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decided that I would watch it all go down.
I’ve ensconced myself in the darkened corner at the far end of the very last pew in the church’s sanctuary. It’s the only place the sun streaming through the stained-glass windows doesn’t reach. For anyone looking back from the front of the church, I should be completely hidden from sight.
When I sat down, it was empty. My hopes that it would stay that way were wishful thinking and evaporated a few minutes after I took my seat.
My father used to joke that the back row of any communal venue was where gatecrashers and asshole latecomers sit. I’m probably the only gate crasher, but the rest of these assholes are latecomers who dashed in right before the doors closed and the music started to play.
I glance to my left and scan my pew mates. Most of them are chattering with nervous excitement, as if it’s their wedding day. But a few of them have their faces trained in rapt concentration on their phones.
Phil walks in, a menacing scowl darkens his expression as he strides up the aisle to sit in the front row.
I wonder what he’d say if he knew I was here. Maybe, once this is over, I’ll go and say hello. We haven’t stayed in touch. Not from a lack of effort on his part, though.
I’ve used this whirlwind year of writing and recording as an excuse. But after our first phone call, I knew I wasn’t ready to move on to this next phase of my life. I wasn’t ready to accept that Beth and I were a lost cause.
I haven’t talked to him since. He calls, I ignore it. He leaves voicemails, I delete them.
It’s small of me, but the thing about that first phone call that bothered me the most, was how nearly cheerful he sounded.
I guess, he had no reason not to be.
He’s not the one who fell in love with Liz.
The one who was still in love with Liz.
Not for long, though. I’ve come to slay this dragon.
When I leave here, I’m going to LA to start the promo for our album’s release in three months. It’s going to be exhausting, overwhelming and I want to leave all of this shit behind me.
I need to see this.
Music has become even more of a sanctuary for me. When I’m writing, playing, singing, my mind is clear, my heart isn’t constricted by indecision. My music is. I’ve stayed sane and relatively sober since the world fell out from beneath me.
It was rough at first.
Jack convinced me that fucking someone would cure me.
So, I tried. I found a girl who looked like Beth, at least from the back. I took her home, fucked her face down and tried to pretend she was my baby. But from the feel of her pussy to the way she smelled, there was no pretending she was anything more than a replacement. I hustled her out of there. And then I fucking cried in the shower.
Beth wasn’t just a woman I loved fucking. She owns a piece of my heart, and always will. Once I came to terms with that, I decided to focus on the other thing I loved, music.
My band, Blue Clover is official and we’ve done it our way. I’m the main song writer, lead singer and pianist. Dane is our drummer. Heath is our guitarist and Lucas is on bass.
In the process of writing this album, we laughed, we cried, and went a little crazy, but the end result was some of the most beautiful and heartbreaking music we’d ever heard. I laid my burden down and left everything on the pages of composition sheets I filled with my love story.
Things were starting to feel normal. I had entire days where Beth only came to me in my dreams.
Until last month when Phil changed his tactics. Instead of calling, he sent a text from a number I didn’t recognize. It was a picture of her wedding invitation with three words, “FYI”
Whoever or whatever is in charge of this mysterious world is a fucking sadist. Because that’s all it took to send me back into the hell I’d finally started to escape.
The one where everyone and everything reminded me of her.
The one where I make myself come in the shower to the memories of fucking her and eating her and then spend the day choking on my self-loathing.
The one where I still remember how she tastes and what an addict I am for it.
I would find myself wishing I’d never met her and then snatching the thought back, feverishly. Just the thought of a world where she doesn’t exist makes it hard to breathe.
