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False modesty aside, he was right. I
had
done a great job. “Yeah.”
“Same thing here. You’ll nail this one, too, because I know you’re good, and you won’t let yourself do anything
other
than crush it. But you won’t get rid of the fear until Rolling Stone articles are old hat… at which point I hope you’re reaching for a bigger wave to surf.”
I looked down at my hands, feeling horribly guilty. “There’s just one problem.”
“Derek.”
I peered up at him. He looked sympathetic and understanding rather than irritated or offended.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“Don’t be,” he said quietly. “I’m not asking you to never feel
anything
about him ever again. Of course you’re going to still have feelings for him. That’s only normal.”
“Yeah,” I said hesitantly. “I guess. But if I write about the band…”
“Then you have to write about him.”
“Yeah. And not only that, I have to listen to the recordings I made.”
He nodded, then thought. “Well… I’d say listen to the recordings first that are just of me and Riley and Killian. Concentrate on that. With time, the pain will fade, and listening to Derek’s stuff will be tolerable, at least. Then you can write the entire article. But for now, just focus on what you can do, and put the rest off till later.”
It was good advice, and I followed it.
At first I began listening to the tapes with just Ryan, Riley, or Killian. I took notes, sometimes wrote a few paragraphs. Then I started listening to recordings of the group as a whole. Sometimes I would hear Derek’s voice and have to shut the tape off. Maybe I would cry, maybe I would just go for a long walk. But it gradually got to the point where I could hear his voice and not have to stop listening. I still couldn’t play his solo interviews with me… especially not the ones after we started sleeping together, where his tone was confidential, sexy, playful, tender. But little by little, I got to the point where it didn’t hurt so badly to hear him… and I could actually write about the band and my experiences.
59
One evening during dinner, Ryan surprised me.
“Could I ask you a favor?”
I looked up from my dessert. “What?”
“Would you mind if I read what you’re writing?”
Part of me was flattered; Ryan was the first guy I’d ever dated who’d ever shown interest. Derek had never asked. Neither had my second college boyfriend. And with Kevin, it had been a
quid pro quo
kind of thing where we swapped out pieces to get feedback.
But part of me panicked, thinking,
He only wants to read what I’ve written about Derek!
Only thing was, I hadn’t written anything about Derek.
Yet.
“Why do you want to read my stuff?” I asked.
“If you want to get to know me, you can’t really do it without listening to the music I create. It’s a huge part of me. You’ve already listened to everything I’ve done, so you know me pretty well. I want to get to know you better, so I figure the best way to do that is through your writing.”
