I promised myself I wouldn’t go into therapist mode tonight.I wouldn’t try to uncover his secrets or his deepest fears.I wouldn’t ask about his childhood, or his daughter, or what landed him in jail.This was supposed to be casual and I was determined to keep it that way.
“I don’t know, I’ve got a decent life now.Friends, work I don’t hate, re-connecting with my family, fixing up my house… it’s enough.”
A little voice told me to let it go, but I knew people usually suppressed their dreams because of fear and I didn’t want to see Taz miss out on the chance of a lifetime because he was scared.
“And you don’t think your life could get even better if you pursued your dream?”
He sighed.“I just told you, music was never my dream.When I was in prison, my plan was to get out, get a decent job, maybe buy a house and a truck, eventually, re-connect with my family and my daughter, and that’s about it.”
I noticed finding a life partner didn’t even make his list.Interesting.“But you must be talented if your videos went viral and record labels are coming to you.Pretty sure that rarely happens.”
“Look, it’s not that I’m not grateful for the opportunity, I am.Just not sure it’s the right move for me.”
“Can I see the videos?”I asked, glancing at his phone.
He sighed as he reached for his phone, tapped on the screen, and passed it to me.
I was mesmerized watching and listening to him.His voice was not only as haunting as the story he told with his lyrics, but singing transformed him.He wasn’t this big, badass, biker-type anymore.He was a man who’d been through the wringer and had been blessed with a talent that allowed him to share that experience with the world.Not to share it would be a travesty.
“Are there more?”I asked, knowing I could never get enough of listening to him sing.
“Yeah, a couple.”He tapped the screen once more before handing it back to me.
Tipping his head back against my upholstered headboard, he closed his eyes and listened, but I had no idea if he heard what I did.If he did, how could he even question that he was born to do this?
By the time he’d finished singing the second song, my eyes filled with unshed tears.The lyrics told the story of a father who hadn’t been there to see his daughter grow up, and all the regrets he had about not being the man she could count on.I would have given anything to hear my own father say those words to me, and I hoped one day Taz’s daughter would hear the words he wrote for her.
Knowing that may be the only way I could convince him to take this risk, I said, “Your daughter needs to hear this, if she hasn’t already.”
He caught my tear with his thumb before it could glide down my cheek.“I doubt it would make a difference.”
“It would make a difference to me, if my father said those things to me.”
“It would?”he asked, sounding skeptical.
“Absolutely.”I pointed to his phone.“You may not realize this, but every father who wasn’t able to be a part of his kid’s life, or every little girl or boy who grew up with a dad, needs to hear that song.Words are powerful, Taz.And yours are…” I flattened my palm against my stomach.“Gut-wrenching, in the best possible way.”
He stared at his screensaver.A picture of a young woman, I assumed was his daughter.He’d probably pulled it off of one her social media accounts, which was kind of heart-breaking for both of them, if I let myself dwell on it.
“It’s the only way I know how to get out all the shit that’s eating me up inside, by writing about it, ya know?”
“I do know.I’ve been journalling all my life.And it does help.But being able to share your words, and help others heal, is a gift.If you don’t want to do this for yourself, do it for all the people you could be helping with songs like that.”
He looked into my eyes before asking, “Why do you care so much?”
I leaned back against the headboard, breaking eye contact, and feeling like a fool for pushing so hard.He was right.This shouldn’t matter to me.
“I don’t know.Helping people is what I do.It’s who I am.And I guess I think everyone feels the same way.Obviously, they don’t.I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be so pushy.”
“You’re not.”He kissed my bare shoulder.“I like that you’re not afraid to tell me how you feel.And I respect you for wanting to help people.”
“Thanks.”His fingertip was sliding down my arm and I was breaking out in chill bumps all over.If he proposed round two, I was all for it.
“You haven’t asked me why I went to prison, but I’m lying here in your bed, so you must be dying to know.”
When he put it that way, it made me sound crazy.For all I knew, he could have killed or raped or—I shuddered, just thinking about all the possibilities.
He obviously sensed my sudden fear because he linked his hand through mine, staring at my pink manicured nails.“You didn’t ask your sister about it?”
