Melody of Us

by A. L. Wood

  But I do. I know what it’s like. I know how it is to be alone, completely and utterly alone. I know how it is to be ignored day in and day out for a drug, I know what it’s like to not be loved.

  He doesn’t. So, he couldn’t appreciate those small things as much as I do. His parents can be overbearing and controlling, but they do it out of love. If I could I’d wish for my parents to be one tenth of the parents his are. We are just too different, especially now. Now that he has his own money, his own career. Before long everyone in the world will know who he is and if we’re still friends I’ll be the one left forgotten in the shadows because I’m unmemorable.

  And that’s okay.

  I am genuinely happy for his success, I’ve wanted this for him for so long. I’ve wanted him to be his own person, to chase after his dreams even while knowing that eventually I will be forgotten.

  “What ya thinking about? You’re quiet.” Anson pulls me out of my head and away from my self-pitying thoughts.

  “Just thinking about how excited I am that you’re here. Finally!” I say with excitement lacing my voice.

  “I know, it’s been way too damn long. I was starting to forget what you look like.”

  I throw him a look that says, you’re kidding me.

  “I’m just joking. I couldn’t forget that beautiful face, even if it had been ten years.”

  “Yeah, yeah.”

  “Seriously. I’m just sad that we only have until Sunday. Less than forty-eight hours to go.”

  “What time do you leave?”

  “Flight departs at five, so I’d have to have you bring me to the airport by three. Don’t want to chance missing my gate.”

  “Have to get back to the music world on time,” I joke.

  Anson

  She pulls into the driveway of a small tan house. There’s a door on the front and one on the side of the building. It’s not the place I’d want for her, but I know she’s prideful, that she’s gotten here on her own so I don’t comment on how I could just buy her a house or that she could live in the one I’m hopefully buying.

  “What door?” I ask as I grab my suitcase from her trunk.

  “Side door, I’ll unlock it.”

  She leaves me to unlock the door, by the time I reach her it’s already open and she’s waiting with the door open for me to enter. Her arm is held out as if to say, welcome to my home.

  “Offering a tour?” I ask as I step inside. I’m met with a living room, sparsely set up. She’s got a couch with a throw thrown over it, a small television sits on top of a coffee table adjacently. Pictures in frames litter the wall, pictures of her, and of us. To my left is a wall with photos of just me. As I step closer to see them all in detail I notice that some are magazine clippings about my success. As I move along the wall I see that they all are.

  “Lyk?” I have no words.

  I’d hoped she would follow every move I was making because in the end every step was for her and for me. It was for us. All of it is, always.

  “They’re nothing. Just a fan following her favorite musician.” She scoffs.

  “Not nothing. This wall, it’s...it’s more than a fan following her favorite singer. It’s someone following their best friend proudly.”

  “I guess if that’s what you want to call it. Anyway, I’ll give ya a quick tour before you shower. Meeting with the realtor, right?”

  “Fine. This isn’t the end of it though, I will bring it up again.”

  “Okay. Come on.”

  “This is the living room,” she waves her hand around.

  “I wouldn’t have guesses it,” I reply sarcastically.

  “Oh, fuck off,” she laughs.

  Lyrik leads me through an open archway into the kitchen, “Food is here.” She opens the refrigerator.

  I laugh. Then I follow her back into the living room and up the stairs. “This is only a one bedroom apartment and to save room they decided to make a small bathroom in my bedroom instead of one large bathroom. Your only option is to take a shower because it’s a stand-up. Barely any room in there but you’ll be fine.”

  At the top of the stairs is her bedroom, completely open. Her queen bed lays against the wall furthest away in the middle. Nightstands on each side with lamps, a book lays face up and opened on the left side. The other nightstand houses a picture of her and me. My heart flutters knowing that she’s put me all over this house even though I’d never entered it. Her side of the bed. Two doors next to each other are to the right, “Left door is my closet, right is the bathroom. That’s the tour.” She claps her hands together.

  “Can I leave my suitcase in here? I’ll grab it from downstairs and take a shower.”

  “Yeah, that’s fine. Put it wherever you want.”

  I run down the stairs, grab my luggage and run it back up where I find her standing in the spot I left her.

  “By the way, where am I sleeping?” I ask, wanting to knock her off her feet figuratively like she did me with all of those framed photos.

  She opens her mouth then closes it a couple times before answering. “Umm...I thought the couch?” She raises her eyebrows in question.

  I say nothing as I put my suitcase on her bed and open it, grabbing out my one outfit I brought. I can wash what I’m wearing now to fly home in.

  “Or my bed. If you want?” She says.

  I grin at her, “Wherever you want me to sleep I will. Going to shower now. We have to meet Sarah in an hour.”

  “All right. Do you want anything to eat? I can whip up a sandwich in record time.”

  “We can grab something after we look at all the houses. I’ll take you out to dinner, my treat.”

  “Okay…” I hear her mumble as I shut the bathroom door.

  Lyrik

  She’s pretty. Too pretty. Blonde bombshell if you ask me and she only has eyes for Anson.

  Bitch.

  Of course, I mean that word in the nicest way. I wouldn’t even call her that in my head just because she’s beautiful. No, I say that because since we got to this house she’s been fawning all over Anson, touching him for no reason, batting her fake eyelashes. Brushing her boobs against his arm, all of it on purpose.

  I’m desperate for his love, but hide it because I have self-respect. This woman has no problem showing her deep desperation for Anson’s dick.

  Have some respect for yourself lady, I want to yell at her.

  She doesn’t even know him.

  She isn’t aware that he is a blanket hog and tends to snore when he sleeps. She doesn’t know that he finds all seafood disgusting and mayonnaise is unnecessary. Or that he only takes his socks off when changing into a clean pair or showering because he hates feet.

  All she knows is that he has the cash to buy a house outright and that screams the dollar sign in blazing neon lights behind his head.

  Which is why every time she opens a cupboard, or door she makes sure to brush her chest against any body part of his that she can reach be it his back, chest or arm. Also why she whispers her oohs and ahhs about the first house we stepped in into his ear.

  I’m partially pissed that she’s trying to use my friend for her end paycheck and partially jealous that she’s trying to seduce my Anson, in front of me to ice the fucking cake that she’s currently digesting.

  I let it go on during the showing of the first house, but I’ll be damned if it happens in the second or third.

  Anson

  She’s jealous.

  I shouldn’t like it, but I do.

  Lyrik has never gotten jealous.

  She’s silently fuming as we pull into the driveway of the second house, a modern two story four-bedroom house.

  I already like this one much better, Lyrik doesn’t make a comment. I think not only is she jealous, but maybe mad at me too for not pushing Sara away.

  It probably makes me an asshole, no, it definitely makes me an asshole that I let it happen because I wanted her to act on her emotions. I wanted to see if she still felt the sa
me way about me like I do for her. She’s a professional at schooling her face, pretending to be oblivious about what’s between us. That there’s more than friendship. It’s attraction, hot and tension filled and love that would take us to the end of our time.

  We’d have that Notebook kind of love.

  The kind of love where we’d both grow old and spend our days reminding each other how much love we’ve shared over the years. We’d never let the other forget that kind of love.

  Sara gets out of her car and waits for us at the front door, I get out of the car to meet her there and Lyrik follows suit behind me. The house is large, an open floor plan leaving the kitchen, living room and dining room open. As Sara shows me around the house she pushes her body into mine, her hand lingers just a little too long and her words are reduced to whispers in what she believes is a sexy tone.

  I however, do not believe it’s sexy.

  What I do find sexy though is that Lyrik’s brown eyes are blazing with fury for me and Sara. I smirk at her. I could allow this to go on longer and then well, Sara could get the wrong idea and so could Lyrik, I wouldn’t want her to think I’m interested in anyone else. It’s not the time for Lyk and me, but one day it will be and hitting on another woman in her presence wouldn’t be a smart idea. So, smirking at her lets her know that I’m not into it and that I know she’s pissed. I thought maybe she’d grin back.

  But no.

  Oh no, not Lyk. She gets even.

  She gently pushes her way in between Sara and me to hold my hand, her fingers intertwine with mine. Some people take hand holding for granted, they dismiss it as a non-intimate connection. Something as dismal as a handshake. But not I.

  It’s something I crave, such an innocent yet intimate touch. My fingers enclosing hers, her thumb brushing against the side of mine in an absent-minded whisper light touch. The depth of what I feel for her is incomparable to how I feel about music, I know this because when my fingers stroke a chord on my guitar I don’t feel half as connected as I do to Lyrik.

  She’s my music.

  My soul.

  She’s the only one to have any kind of power over me and I’d do whatever she wanted to make her happy.

  Which is why I leave her hand in mine and allow Sara to think we’re a couple house hunting instead of friends, it’s why I sign the dotted line, even though she doesn’t know it, to buy the house.

  It lit her eyes up, unlike the other one.

  She doesn’t know it yet, but one day this house will be her home, our home.

  October 14th 2012

  Lyrik

  I roll over to find my hand hits an empty pillow. The pillow Anson was sleeping on when I fell asleep last night after meeting up with his parents for dinner. A dinner that had not gone so well as they did not convince Anson to stay behind. They’d claimed his success wasn’t for real and would be short lived, that he had to start investing his time into his future never mind that he just bought a house and still has copious amounts of money left over.

  I don’t want to open my eyes because that just means him not being here anymore is real. I thought he didn’t have to leave until this afternoon, that’s what he’d told me. Maybe he just went out to get us breakfast or something.

  I hope.

  I clutch the comforter around me, seeking comfort from something inhuman as a way to control the sadness I feel within at the possibility of him leaving without saying goodbye. Without letting me say goodbye. I slide one hand out from under the blanket to turn the lamp on my bedside table on. I made it so that my room is pitch black, even when it’s day light outside. As I blindly find my way to the lamp with my fingers I feel something.

  A piece of paper.

  Paper that wasn’t there last night.

  Damn it, Anson.

  I’m a fan of all the words in the world, written down on paper.

  I’d give that all up if it meant I would’ve gotten to speak to him one last time in person because neither of us know when the next time will be that we get to be face to face again.

  I turn the lamp on, toss the comforter off and sit up to read his letter.

  Dear Lyrik,

  Plans changed, I had to get on an early flight back to begin the next round of touring. This one will be a shorter one though because they want to get me in the studio to make an album to tour all over again. As soon as I have time, I’ll be back here. I didn’t want to disturb you, it’s still early.

  Thanks for letting me crash here, and in your bed. Way better than the couch.

  Anyway, I’ll e-mail, text all of that when I can. I’ll see you soon.

  Fucking miss and love you,

  Anson

  He purposely didn’t wake me. He knew that I wouldn’t mind him waking me if he was leaving. I would want to say goodbye, I mean, I don’t, but I would have if I had to. I personally think he hates leaving as much as I do, but he puts on a positive outlook for me, because if he were upset I wouldn’t be able to hide how much him leaving hurts.

  This is the second time I’ll pick up the pieces of my shattered heart all around. His leaving breaks me.

  It breaks me so much that I lose focus of who I am and what I have to do. I lose myself in him, he is who completes me and when he’s not around it’s like I’m not whole.

  No one or nothing but Anson can fix me.

  Too bad he’s off chasing his dreams.

  I can’t and won’t hold him back from that, I just hope he comes home sooner than last time. Over a year was difficult, knowing he bought a house here, that he wanted to put his roots down in Fort Edward where I am, satisfies the shards of my heart a tiny bit.

  Now to make it one more day without him.

  Anson

  “Where does your map say we’re headed now?” I ask my friend and manager Jared.

  I only landed two hours ago, managed to leave behind Lyrik’s gifts that I forgot to give her and now here I am on the tour bus again for the next six months as a show opener. I love it, I wouldn’t trade this for most things in the world.

  I’d trade it for Lyrik any day, but then we wouldn’t have a secure life. I’m doing this because my love for music is just right under the love I have for her. I’m good at it, no, I’m fucking great at it and when you get noticed you’re paid a nice amount to travel the world doing something with your life.

  I’m not greedy, I just want enough to settle down with Lyk, have a family one day and be able to afford sending them off to college or whatever dreams they may have. I want to raise children that soar after what they want, full of fight and hard work, but I want to do that owning our own home and with a large savings account. Who knows, maybe one day I’ll establish my own record company and help others achieve their dreams.

  Until then I have to suck it up and deal with being away from Lyrik. When it comes to the end of our story, I’ll look back and see that I did everything I could to make a nice life for us. It will be worth it.

  Even if when I left early this morning I didn’t say goodbye.

  I couldn’t.

  I didn’t want to see that sadness of me leaving left in her bright eyes. I didn’t want to see her heart crack because I’d have to tell her that our time was over and I didn’t know when I would be back.

  “We’re headed to St. Louis. That’s our first stop, if you want I can email you the schedule. Maybe your friend can meet you at a show,” Jared replies.

  “Maybe.”

  December 9th 2013

  Age: Twenty-One

  Lyrik

  I need him.

  He doesn’t need me.

  Not anymore.

  It’s been a year and in that time, he went from emailing me once a week, even if it was a quick hello to once a month.

  I’ll admit that maybe some of the blame lays at my feet because I didn’t reply often. I didn’t mean for us to grow so far apart, but it’s hard to find yourself yet again when the person who broke you wants to have contact so often.

  With scho
ol and work I’m exhausted by the time I hit my bed only to begin again tomorrow. A few words typed out in the form of an email wouldn’t seem so trying to most, but for me it takes everything from me. It’s draining to type a few words to the one person you love the most who isn’t here.

  He’s not around.

  I know…I know that he can’t be but in the back of my mind I’m always thinking that he could try just a little bit harder. I’m sure that he’s had a day or two off in the last year. A day that he didn’t choose to come home to see me.

  A day that he didn’t pick up his cellphone and hit the call button that would connect his voice to mine.

  A day that he didn’t send me a text message asking if I wanted to FaceTime. He could’ve done any one of those things and I wouldn’t have backed off.

  I would’ve tried harder too.

  I’m thinking about all of this because he sent me an email this morning. One where he asked me to go to one of his shows. It’s tonight.

  A show that is a short drive from here, maybe forty-five minutes away.

  I want to say no because I know that when I leave I’ll hurt all over again.

  But I’m addicted to him and his love and his music.

  I still follow him everywhere. Online, in the magazines and gossip columns. I follow it all, proud of how far he’s made it.

  I’d just be in the way of his success.

  He wouldn’t work as hard because I’d distract him from what he has to do.

  I know that.

  Even aware of that knowledge I reply telling him that I’ll go.

  Short and sweet.

  He replies back within minutes that there will be a ticket at the front desk in my name that allows me to go back stage too.

  Anson

  She’s coming.

  She said yes.

  It’s been way too long and I wish I had more time to stay and hang out with her, spend the night telling her about what I’ve seen and what I’ve done and where I’m going.