Always a Love Song

by Charley Clarke

  If there was one thing that could take away that pain, though, it was music.

  “This song,” she said, “is called ‘Alexandra.’”

  On the piano, she played the intro, soft and somber. Then Max joined in on the guitar.

  And Bridget sang, pouring herself into the song and hoping Alex would hear everything she’d never been able to say.

  The sounds of the festival had died down as Alex walked down the sidewalk. She could’ve driven, probably should’ve driven, but she wanted the time to think. Still, she’d made no decision yet, really, about whether she’d even go into the theater.

  Shortly after the concert ended, after Bridget had sung that song about her, her phone had blown up with texts from Lu, Jordan, Owen, Jaya, and even Evelyn.

  She’d switched it off. She appreciated her friends’ willingness to help, but she didn’t need anyone else in her ear when she talked to the only other person who belonged in this conversation.

  When she reached the theater, she slipped through the door with the broken padlock. Only to explain things to Bridget. She deserved that, at least.

  The house lights were up, and Bridget sat in the front row. She stood when Alex came in and walked down the aisle to meet her in the center.

  “Hi,” she said. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

  “I wasn’t sure I would, either,” Alex admitted.

  Bridget had changed out of the flashy outfit she’d worn at the concert and into sneakers, her comfort jeans, and a Pitt sweatshirt. Her hair, pulled into a loose bun, was still damp from the shower.

  She was breathtakingly gorgeous.

  She was breathtakingly normal.

  “Wait,” Alex said, her train of thought veering off track. “Why are the lights on? How are the lights on?”

  “I had the power reconnected. Can’t do renovations in the dark.”

  “Renovations?”

  A subtle flush rose to Bridget’s cheeks. She lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “Yeah. I bought the theater.”

  Alex chuckled. Of course she did.

  “I think it’s sad the high school kids don’t have an auditorium to perform their fall play and spring musical in. I’m not sure I’ll get it fixed up in time for this spring, but eventually, that’s the goal. And, you know, I’m sure we’ll find other uses for it.”

  “That’s great, Bridge. The kids are going to love it.” Something sprang up in her heart, something small and fragile and hopeful. Did this mean Bridget was staying? Or, at the very least, would be around more than once every half decade?

  Even if it did mean that, what would that mean for them?

  “I hope so.” Bridget shoved her hands into the pocket of her sweatshirt. “The truth is, you taught me a lot about my responsibility to the community. I’m sorry I’ve been slacking on it, but better late than never, right?”

  “I’m sorry I was so harsh with you before. I was angry. I shouldn’t have been.” Everyone dealt with shit in their own way. If Bridget had needed to stay away from this town, stay away from Alex, Alex couldn’t blame her for taking care of herself.

  “And you’re…not angry now?”

  “No. I’ve thought a lot about what happened. I can’t fix it, and we’ve both apologized till we’re blue, so there’s nowhere to go but forward.”

  “Forward…” Bridget stopped, took a shaky breath to compose herself. Her voice was barely above a whisper when she asked, “How come your forward feels so different from mine?”

  Alex’s throat tightened. “You have a life, Bridget, a life in a big city far away with important things to do. I can’t tie you here, and I wouldn’t be happy there.”

  Bridget ran her hands over her face. Then she stared at Alex. “You don’t get to make that decision for both of us.”

  Alex licked her lips, desperate for a drink of water. “I finally understand now why you left that day. You did it for me, and I’m doing this for you,” she said. “In today’s world, what you do is important. You make people happy. You’re a role model for teenagers who are questioning their sexuality or trying to figure themselves out.”

  Shaking her head, Bridget wiped away the tears that were starting to fall.

  “I’m serious, Bridge. You can’t just walk away from that.”

  Bridget walked down the aisle to sit on the edge of the stage. Once she was settled, she looked up. “You’re an idiot.”

  Alex laughed softly. Yeah, she was. She ran a hand over her eyes and walked toward the stage, where she leaned against it. She shouldn’t ask, but she did anyway. “Okay. Why am I an idiot?”

  Bridget’s voice cracked when she said, “Because I’d give up that life for you.”

  “You shouldn’t have to. I don’t want you to.” It was true. Finding your calling in life was rare, and Alex would never take that away from Bridget.

  “I don’t need you to tell me what to do with my life.”

  “I know. I know.” Alex rubbed her chin. This wasn’t going very smoothly.

  Bridget swiped a hand through her golden locks. “I think… I think we keep talking in circles and never really get around to what we mean. So…” She stopped, sighed, all the while never looking away from Alex’s gaze. “So, I’m going to say what I want and how I feel.”

  Alex’s breath stopped in her throat. She’d never been more terrified in her life.

  “I know what I want, Alex,” said Bridget. “I don’t have to think about it. Because what I want is you, a future with you, and I don’t care what steps we have to take to make it happen or how hard those steps are.” Voice gentle, she said, “I know you, Lex. I know you’re afraid of getting hurt again. I wish I could promise I’d never break your heart, but no one can promise that. All I can promise is to try to love you as much as you deserve to be loved.”

  She took Alex’s hand, intertwined their fingers, and looked up to make sure it was okay.

  Alex didn’t pull away.

  “I love you,” Bridget whispered.

  Alex pushed the breath out of her lungs, inhaled, and repeated. She had known—somewhere deep down—it was coming, and still she wasn’t prepared. Maybe she would never be prepared.

  “The only question is,” Bridget continued, “do you love me, too? Do you want to make this work as badly as I do?”

  “That’s two questions,” Alex murmured, because she couldn’t handle the burgeoning hope in her chest. The life she’d pined for, convinced herself she’d never get, was within her reach. Within their reach. So why couldn’t she take that last leap?

  Bridget hopped down off the stage and moved a step closer, bowed her head so their foreheads touched and her breath fluttered over Alex’s cheek. “Let’s… Let’s stop punishing ourselves. Haven’t we done enough of that?”

  They really had. Alex tightened her grip on Bridget’s fingers. “I don’t need you anymore,” she said softly. “I haven’t for a long time.” When she was seventeen, when she was twenty-three, she’d thought she couldn’t live without Bridget. Now she could. She’d proven that.

  Bridget’s chest heaved. She looked down at their locked hands. “I know. I know that.” She brushed a lock of hair behind Alex’s ear. “But isn’t that the making of a good partnership?”

  Alex closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. Her voice came out small. “I’m scared.”

  Bridget cupped her cheek, brushed her thumb back and forth. “I know, baby. So am I.”

  Alex pulled back, just enough to look into Bridget’s eyes. “You are?”

  “Of course I am,” Bridget said, smiling tearfully. “There’s nothing more terrifying than putting your heart on the line. But I want to be brave for you. I’m going to be brave for you.”

  Alex bit her lip. If they were both going into this with open eyes and pure intentions, that already increased their odds. Didn’t it?

>   “Be brave for me,” Bridget whispered. “Be brave with me.”

  Alex saw truth and courage and hope in Bridget’s blue eyes. “I don’t need you, but I still want you. I always will,” she said, surprising even herself. “And I promise to wake up every morning and be brave enough to choose you, to choose us.”

  Bridget’s eyes watered. There was a question there, one she couldn’t quite give voice to.

  And Alex couldn’t quite give voice to the answer. She brushed her thumb along Bridget’s cheek and leaned forward.

  It really all came down to one thing.

  Maybe they didn’t need to fix who they were, to painstakingly pick up the pieces of their hearts and glue them back together in a clumsy approximation of what used to be. Maybe what they needed to do was take all those fragile pieces—the fragments of both their hearts—and create something new.

  Bridget closed the distance between them. This kiss was different, neither desperate nor reverent. It was solid and stable, an inevitability, two pieces coming together, never to be parted again.

  Alex’s head spun. “Come home with me?” she murmured against Bridget’s lips. “Not…not to have sex or to rush anything. I just want to be with you.”

  Bridget changed into the plaid pajama pants and oversized T-shirt that Alex gave her, brushed her teeth with a spare toothbrush, and slid into Alex’s bed, sitting up against the headboard to wait for her. Benny, who’d been zooming between the two of them, left Alex in the bathroom and jumped up on the mattress. He lay down beside Bridget and licked her face.

  “Hey, buddy,” she said. “I’ve missed this, too.”

  Alex came out of the bathroom in basketball shorts and an oversized sweatshirt. She grinned at the sight of them cuddled up on the bed. “Benny,” she said sternly but with affection, “it’s my turn to cuddle her. Sorry, bud.”

  Whimpering, Benny stood up as Alex climbed into bed. Bridget scooted so she was near the middle, and Benny settled on her far side. They sat with shoulders touching, a quiet calm surrounding them. Bridget didn’t know what to do next.

  Alex set her hand, palm up, on Bridget’s thigh. Bridget took it, entwined their fingers, and snuggled into Alex, who dropped a kiss on her head and ran her fingers through her hair. All the tension drained from Bridget’s body. This was where she was meant to be.

  After a few minutes, Alex asked, “So, how’d it feel?”

  “The concert?”

  Alex lifted one shoulder. “Doing something good for your hometown. It’s thanks to shitty planning that we’ve let ourselves get into this mess, but you saved people from having their taxes raised, and you saved their kids from having to suffer from substandard education because we can’t afford to pay teachers what they’re worth. That’s pretty noteworthy in my book.”

  Bridget shifted to look at Alex. “I didn’t do it for them.” After everything they’d gone through, she didn’t know why this was so hard to say.

  Alex squeezed her hip, the contact reassuring and grounding.

  “I did it so you’d be proud of me,” Bridget said.

  Alex pressed soft kisses to Bridget’s brow, her cheek, her ear, her lips. “Why don’t we make a promise,” she said, “to try our best to be gentle and to be good—to ourselves, to each other, and to everyone around us?”

  With a smile, Bridget said, “I think I can handle that.”

  Judging by the weak sunlight outside, Alex woke a little after dawn. Solid arms encompassed her waist, blonde hair tickled her shoulder, and warm breaths puffed against her neck. Alex smiled. Her heart was full and sated, and she never wanted this moment to end. But it would, and that was okay because there would be many, many moments like this in the future. She was still scared, still terrified actually, but that fear wouldn’t rule her life anymore. Instead, she would overwhelm it with love, warm and solid and grounding.

  Bridget groaned when Alex slid out of bed, but Alex pressed a quick kiss to her temple and retreated into the bathroom. On her way back, she noticed both their phones on the nightstand lighting up with silent notifications. Tucking herself under the covers again, she picked up hers.

  There were countless messages and social media notifications, the majority of them bearing a link to a clip of last night’s concert. Smiling, she set the phone back down, curled into Bridget, and nuzzled her nose against her neck.

  “Bridge,” she murmured.

  Bridget stirred without opening her eyes. “Hmm?”

  “You’re viral.”

  “What?” Bridget asked, voice thick with sleep.

  “There’s a clip on YouTube of your last song from yesterday. The speech before it, too.”

  Bridget groaned.

  Alex let out a breathy chuckle. “You’re not embarrassed, are you?”

  Bridget opened one brilliantly blue eye. “‘Course not. I just don’t really want to share my vulnerable moments.”

  “Maybe you should’ve thought about that before you did it.”

  Humming and closing her eyes again, Bridget scooched closer. “That would’ve been hard because I was only thinking about you.”

  Alex warmed from the inside out. This happiness she felt now was akin to what she’d experienced at eighteen, at twenty-three. But it was more mature, more measured. It was for life.

  She pressed a gentle kiss to Bridget’s lips. “I love you,” she whispered.

  “And I love you,” Bridget said, “but I’ll love you more after a couple more hours of sleep.”

  Alex just laughed, kissed her again, this time on the cheek, and closed her eyes.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Now

  Bridget and Alex arrived for Sunday dinner together, hand in hand, bearing wine and flowers. Her mom greeted them with too-tight hugs and an admonishment that they didn’t have to bring anything. Bridget waved her off and led Alex into the living room. It was a full house tonight—both her brothers, Jaya, the kids, Lu, Jordan, Owen, and little Keiko, who’d officially become a handful since mastering crawling. It was chaos, the exact kind of chaos Bridget loved.

  “When are you two headed to New York again? I want to visit,” Jordan asked over dinner.

  Although New York was still her official home base and Alex visited occasionally, over the past three months, Bridget had been spending less and less time there in order to be with Alex as much as possible. She was also overseeing the theater renovations and making an effort to be more present in the town. This was the easy part, though, since she was in an ebb period of writing and recording the new album, which meant she wasn’t on tour or in big demand for interviews or appearances. The respite wouldn’t last too much longer.

  “Not that soon,” Alex said. She looked at Bridget. “We could probably be persuaded to do a long weekend, though, and show you guys around.”

  “For sure. I’d love to,” Bridget said. She squeezed Alex’s thigh. “And I’ve finally managed to get this one to agree to be my date to the Grammys, so we’ll be in Los Angeles next month.”

  “How glamorous,” her mom said.

  Alex groaned. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

  There’d been growing pains, of course, from trying to merge their separate spheres, and the Grammys would be their biggest test yet. Bridget wasn’t worried.

  She pressed a kiss to Alex’s cheek. “It’ll be fun. We’ll make a weekend of it, go sightseeing. The Grammys will be a minor blip in the adventure.”

  After dinner, the frigid January weather prevented them from going outside to play with Arya and Dev. Instead, they built a fire in the living room fireplace and taught them gin rummy while reruns of baking shows hummed in the background, volume turned low.

  In the corner of the couch, Bridget snuggled against Alex. The room around them faded away as Alex leaned forward to kiss her softly. It was barely a kiss, but to Bridget, it spoke volumes. W
armth flooded her, and she smiled against Alex’s lips. Even though she preferred to profess her love in song, she liked Alex’s ways, too.

  Bridget was practically vibrating with excitement as she waited on Alex’s plane to land. The Grammys would be their first public outing, and she was equal parts ecstatic and nervous. Ecstatic because she’d get to see Alex after a week away and spend the next four days with her. Nervous because Alex was super private, and Bridget couldn’t predict how she’d react to all the attention.

  As much as Bridget loved her fans, she didn’t always relish being recognized in public. But today, it proved to be a blessing, as taking pictures with preteen girls and being asked about her girlfriend by baby gays was the only thing taking her mind off the fact that Alex’s plane had been delayed not once, but twice.

  Her followers on social media were loving her saga of waiting in the airport. She’d taken selfies at the food court and in different shops and lounges captioned with things like: My girlfriend’s plane is delayed, and I’m wandering this airport until she gets here. Here’s a picture of flight attendants knitting while they wait for their next plane. Videos, too—of herself singing along to one of her songs playing over the loudspeaker or little interviews and interactions with folks who were also waiting for their loved ones.

  It’d been fun, but also, where was Alex? She was going crazy here. God, how did she ever go five years without this woman when a week had driven her mad?

  When the plane finally landed, it was another ten minutes before the passengers could depart. The whole time Bridget waited, she was bouncing on the balls of her feet, craning her head over the emerging passengers for a shock of curly brown hair.

  Then she saw her.

  It took every ounce of willpower not to run through the crowd. When Alex was clear of them, though, she opened her arms for a hug, and Bridget took the opportunity to leap at her, knocking her back a step.

  “It’s only been a week,” Alex said, laughing into Bridget’s neck and dropping her bag to lock her arms around Bridget’s waist.