The guy’s nostrils flare, like he’s debating denyin’ it. But then his daughter runs over, throwing her arms around his waist, her voice high with excitement as she gushes about how amazing Lou is. His shoulders drop. He gives me a quick nod and walks away.
The way I want to knock that guy’s teeth in is almost unbearable …
This is the kind of thing Lou hasn’t experienced yet. She’s created a tour environment that’s as sheltered as possible, but she won’t always be so lucky. One day, she’ll have record execs, fellow musicians, and industry types making moves on her. And sure, she’ll handle it. But no matter what she thinks, it’ll wear her down.
And I think I want to be there to build her back up when it does.
Soon, we’re on the large open-air bus, Lou sitting in the middle, flanked by me and another security guard, otherwise surrounded by kids. I worry they’ll spend the whole tour gaping at her, but once the bus drives into the cavern and sunlight disappears, their wide eyes shift to take everything in.
The walls glisten with mineral deposits, reflecting the dim glow of lanterns that cast golden light onto the limestone formations. Stalactites hang like jagged chandeliers from the high ceiling, some stretching down to meet rising stalagmites, forming columns older than civilization itself. As the busrumbles forward, the cavern opens into a vast chamber, where underground pools reflect the rippling formations above.
Drips of mineral water fall from the ceiling, splashing on our heads and faces. The kids either laugh or shriek when it happens, and when a drop hits Lou, she squeals and then laughs against my side.
The guide’s voice echoes as he explains the history—how the cave was discovered in the 1800s by a farmer’s dog, how it was a speakeasy during Prohibition. But it’s the enormous, impossibly vast cavern itself that makes a hush fall over the group.
We drive through a constantly shifting landscape of rock and time, and Lou looks mesmerized. For most of the hour-long tour, it’s just us and the cave. No flashing cameras. No fandoms. No expectations or legacies.
This is so much bigger. So much older.
Over and over, Lou and I marvel at a sight, then look at each other, eyes reflecting the same awe.
And for the first time in a long time, I feel lighter.
In this cavern, I’m tempted to leave the past in the dark, where it belongs. The mistakes, the baggage I’ve been dragging around … they aren’t as heavy here, where it takes a hundred years to grow an inch of stone. A hundred years from now, who’ll remember anything I’m chasing? What will matter?
My eyes dart to Lou, to her round, rosebud mouth, her wide, enchanted gaze. To the way she leans closer to the child across from her, pointing things out with an excitement that’s pure, unfiltered.
When the bus rolls into a chamber with an enormous formation, she gasps, her knee pressing into mine. As if we’re the only two people in this entire cave.
Could a moment like this span into something bigger … if I justletit?
My mind jumps to my dad and brother—to the way they’ve always sacrificed for the people they love. To the way I want to be like them.
I pat the token in my pocket—the one I’ve carried for two and a half months—but its weight is hardly noticeable now. It’s like it no longer has the power to fix me firmly on one goal. Instead, it drifts, irrelevant, next to the gravity of this moment.
The truth I’ve been too scared to admit feels almost silly now.
These rocks don’t care who I am.
They won’t remember me.
But will Lou?
The possibility of fading away from her is a sword plunging through me, splitting me open.
I can’t handle it. I won’t allow it.
I haven’t let myself care about someone in so long that feeling as deeply as I do feels like stepping off a cliff.
I take her hand and thread my fingers through hers. She leans in. And I’m already free-falling.
After Lou signs the last autograph and takes the last selfie, we climb into the town car Alicia arranged for us, and Lou lets out a satisfied sigh. “That was incredible. Wasn’t it?”
In his suit and hat, the driver is listening quietly to the radio. He’s a professional, which means he signed an NDA, and that gives us the freedom to be more casual than we would otherwise.
Lou puts her hand on the seat between us, and I don’t hesitate to cover it with mine. If anything, after only a day, it feels more natural to be holding her than not.
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” I say. “Nature has a way of making your problems seem small.”
