Never Let Go

by Anne Carol

  During dinner, we talked about the weather (as usual), how my family was doing, and what I’d been up to for the past several months. I was on my best behavior tonight, trying to make up for my poor attitude the night before. It was easy settling in with his family again, and they seemed happy to have me there. Maybe because they knew my presence made David happier. We talked all through dinner, even lingering past the end of the meal.

  When David squeezed my thigh and gave me a sidelong glance, I took that as a hint he wanted to be alone with me. During a pause in the conversation, we both got up from the table and took our dishes to the kitchen. I offered to help Mrs. Somers with the dishes after supper, but she refused any help, encouraging me to go spend time with David.

  “Come on, angel,” he said, taking my hand and leading me upstairs.

  Stepping into his room, I placed his gift on the desk and took a look around to find nothing had changed, except my framed photo was now on his nightstand, and my bear on his pillow.

  “Cute,” I snickered, pointing to the stuffed bear.

  “Not the same as having you here, but it keeps me company,” he said as he walked over to his stack of records. “Music?”

  “Yeah, but nothing heavy, okay?” I urged, not really in the mood for being screamed at.

  “Forgive me, but I don’t believe I have any Carpenters albums,” he teased.

  “Ha ha.” I rolled my eyes at his goofiness. “The Beatles will do.”

  “Ah, yes, we can do The Beatles.” He sifted through his mountain of LPs, pulling out one of the later recordings and placing it on the turntable.

  Continuing my survey of his room, I noticed a new electric guitar in the corner, joining his two other guitars. “You got another guitar?”

  He adjusted the volume on the record player. “It’s a bass.” He walked over to pick it up. “See? It’s a bit different than a regular guitar.”

  “Oh, yeah,” I said, realizing that the bass had a longer neck and fewer strings. “So, I have a funny question: how can you play both the bass and the guitar at the same time? I mean, I know you’re talented, but …”

  He chuckled at my sarcasm. “Silly girl. I play bass on occasion to fill in at gigs. And most of the time, I get paid. Easy way to earn a little money, and it gets me exposure.”

  “That’s good, as long as you’re not overdoing it. You need to rest once in a while,” I said, lightly tousling his hair.

  He didn’t answer, just touched his forehead to mine. “Oh, angel, how I’ve missed you,” he whispered. He joined his lips with mine in a quick, soft kiss and then gazed at me. “Time for your gift.”

  I did a little dance inside, and watched him stride over to his desk, open his top drawer, and pull out a small wrapped box.

  “Come here, beautiful.” He summoned me over to the edge of the bed, where he now sat holding the box. “I’ve been waiting all day to give this to you.”

  Once I was seated, he handed me the shiny red package. I unwrapped the paper and found a black box inside. Opening the box, I uncovered a silver bracelet. I had to catch my breath.

  “Oh, it’s so pretty. Thank you. I love it.” I broke out into a huge smile and hugged him.

  “You’re welcome.”

  “I hope you didn’t spend too much money on me.”

  “Beth, you need to let me spoil you.”

  “I’m serious. I know you put a lot of money into the demo tape and you’re having to buy better equipment for the band and all that.” I looked at him. “How’s that going, by the way? Any bites yet?”

  “You’d be the first to know.” He shook his head. “My dad is starting to put pressure on me, though.” The record started skipping in the middle of “Something.”

  “Damn,” he muttered, getting up to move the needle forward.

  “About your future, or what?” I pressed on.

  “Basically. He views my job at the record shop as a dead-end opportunity, and he doesn’t see the music thing working out. So yes, he’s worried about my future,” he said, bending down to inspect the record.

  The future, right. This seemed as good a time as any to bring up those nagging concerns about what would happen if his music didn’t pan out.

  “Think you’ll ever go to college? I mean, if the music thing doesn’t happen?”

  He straightened up and faced me. “What did you just say?” he sounded defensive.

  Oh, great. “College. You know, it’s helpful if you want a good-paying job. Doesn’t mean you couldn’t still do your music.”

  “You’re starting to sound like my father, and I’m not sure I like it.” His jaw tightened. “I thought you believed in me.”

  “I never said I didn’t. You have more talent than anyone I know and I think you could make it, but it may take a while, or it may never happen.”

  “Don’t say that.” He shrunk back, his eyes widening.

  “But it’s the truth, and wouldn’t you rather be prepared if the worst happened?”

  He turned his back to me, supporting himself on his desk and staring out the window. “I can’t believe this,” he muttered.

  “Look, I come from a family of college professors and I happen to think education is important. I’m sorry if you don’t want to hear this,” I said the last part with a clip.

  He spun around and threw me a pained expression. “All I’m hearing is that you don’t believe in me and the band. That everything we’ve done over the past few months has been for nothing.”

  “That’s not even close to what I said. You should be out there trying to make your dreams come true, but if it comes to the point where you don’t want to pursue it anymore, you need a backup plan.”

  “A backup plan, huh? You don’t understand—making music is all I’ve ever wanted to do and it’s all I’ll ever want to do. I plan on pursuing this until I no longer have breath in me. If you can’t handle that, then … perhaps you should leave.” He pointed toward the door.

  My mouth fell open. “It’s not that I can’t handle it. I just don’t want you to be disappointed.”

  “Like I am right now?”

  Sighing, I rose from the bed. “Maybe we should call it a night. I hate fighting with you.”

  “Beth,” he reached out a hand, like he wanted to stop me.

  I looked at the rain hitting his window. “I’ll have your dad drive me home.”

  “So you two can conspire against me, no doubt,” he grumbled.

  The comment cut too deep, and I found myself stalking back and getting in his face. “Look, I came a really long way to see you, and for you to imply that I don’t support your music or love you for who you are is devastating. I know what you’re about, David! All I’m saying is have a safety net! The music business is a crap shoot and you know it!”

  “Just go. You’ve already killed my night,” he said, sounding defeated.

  On the short car ride home, I explained to Mr. Somers what David and I’d argued about. He said he appreciated that I was trying to get David to think about college.

  “University would be good, but I’d be happy if he could get a job where he could support himself, and a family, someday.” He looked at me. “He’s got his head in the clouds.”

  “Well, hopefully something will become of the music,” I said, peering out the window, away from him.

  “I don’t know …”

  David was right. His father had no confidence in him, and that had to be disappointing. And now his girlfriend was throwing doubts his way. No wonder he was so wound up. He must’ve thought the whole world was against him.

  I stared out the window at the falling rain, which reflected my crashing mood. Now harboring a huge lump in my throat, I didn’t say another word until I was safely delivered to my uncle’s house.

  “Thanks, Mr. Somers,” I said, ducking my head as I exited the car.

  “Don’t worry, love. David’ll come round.”

  I nodded. “I hope so, I really hope so,” I said as I turned an
d walked away.

  The loud pounding on the door startled me from my trance. “Beth? Are you alright? You’ve been in there quite a while.”

  I wasn’t surprised Jenny would come looking for me; after I entered the house, I went directly upstairs and locked myself in the bathroom. All I wanted was to stand under the hot water, empty myself of tears, and wash away the hurt. David’s words—“just go”—wouldn’t leave my mind, but in fact played over and over again, like a cruel joke. It didn’t seem like something he could say. But I guess I found the one topic that set him off.

  Jenny was lurking outside the bathroom when I came out. “There you are,” she said, giving me a quick once-over. “David phoned a little while ago.”

  “Oh,” I said, facing the floor.

  Why he would call, I had no idea. Did he want to argue more, get reassurance, or maybe …? My shoulders slumped at the last possibility. It couldn’t be over just like that.

  “What happened between you two? You’re a mess, and he sounded like a ghost on the phone, completely miserable.”

  “We kind of had an argument.”

  “About what?”

  “Come on, I’ll fill you in,” I said, waving her into our room.

  “Beth, you destroyed his ego,” Jenny remarked, after I told her everything that happened.

  “Thank you,” I snapped.

  “It’s true. Music is his life. He’s been working his arse off trying to get this record deal, and at this point he can’t see past that. Couldn’t you have given him a bit more time?”

  “Probably. But it’s been bugging me, and I didn’t want to have this conversation over the phone.”

  “Will it change your mind about being with him?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “Look, I see your point, believe me. You don’t want to be stuck supporting your family while he’s off playing gigs and working a crap job, I get that. But somehow I don’t see David putting you in that position. You need to have faith in him, Beth.”

  “I know.” I lay back on the pillow and gazed at the ceiling. “What should I do?”

  “Ring him back, now.”

  I popped up from the bed and sprinted down the stairs toward the phone. Mrs. Somers answered on the second ring, only to tell me David had already gone to bed, that he “wasn’t well.” Great, that’d be my fault.

  “Can you tell him I’ll be out on a college visit tomorrow morning, but that I’ll phone him when I get in?”

  “Of course, dear.”

  I hated going to bed with unresolved conflicts weighing on me. But I had no choice. There was nothing I could do until the next afternoon.

  Even then, I had no idea how to resolve this matter. My cousin had a point; I needed to have more faith in David, but I also sided with his father in some ways. His dad was only looking out for his son’s future, though he could’ve been more supportive of David’s music. It bothered me that his own father couldn’t recognize his extraordinary talent. Financial support was one thing, but having someone truly believe in him was what he needed. I was that one person, and I’d failed him.

  My job now was to build up his confidence, after I clearly steamrolled it last night. He knew how I felt about education, so there was no point in bringing it up again. I had to accept the fact that he might never be college material, even if it conflicted with my own ideals. It didn’t change the fact that I loved him enough to want to share my life with him.

  Which is why I was determined to pick a college this week, and then pray that I’d get into one of them. Tomorrow’s appointment was at North London University, and now with that on my mind, I was restless with anxiety. What if I didn’t like it? Or what if I did, but then I got nervous and blew it? I tried to ease my mind by praying about it, but it was still well after midnight before my body gave in, allowing me to fall into a deep sleep.

  Following breakfast, Uncle Ned drove me over to the mid-size campus, which was just a few miles away. Not close enough to walk, but I could see myself using the bus system to get around, wherever I lived.

  The campus was beautiful; there were trees everywhere, stark now because of winter, and many grassy areas which broke up the cluster of old brick buildings. It amazed me how three generations of Johnsons would be educated at this same institution, assuming I ended up here. I never in my wildest dream thought I’d be a part of that legacy, but here I was about to make that a possibility.

  The first step was speaking with an admissions counselor. It took everything in me to not fidget and bounce my way through our meeting with Mr. Woodward, who explained the admissions process for international students, the specific academic programs, on-campus accommodations, and funding requirements. It was a lot to take in, and both my uncle and I took copious notes.

  I was fortunate to be able to choose any school I wanted. When Grandma Doris, my mom’s mom, passed away, she left a substantial amount of money to my sister and me to be used for education. Grandpa Fred, who died when I was a baby, had been savvy with money all his life, and had left Grandma with more money than she knew what to do with.

  Following the admissions appointment, we were given a tour of the campus: academic buildings, library, dining hall, and residence halls. Along the way, Uncle Ned added his own commentary—“this is the building where I lived,” “that’s the lecture hall where I met Ellie,” and “I spent many a late night at that library.” It added a personal touch, which automatically put it above the other colleges I planned to visit.

  Uncle Ned still kept in touch with many of his college friends, and lucky for me one happened to be the Assistant Dean of the School of Journalism, Bill Davies. Because of the connection, he was able to arrange a meeting with Mr. Davies. He told me more specifics about the program, which got my blood pumping. I couldn’t wait to get started. At the same time, I was nervous. Between all the admissions information, the campus tour, and hearing about my specific program, reality set in about the fact that I’d be attending school in a foreign country—thousands of miles from my closest friends and family.

  I grilled Ned on the drive home about what it was like being an American at an English school. He said it took a bit of adjusting, and he made a point of seeking out other American students at first, but then he settled in with a group of mostly English friends. And then, of course, he met Ellie, who made him feel at home in London, so he decided to relocate permanently.

  As soon as we got back to the house, I planned to make my way upstairs to decompress a little. But when I stepped through the front door I caught a familiar scent which made my skin tingle.

  I turned in the direction of the masculine fragrance of aftershave and caught sight of David sitting at the kitchen table next to Jenny, with his head drooping down.

  My stomach dropped. “David?”

  “Beth.” He looked up, pushed back from the table and cautiously moved toward me. When he captured me in his arms and held me in a warm embrace, I didn’t want to move an inch. I just drank in the pleasurable feeling of his body pressed to mine, slowly thawing me inside and out. For a second it seemed like last night’s argument never happened.

  He stepped back to assess me. “How did it go? Did you … did you like it?” He couldn’t hide the tension in his voice, and my first instinct was to reassure him.

  “It went well. Yeah, I really liked it.” I was beaming, now that he was here, standing in front of me.

  He relaxed his frozen posture and smiled. “Oh, good. I’m so pleased.”

  Charmed by his gorgeous smile, I circled my arms around his neck and kissed his lips. “I’m glad you’re here, brown eyes. I’ll be right back, okay?”

  “I’m not going anywhere.” He kissed the tip of my nose.

  Now that David was here, I felt the need to freshen up after the long morning. I also still needed to unwind after absorbing so much information. But as I leaned on the bathroom counter and studied myself in the mirror, all I could see was David’s tired face staring back, and it s
tabbed me in the heart. I think he needs me. And I need him.

  I decided I’d unwind with him, maybe sneak in a nap together after lunch.

  Just as I opened the door, Jenny appeared on the other side.

  “Hey, Beth.” She grabbed my arm and led me back inside the bathroom. “David is a train wreck. You need to fix this.”

  “I plan to, believe me.”

  “Why don’t you go down and fix him some lunch, and I’ll let you two alone.”

  “Thanks, Jenny.”

  He was sitting at the kitchen table when I headed for the fridge to get out sandwich fixings.

  “Do you want the usual?” I asked him, trying to not sound like I was dying inside, desperate to set things right with us.

  “Sure, if it’s no bother.” He was being very careful with me, I could tell. His usual playful self was tucked away somewhere, waiting for a sign from me, I suppose. Classic David.

  I silently made our sandwiches at the counter while he watched me with a blank gaze. As I focused on spreading the right amount of marmite on his sandwich, I heard his chair scoot back and his footsteps approach me. Soon his arms slid around my waist from behind and he held me close to him. The sensation of him kissing the top of my head caused me to become slightly limp in his grasp, and he tightened his hold on me.

  “I love how my California girl knows just how much marmite I like on my sandwich.”

  His breath tickled my ear, causing me to shiver. “Well, I’d better learn if I’m going to take care of you someday.”

  He squeezed from behind and kissed my hair. “Yes, you should.”

  I rotated around and kissed his lips. “Why don’t you grab some sodas from the fridge?”

  While he did that, I plated the sandwiches, and we sat down together at the table.

  “So how long have you been here?” I asked, unable to hide my curiosity.

  “A few hours,” he admitted, glancing away. “Jenny helped me understand a bit better how you feel. I apologize—”