Never Say Goodbye

by Angie Merriam

  “Let me start over okay?” I tried, and she nodded her approval before helping herself to my couch. She sat like a lady, crossing her long legs. The sound of leather made my cock swell uncomfortably. I thought of anything else that would turn me off. It was hard, but I managed to make my man stand down. I sat on the opposite side of the couch, careful not to touch her.

  “My name is Elijah Briston. Nice to meet you, Kendra.” I extended my hand in greeting but she didn't take it.

  “I know who you are. What I don't know is why, out of all the girls in that audience, you have me in your dressing room? Cut through the shit, Elijah Briston. Why am I here?”

  “Wow, tough crowd,” I said and laughed nervously as I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans. She just looked at me, expecting an answer.

  “Honestly?”

  “Please.”

  “You look just like someone I used to know. I thought you were her but clearly I made a mistake, my apologies.”

  “So I look like a hoochie groupie, is that what you're saying?” Her animosity floored me. Why was she being such a bitch? She came to my show. Locked eyes with me. She's the one that looks like Chinda. She's the one that's going to break my heart before I even get to know her. Who the fuck did she think she was?

  “Look, I get it. You're a strong, independent woman and kind of a bitch but you don't know me so stop judging me.”

  “So, you're not the rock star who screws woman after woman? You're not that guy who gets trashed and makes an ass out of himself every chance he gets?” Her tone never changed. Her voice never rose. She spoke as though we were having a nice little chat.

  “Oh no, sweetheart, I am that guy, make no mistake. But before I was that guy, I loved a girl and I lost her. I thought you were her, that's it.” I held my hands up in surrender. Why was I telling her this? She was a bitch who thought she knew me.

  “Tell me about her.” It was more of a demand than a request and for some reason it pissed me off.

  “Screw you, lady. I'm sorry I was mistaken. You're not her. You can go now.” I stood and walked to the door, but she just sat there. I motioned for her to get her ass up and get the hell out. My hopes were so high that she was my Chinda, but if not then maybe I could get to know her. I was wrong on both accounts, and I wanted to get trashed and feel sorry for myself. She made no effort to stand up, let alone get out.

  “Seriously, sweetheart, get the fuck out.” I was losing my patience. I was falling apart inside.

  “No,” she said simply. Was she fucking serious?

  “I don't know who you think you are, Kendra, but if you're not here to ride the Elijah express than you need to get the fuck out.”

  “I thought you didn't bring me here for that. Did you lie to me?”

  “No, I didn't lie but now you're just pissing me off. Any hope I had that you were her is gone. Any hope I had that we could get to know each other is gone. I've seen enough. I can see right through you, Miss.”

  “Oh really? What do you see, big shot?” This girl was driving me crazy. Why wouldn't she just leave? I was going to have to play the fucking dickhead to get her out of my room. My body temperature was rising as anger took over.

  “I see a spoiled little bitch who thinks the world revolves around her. I hate to break it to you, it doesn't. And, for the record, no self-respecting woman is going to go out looking like you do right now unless she wants men to think she's looking to be fucked silly. There, you happy? Now get the fuck out.” A slow smile spread across her face. This chick was insane. She stood slowly before walking over to me. She took my hand from the door handle and put it in her own.

  “You're right. I am kind of a spoiled bitch. I'm used to getting what I want and when I came to this show tonight I wanted you. I never thought it would happen though. I mean, I am no different than any other woman in that stadium. But I am not a groupie. I am not a whore. Now I am going to be honest, will you listen?” Her voice was soft and different. Her eyes sparkled and danced. I wanted to get lost in those eyes. I was fucking putty in her hands. You're a pussy I thought to myself as I allowed her to lead me back to my couch.

  “You have two minutes, and then you have to go,” I said, trying to regain my composure and manliness. This girl had my brain twisted and my gut doing flips.

  “Okay, it's my turn for honesty,” she said and I detected a hint of nerves in her voice.

  “I'm all ears, sweetheart.”

  “Don't call me sweetheart, please.”

  “I'm sorry. Have at it, Kendra.”

  She drew in a sharp breath. “Do you have anything to drink?”

  “I have booze.”

  “That is exactly what I mean,” she said and the tough bitch was gone. Now, before me was a beautiful, nervous woman whose hands started to shake. I poured each of us a shot of whiskey, which she downed quickly and asked for another. Three shots later she finally spoke.

  “I first heard you sing a few years back, Jesus, your voice was like heaven to me. I've followed your band around the country for the last month.”

  “That sounds like a groupie,” I pointed out.

  “Shut up and listen.”

  “Continue.”

  She poured herself another shot and set the glass down with trembling hands. “I don't know what it is but I am drawn to you. Something about the way you sing, the words you sing, the way you look draws me to you. I can't explain it. I'm not a groupie, at least not in the sense you're thinking. I know I sound like one but I'm not. I'm actually engaged to a pretty terrific guy, and I can't take my vows with him until I figured out the hold you have over me. You see, it's like I know you. However, I know that's impossible. I also know I sound crazy right now but there is something. I know you're a love 'em and leave 'em kind of guy and I don't want to be one of those girls yet I feel like I need to get you out of my system.”

  She could have hit me upside the head with a fucking brick, and I wouldn't be as shocked as I was at the very moment. My heart started over running my brain again, telling me that this was, in fact, my Chinda. How else does one explain what she told me?

  “I'm crazy right? Just tell me that I'm crazy.”

  “You're not crazy, Kendra. Believe me, you're not fucking crazy.”

  “When your big guy came and pulled me from the show I was pissed because I wanted to hear more but then he brought me here and I asked myself what the fuck I was doing here? I mean, it’s one thing to follow around your rock star crush and admire from a distance but I'm here, with you. This is not what my fiancé agreed to when I took off on a road tour, as I called it.”

  “Where are you from?” I asked.

  “What difference does that make?” She asked confused.

  “Please, just tell me you're from Oregon.”

  “I am from Florida, at least that's where I've lived since I turned seventeen,” she said, and I felt my heart fall into my stomach. It literally descended slowly and rested in my gut.

  “Where did you live before that?” I asked carefully.

  “I don't know. All over I guess. My father's job had us moving around a lot. I've lived all over the world but I remember Florida the most.” It was strange to have this conversation with her. If it were anyone else it would be a simple get to know you conversation but for us it wasn't. For me it wasn't.

  “Did you ever live in Oregon?”

  “I don't think so but there is a chunk of time that I don't remember.”

  “Why don't you remember it? I mean, seventeen wasn't that long ago was it? I know what I was doing at seventeen.”

  “My parents told me I had an accident and my brain forgot about it. I never looked for answers. Never questioned them. I had a happy home and friends so I had no reason to question them.” I stood and poured myself another shot. I began pacing the room. My mind ran over her words over and over. They went back to that day, ten years ago when I was told Chinda was dead. When I was told I would never see her again. Never hold her again. I couldn't even say
goodbye to her. They wouldn't tell my family where she was buried and just like that, her family was gone. Could they have hated me that much? Could they have blamed me enough? Could they have moved their daughter to another state and tell her about a different life before me? They had the money to do it, but would they do something so fucked up?

  “Say something, Elijah. Tell me I'm crazy.” Her soft voice pulled me back. I looked at her. I looked closely at her face. Was this Chinda? I knew deep in my heart and soul that yes, this was my girl, she just didn’t know it. Something brought her to me though. I was there, buried in her memories, trying to break through.

  “I can't, Chinda,” I said before I realized I said the wrong name.

  “What did you call me?” She asked confused.

  “I'm sorry. I told you that you remind me of someone. Her name was Chinda. I didn't mean to say that.”

  “Did you love her?” She asked innocently.

  “Yes, very much so,” I replied honestly.

  “What happened to her?” she asked. Could I tell her? Should I tell her? She was Chinda. I knew it now. There was no doubt in my mind but was I the one to tell her? I didn't know. I was confused.

  “It's hard for me to talk about in all honesty. You know the song I sang tonight, the new one I did alone?”

  “Yes, it was beautiful,” she said and I smiled at her. Her liking it made me feel a sense of accomplishment and happiness.

  “Well, it was for her. I lost her too soon and haven't really recovered, yet. I'm sorry but you are so much like her. I brought you here in hopes that you were her. I didn't think you were a groupie or that you wanted to sleep with me. I just needed to know if you were her.”

  “Am I?” she asked and I could hear in her voice that she wasn't sure. A chunk of time had been stolen from this girl, the same chunk of time I lost Chinda.

  “I don't know,” I replied, not sure how to tell her that yes, she’s that girl. “It doesn't matter though because when I saw you I knew I had to know you. I don't mean I wanted to screw you. I wanted to know you. I would still like to get to know you. Would that be okay with you?”

  “Yes, I would like that very much.”

  “I'm leaving Oregon tonight. Were you planning to go to my show in Vegas?” I asked and hoped to God that she was.

  “Yes. I will be at your next five shows. That was the deal with my fiancé. Ten shows then I come home and be his wife. Kind of a sewing my wild oats type thing,” she said, smiling shyly.

  “I'll meet you in Vegas then, Kendra,” I said and stood with her. I jotted down my hotel number and the name I planned on using there. “You can call me at this number if you want to talk more, otherwise don't be surprised when one of the guys pulls you from the show and brings you to my dressing room again.” I offer her a smile and a wink. This was our goodbye, for now. I extended my hand to her, but she pushed it aside and hugged me instead. Holding her that close killed me inside. Like a knife was inside slicing up my guts, dicing my heart into tiny little pieces. I wanted to keep her. Hold her. Tell her everything that I knew. I wanted to make her remember but not as much as I wanted her to remember on her own. I'd see her in a few days time. I could be patient. After all, I thought I'd be seeing her in heaven, when I died. What's a few days?

  Chapter Three

  I watched her walk away while my heart screamed obscenities at me for letting her go. It took every ounce of internal strength I had not to chase her down and beg her to stay with me. Beg her to remember who she is. Remember me. My brain chimed in, reminding me that I was jumping the gun a bit. I still had no proof that Kendra was my Chinda. My brain was locked in a battle with my heart when I saw Elsie coming.

  Kendra was near the end of the hall. The part where she turns right and out of my line of sight. Elsie rounded the corner crashing into her. “Oh shit, I'm sorry,” I heard Elsie say as she backed away. “It's okay,” Kendra responded with a quiet laugh. They stood staring at each other, neither moving for what seemed like forever. If only I could read minds. Would she remember Elsie? “You're Elsie Briston,” Kendra said slowly as though she didn't believe her own words. Elsie's mouth curved into a huge smile. Her hand extended towards Kendra. “That's me and you are?” Shit, Elsie you know it's her.

  “Oh, I'm Kendra. It's exciting to finally meet you.”

  “Finally?” Elsie replied unable to hide the curiosity in her voice.

  “Yeah,” she began with a giggle of embarrassment. “Well, I've been following Briston around the country this tour. I love your music and admire you greatly. You really are an inspiration to women.”

  “Huh, you don't sound like our usual groupies.”

  “Oh, no I'm not. Not in the sense of following rock bands to screw them. No, I feel a connection to Briston. Don't know why and I can't explain it but I do. It drives my family crazy, especially my fiancé. That's why I'm out here I guess. He's hoping this little tour hop will curve my craving for Briston,” she said laughing. Elsie looked at her, with wonder and amazement in her eyes. I saw her face twist and fall in remembrance. Sorrow was written all over her face mixed with excitement. She glanced at me and her eyes asked me how I could let her go. I shrugged my shoulder and nodded, hoping my sister would let her go though I knew it was just as hard for her as it was for me.

  “Well, I guess a thank you is in order. Will we see you in Vegas?”

  “I'll be there. It was really fantastic to meet you. I'm freaking out inside right now.”

  Elsie pulled it together and offered her a welcoming smile before reaching her hand towards Kendra. Just as she'd done to me, she bypassed Elsie's hand and went in for a full on hug. Elsie's eyes didn't leave mine. What the fuck? Who is this girl? Is this my Chinda? Shit, this fucking hurts. I want to keep holding on to her, were all thoughts probably passing through my sister's mind. I knew that because I had the same thoughts. Kendra pulled out of the hug and walked away leaving my sister breathless much like she'd done to me.

  I waited for Elsie to catch her breath as she hung her head down, her hands resting on her knees. I could see by her movements that she was crying. Seconds later my sister was in my arms, sobbing. I pulled away so I could get us behind the privacy of the door we were currently standing in. Elsie grabbed a tissue and collapsed on the couch, her amber eyes were red and wet with tears.

  “Holy hell, El, it's her isn't it?” She asked.

  “Yes. I mean I think so but I can't decipher if that's just me really wanting it to be her or if it's really Chinda.”

  “What's her story?”

  “She didn't tell me much. She's a fan apparently. She's been following our music from the beginning, and she's been at every show for the past month. She told me she feels a connection to me, and I get the feeling her fiancé isn't thrilled about it. She's got five more shows that she can go to before she has to go home and get married. She hugged me like that when she left. It's kind of surreal isn't it? My heart is telling me it's her, but my brain is warning me to be careful.” I watched my sister think. Her face was unable to hide what she thought. Every emotion was written in her expressions. She hated that she was so easy to read.

  “So, you have five shows to get Chinda to remember who she is. Don't fuck it up, bro. Get our girl back,” she said before drying her tears and standing up. “Come on, pack your shit up. We have to get to the plane.” A few seconds later she was gone, and I was alone with my thoughts.

  I bypassed the band on the plane and headed directly to a seat near the back. It was a solitary seat. It was perfect. My mind was reeling. My heart was breaking. I so badly wanted to stop that girl, make her stay with me, force her to remember, but I knew that wasn't right because what if I was wrong? I'd gone over it in my head thousands of times, and it only makes sense that she's my Chinda but maybe I was blinded by my need for her. Maybe I was losing my fucking mind. Given the amount of drugs I’d done over the years and booze I’d guzzled that seemed likely.