by Shayne Ford
“She loves the snow,” he says as my hand goes through her wet coat.
She barks a couple of times in agreement.
“You do, don’t you?” I say to her.
She settles down at my feet, not far from the fireplace, her eyes glued to me.
“There’s a blizzard outside. I love it,” Steve says, veering toward the kitchen.
“The food is in the oven if you’re hungry. Martha just finished cooking,” I say, shifting my eyes to the couple of lyrics I have been wrestling with for the last half hour.
The house is silent again, muffled noises coming from the kitchen. He shuffles back and claims an armchair next to the couch I’m sitting on. He sets the mug of tea and a plate filled with cookies on the table.
Karma raises her head, sniffing the air before she closes her eyes and drifts off to sleep.
“Where are the others?” I ask, and Steve motions outside.
“Digging in the snow or at the stalls, barking at the horses,” he says.
Just as he finishes talking, loud noises come from outside.
He stretches his body and looks at the fire.
A few moments pass by.
“It’s nice.”
I flick my eyes up.
“What?”
“This place. I could live here,” he says, jokingly, and I smile.
“You do live here.”
He grins and stays quiet.
“You don’t like LA?” I ask.
“No, no. LA is fine.”
I cut my eyes at him again.
“The hotel?”
He nods.
“Yeah, that gets me too,” I say.
“Are you going home when we’re done?”
I set the piece of paper on the side and take a long breath. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch him studying me.
Arms crossed over my chest, I root my eyes to the fire.
“I don’t know what I’m gonna do, if anything,” I say, shifting into a pensive mood. “I’ll figure it out,” I add with a different voice after a few moments. “Perhaps I’ll stay here for a while.”
The soft sound of the wall clock seeps into the silence. I grab the glass of scotch and bring it to my lips.
“You still can’t let go of her, can you?” he asks quietly, his words almost lost in the silence.
I take a sip of scotch and set the glass on the table. Clicking my tongue, I shake my head, and rake my fingers through my hair.
“I still can’t.”
He ponders for a few moments before he speaks again.
“Why didn’t you just stop her?” he asks.
I shoot him a questioning look.
“That New Years Eve...”
A bitter smile curves my lips as the memory of that night flashes in front of my eyes.
“Hmm…”
I pause, struggling to find my voice.
“I thought about that night many times… In the beginning, I was angry. And then I had this stupid idea that if she needed to learn something, she had to do it on her own, but I was plain wrong. I thought that once she’d figure things out, she’d have the courage to come back to me. She never did, and I was crushed. And then like any other fool, it crossed my mind her love was not strong enough, and that’s why she left.”
I go silent again, my chest hurting.
“She did love you.”
I whip my eyes to him.
“Yeah… I know that now. She did love me. That’s why she ran away. And that’s why she almost paid with her life, but it was too late when I realized it…” I mutter, my voice trailing off.
The ticking of the old clock threads monotonously through the silence.
“Maybe it was meant to be that way, or there was no other choice,” he says.
We lock eyes again.
I smile bitterly.
“There was... There always is. I should’ve done what everybody else is doing. Settle for less, go with the flow, perhaps lie to myself. It works so well for so many. I wanted all or nothing, and I got nothing. And I can’t even blame it on her. It was all my fault. She was the way she was. I shouldn’t have wanted more than that. Instead, I should’ve treated her like the child-woman that she was and be done with it. I wanted her to be the other part of my life, to be a real woman, and all I got, in the end, was a disaster, and the regret, and guilt that has been killing me. Of all people, I should’ve known that no one can’t change a life. It throws what it throws at you, and you have to run with it, because next day it may give you nothing or worse, and that’s exactly what I got.”
I toss the rest of my drink back, the alcohol burning my throat.
“Now all I want is to find a way out of this maze. I hope one day I’d feel differently,” I say and plop the glass on the table. “I no longer want anything for myself. All I want is for her to have a normal life and perhaps forget everything or at least, most of it,” I say.
“But you need to move on, too.”
“It doesn’t really matter. I’m in no hurry to go anywhere. Time will do its job. If I heal, fine. If I keep bleeding, that’s fine too. I’ve done too many stupid things. I’ve had all that power, and I thought I could change things. Play this fucking game out of that power place, and all I got back was a big hand of nothing.”
“It has changed you.”
I let out a sad chuckle.
“Has it?”
He stays quiet.
“So fucking what?”
“Perhaps it was a lesson you needed to learn,” he says.
“It fucking was, but I could’ve learned it without fucking with her life... Anyway, it’s done.”
He drinks his tea and places the cup on the table. My eyes go back to the fire.
“And yet you’re still waiting, River. What exactly are you waiting for?”
I shake my head slowly.
“I don’t know...” I say sincerely.
“Your public life aside, you pretty much live like her now,” he says.
My eyes go to him.
“What do you mean?”
“In LA, she was living not far from you. She told Nora she moved there because she wanted to get away from New York when all she wanted was to live close to you, to feed on the memory of you, and sometimes the presence of you. I think the only reason you bought this house, aside from the fact that Upstate New York is beautiful, was to feed on her memory too, but you’re not going to find closure that way,” he says.
“I know, but it doesn’t matter. Her memory still means a lot to me. When that’s gone, I’ll have nothing. Time will tell which way I go, but it’ll be easier if I know that she’s okay.”
“Nora says she is.”
“When did you talk to her?” I ask, surprised.
“This past weekend.”
“Why are you telling me this now?”
“You said you couldn't talk about her.”
“I said I wanted to stay out of her life.”
“I think you lie to yourself, all the while waiting for a miracle to happen.”
“I don’t believe in miracles.”
“Maybe you don’t, but your heart does.”
“So what did she say?” I ask, suddenly restless.
“She’s good. She works a lot. Besides her online store, she’s freelancing, and she’s working with people more than she used to. Apparently, her portfolio, which includes Steel, and you, by the way, has opened a lot of doors for her. Nora says, she’s gotten some fashion gigs too, besides the concert photography jobs. She seems to adjust pretty well.”
He pauses.
“So, see. Something good came out of it.”
“It doesn’t have to do with me,” I say, sounding disappointed.
“Perhaps it does,” he says, his lips curving into a soft smile.
“Is there something else?” I ask, intrigued.
He searches my eyes for a moment.
“She’s not seeing anyone.”
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
“No, it doesn’t, but she’s clearly in no rush to move on as you said.”
I run a nervous hand through my hair.
“That’s because she’s not that kind of woman. She’ll do it when the time is right for her.”
“That’s the point I’m trying to make. She probably knows better than you what’s right for her, and right now, she doesn’t want to move on, not in the way you think anyway.”
I shake my head and look away.
“Don’t say that to me, Steve.”
“All I’m saying is, that you’re lying to yourself. Your hope that you can have her back is alive, and it’s because your heart keeps telling you something different than your brain.”
“You’re not helping me right now.”
“You’re still waiting for her, River.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you fucking are...”
“I’m not waiting for her. I can’t let go of her, but that’s different, and I’ve already told you that.”
A few moments of silence rush by. The muffled barking of the dogs travels from outside. It snows quietly, the evening sneaking in the dimly lit rooms, like an old, quiet friend. The light coming from the fireplace casts a glow over the walls.
“She knows...” he says after a while.
We lock eyes.
“Nora told her,” he continues.
My heart stops for a moment.
“She knows what happened that night. She knows she wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for you. She knows you took her to the hospital and didn’t leave her side until she regained her conscience.”
I move my gaze to the fire, trying to conceal my nervousness.
“When did she tell her?”
“A few months back.”
I whip my eyes back to him, emotion clawing at my chest.
“Nora thinks Layla got better after that. That’s why she told her about you, despite promising you not to.”
Warmth pours over me.
“You’re heart is right, River...”
“No, no. There’s no way back... It’s not even worth talking about it. I don’t want to fool myself.”
“You’re not fooling yourself. Be patient, that’s all I’m saying. There’s a reason you can’t let go of her...”
He pauses for a moment, his eyes soft and sad.
“I know she didn’t,” he says, the emotion in his voice mirroring the pain in my chest.
We’re back in New York. It’s our last concert of the year. We’re scheduled to take a break from touring the next few months. Tonight, we’re set to perform in front of a public that’s already cheering in anticipation.
I’m the last one to enter the stage.
As I wait for my turn, a strong hand grips my shoulder.
“She’s here,” Steve says and breaks away without looking back.
He starts barking orders to the people in the hallway while I run to the stage, my heart racing.
The show starts with an explosion of sounds and lights, the clamor quickly filling the theater. As much as I’d like to keep my eyes away from her, my gaze floats over the public, and shifts to the upper level, straight to the balcony. I spot Nora, and then my gaze drifts to her side, and I lock eyes with her.
The stare we share for a few moment, makes me lose track of lyrics. She straightens her back as if she wants to push out of the chair and leave, and that’s when I tear my gaze away from her.
Swiftly, I stroll to the other end of the stage, and for the rest of the evening I keep my gaze in check and don’t look back at her again.
I’m down to the last tune. The last song is not just any song. My hand grips the microphone as I blankly stare at the crowd in front of me.
“The last song of the night is called 'One'. It’s special song to me, and tonight I want to dedicate it to someone in the audience... Someone I have loved and lost.”
The crowd explodes in cheers.
I play the first chords on my guitar and delve into the lyrics. The public sings the words with me, the song swiftly bringing back the memory of her.
Tonight I sing the tune only for her, in a way reaching out to her, but not hoping much. And yet, as many times before, I feel her close to me. So close, my voice begins to shake.
An hour later, I drive back to the hotel, not sure if I want to go the after party. It’s not as crazy as it used to be, but it feels as if I set myself for needless disappointment. If she’s there, I don’t think it will do her any good if I show up. If she’s not, the evening will be as dreary as it could be.
Since it’s fucked up, either way, I go for it. Entering the club alongside Ron, I run my eyes around the room. It’s less crowded than it used to be. The parties are ‘exclusive’ now. Ron’s words. I’d say it’s less crowded because the groupies no longer make the cut.
It takes me a couple of seconds to locate her.
Tucked into a booth, sitting next to Nora, she has her gaze trained on the entrance. We lock eyes briefly before I steer away from Ron and cut straight to the bar. Mark, my assistant sidles up to me. I order a drink and slide into a barstool, my back turned to the room.
He parks himself next to me, and standing, he gives me the rundown on several business issues. Then he inquires about my plans for the next couple of weeks.
“Are you going to be upstate New York or in LA? I need to know if you want me to book anything in advance. It’s hard to book this time of year, and it’s good to know ahead of time…”
For a few good minutes, he talks my ear off.
Taking a swig from my drink, I give him a side glance. He’s brow gleams with sweat. He’s good at his job–– as good as Thalia was, but he’s hormonal like a virgin.
Who knows? Maybe he is a virgin.
Now that I partially tuned out, I find his chattering soothing. His sweat gets thicker, and his blinking becomes worrying. Next thing I know, crimson paints his face, and he begins to stammer like a broken record.
Then something brings him to a sudden halt.
“May I... May I, help you?”
I sneak another furtive glance at him. A twitch tugs at the corner of his mouth. There must be a woman behind me, and yeah… He’s definitely a virgin.
“I need to talk to your boss.”
Layla’s voice falls in my ears, and heat rolls through me. I clutch my glass with both hands.
“I’m...I’m...”
“You can go now,” I say to Mark dismissively.
He clears the scene smoothly.
“May I?”
“Sure.”
I watch her in the bar’s mirror as she slides onto the barstool next to me, careful not to brush against me.
“You want something to drink?” I ask evenly.
My eyes run over her profile, then dip to her hands. She catches my gaze and smiles.
“Yeah.”
I order the drink.
As I look at her, it’s hard to believe we share such a dark past. There’s no trace of pain or fear in her eyes. Her face is glowing with a warm smile.
Her moves are smooth, her features tranquil. She looks as if she fears nothing. She surely doesn’t fear me, not even after all I did to her.
“How are things with you?” she murmurs, her lips curling into a soft grin.
She rests her hand on my forearm, and my body warms up. I look down, and then up, and I root my gaze to her eyes.
“They’re good... now. What about you? You moved back?”
“Yes. Too hot for me in LA,” she says, amused as if we’re talking about a trivial thing, and our conversation starts to sound surreal.
She may not be so well after all. It may be that she has compartmentalized the past, and now we’re dancing around it.
It may be that this new Layla is nothing but the result of therapy.
“How is Love?” she asks, and my heart skips beats.
I glance at her as she takes a sip of her drink, smiles softly and shifts slightly in her seat to face me.
>
Love is still not a matter of public knowledge, and she wouldn’t know about her either, had she not found and read that letter.
I, too, shift my position and turn to her. My eyes dip to her necklace. She wears the tag with my name.
“She’s good. They’re both good. Ava is my niece. They’re at my mom’s place.”
I pull my phone out and show her some pictures. She studies them, her eyes brushed by a smile and misted with tears. She tilts her head to the side, her fingers gently touching my hand.
“You’re done touring.”
“Yeah... for now.”
“Are you going home?”
“I don’t know. I might spend the Christmas here. ”
A shadow hovers over her eyes.
“At Ron’s place?”
“No. Upstate New York.”
Dark clouds follow the shadow, killing the light in her eyes.
“The same place?”
Her voice trembles.
My gaze sinks into her eyes.
“No, not the same place...” I say.
Light flares in her gaze for a moment, not long enough to push away the sadness.
“But just as beautiful...” I add.
Her eyes sparkle with nostalgic tears.
“I...”
“Yes?” I mutter.
“I love that song,” she says, and she moves her gaze away for mine before she looks at me again.
“It’s your song, Layla. I wrote it for you... For us...”
I stop just as my voice turns hoarse, almost breaking.
Her gaze lingers on me a moment longer, and then she slides off the barstool and runs her fingers over her dress as if she wants to leave.
“I have to go now...”
I gyrate toward her, my heart screaming inside.
Nothing is dead. Nothing.
Tears well up in my eyes and my teeth begin to clench, my chest turning tight and heavy. I grip the edge of the bar, bracing for her departure, yet she doesn’t walk away.
She wedges herself between my legs. My heart rams in my chest.
Smiling, she slides her hand up my neck, and runs her fingers over my jawline, trailing gently, her thumb brushing my lips. As her gaze coasts over my features, I keep my eyes trained on her, soaking in her beauty.
I can’t make the slightest move, and I feel as if I’m about to explode. The only thing that’s moving is the veil of tears gliding over my eyes. She takes my face in her hands.