Page 85 of Driving Beats

The Nese in my mind frowns. “You did not.”

My heart races. Was I so convinced that my life was complete as it was that I denied her own agency? Was I so busy deciding what was best that I never gave her an alternative?

How could I do that to the woman I love?

I inhale.

Love.

I no longer am able to deny the truth. I’m helplessly in love with this spunky, spontaneous woman who can bring five grown rockstars to their knees when she says we have to go shopping. Who is funny and laughs free and loud. Who is nothing like Lillian ever was. Who challenges me to do better.

Be better.

Allow myself to love.

The meditation comes to a close and the Master instructs us to open our eyes. They’re open alright. I can’t continue to stay here until I set things right with her. But should I confess that I love her? Or simply apologize for forcing her to go back to Georgia?

Deciding to remain for the afternoon session, I do more deep work on discovering where I fit into Nese’s life. She’s the band’s stylist, yes, but she’s so much more. She’s our confidence booster—or at least mine.

When the workshop ends, I get to my feet in the Zen robe Nese bugged me to purchase and I approach the Master. “Thank you for an illuminating session today,” I tell him.

“I noticed you were concentrating very hard. I hope my guidance aided you on your journey.”

“You did. Very much so.” I bow. “I have to set something right before I can return to class. Then my work is taking me away for a long time, so I’m not sure when I’ll be able to return.”

He bows to me. “You must resolve this issue in order for you to resume meditation with a clear conscience. I wish you a healthy journey in finding what you seek.”

After saying my goodbyes, I drive back to my empty house. It’s bleak without Nese here. What should I say to her? Where? When? Should I text her? How can I make this happen?

These unanswerable questions roll around my mind as I wander through the halls. To the guest bedroom—her bedroom—which is devoid of her things. No shampoo in the shower. None of her clothes still hanging. Although her spirit is gone, she lingers.

Downstairs, I enter the music room but, for once, the guitars don’t call to me. Because they don’t have the answers I seek. I step into the media room and something on the side table catches my attention. Investigating, I realize she left her jewelry kit here. She has beads and baubles and wires in tiny compartments. Wire cutters and scissors. I run my fingers over her kit, wishing she were here to show me how everything fits together. Without her, I’m lost as to making jewelry. Or simply lost. I close up the kit and bring it upstairs. I’ll give it to her when we arrive in Australia.

No.

I can’t wait that long.

What if she wants to make someone a present? She needs her kit back. Picking up my phone, I call the one person who must know where she is. He answers, “Hello.”

“Hey, Luke. I was wondering if you have Nese’s address in Gainesville? She left something at my house and I want to be sure she gets it.” This sounds better than I’m hopelessly in love with UC’s stylist and can’t wait another minute to see her.

“I do have her address, Coop, but why don’t you simply give whatever it is to her next week? I’m sure it’s not too important if she left it at your house.”

Ever the practical one. But not in this case. “I thought about it, but it’s her jewelry making kit. She uses it to decompress. I’m positive she’ll need it with her. Maybe even make something for her roommates, since she hasn’t seen them in a year.”

“That makes sense. Let me pull it up.” He gives me Nese’s address, which I write down. Should I laminate it? “You can ship it overnight.”

“Thanks, man.” I have no intention of mailing it though.

With this newfound information, I should be at the airport. Yet, I’m still firmly planted in my desolate house, stuck in an endless loop of self-doubt and disgust. Off the top of my head, I list what attracts me to her—she is strong and capable and resilient and courageous and funny and smart and inquisitive and sexy as all get out. Not to mention she’s overcome so much in getting away from the cult and her mother. She’s the real deal.

Even if I am in love with her, what makes me think I am what she wants?

More unsettling, however, is the possibility that she could be with someone else.

No one could look after her like I do. Anticipate her needs and wishes before she knows them. Show her the mysteries of the world. Make her scream out in pleasure.

I have to talk to her. Beg her forgiveness and see if we can create the most beautiful life together. Touring with UC. Having a family. Creating our own version of nirvana here on earth.