The Days Without You: A Story of Love, Loss, and Grief

by Skylar Wilson

  “Same as usual.” Cat chuckled.

  They chattered away happily until the taxi swerved to the curb in front of Kylie’s building—an impressive structure, with windows all the way to the top, barely visible through the snow. The driver unloaded Cat’s bag, and Kylie handed him cash.

  “This is your building?” Cat stared up, her eyes following the zigzagging metal fire stairs on the face of the building.

  Kylie nodded. “This is it.”

  While Cat showered, Kylie cooked them a small dinner. It was a sigh of relief having her best friend back, having one thing in her life back to normal. But what about Adam? What would she do if it didn’t work out? She would cross that bridge when she got to it, she guessed. What could she say without sounding desperate? I miss you. No, she’d said that already. I messed up. I’m sorry for pushing you away. I’m sorry I resented you for leaving. Please give me another chance. But everything sounded wrong and forced. Her stomach fluttered. What would Adam say?

  Her mind continued to wander while she set the table.

  Wrapped in a towel and tearing a comb through her hair, Cat emerged from the bathroom and plopped down into a chair. She took a big bite of chicken. “I missed your cooking,” she sighed through a mouthful.

  Kylie toyed with the broccoli on her plate, only taking a few small bites as she sat quietly for several minutes, listening to Cat eat. Brushing her hair from her eyes, she looked up at Cat. “Well, doors open at seven; show’s supposed to start half an hour after that. I thought we could get something to eat beforehand.”

  “Something light, though. I don’t want to bounce around on a full stomach.” She laughed and mimicked vomiting. Her gaze softened as she watched Kylie. “What’s on your mind?”

  “Well, I’m just…” She sighed. “I’m worried about what to say to Adam. Actually, I have no idea what to say. I just hope I don’t freeze up.” Pursing her lips, she set her fork down. “I’m worried that all this…you know, moving here and everything, will have been for nothing. He wanted me to come here with him back in June, but what if I’m too late? I just give up and go back to Charleston?”

  Cat reached across the table to hold her hand. “Even if nothing comes from it, you can say you tried. That’s the important part, I think.” She offered a soft smile and squeezed Kylie’s hand. “Whatever’s meant to happen will happen.”

  Adam stood at the edge of the stage, looking out to the empty arena and trying to picture the entire place crammed with people. The curtain behind him fluttered as a stagehand passed, and a swarm of more stagehands buzzed around, both on stage and in the pit, setting up equipment—towering speakers, microphones, and wires taped to the floor. Lights from above dimmed and illuminated intermittently while a technician fiddled with the control panel.

  His fingers tingled in anticipation of the night’s show, and he shoved them into his pockets. I’ve made it. Their name already flashed on the marquee outside, just below THE RELIEF. This was the moment he’d dreamed of all his life, the moment he used to talk about with Elliott.

  Oliver stepped up to the edge of the stage. With a grimace, he pulled out his wired earpiece and rubbed his ear. “You get fitted for this thing yet?”

  “Not yet. Is it a pain to wear?”

  He nodded, still rubbing the side of his head and frowning. “Cat’s in town this weekend, by the way. I gave her some tickets for tonight. I think I got her the right tickets, right? Or were they for the Meet and Greet…” He trailed off, his brow furrowed. “Anyway, Cat said her and Kylie are coming.” He elbowed Adam. “She came up here finally? Didn’t know you’d gotten with her again. Good for you, man.”

  The corner of his lips twitched, but Adam managed to maintain his rigid, stony face. “I didn’t.” Crossing his arms, he hid his clenched fists. “Whatever. We need to move so they can finish setting up. And I need to go get fitted for the earpiece.”

  And finish his song. After the other day, he finally knew what to write.

  “Best tickets ever,” Cat said into Kylie’s ear as they inched along behind the row of people filing in, only two rows of bodies away from the stage.

  “Remember to thank Ollie for them.” She patted her jeans pocket, making sure her license and cash were still secured, and straightened the lanyard around her neck.

  The overhead lights shined brightly, the stage still somewhat dim while babbling voices surrounded them. The arena filled quickly, heating the large, open space. People bumped and bustled into them from every side. Impatient, Kylie bounced from foot to foot, shifting her weight in unease while her hands fidgeted incessantly, straightening the lanyard, tugging at the hem of her shirt, brushing a stray hair from her forehead. She studied the stage, taking in every detail, trying to memorize the stage’s setup: several microphones stood in staggered spots, on the far right of the stage sat a black baby grand piano set at an angle toward the crowd, and a drum set sat on a raised platform at the back of the space. If the evening went as she hoped, she wanted to remember every detail. If not, well…she’d deal with it as it came.

  Cat patted her elbow. “Relax,” she said. “It’ll work out.”

  “I’m just nervous,” Kylie replied, grimacing. Still studying the stage, she wiped away a bead of sweat from her forehead then wiped her already clammy hands on her jeans.

  “I know, but just relax. We’ve already got the passes, so chill. There’s nothing else you can do until after the show.” She reached to grab her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Adam’s still the same guy he was before he left Charleston; remember that.”

  Kylie nodded, fighting to keep her heels flat on the floor.

  The minutes seemed to drag. Every so often, she shook her hand free from Cat’s hold and wiped her sweaty palm on her jeans. Her stomach turned and flipped every which way, and she clenched her jaw to keep from chewing on her lower lip. The constant crescendo of noise, the increasing buzz of anticipation from the hundreds of bodies around her vibrated through her very core, electrifying her.

  Finally, the overhead lights dimmed, leaving the arena in total darkness. Her heart fluttered, and she blinked several times as her eyes adjusted. Whistles and high-pitched screams made for the only sounds until—out of nowhere, suddenly—the steady beat of a drum echoed. A bright blue light flashed, aimed at the back of the stage, flickering in time to the beat and illuminating Shawn’s shaggy head just visible over his drum set. The cheers grew louder. Both bass and electric guitar accompaniments began playing overlays to Shawn’s beat, and more lights flashed at the far sides of the stage, lighting up Oliver and Benny. The applause came like thunder now against the pulsing lights like lightning.

  Kylie’s heart beat faster than the rhythm, pounding hard in her chest while she watched the stage. Cat squeezed her hand again and flashed a bright smile. She grinned in return. How many people were here to see One Night Young, not just The Relief?

  Amidst the pulsing lights, the curtains fluttered. A moment later, every stage light dimmed for a moment and, instead, relit the entire stage. At the center microphone stood Adam, his guitar strap hooked over his shoulder. His bright eyes took in the crowd, and a vivacious smile lifted his lips as he stepped up to the microphone.

  “New York! How’re you doing tonight?” he called.

  The crowd thundered in reply. Kylie grinned at Cat, who whistled with her fingers between her lips.

  Adam smiled again. “In case any of you were wondering, we’re One Night—”

  “We love you!” screamed someone in the back of the pit. Kylie laughed.

  “Oh, well.” Adam laughed into the microphone, and his mirth echoed through the speakers. “We love you all too. Then you might know this first song—this one’s called Time.”

  The music began, an upbeat pop-rock tune with intricate variations from the radio version. They played their songs back to back with barely any rest between each one. The third song in, the pit clapped along to the beat and sang in unison; when the fifth song came to an u
pbeat close, the music finally paused. Adam stepped to the edge of the curtain, untangled himself from his guitar strap, and handed his electric guitar to someone behind the velvet fabric. While Benny exchanged his electric for an acoustic, Adam seated himself at the piano and adjusted the microphone in front of him. He touched his worn bracelet for a brief moment and then rested his fingers on the keys.

  “This next song isn’t on our album,” he began, his fingers stroking a few melodic keys, “but it’s one I’ve been working on for a while, and I think it’s finally ready. Hope you enjoy it—‘Melody of You’.”

  Benny picked at the guitar strings in a delicate accompaniment, and Adam opened with a haunting melody, his eyes closed while the lyrics flowed.

  Oh, I hope you’re proud, wherever you are

  And that you’re smiling, near or far

  Did I fail? Did I fall? I tried to give it my all

  And I hope you know too, that this one’s for you

  It all came together when you made it better

  The melody of you, it’s in the blue

  Of your eyes, in the light of your smile

  And the way your hair falls in your face

  How could I have been so wrong? It’s been so long

  But I’ll always have this song

  This melody of you…

  Kylie froze, feeling like she was rooted to the spot. Me. His song is about me. As the realization sunk into her very core, she felt as though she could have melted into the concrete floor. She glanced at Cat, whose eyes widened in return. The song came to a haunting close, ending with a few more melodic strokes of the keys, and hoots and whistles filled the silence. No one knew. No one around her knew that this song was for her. She wanted to shout out, to call out to him, to run up to the stage, to throw her arms around him.

  But…what if it wasn’t? What if his song wasn’t about her? What if he had someone else in his life? That must be it. That must have been why he barely wanted to talk to her when they met for coffee. A lump rose in her throat and tears threatened to spill down her cheeks at the thought.

  I have to know for sure. I promised myself I’d give it one last shot.

  Adam stood and grabbed his guitar from behind the curtain, then adjusted the center microphone and ran a hand through his hair. Even from where she stood, Kylie noted that his hair looked damp with sweat.

  “For anyone who might not be familiar with us and our music,” he said, “we all grew up in South Carolina. The Relief has been a huge influence for us, and we’re stoked to be touring with them.”

  Benny frowned, his eyes trained on something behind the curtain to the side of the stage. He sidestepped to the edge, giving several sharp nods to whomever he spoke to, then sidestepped back to his microphone.

  With a frown, Kylie looked around. No one seemed to have noticed that something was wrong. She leaned to Cat and murmured in her ear, “Did you see that?”

  “Yeah. Wonder if something happened?”

  She turned back to the stage just as Benny leaned toward Adam, who removed his earpiece. He nodded, adjusted his guitar strap, and began strumming the chords of the next song. Even to Kylie’s untrained ears, it sounded rushed—their timing and beat were jumpy and somewhat erratic while they rushed through their last three songs. The crowd cheered, screaming and whistling when Adam stepped up to the edge of the stage, tossing his guitar pick into the crowd.

  “Thank you so much for seeing us tonight!” he shouted before grabbing his guitar and trotting behind the curtain after Benny and Ollie.

  Cat looked at Kylie and shook her head.

  “Something’s definitely wrong,” Kylie said while she clapped. Once more, she bounced from foot to foot and wiped her hands on her jeans, listening to the crowd breaking into increasing babble. Then, leaning to Cat, she whispered, “Let’s see if we can get back there already.”

  She cocked a brow at Kylie. “Think we can?”

  “Why not? We have these.” She shrugged and held up the lanyard around her neck.

  “All right.” Cat grinned and grasped her hand. “Come on, I think I saw the way to get backstage through the lobby.”

  Kylie followed Cat, still clamping onto her hand, and they pushed past people, ignoring their glares when she didn’t apologize. Her stomach churned—half unease and the other half butterflies. I know what to say now; I’ll ask who the song was for.

  They pushed their way through the double doors and into the bright lobby. For a moment, they both blinked against the fluorescent lights.

  “This way, I think.” Cat led her past a sign noting employee locker rooms and up to another set of double doors.

  A paunchy security guard stood in front of the doors. “Restrooms are the other way, ladies,” he said in a sharp tone, folding his arms across his chest.

  “Oh, no,” Kylie replied quickly, holding up the badge, “we’ve got backstage passes.”

  He leaned down, narrowing his eyes to examine it. “Those are for the meet-and-greet after the show, not backstage passes.” He stood straight again.

  “What? No, they can’t be,” she pleaded, turning the badge around. But he was right. The pass read Meet and Greet VIP, One Night Young/The Relief. Her heart dropped into her stomach. They were the wrong passes.

  “We’re friends of the band,” Cat interjected.

  The guard shook his head. “Sorry, ladies. Can’t let you backstage.”

  Kylie chewed her lower lip and stared at him, eyes wide, and wrung her clammy hands together. “It’s urgent. I just need to talk to Adam Bell. Just for five minutes.” Her palms sweated even more.

  “No.”

  “Please, I need to talk to him.” Her voice broke, and her hands now clenched into fists.

  The door behind him creaked open, and a woman wearing a headset poked her head through. Kylie looked at her with a wild, desperate gaze.

  “If you’re lined up for the meet-and-greet already, I’m sorry to say that One Night Young has canceled it for tonight’s show. It will be just The Relief.”

  “What happened?” Cat asked.

  “I can’t say. Sorry.”

  “Just let me back there for five minutes.” Kylie’s eyes stung, and tears welled in them. She choked down the lump in her throat. This was it. She was losing her last chance.

  The woman’s head disappeared through the door, which latched shut with a resounding, final click. The guard wore a smug smirk on his face.

  With a sigh, Cat touched her arm and murmured, “C’mon, Kylie, let’s go. We can’t see Adam.”

  “No.” She ripped away from her touch. “I’m not moving until I see him.”

  “Then I’m going to have to ask you to leave the building,” the guard said, puffing his chest out.

  Her nails dug into her palms. She swallowed hard, and her voice trembled. “No. I didn’t give up my childhood home, pack up my whole life, and come all the way here, all the way from South Carolina to be told no. I can’t give up. Not now. I’m not leaving.” She glared up at him.

  “Ma’am, please don’t make a scene. If you don’t leave, I will call for backup.” He unhooked the radio from his belt and held it up in a threatening manner.

  Kylie stood her ground, chin high, tears now streaming freely down her face, salty on her lips. “I’m telling you, I know Adam, Shawn, Benny, Ollie. We know them! Cat, can’t you text Ollie?” Her arms flailed in desperation.

  The guard rolled his eyes. “Sure, that’s what they all say.”

  Her voice rose to a shout. “I’m not lying. Tell him Kylie Lewis is looking for him!”

  “Ma’am, I’m only going to tell you one more time. I’m asking you to leave the building.”

  “Uh, Kylie,” Cat said in a low voice, “come on. You’re going to end up getting arrested.”

  She stood there. Her eyes turned down to the floor. Her hands fell limp at her sides. Defeated. Tears dripped from her chin, but she did not wipe them away, and her heart sank even deeper. Every piece of her
being felt as though it had cracked—like a piece of shattered glass just before it all falls apart into a million shards.

  She would never feel whole again.

  Cat took her hand. “Come on.”

  Kylie nodded, wiping her cheeks with her sleeve, and trailed behind her to the exit, watching the floor with every step. Just as Cat reached for the door, Kylie slumped against the wall and fought back a sob, burying her face in her hands.

  “This was all a waste. Coming here, trying to talk to Adam. I tried, and it wasn’t enough. This was a mistake. This isn’t a stupid fairytale; I don’t know why I let myself hope it would have a happy ending. I feel so stupid. Never should have left Charleston; I don’t belong here.”

  Cat’s voice came fervent, almost pleading. “There’s still a chance—I’ll try texting Ollie; we’ll figure something out; I’m sure he can convince Adam to come with him for drinks; we were going to meet up anyway—” Her phone chimed. Her brows knitted together, and she frowned while glancing at it. Her voice fell soft as her eyes read the message. “Never mind. Ollie says, ‘Bus leaves early AM. Change in the tour schedule. Can’t make it for drinks.’”

  “There goes my last chance.”

  Cat grimaced. “You and I can go for a drink.”

  “I just…” She took a deep, shuddering breath and wiped her cheeks again, but failed to meet Cat’s gaze. Her stomach was hollow, her heart empty. “I’m just going to walk for a bit. I’ll meet you back at the apartment.”

  She forced a stiff, pained smile and headed out into the chilly rain.

  So...thank you.

  “Go, go.” Adam ushered Benny away from the guitar stand in the corner of the dressing room. “Lacey will be pissed if you’re not there when the baby’s born, so go. I’ll make sure your guitar is fine.”

  “Thanks, bud.” He clapped Adam on the shoulder before rushing from the room.

  Already, Kevin and the rest of The Relief were on stage for their half of the show. Shawn and Ollie lounged on the sofa against the wall, and Adam eased himself into a chair across from them, idly scratching at the scruff of his neck. Had Kylie been somewhere in the pit? Had she heard his song? The stage lights had been blindingly bright, so bright that the venue looked dark. He thought, just once or twice, he had caught a glimpse of her, but it was too hard to discern one face from the next.