by DeSalvo, Kim
“But it’s OK, see?” she continued. “That’s what tonight was about for me. I spent the past year completely shutting myself off from the world—I spent the entire summer—I have summers off, remember—hardly ever leaving the house.
Fuck, he thought, doing the math. He died a month before their wedding. He squeezed her hand tighter, and found her eyes. She smiled thinly, and continued.
“When fall came, I got up and went to work; forced myself through the motions. My best friend Lexi pulled me out to the country club—tried to get me back among the living. She included me in everything, and I felt like the eternal third wheel between her and her boyfriend. Again, I went through the motions, but I was always pretending to have fun, so she wouldn’t worry so much about me. But when I was alone, which I tried to be as much as possible, it was your music that slowly brought me back. I’d listen to you constantly, loving the soothing sound of your voice and the way your words told me exactly what I needed to hear.
“In the beginning, it was mostly the sad ones, and the ones that Nick and I listened to together. And of course the ones he played on the guitar and sang with me. But in the past few months, it was especially your song, I’ll Pull You Up. I know the old cliché; that it was like you were singing right to me, but that’s exactly what it was like. I felt your words, and Nick was there pulling me up; or trying to, anyway. Those lyrics were always just what I needed to face the next task, to put on a normal face and deal with the outside world. ‘When the skies are gray and stormy, I’ll pull you through the clouds, so you can see the sun’s still shining, above the earth’s dark shroud…’ I can’t tell you how many times those words got me out of bed in the mornings. And the last line—‘I can’t take this journey, and that we’ve always known, but in my heart I know you have the strength to get there on your own? That was the one that finally got me living again.”
He pressed her fingers to his lips and felt his heart go out to her. He knew the feeling of hopelessness when someone you loved was taken from you; knew the grief and how long and hard it was to heal; to wonder why you still deserved to be living when someone you loved couldn’t. He tried to convey that with his eyes, his touch; because he knew it was hard for her to continue. She took a few deep breaths before going on.
“So tonight was about me joining the world again,” she continued. “I had done my mourning; probably way more than I should have, and I knew Nick would be really pissed that I’d taken so much time. He would have wanted me to go on, and to be happy. I chose this night as my ‘getting back into the world’ night. I thought I needed to do it on my own, and I didn’t know where to start.” She looked straight into his eyes. “I’m a complete mess, Dylan. I don’t know how to date anymore, or how to flirt, and I feel so far removed from the single life—I don’t know what people do anymore. So I wanted to be a fly on the wall, to watch people, to see how they reacted to each other. I wanted to be far from my usual hang-outs so I wouldn’t run into anyone I knew—I didn’t want to be social, I just wanted to be part of something social, do you know what I mean?”
Dylan nodded and squeezed her hand to show he understood, his eyes never leaving hers. He knew exactly what she meant—it was precisely what he himself had been after tonight.
“I was afraid to come here—to be with all the other people who loved Nick. I was afraid it would make me feel sad again, make me feel the hole where he used to be, and make me forget to move on. I wouldn’t have come if it weren’t for you, and I would have regretted it so much tomorrow if I had missed it; if I’d let these people down. So, once again, you saved me. That makes three times now.”
“You saved yourself, Tia. It was always you. You are strong; I can see that in you. And I do know what you’re going through. You lose a part of yourself when you lose someone you love. It must have been horrible for you, this past year.”
“So many parts of it seem like they never even happened. I spent a lot of time in a fog, feeling sorry for myself, feeling guilty for still being here when he wasn’t. We were a couple for so long; it was Tia and Nick, Nick and Tia, and my identity was so wrapped up in us, that I sort of forgot who I was. It took me a long time to find myself again. I actually don’t think I’ve fully figured it out yet. Tonight was the first step on a long road.
“But coming here? It hasn’t made me sad at all. I know now that I can celebrate his life without mourning his death, and I wouldn’t have figured that out tonight if I hadn’t come here. He helped make me the person I am today, and my life was so much better for having him in it. I can finally admit that, and I think that this was the final hurdle to really starting my life—my alone life. It’s time. These people have been there for me all along, and I’ve spent so much energy shutting them out. Paddy and Siobhan are two of the kindest, most supportive people I’ve ever met, and I didn’t even return their calls when they left me messages, even when they called to invite me here tonight. And still they welcomed me with open arms.”
“And me. All night everyone’s been telling me how happy they are that I’m here with you to help you through this, but I didn’t understand, I didn’t know. I wish I had, I could have done more…”
She shook her head slowly and smiled thinly. “Oh Dylan, you’ll never know how much you’ve helped me—you couldn’t have possibly done more,” she said, meeting his eyes. “It’s funny you know, you’re supposed to be a dream, a fantasy, a voice on my iPod. And here you are, the famous Dylan Miller, helping me through yet another difficult time in my life.” Dylan smiled warmly and laced his fingers through hers. Tia continued, “When I look at you, though, that’s not what I see. I don’t know if it’s the bizarre circumstances under which we met, or maybe the mullet,”—he flashed a smile—“but when I look at you, I just see a really awesome guy who saved a damsel in distress and turned what she thought was going to be a painful and short evening into the best night she’s had in a very, very long time. I don’t know how I can ever thank you for that, but you can bet I’ll remember this night for the rest of my life.”
“I don’t think I’ll ever forget it either,” he said, meaning every word.
“So this is the part where you tell me if you want to get the hell out of here—forget you ever met me and my problems.”
He brought her hand once more to his lips and rested them there while holding her gaze. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“I’m glad,” she smiled.
He started to say more, but before he could begin, applause and whoops of appreciation went out toward the stage. She turned toward the sound of the mike being tapped and whispered, “Uh-oh, it’s time for the Sean show.”
But he couldn’t take his eyes off her as she turned her head toward the stage. He wanted to tell her—would tell her—that this night meant as much to him as it did to her. He had wanted a quiet night, too, an anonymous evening among everyday people. He was also uncomfortable being social, because it always meant he had to lie about what he did or worry about being recognized. She made him feel normal, just one of the guys, and he really liked the feeling. Still, after all this time, she hadn’t asked anything from him except his company, and he was more than happy to give it. She was witty, smart, funny, and getting more beautiful by the minute. She wasn’t trying to impress, not trying to be a Hollywood starlet, not wearing designer anything, and she was making more of an impression on him than anyone he’d met in a very long time. He slid his chair closer to hers and draped his arm around her shoulder, glad when she leaned into him and sighed softly in the back of her throat.
Sean began to speak. “Hey, y’all. I want to thank you all for coming out tonight, and for making this party exactly what Nick would want it to be—a raucous bunch of Irishmen and wanna-be Irishmen toasting to all the good things his life brought to us! We were all privileged to know him, and we’re so lucky to have each other to lean on whenever things go wrong. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again—that Nick was a son-of-a-bitch!” The crowd voiced their a
greement. “But he was OUR son-of-a-bitch, and we loved him!” Once more, the crowd agreed wholeheartedly.
“I want to thank you all for myself, and on behalf of Paddy and Siobhan, for being here for us this past year. We all knew that we could always find comfort and love here, and that together, we’d find a way to heal.” Sean turned toward the bar and pressed his hands together under his chin, bowing in thanks toward their direction. Tia felt a small pang of guilt that she hadn’t sought refuge here over the past year; that she had doubted that these wonderful people would have helped her through.
Sean continued enthusiastically. “Nick would have been so happy to see all the love and support in this room. We’re all better people because of that crazy Irish bastard, so I’d like you now to lift your pints to one of the best sons of bitches to ever have walked this planet. To Nick!” He raised his glass in salute.
Almost a hundred glasses raised and clinked in unison. “To Nick!”
“Now, as you know, music was a big part of Nick’s life. And Tia’s life too—so glad you’re here tonight by the way,” he added, raising his glass in her direction. “And I know I’ve never been as good as Nick was, but the guitar has kind of been my life raft this past year, and I’ve actually gotten kind of decent.” A few chuckles and catcalls came up from the crowd, and he waved them away with a laugh. “OK, you can be the judges. But we all know who Nick’s musical hero was, right?” Again, a murmur of agreement from the group rose up. “So I want to play for you one of his favorite songs; one that really helped me—and Tia as well—through a lot this year. It’s called, I’ll Pull You Up.
Tia looked at Dylan with her palms upturned and shrugged. “I should have known,” she smiled. “Well, I can’t promise anything, but I hope he at least does it justice. Unless you want to take the stage?”
He took her upturned hand in his and turned it over, kissed it. “Actually, I’d rather have the dance. May I?”
She could say nothing against the lump in her throat, but nodded, rose and stepped into his arms. He circled her waist and pulled her closer. It had been so long since she had had a man’s arms around her, and she realized how much she’d missed it, how much she needed it. He was tall enough that her head rested on his chest and she heard his heart beating and felt his warmth against her cheek; breathed in the masculine scent of him. The guitar sounded sweet and sad as it wound around the intro. She waited for Sean to sing the words that had meant so much to her, but instead, Dylan lowered his head to her ear and began softly singing to her. All the times she’d imagined him singing those words just to her—and here he was, swaying gently on a makeshift dance floor, holding her up as she nearly collapsed from the intimacy of it all, singing just for her, his voice soft against her ear, his breath on her face. And when he sang that final line, I can’t take you on this journey, and that we’ve always known, but in my heart I know you have the strength to get there on your own…, a tear fell from her eye, and in that tear was the last sorrow for Nick, knowing that he was smiling down on her, and the first joy she’d felt in a long time, for finally finding some peace in her own heart.
Dylan held Tia against him and he was suddenly flooded with emotion. This was the second time tonight she’d thrown him completely off balance; although, if he wanted to really admit it, he’d been off balance since this mysterious woman had slipped into his life. God, was it really only six hours ago? He knew the demons she’d fought this past year—losing someone you loved was a real bitch to get over—but she’d fought back in a lot less time than it had taken him. He might not even be to the point she was yet, and it had been a lot of years since Shelby had been taken from him.
He hadn’t sung Shelby’s song for anyone since he recorded it, and even that had been really tough. Every time he heard the opening notes his mind brought back her tortured face as she fought against the pain of her losing battle. “It’s time for me to go, Dylan,” she’d whispered with a voice as light as air. “Write me a song that says goodbye.” He wrestled for days, trying to come up with just the right words. Part of him thought that if he put it off, didn’t finish it, she wouldn’t go—wouldn’t leave him without hearing her song. But as the days went by, she got weaker and weaker, and he knew that he couldn’t let her go without giving her that one wish—that one song that he could sing just for her that would give her what she needed to say goodbye. When he finally got it right, finally got the best lyrics and music that his seventeen year old mind could create—words that would give her the strength to go and him the strength to go on, he sat next to her bed and played for her and in a shaky voice said goodbye. How strange, then, that as he held this woman in his arms, this woman who’d gone through the same kind of pain and somehow found a way to push through, he could feel his little sister now, encouraging him to sing it again, to let her go and leave the pain behind. Knowing that he was also helping Tia put the pain behind her gave him the courage he needed just then. He took a deep breath and sang the first words, the first notes that helped him to let go, and to his surprise, it wasn’t painful at all.
It helped that the moment she’d moved into his arms and he’d encircled her, he felt something he could only describe as electricity pulsing through his entire being. It felt so comfortable, and her hair smelled so amazing, like some sort of summer day, and when she rested her head against his chest he couldn’t help but pull her in closer. Tia demanded nothing from him, and yet he wanted to give her what she needed, and when he felt her relax against him, he felt a sense of accomplishment that he’d helped to make it happen.
He heard her sigh, and readjusted himself to pull her even closer. Just that, that pulling close, created more electricity that zinged through his entire body. It was as if he could feel every cell that was touching one of hers. He rested his lips on top of her head and made a decision that he knew he might regret later. Take it as it comes, it was all he could do. Might as well enjoy each other’s company while they could, because he still wanted more of hers.
The song ended, and Sean broke into one of InHap’s more energetic numbers. Dylan held Tia for a moment longer, and then they broke apart. He instantly felt the heat of her body leaving him, and wished for it back.
Tia looked at him and smiled, wiping a couple stray tears from her cheeks. “You sang for me,” she said softly, “just for me.”
“Yes,” he said, reaching over and wiping away another rogue tear with the pad of his thumb, “just for you.”
“But you never sing that song. Never.” Her eyes were wide—she knew what the song meant to him, which made it mean that much more to her.
“It was long overdue,” he said simply, taking her hands in his, “and I couldn’t think of a better person to sing it for.” The look on her face was so open, so honest, and so grateful, that he feared being overwhelmed himself. They stared into each other’s eyes for what seemed a long time, speaking volumes without saying a word while they swayed absently to Sean’s voice. Heat rose in Dylan’s body, and he found he needed a minute to cool down and collect his thoughts.
He pulled out her chair for her and excused himself. “I…have to go for a minute—I’ll be right back. I need to check in at the office, so to speak,” he said. “My assistant has probably already filed a missing person’s report; I don’t usually stay out so late alone without checking in, especially the night before a show.” He kissed her hands and stood up. “I’ll be right back.”
What the hell am I doing? he thought once the cool May air hit his burning skin. More importantly, what the hell was he feeling? He liked her, he had to admit it. In fact, if their circumstances were different, he would have already asked for another date.
But what of it? He was in town for two shows this weekend, and then they had one more week in North America before they headed out for the summer tour in Europe. After that, he was scheduled to film a movie in New Zealand—could he be any more on the other side of the world?—in September. Chances were that he wouldn’t see her again for a
long time, if at all, after this weekend. And where would their lives be a year from now, by the time he was finished with all that? And why the hell was he even thinking these things about a girl he just met a few hours ago?
He leaned up against the cool stone of the wall and tried to wrap his head around the situation. Take it slow, he thought, start at the beginning. It had started as an innocent night on the town, a little seclusion to get him away from the tour, and the bus, and the guys—they all needed their alone time, or they started getting on each other’s nerves. He’d picked a disguise that would practically guarantee he’d be left alone, and went to a little hole-in-the-wall where he was sure no one would interest him. He was going to have one more drink and call it a night, and then Tia exploded into his world. Not at first, though, he thought, at first she’d just come to thank him, to buy him a drink and tell him how much his music meant to her. She’d left, gone back to her own little corner of the bar and tried hard to ignore his presence, presumably to give him the solitude he had come for. He knew now that she understood his need because of her own, and she was just going to let their encounter go.
But then Bud entered the picture, and he’d had to go to her rescue. She’d understood his coded message, and jumped headfirst into his game. Even then, though, he’d had the opportunity to let her go—chalk it up as an interesting experience, a great story to tell the guys, and walk away. Only he was too intrigued that she was so willing to walk away too—it bothered him, on some strange level that he couldn’t quite put a finger on. He had to try and find what made her tick. But now? Now he knew without a doubt that he wanted to see her again; he wanted to make a date with her and spend more time getting to know her, even though he knew it wasn’t fair to either of them.