I stood. But it beamed like a spotlight shone on it. Or a hellish fire.
I unfolded the step stool and climbed up to reach my secret treasure chest. Of all the items in my home, the things that mattered most to me were in this painted box. My most valuable possessions. My most hurtful ones too.
My heart thudded hard against my ribcage as I pulled the box down. Cradling it in my arms, I carried it back to my bed. With trembling fingers, I lifted the lid. There on top was the blue envelope. Of its own volition, my index finger traced my name written in a handwriting I knew as well as my own. I picked it up as if it was the most fragile thing I’d ever touched. I studied it like it held the secrets to solving world hunger, ending war and curing the common cold. The edges were worn. A smudge marred the back surface. And the front was littered with postmarks. I examined them carefully to see which was the oldest. Finally, I located it. August 11, 2017. Zurich, Switzerland. Then Geneva. Then Paris. Then Munich. Then Luxembourg. Then London. Then New York. Then Chicago. There were long periods in between some of the markings. It didn’t leave Europe until mid-December 2017. Then it seemed it sat in customs in Chicago for most of January of this year.
Whatever was in this envelope was months old, so it was probably completely irrelevant now. Then why couldn’t I just throw it away?
Because it’s from Dawson, my heart argued.
I ran my finger under the flap, tracing the adhesive and imagining a hint of his kiss remaining beneath the seal. My eyes darted to the crease in the flap. There it was—SWAK—letting me know he still hadn’t forgotten. At least not six months ago. A smile teased my lips, and a flutter kicked up in my heart. Upending the envelope, I spilled the contents on the bed next to me, in Dawson’s spot. A flat square item wrapped in shiny pink paper slid out first. He knew how obsessed I’d always been with the color pink. Then a card with glittery butterflies on it landed on top of it. And finally, a couple of paper hearts cut from pink construction paper fluttered out. It was something he’d taken to doing occasionally when he mailed stuff to me, so the envelope would have a physical representation of all the love he sealed inside.
A tear trickled down my cheek at the gesture. A gesture he sent eighteen months after the last time I’d seen him. I carefully clutched those two pieces of love in my left palm. My other hand shook as I picked up the card. I thumbed it open and drew in a sharp breath at the letter penned inside in his handwriting.
Dear flutterby,
Happy Birthday. Bet you’re surprised that I didn’t forget. I could never forget. I asked the mail people over here how long it would take for this to reach you, and I’ve timed it out, so it’ll arrive on your birthday, give or take a day. I know you’re dying to open the gift. But I also know that you won’t until you read the card. So, I’m going to get some stuff off my chest, then let you open your gift. They say it isn’t good to hold things in.
It’s been a while since we’ve talked. And I’m sorry about that. I was hurt and mad for a while. Honestly, part of me still is. But we promised that no matter what happened, we wouldn’t let our friendship be lost. And I didn’t do my part to hang on to it. I’ve been so lost without you. At first, I waited for you to change your mind. To come back. To love me again. I waited a long time for that. Longer than I thought possible.
After a while though, I was forced to face the truth. I took a long look at the way things were right after you left. Finally, I understood why you gave up and walked away. I know life with me would be tough. Nearly insurmountable obstacles. Constant pressure pushing us apart. I know that I’m no better than my dad in the love department, and I’d only wind up breaking your heart. And that would kill us both.
Anyway, I’m sure you saw that I went through a few really dark months. I really lost my way after I faced the hard truths about what chasing my dreams had cost me. Losing you broke something inside of me. I’m not sure it will ever be healed. But I am trying. And I will try with every breath I draw, no matter how difficult. So, don’t worry about me.
Stop reading here and open your gift. Then come back. I’ve made you wait long enough.
♪ Price of Fame by Submersed
I STOPPED READING like he asked. I’d never been able to deny him anything he asked of me in all the years we’d known each other. Picking up the pretty package, I argued with myself about opening it. It was the last birthday gift Dawson sent me. Sent long after I thought he’d forgotten about me and moved on. When my birthday approached this past September, I checked the mail every day. My head knew it was a long shot, but my heart was convinced he wouldn’t forget. After our breakup, I was disappointed when my birthday came and went with no word from him. But I convinced myself that it was too soon after everything went to hell for him to reach out. When this past September ended without any word from him, I was devastated. It seemed he didn’t forget my birthday after all. I only thought he did.
Now my heart soared as I realized he hadn’t forgotten. It was just another set of circumstances beyond our control. Using my fingernail, I opened the wrapping paper, taking great care not to rip it. Inside was a CD. Not a mass produced one, but one like the guys always made as they perfected new songs. The handwritten back label was visible first. I read through the list of tracks. First Kiss. Heaven in a Pink Dress. Lovecoaster. Riding the High. Making Me Dizzy. If Only. Need You Now. So Sorry. Drowning. Flutters Bye. Last Kiss. The songs weren’t familiar to me, except First Kiss.
When I turned the plastic case over, I gasped. He’d used the computer software I’d taught him in order to create the label. It was an image I could draw with my eyes closed. One of my favorite creations with a touch of his work added to it. It was a sketch of our first kiss with a tiny whirlwind of butterflies spinning above our heads. Beneath it in his handwriting, it said “Making Me Dizzy”. Why would he use it as the cover of my birthday CD? Maybe he explained in his note.
Picking the card back up, I scanned until I got to the part where I’d left off.
What you’re looking at is the first album Lyrical Odyssey will release under our own label. This is the rough cut. You hold the only copy. You’re the inspiration of every single word on it. So, it’s only fitting that you have the first copy and that your art grace the cover. The guys and I would like to pay you for the use of your image for the album. We can meet when I get back to the states and draw up a contract for it. That is if you’re willing to let us use it.
Thank you for always being my inspiration and believing in me, even when I didn’t believe in myself. Without you, I wouldn’t be living my dream. I just wished that chasing my dream hadn’t cost me the thing I now understand is most valuable to me. You.
I will always love you, flutterby. And one day, I hope our friendship will be restored. I haven’t done so well without you. I need to make amends for hurting you.
Happy Birthday, Izzy.
/>
Love,
Dawson
TEARS FLOWED FREELY DOWN my cheeks as I set my treasure box on the floor. Carefully, I folded up the pretty pink wrapping paper. I slid it, the card and the CD back inside the blue envelope. I didn’t have the strength to listen to the CD he’d made for me. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe next week. Maybe never.
I kept the paper hearts in my hand. Leaning over, I placed the envelope back in my box of treasures, then went to turn off the light. When I climbed back into bed, sleep came peacefully as I held those little tokens of love in my hand all night long.
CHAPTER 10
DAWSON
T he ringing of my phone pulled me from slumber. I grinned when I saw the Caller ID.
“Dario, what’s up, man?”
He groaned at my inability to say his name the ‘proper’ way. “Not too bad, Dawson. How are you?” he asked with his thick German accent, replacing the D in my name with a T and the W with a V. I remembered when I met him, I had to struggle so much to understand what he was saying. Especially in my drugged-up state. After spending sixty days with him as my constant companion last year, my mind immediately slipped into deciphering mode.
“Recovery wise, I’m doing great, man. Thanks again for all your help and support on that front. There were a few times when temptation nearly got the best of me during the last few weeks of the tour, but I was able to get away from it,” I admitted and rolled over onto my back.
“That’s awesome. Was checking out your band’s Facebook page earlier and was a little worried. I mean, I know you haven’t written a new song in many months, but ‘Dear Universe’ is a… how you say… omin… ominous sounding name.”
I chuckled at his comment because I could see how he’d think that. “You don’t need to worry about me falling back into my old habits. ‘Dear Universe’ is a song pleading for the universe to give me answers.”
“Why you searching for answers?”
“You see, there’s this girl.”
I grabbed the painted jar sitting on my nightstand. Once I unscrewed the lid, I dumped out the colored confetti of wish strips. Strips that used to be folded into wishing stars. Stars and wishes we made for each other the last time we were together. The little paper wishing stars were supposed to help us get through our times of forced separation. To keep us connected through our little hopes and dreams and notes for each other. When she’d gone silent on me, I found myself rapidly going through a jar of dozens of messages, grasping for anything that would make me feel close to her in her absence. The intricate little stars were now nothing but a rainbow mess of papers.
♪ One Wish by Ray J
“There’s always a girl.” He laughed.
“Yeah, well, she’s the one.” My fingers sifted through the papers, looking for my favorites.
“Ah, Isabelle? Your reason? Ja?”
♪ Reason by Hoobastank
“Yes. It seems there were things I assumed incorrectly when she left without a word.” I flopped onto my back once more.
“Misunderstandings can be fixed,” he stated in the same matter-of-fact tone he’d used during my counseling sessions.
“It’s more complicated than that. See, while I thought she walked away from me and us, she was really fighting for her life. She got really sick. And I didn’t know,” my voice trailed off at the end.
“Oh, nein. Is she OK?” he asked with concern evident in his voice.
“After having surgery, she seems to be better according to my dad.”
“So, go see her, you idiot, and tell her you’re sorry you weren’t there for her.” He was always no-nonsense, so his response shouldn’t have surprised me.
“There’s someone else in her life now.” Unable to keep still, I threw off the covers and got to my feet.
“Ahh. I see. Who is he?”
“The doctor who took care of her is her new boyfriend.” My toes dug into the soft ply of the grey carpet. I stared at the empty space on the wall across from my bed. I knew the perfect thing to put there.
“But you are the Dawson Anderson.”
I guffawed at that. “Not to her, man. To Izzy, I’m just Dawson. Her best friend of nearly twenty years, her first boyfriend, first kiss, first… you know, and the guy who broke her heart. Being famous gives me no clout with her. She knows all my flaws.”
“You’re gefickt,” he commiserated.
“I know,” I said with a deep sigh and sank down on the edge of the bed.
“You should still talk to her.”
“I know, but I don’t know what to say,” I groaned and flopped back.
“How about you’re sorry?” His tone suggested I was daft.
“Yeah. I owe her an apology for sure.”
“And you can tell her that you still love her and miss her like crazy?” he said it like a question.
“Maybe. But she might be better off without me in her life.” My finger rubbed at the tension between my brows.
“Eh. Not if she still loves you like you love her.”
He acted like it was so simple. But matters of the heart rarely were. With Izzy, they always had been. That should’ve been my first warning.
“I’ll think about it. I’ll probably run into her in a few weeks when I go to her parents’ anniversary party. Hopefully by then I’ll have figured out where to start.” Absentmindedly, I arranged the paper strips scattered on the empty side of my bed into a fan.
“Viel glück. And keep me posted.”
“Thanks. I’m going to need all the luck I can get. Keep an eye on the Facebook page. I’m going to become more active on it now that I’m home.” I scooped the papers up into a stack and deposited them back into the painted jar.
“Great. Auf Wiedersehen.”
“Bye, Dario.”
Once I ended the call, I realized there were several unread text messages from my bandmates. They were all in the same vein, cautious and concerned about my Facebook video. In hindsight, I could see the desperate tone the name and melody might give off. The guys had been there through the worst of my freefall into despair.
With rapid fingers, I tapped out a group message to them.
Me: Everything’s all good. Didn’t think about the ominous tone of the teaser and title. Sorry.
Maddox: Glad to hear it.
Jett: Want 2 share the song with us, dude?
Me: In a few days. Only have 1st bit worked out.
Wilder: Y you writing a note to the universe?
Me: UR the 2nd person 2 ask that this morning.
Me: One word — Izzy.
Jett: Say no more.
Maddox: We R here if U need us.
Me: Thanx
At least Brooks hadn’t chimed in. We’d been friends the longest, and he knew me best. So, I hadn’t gone so far off the rails that he was worried yet. I tossed my phone down and decided to go make breakfast. While I ate my favorite marshmallow-y goodness drenched in milk, I visited our Facebook page. The shares, likes and comments had multiplied astronomically. And there were quite a few concerned and encouraging remarks about the song title.
Our fans were amazing. They were worried about me. It was time to explain a bit more, so they’d understand the inspiration behind the song.
With pad and pen, I started scribbling my post. The words flowed in a way they hadn’t since Izzy had left. Effortlessly.
When I was done, I read over what I’d written. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to get through it without my voice cracking. Maybe I should just type it.
After hitting the button to go live, I realized I was shirtless, and I hadn’t even brushed my hair yet. Oh well.
“Good morning, Loyals. Please refrain from posting any comments. I have something I want to post in the first comment when I’m done. Anyway, you guys were on my mind first thing this morning. You can see I just rolled out of bed. Your response to my song tease last night has overwhelmed me. I know without a doubt Lyrical Odyssey has the best fans ever.”
I winked at
the screen and flashed my famous smile. “So, the song I teased last night sounds sad. And it kind of is. But it’s not a song of despair. It’s a soul-searching song. I don’t have many of the words written yet. But I know the goal of the song is to find answers from the power out there that holds the solutions. And as you should be able to guess, the source of the questions, the start of my search, all begins with a girl. Because ladies, you’re the ultimate source of all the mystery in the world.” I laughed.
“This girl is special. Without her, I never would’ve even become a musician. The first time I ever sang a song, it was with her… for her. Anyway, I just wanted to reassure you all that I’m OK. Just in need of answers. I’ll explain more in the comments. And if you have any good advice, send it my way.”
Once I stopped the live feed, I clicked in the comment box and began typing what I’d written down.
♪ Open Your Eyes by Alter Bridge
DEAR UNIVERSE,
I’m an idiot. Words have always mattered to me, whether they were scratched in childish scrawl with a crayon underneath a drawing or written in beginner’s cursive in a note passed in class or inscribed in a beautiful looping script within a sketchbook or shorthand text speak or quick messages of encouragement in my inbox or etched on my heart, forming a song.
They’ve always come easily, even when I don’t let them out. But for the first time in my life, I think words may fail me. I don’t know what to do. It’s my hope that if I share some of them with you, you can help me find the right ones to regain what I’ve lost. I swear I’m not nuts. I’m just a man who loved a girl, and then like an idiot left her behind to chase my own dreams. But even the brightest of dreams coming true lose their sparkle without someone to share them with. Without the one to share them with. I need to go back to the beginning, back to when it all started with a note.
When I was six, I was lonely. Until she became my best friend.
When I was nine, I was miserable. Until she became my refuge.
When I was eleven, I was lost. Until she became my song.
Notes of the Heart: Book 2 of the Lyrical Odyssey Rock Star Series Page 12