Always a Love Song

by Charley Clarke

  Alex scratched Benny’s ears. “We rushed into adopting you, didn’t we, boy?”

  Bridget felt a twinge of guilt. She was the one who’d pushed to bring him home. Now, they had to add dog food and vet bills to the budget. Thank God Alex was decent with money. Bridget was always too tired to calculate which cereal in the massive aisle was the best deal.

  “I could pick up more freelancing,” Alex said.

  “Babe, what? No.” Bridget reached over Benny to rub the back of Alex’s neck. “You already work so hard.”

  She took a sip of tea and pursed her lips. There was a simple solution here. Even though it wasn’t one Bridget relished, she wasn’t the one who’d be the major roadblock.

  “We’ll be home this weekend,” she said. “We can always ask our parents to help with rent next month or even two months. It can be our Christmas present. Ooh, we could go on a fancy date. We haven’t been on a really nice date since before graduation.”

  Almost six months. She wasn’t high maintenance when it came to dates. She loved walks in the park and watching meteor showers and evenings spent cuddling on the couch. But every once in a while, she liked to dress up for Alex. Her chest fluttered with anticipation. There was almost nothing she loved more than Alex in a suit.

  Alex’s jaw tightened, and Bridget saw the protest coming before she even opened her mouth.

  “It’s not the worst option in the world,” Bridget said.

  “It’s not the best, either,” Alex said.

  “What do you want me to do? Get a third job?”

  “I could get a second one.”

  “You already work over fifty hours a week.”

  “And you take care of the apartment and do most of the cooking.”

  “Only because you’re working all the time.”

  Bridget set down her mug. She ran a hand through her hair and swiveled on the couch to face Alex. “They’re our parents. They love us.”

  “I know they do, but we’re adults. We’re supposed to be able to do this on our own.”

  “We’re six months out of college! It’s okay if we don’t have everything figured out yet. Isn’t that what you’re always saying?”

  “That’s different.”

  “Why? Because it’s me?” Bridget’s voice rose, though it wasn’t Alex she was upset with. “I’m allowed to take time to get my career off the ground, but you have to be superwoman? That doesn’t make sense. You don’t have to be so damn hard on yourself all the time.”

  Nestled between them, Benny looked back and forth a few times before jumping off the couch and padding into the bedroom away from the argument.

  When Alex didn’t reply, Bridget said, “I don’t get why you’re too proud to ask for a little help.”

  “Because I don’t want to burden my dad any more than I have already. You wouldn’t understand.”

  Alex’s dad, Bridget knew, had used the majority of his savings to help send Alex to school, to let her come out with a little less debt than normal.

  “Alex,” Bridget said as Alex set her laptop on the coffee table and got up to go to the kitchen.

  She did this. Ran away from conversations that veered too close to confrontations. Alex finished her tea, rinsed out the mug, and put it in the dishwasher. Then she disappeared into the bedroom.

  Bridget sighed. She followed and found Alex in the bathroom, brushing her teeth. Bridget hugged her from behind, gauging Alex’s expression in the mirror.

  “Why don’t I just ask my mom for a bit? You know she’s happy to help, and it wouldn’t burden your dad,” she said against Alex’s neck.

  Alex leaned down to spit out toothpaste. “I just don’t want them to worry about us. I want them to see us as adults.”

  This wasn’t what Bridget imagined their post-college life would look like—always struggling to stick to their budget, never building up any savings, and too frequently too tired from work to have meaningful disagreements. Undoubtedly, it wasn’t what Alex had imagined, either.

  They were partners, though, and that meant sticking together through feast and famine.

  She gave Alex a gentle squeeze. “Sometimes being an adult means knowing when to ask for help.”

  In the reflection, Alex found Bridget’s gaze. “Okay. I’ll think about asking my dad for a little bit, too.”

  “Thank you,” Bridget said. She kissed Alex’s cheek. “That’s all I ask.”

  Most likely, once Bridget asked her own mom, they wouldn’t need any help from Alex’s dad anyway.

  “I believe you when you say we’ll get there,” Bridget continued. “Do you believe it?”

  Alex relaxed back into Bridget’s embrace. She nodded, and Bridget squeezed her a little bit tighter.

  Now

  Grasping a bundle of chrysanthemums in one hand, Alex walked through the stiff grass in the graveyard. When she reached her parents’ graves, she kneeled and placed the flowers between the two stones. It was kind of silly, bringing living flowers for the dead. Her mom had loved them, though, and her dad had loved her mom.

  “Hey, Mom. Hey, Dad,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry it’s been a little while. Things have been…interesting. You probably know Bridget’s back in town. You probably also know I’ve had a hard time dealing with it. I just wanted to say, Pop, that you were right. I was holding onto my anger so tightly I couldn’t even see anything else. It’s going to take me some time to fully let go, but I’m trying. That’s the important thing, right?”

  She sighed, squinting into the mid-morning sun. “I feel…nervous. I don’t think I want things to go back to how they were, but I’m not sure how I want them to change. What should I do? If you were here now, what would you tell me?”

  Although she wished her parents were still around to help her through times like this, it wasn’t the answer that was helpful. It was the asking and letting herself think about it. What did she want to happen with Bridget? Maybe she shouldn’t have any expectations at all, just see how things shook out.

  She sat with them for a while, just thinking and wishing they were here. But they were still with her in a way, in the way that mattered, and she took heart in that.

  All too soon, though, it was time to head back to work. She patted her thighs. “Sorry, but I have to go. I love you both. I’ll come again soon.” She brushed two fingers against her lips and then touched her parents’ names in turn. Calvin and Georgia Marlow. If she could grow up to be half the people they were, she’d be lucky. Some days, she thought she was getting there. Other days, not so much.

  She walked back to her truck but stopped when she spotted someone standing near it, their back to her. The knit hat didn’t hide that golden hair.

  “Bridget?” Alex asked, coming closer.

  “I’m sorry,” Bridget said as she turned around. “I wasn’t eavesdropping or anything. I didn’t even know you were here.”

  “Oh.” Alex shuffled. “Are you visiting your dad?” Mr. Callahan was buried not too far away from this section.

  “Already did, actually.”

  Alex indicated the flowers in Bridget’s fist. “Did you forget to leave those?”

  Bridget shook her head. “No. They’re, um, they’re for your parents. I wanted to say hi.”

  Hot tears pressed against Alex’s eyes. She had to take a deep breath to get her voice under control. “That’s really nice of you.” She stepped aside to let Bridget pass.

  “Okay. See you around, Alex.”

  “Yeah, see you.”

  Alex got into her truck but couldn’t help watching Bridget as she walked through the headstones. She’d told her parents that she was trying. Was this a chance to do that? To prove that she was a bigger person today than she was yesterday?

  She started the engine, plugged in her phone, and synced up a podcast. Out of the corner of her eye, s
he watched Bridget. If she was done in the next couple minutes, Alex would offer her a ride back to town. That couldn’t be so bad, right?

  “Get it together, Alex,” she murmured, tapping the steering wheel.

  Without the simmering anger she’d nurtured for so long, would she even know how to interact with Bridget?

  Too soon, Bridget turned away from the gravestones and walked back toward the road.

  Alex rolled down her window. “Are you going my way?”

  Bridget’s expression hovered between pleasantly surprised and skeptical. “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah. Hop in.”

  They rode in silence for a few minutes. It was different than the last time Alex had driven her, though. Less tense and more…sad.

  Alex adjusted her grip on the steering wheel. This was it. Time to woman up.

  “We, uh…” She cleared her throat. “We have open mic night once or twice a month, and it’s this week. Tonight, actually.”

  “That sounds cool.”

  “You should come by. You and Max. I bet people would like to hear you play.”

  “Really?”

  “Of course.”

  Bridget was quiet for a moment. Then she said, “Look, Alex, I don’t want to ruin this moment, but you’ve wanted nothing to do with me since I got back, and now you’re…” She gestured at Alex, at a loss for words.

  “Giving you a ride and inviting you to hang out in my bar?”

  “Yeah!”

  Alex smiled, soft and sad. At least she was driving so she could keep her eyes on the road. “I’ve been thinking about what you said about being friends. I think I’m ready to try. If you’re willing, that is.”

  “Yeah, absolutely,” came Bridget’s quick and breathy answer.

  “Okay.”

  “Okay.”

  “Want me to drop you off at home?”

  “Actually, if you’re going into town, would you mind dropping me off at the café? I’m meeting Owen for lunch.”

  Alex shouldn’t ask. It was none of her business. But the question came out anyway. “You are?”

  Bridget’s cheeks colored, like she was embarrassed to talk about it. “We’re going to talk about the festival since he runs the tech. And because he’s home with the baby most of the time, I figured he might want to get out of the house for a bit.”

  “Oh. Are you helping out?”

  It would be good for Bridget to get involved with the town. So many people had loved her even before she’d shot to fame, and now they loved having her back. If she participated in the festival, showed pride in her hometown? Even better.

  Alex squirmed as she felt Bridget’s gaze on her. “What?” she asked.

  “Did anyone tell you what happened at the town hall meeting last night?” Bridget’s tone was cautious.

  Alex adjusted her grip on the steering wheel. It figured that the one meeting she missed in ages was the one with a bombshell. Hopefully a good one, though? “No, no one told me anything.” Her friends hadn’t returned to the bar after the meeting. They hadn’t even texted to give her a heads-up about whatever this was.

  “Oh, um…”

  Alex chanced a glance. Bridget sounded worried. “Is it that bad?”

  That seemed to break through to Bridget. “Oh,” she said, letting out her breath. “No, it’s not bad at all. The band they hired had to back out, so, well, I’m going to do it.”

  Without warning, a wave of memories rushed over Alex. Years and years of fall festivals spent by Bridget’s side. A handful of ones she hadn’t.

  She licked her lips. “That’s great, Bridge.”

  Bridget brightened. “Really?”

  “Really. Everyone’s going to love it. They’ve been waiting for you to come back since you hit it big.”

  Bridget’s smile faltered as Alex hung a right onto Main Street. “Right,” she said.

  Bridget sipped her coffee as they waited for Pippa’s video call. Owen sat beside her, bouncing Keiko on his lap. Max sat on the other side of the table, pulling faces to make Keiko laugh. Bridget was nervous. Why was she nervous? She’d played in professional sports stadiums before. She could handle a concert in the park, surely.

  But it was Alex. It was always Alex, wasn’t it?

  Bridget was nervous about performing in front of her, nervous about performing songs about Alex in front of Alex.

  “I told her,” she said.

  “Hmm?” Owen licked the foam from his upper lip. “Told who about what?”

  “Alex. That I’m doing the concert.”

  “Oh.”

  She exchanged a look with Max, who shrugged. “Oh?”

  “Well, I thought you were going to say that you— Something else. I thought you were going to say something else,” Owen said.

  Bridget let it slide. “It’s just that I thought it would make her happy somehow. She’d accused me of not caring about this place.”

  “Well,” Owen said slowly, like he was choosing his words carefully, “are you doing this because you feel a responsibility to your hometown or because you want Alex to be proud of you?”

  She sipped her coffee. Quietly, she asked, “Why can’t it be both?”

  Her video chat program chimed. She accepted the call, and her agent’s face popped up on screen. “Hey, Pippa.”

  “Bridget!” Pippa said. “So good to see that you’re alive even if you can’t be bothered to answer my texts.”

  “I’ve been working. I swear,” Bridget said, barely containing her eye roll. Pippa knew how hard she worked. She deserved a bit of a break. “Max is here, too. Say hi.”

  “Hey, Pip.”

  “Oh, good,” Pippa said. “Then you’re on board for this plan?”

  “Absolutely,” he said.

  “We were thinking we’d do an acoustic show,” Bridget said. “You know, something stripped down so it’s just the two of us. Acoustic guitars, an amped piano if we can manage it.”

  “People are going to love that,” Pippa said. “How big is the stage? Can you get a piano on it? Where’s the piano coming from? What if it rains?”

  “It’s a covered stage,” Owen offered.

  “Yeah,” Bridget confirmed. The piano was her main instrument, and she’d love to have one, but it wasn’t like the town had one lying around, and the one at her mom’s house was an old upright that had seen better days. To do the music justice, she’d prefer a baby grand. If she wanted one, she’d have to buy it herself, and then what would she do with it? Store it at her mom’s house, where it wouldn’t be used for another five years?

  Pippa waved a hand dismissively. “I’ll make some calls. What about exposure? How many people show up to this thing?”

  “Probably a couple thousand,” Owen said. “But that’s over the course of the festival.”

  Bridget turned the screen to include him. “Pip, this is Owen. He does tech for the festival.”

  Pippa leaned closer. “Is that a baby?”

  “Yeah!” Beaming, Owen raised Keiko’s hand. “Say hi, Keiko!”

  “Um, hello,” Pippa said awkwardly.

  Bridget hid her chuckle by taking a sip of coffee.

  Pippa recovered from the interaction. “A couple thousand? Bridget, if you post about it just once online, I bet we can get ten times that size.”

  “Yeah, Pip, this town can’t hold that many,” Bridget said. “And the park certainly can’t.”

  “What about streaming the concert live online?” Owen suggested. “You could charge a minimum amount for access or even make it free but leave it open for people to donate more. Half the proceeds could go to the town, half to you.”

  She didn’t need half, but that was a detail they could hash out later. “That sounds incredible. I love that idea.”

  “So do I,” Max agreed. />
  “Excellent. Get me the city council contact info, would you?” Pippa said.

  “I’ll get it to you,” Owen said to Bridget.

  “This is going to be amazing press, Bridget,” Pippa said.

  “That’s not why I’m doing it.”

  “I know. I know. But half the world hates you for breaking up with Patrick, so you’re in need of some good press, honey.”

  “Gee, thanks.” She didn’t need the reminder that she’d been fucking up her life at every turn.

  “Oh, cheer up, sweetheart. You know I’m only looking out for you.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “Good. Then I’ll be there on Wednesday. I love you both, but I don’t trust you to find a way to set this up correctly.”

  Max scoffed. “Thank you for your faith in us.”

  “If we’re going to do this, we’re doing it right, Mister.” Pippa pointed a finger at Bridget. “You two worry about the music. Let me worry about the rest.”

  “Thanks, Pip,” Bridget said.

  “Yeah, see you soon,” Max added.

  Pippa signed off.

  Bridget took a long gulp of coffee. In the early days, her pain was what had kept her going—kept her writing songs and perfecting them and performing at dive bars and taking double shifts so she could scrape up enough money to pay rent. But Alex had been far away then, a distant, if depressing, memory.

  How the hell was she supposed to play those songs with Alex so close?

  Alex’s invitation stuck in her mind. If she was so worried about playing in front of Alex in front of the entire town, why not do a test run?

  Riley ran open mic night. She cared about bringing culture to the community, and she was better in front of people than Alex. After the first two or three weekly events, they’d run out of willing participants, so they’d moved to once or twice a month as they felt like it or as people asked for it. Nowadays, it was usually the same four who performed.

  Jill, who read Shakespearean monologues, always themed to the month.