by Molli Moran
“Sloane Amaya Delgado. What’s wrong? And don’t try to tell me nothing. I know when you’re upset about something.”
“Tallulah and I didn’t work out.” She swirls her finger through the icing on her cake then sticks it in her mouth.
Stunned, I sit back in my chair. I don’t know what to say. They’ve been on a few dates, and I honestly thought they could turn into a real relationship, from what Sloane said. I hadn’t met Tallulah but seeing Sloane so happy was enough for me. Sloane hasn’t had good luck with girls in the last year or so. She’s been cautiously dating since a breakup some time ago, but so far, she hasn’t found anyone to give her heart to.
“What happened?”
I watch her eat the rest of her cake. She’s so quiet. Either she isn’t going to tell me, or she’s trying to figure out what to say. I turn my attention to my own plate, nibbling at my cheesecake. When that’s gone, I start in on the fresh strawberries that came with it.
“She wasn’t ready to come out yet. I thought that by being with me, she’d change her mind, but…” Sloane lets her fork fall to her plate with a clatter. “I was wrong.” She sighs, blowing up her bangs. “I can’t wait, hoping she’ll get to the point I’m at in my life. I’m not scared anymore.”
I nod. I admire the hell out of my best friend. Coming out at seventeen nearly wrecked her. Her family disowned her, so she sued for her emancipation and worked her ass off in school and at her job. I know nothing has been easy for her, but Sloane makes life look like a race she’s determined to win, obstacles be damned.
Sometimes, I wonder if it’s because she’s so fixed on her goals and the future, or if it’s because she’s too determined not to look back at the ghosts following her. The only thing that matters to me is she's one of the strongest people I know, and my life would be empty without her.
“That’s hard. You know I respect you for making that decision.”
Sloane nods. “It hurt because we got along great. And the sex was amazing.” She smiles softly, a slightly wicked gleam in her eyes. “I told her I wanted us to stay friends, and I meant it. She deserves an awesome girlfriend, but I’m not it. I need someone who isn’t afraid to hold my hand in public. Someone who loves me loudly, not in a whisper.”
“Fuck yeah.” I hold up my coffee cup and we clink mugs. “We both do.” I lower my cup. “And you are going to find that person. And she’s going to be amazing, and she’ll make you so, so happy.”
“I hope so,” Sloane says. She brushes her bangs out of her eyes and smiles at me. “No matter what you decide, no matter what happens with Jake, I hope we both find the love we deserve.”
I hope so, too.
___ ___ ___
I’m still thinking about Sloane’s words later that night, when I make myself put down the phone. I’ve been going through pictures of me and Jake for too long, and every one of them makes me want to call him, but I told him I needed some downtime tonight. I pick up my guitar instead. I’ve been working on my songs for the showcase this Friday—also known as my deadline for making my decision about Nashville—but I need to fine-tune them a little.
Plus, there’s one I’m still working on.
I open my notebook to the page full of my scrawl. “Coming Home” is written across the top of the page. I’ve gotten as far as the verse and chorus, but that’s not counting what I’ve marked through and changed. I started writing it a few days ago, but like earlier with Sloane, I’m not really sure which place I’m talking about when I describe “home.”
Sloane is right to make me ask myself where home is. Is it Nashville, a city of lights, sound, music, and dreams? Or is it Martinville, a town made of pickup trucks, bonfires, fireflies, and Main Street events? We’ll have the Christmas tree lighting in a few months, and I can’t bear to think about not being there. But then again, New Year’s in Nashville is an amazing time. Wherever I stay, I’m missing something.
Maybe the real question isn’t which place I miss when I’m not there, because maybe I’m always going to long for parts of one or the other. Maybe the question is: which place do I feel at home in?
Frowning, I turn back to my song. I strum what I have of the melody, and smile as it falls into place. I’ve never enjoyed writing tunes as much as I do writing lyrics, or singing, but when I have to, I can do it. I love seeing the words come together, hearing my voice make them rise and fall, twist and turn. I just prefer to let someone else write the music.
But maybe that’s a problem. Isn’t that what I did for too long with Jake? I’ve been working the lyrics into the song someone else already wrote. I was afraid to take a risk with us. Then when he didn’t respond as perfectly to me as I imagined he would, I ran. We lost several days because of my actions. I’ve been letting things happen to me, instead of making them happen. I’ve never wanted to be the sort of person who just floats along, and I know that’s why I feel so torn and unsettled right now, while trying to make this choice.
Somehow, I have to stop looking at just one piece or another of the puzzle. I have to start looking at everything. Start looking inward, to my heart. I need to start listening to what it’s telling me about where I belong.
I have to change things. I have to decide to begin writing everything about my own song. I can't keep telling myself that everything will fall into place. That someday, the melody and my lyrics will go together perfectly. I can't keep thinking that the perfect life is one song away. I have to start making the most of the one I already have.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
I’m holding my guitar like it’s a lifeline. I can hear the crowd cheering and Adam playing fiddle. I’m not sure if it surprised me more that others volunteered for this showcase, or that Adam plays the fiddle. And I mean he plays. We jammed together yesterday, and I’m fairly sure he’s better than I am. I have to wonder if he’s as nervous as I am, or if he’s calm.
I force myself to stop pacing.
Freshly Ground is packed to the brim. The one and only time I peeked into the main area, every table was full, and there were folks standing everywhere. I caught sight of my family at a table near the makeshift stage Jake put together. I didn’t see Gideon, but he sent me a text letting me know that he’s here. I’ve been trying not to think of the importance of this night, but his text drives home the fact that I’ve made a decision—and very soon, the world will know what I decided.
Was it just a few days ago when Gideon showed up in my life again? Just a few days ago that he gave me this wonderful opportunity? He hasn’t pressed me once, not even when we talked yesterday. The old Gideon never would have waited patiently for me to give him an answer, so I think maybe he really is changing.
“Knock knock,” someone sings. I recognize my best friend’s voice immediately, so I swing the breakroom door open. Sloane steps into my refuge, smiling as soon as she sees me. “Hey superstar!”
“Don’t call me that.” I poke her shoulder. “I’m nervous enough as it is.”
“What? Don’t even start with that ‘I’m nervous’ bullshit.” She winks at me, her gaze mischievous. “You’re going to take them all by storm, Soph. I know it.”
I adjust my guitar strap to give myself something to do with my hands. I’ll be strumming and singing very soon, but right now, my heart feels like it’s slowly edging up my throat, so I need to stay busy. Even knowing that I have so many supporters here hasn’t even taken the edge off of my fear. The truth of it is, I’m not just nervous. I’m afraid. Even though I’ve made my choice and feel certain of it, there’s a small part of me that’s afraid because no one gets everything they want.
“Seriously,” Sloane says. “You’re going to be a star. I know it, and everyone out there is about to know, too.” She plants a kiss on my cheek. “Adam is about done, so I’m going to do your intro.”
“My intro?” I groan. “What is this, American Idol?”
“Even better.” She grins at me, sauntering toward the door. “It’s your night.”
&
nbsp; “Whatever, Seacrest.”
“Bitch.” She waves at me before exiting the room.
“Jerk.” I say it after she’s gone, but we’ve done it so many times that she doesn’t have to be here to hear me. Besides, Sloane is eating this night up. She got to get all dolled up, there’s bound to be at least one girl here for her to flirt with, and she gets to brag about me to everyone we know. She loves all of those things, so Sloane’s world is just about perfect—like I hope mine is by the end of the night.
Running through my set list again in my head, I reach for the bottle of water I brought with me. I take a small sip, mentally shifting around two songs in the order. I’m playing six, since I’m the “star” (even thinking it, I feel sarcastic) of the showcase. Adam did a few instrumentals on his fiddle, and another girl from town who I don’t know well did a few banjo songs. They’re both done, so it’s my turn. My moment.
Sloane sounds like a circus barker peddling the main act as I practically tiptoe down the hallway. I haven’t been on a stage or really in the spotlight since I came home. I’d managed to forget the euphoria that comes from knowing people are about to see and hear me perform, and the fear of doing something stupid, like falling on my face. I did that once at The Buckle. I was tipsy then. Tonight? I’m sober, so I have no excuse.
“Here she is, y’all—our very own rebel belle—Sophie-Claire Wright!”
With a deep breath, I round the corner and step onto the stage. Sloane hands me the microphone and hops down before she takes her seat with my family. It’s such a familiar scene, from talent shows and the like over the years. A wave of déjà vu washes over me, but I shrug, smile, and scan the crowd. Mama told all her friends at church and her coworkers about it. I see a ton of teens here, thanks to Cassidy. There are a lot of Freshly Ground regulars and various townspeople I know, plus some strangers.
Gideon is leaning against the wall in one corner, Jake in the other. I nod to Gideon and wave to Jake. My heart does a funny tripping thing when I see him. He’s dressed up for tonight in nice slacks, a button-down dress shirt, and his hair fixed. His eyes never leave mine, and I can’t help but think about how amazing he’s been these last few days. He knows I had a huge choice to make, and he respected that completely.
I worked and practiced for tonight and took lots of walks and drives around town. Jake and I talked on the phone every night, but we haven’t made us official yet. I want to, but I felt like I needed some objectivity to make my choice. Ultimately, I quickly realized that I was wrong. There was no way I could choose with my head. I had to choose with my heart.
Closing my eyes for a few seconds, I try to steady myself. Then I open my eyes and face the cheering crowd.
“Hey everyone!” I wave, trying to get comfortable. “Did you guys enjoy Adam and Christine?” I hear lots of applause, and I nod. “They were fabulous.” I adjust my guitar so I’m ready. “I’m going to play a few songs that I hope y’all like.” The applause continues for a few seconds, and then slowly fades.
I open with an up-tempo song. I wrote it after a night out with Brenna, Sloane, and Mina, and I tried to recapture the energy I always feel when we party together. The lyrics are all about living life to the fullest, and the chorus is catchy. I paired it with a melody that complements the feel of the song. As I head into the first chorus, it happens like always: the music takes over. I’m not on a stage in Martinville. I’m in Time Out with my girls, or I’m in a Nashville bar or club. I’m dancing as if no one’s watching, and I wouldn’t change a thing.
The stage is mine. The room is mine. People are clapping along by the last chorus. I dance around the stage for a few seconds during a little guitar solo I crafted, and I feel powerful. I feel happy. I feel alive. How did I ever forget what this is like?
How did I ever doubt that this is where I belong?
My next few songs are a mix. I play a mid-tempo one, then two more pop-country ones. There’s emotion in every one of them. I spent these last few days storing it all up—happiness, nervousness, apprehension, wonder. All the things I feel when I think about the choices I have to make, and the opportunities before me. Everything I feel when I close my eyes and really let myself think about the fact I’m doing what I always knew I wanted to do: I’m making my own path in life. It might not be easy, and things might not always go my way. It’ll be a wild ride, but it’ll be worth it. It’ll be my song.
I meet people’s eyes as I sing. Mama is beaming, and Cassidy looks like she’s laughing and crying at the same time. I think Daddy might burst from pride, and Gideon has his arms folded across his chest, grinning like a fool. I see cell phones in the air during the slow song I play, and two couples even get up and dance. I feel stretched to the max, full of love for everyone in the room—and I still have one song left.
“This last song is special to me,” I say before taking a few drinks of my water. “I started it awhile back, but I only finished it recently.” The crowd is quiet, so my voice sounds loud to me. “It was a good song, but it was missing something. It was missing heart.” I get choked up, and have to pause for a few seconds. “I went out for a walk a few days ago, and I found the heart for my song, right here in Martinville.”
Everyone starts cheering, and I let them go on for a few seconds. Then I hold up my hand, they go silent, and it’s magic.
“I saw heart in the people offering their home-grown goods at the farmer’s market. In the kids playing in the same playground I played at when I was young. In the pickup softball game out at the fairgrounds. I saw it everywhere. So I put it and one more thing into this song.”
I meet Jake’s eyes as I speak again. “Love. I always thought the love I wanted, the dreams I was chasing, and the best life I could find were one song away,” I say, holding Jake’s gaze. “Moving home has shown me that was only partially true, because I had it in me all along to write that song, once I was in the right place.”
As I strum the opening notes, I feel like I’m floating. What I said is true: this song is a love song for my town. It’s about knowing where you belong. It’s about knowing you’re home and about knowing who your home is. It’s about knowing who you are so you can make that home with someone. It’s about realizing that home isn’t just a place. It’s something you make so when you’re away, you’ll miss it and want to come back. It’s a beacon, a lighthouse, and a path to guide you back.
I’ve made mine.
I keep my eyes on him as I sing. His face brightens as my song reaches him. I’ve taken everything I’ve learned about myself this fall and woven it into the lyrics, but I know his friendship and love played a part, too. I came back to myself. I rediscovered myself, and my determination to follow my dreams. And I found a love I never expected.
If I’d never left, Jake would have been right. I’d have settled here, just like dust does when it’s undisturbed. I wouldn’t have had adventures and made mistakes. I wouldn’t have lived in an awake, alive city. I wouldn’t have found my voice. I wouldn’t have been able to appreciate the amazing life I have. And I wouldn’t have been able to love Jake maturely, instead of loving an ideal.
My song is winding down, but I put my all into the final chorus. I’m prouder of this one than of any I’ve ever written. Tears sting my eyes as I finish, and when I go silent and finally smile, the upturning of my cheeks sends the tears spilling over. I set my guitar on the stage. The applause is a roar, so I close my eyes for a few seconds because it’s almost overwhelming. When I open my eyes, I give a small bow, feeling like a huge dork. The crowd loves it. I hear Sloane whistling and cheering, and I really can’t believe I’m here. In this moment.
I catch Jake’s gaze and mouth one word: swings. He nods, so I know he got my message, but I have one more to deliver first. Gideon is waiting for me in the back of the room. I make my way through the crowd, accepting hugs and well wishes. It takes me several minutes to get to my ex, but he doesn’t leave. He watches as I shake hands with people, until I finally reach him.
“Thanks. That felt…great. Wonderful.” He nods. I see his gaze slide to Jake, who’s just slipping out the front door, no doubt having left Mina in charge. “Gideon, I…”
“You’re staying.” He smiles at me. “Don’t worry. I’m not mad.” He shrugs. “A little envious, maybe, but not mad.”
“But you offered me this chance and…” Stepping closer to me, Gideon leans in and kisses my cheek. His lips linger on my skin for a few seconds. And I know. I know I’m doing the best thing for me. It would be so easy to fall into the life he’s offering. To take the easy route and see what it brings me, but any success I find won’t really be mine. It’ll be blind luck, and I’ll never know if I earned it. Nashville is a beautiful place to live, but it isn’t where I belong anymore.
“You’ll get another chance.” He puts a hand on my shoulder and squeezes. “I know it. It’ll be the right time, the right opportunity, and you’ll crush it.”
Exhaling, I move toward him. When I wrap my arms around him, I have to wonder if this is another of my moments of temporary insanity, because there’s no way in hell I’d have thought I’d ever hug my ex-boyfriend again, but I am. He embraces me tightly, but he’s the first to pull back.
“Thank you,” I whisper. “For caring enough to make things right. Some people wouldn’t have done that. You really have changed. And thank you for the opportunity. I want to take it, but…”
“But this is your home.” Hearing Gideon voice what I’ve been thinking feels odd, but also right. “You’ve found what some people never do.” He grins. “Now get out of here and go after that dude before I decide to stop being so nice.”
I blow Gideon a kiss. He waves, and I head back through the crowd to find Sloane. I’m grateful for everyone’s support, but all I want is to go to Jake. I answer a few questions, accept and give hugs, and finally spot Sloane. She shoos me away, and then Mina shepherds me to the door. They tell me they have the clean up and for me to go get my guy.