“You obviously have a connection with her and I’m sure it isn’t casual for her either if she’s willing to risk her marriage for you.”
“Then why won’t she choose me? Why does she make me feel like I’m just an option when she’s literally everything to me.”
I understood what Flavia was saying on a visceral level. It was one of the most painful things I’d gone through with Becca. “Is there a possibility she might surprise you? You could wait and see how this plays out?”
Flavia shrugged. “I could.”
“You said you’ve been journalling?”
“Yeah.”
“How would you feel about using this experience to inform your music?”
Flavia held my gaze for a moment, as if the thought had never crossed her mind. “You mean tell the world about it in my next album?”
“It’s often a great way to process what you’re going through by using it to fuel your creativity instead of letting it hinder it. It might also resonate with people because it’s real.”
“But my audience expects me to make pop albums about falling in love and living your best life.”
“Growth and reinventing yourself is often what makes a career truly last.” I felt like a hypocrite saying this to Flavia when I myself hadn’t done any of this. I’d run away the minute things got tough, and I had a breakup album of my own sitting on my hard drive buried in a folder.
She nodded. “I do know that. It’s just going to be hard to put myself out there emotionally. I have songs that didn’t make it onto my debut because I just wanted to keep them to myself.”
Again, I knew exactly what she meant. But a breakup album was a sure-fire way to advance Flavia’s career or at the very least, get her working again. Especially writing about a high-profile lesbian split. I wouldn’t push her on it, of course. It was a personal decision and would have to come from her.
“Wouldn’t it be the best way to get back at her?” Oscar casually dropped into the conversation. “Assuming she does faze you out and eventually break up with you. Just think of the media buzz and attention you could generate.”
Flavia considered it. “I have been feeling super angry and it does make me uncomfortable. Disappointed and more hurt I know what to do with. But anger is gross. Maybe it would be good to get it out. But not to get back at her. Maybe I’ll write a few songs from this place and that’ll help me to move forward. Then I’ll see where we’re at.”
“We can do whatever you want to do,” I said.
“Do you mind if we leave it here for today? I have a lot to think about.”
After Flavia left, Oscar and I sat back down in the lounge area.
“Well, that was not what I was expecting at all,” Oscar said, opening a packet of biscuits.
“She’s a sweet girl,” I said. “It sucks to see her unhappy like this.”
“You won’t be making any music until she gets this out of her system. I totally agree she should channel it into her music. You suggested it very sensitively. Gives her the option to take it or leave it.”
“I don’t want her to feel pressurised into singing about it though. There’s no way I’ll let that happen. But we both know she has to work through her stuff or the album willbe a bust and one of the best ways for her to do that is to write about it. Whether she uses those songs is her call.”
“Music people are weird, aren’t we?” Oscar said.
“Very,” I agreed. “Do you mind if the next time she comes in, I see her on my own? She might open up more if it’s just one to one.”
“Fine. But call me back in when she’s ready to dish the dirt in her lyrics.”
“Will do.”
Oscar handed me the packet of biscuits and I joined him. I had nothing scheduled for the rest of the day. But it was a nice opportunity to catch up with Oscar. He’d been struggling with his depression again lately and I wanted to see if he would open up to me. He normally didn’t and used humour to deflect. But that message I got the other day from him when he’d said he was struggling to get out of bed had alarmed me.
“So back to your holiday,” he said, pouring us each a cup of tea. “Who is she?”
There was no use in hiding things from Oscar. Plus, I was super excited about Lily. I couldn’t stop thinking about her.
“My God. The smile on your face. Lesbians are mental. One date and you’re practically married. Please tell me you at least had sex with her.”
