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I reach the bar and order a double shot of tequila, which I quickly throw back.
Well, lesson learned, eh? It’s now blatantly obvious to me it’s far better to take your shot with your dream girl and mess it up, or get stiff-armed, than to not take your shot, at all . . . and then have to watch her walk away, knowing you’re going to be asking yourself “What if?” forevermore.
Eleven
Alessandra
Strumming my guitar, I sing the second verse of the song I’ve been writing for the past several hours, and then scratch and scribble on my notepad. I’m sitting on my bed at my mom’s apartment, in the exact spot I’ve been in since I got home from Georgina’s dad’s condo this morning. And I must say, this new song of mine, “Blindsided,” about last night’s horrible run-in with Reed, is the best song I’ve ever written.
To say I was blindsided by Reed’s unexpected speech on that bench last night is an understatement. But, still, I wish so badly I’d pulled myself together and actually reacted in some way. You know, actually said something to him in reply. Anything at all, rather than merely sitting there, like a deer in headlights, and then running away so he wouldn’t see me cry.
“I’ve listened to your demo, Alessandra,” Reed told me, even though Georgina had sworn Reed hadn’t listened. “And you’ve got a lot of work to do.” As I sat there in shock, Reed told me I’m a “Laila Fitzgerald knockoff.” He said I’ve been “hiding behind” my music, rather than “revealing myself” through it. He said some other stuff, too. Maybe even some encouraging stuff. I don’t know. My brain is currently fixated on a few specific things. “Laila knockoff” being chief among them. When Reed said those words, I’m surprised I didn’t burst into tears right then. I guess I was just in too much shock.
But then, as Georgina and I sat in the back seat of that Uber last night, heading to Georgina’s dad’s place in the Valley, the shock I’d felt on that bench morphed into acute mortification. Suddenly, I felt embarrassed about every song I’ve ever written. Every song I’ve stupidly posted on Instagram because I thought they were pretty damned good. So, I quickly deleted all of them from my account. Gone, gone, gone! Never to be heard by anyone again.
At Georgina’s dad’s place, I crawled into bed with Georgie and hugged her to me. As she cried about her breakup with Reed, I bawled, too. By then, not so much about what Reed had said, but my reaction to it. At that point, I realized I’d missed a huge opportunity to impress Reed. To show him that I’m open to criticism and have a genuine willingness to learn.
In that moment in the dark with Georgina, my brain started remembering everything Reed had said to me. The bad and the good. And I realized he’d been right about all of it. I realized he’d only been trying to help me. And that, if only I’d had a stronger backbone—a thicker skin—I might have received his advice without shutting down. I might have asked him questions. Learned from him. I might have seized a golden opportunity that had nothing to do with getting signed to his stupid label. Regardless of my big dreams for the future, I might have used the opportunity to get better in the present. Which, in the end, is all I really want to do.
And, of course, I’d be remiss if I didn’t admit I was also crying last night about the way things ended with Fish. I looked for him at the last minute, just before following Georgie out the door, but I couldn’t find him. I realize I’m leaving for Boston tomorrow morning, so nothing could have come of our little one-night “romance,” regardless. But not getting to at least say goodbye to him . . . not getting to hug him and tell him how much the night had meant to me . . . And, of course, not getting to share my very first kiss with him of all people . . . Sigh. Talk about a tragedy. But even more than wanting Fish to be my first kiss, I simply wanted to thank him for being so sweet to me. So attentive and kind. For giving me literally the best night of my life.
And then, against all odds, this morning happened. I opened my eyes next to Georgie, who was still fast asleep, and I realized I’d been dreaming a song. A crystal clear one that was still there!
Immediately, I grabbed my phone and sang everything from my dream into my audio recorder. Some lyrics. A catchy melody! And when I got to my mom’s place this morning, I raced into my bedroom, sat on my bed with my guitar, and got to work. And that’s what I’ve been doing ever since.
