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“I’ve only finished a few pages,” I protested lamely.
“I don’t care.”
“It’s not very good.”
“I’m sure it’s a lot better than you’re giving yourself credit for.”
“I’m… it’s not…”
“If you don’t want me to read it, that’s cool, too,” he said gently.
“No, I just… no, it’s fine.”
“Okay.” He smiled at me expectantly.
“What, now?!”
He shrugged. “Why not?”
After a second, I sighed in acceptance. “Okay, let me go get my laptop.”
He spent a good ten minutes reading what I’d written, then raised his head. “It’s really good.”
“Really?” I asked hopefully.
“Yeah. You have a real flair for making the band members’ personalities come alive on paper. Plus I can tell you’ve really improved.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
Suddenly he looked sheepish.
“Uh… well… when I found out you were coming, I Googled you and read everything you’d written that I could find on the web.” He winced. “Is that creepy?”
It wasn’t creepy it all.
It just floored me that he’d cared enough to do that.
I laughed, stunned. “No… I… I’m flattered…” Then my insecurities kicked in. “How have I improved?”
“Well, you were always good, even in your simplest stuff, but let’s just say… you didn’t quite have the right subject matter to really shine.”
“Yeah. Interviews with city councilmen and reviews of craft fairs don’t give you the best opportunity to blow people out of the water.”
“Well… now you have the subject matter, an exclusive scoop on a topic tens of millions of people want to read about. So from here on out, it’s all up to you.”
That last statement scared the hell out of me. I looked down at my dinner plate.
“Did I say something wrong?” he asked, puzzled.
“No, I just…” I looked back up at him. “I’m scared.”
“Why?”
“Because…” I said, then trailed off into silence.
Again, he displayed that uncanny knack of just
getting
me. “Because you suffered a huge emotional trauma and don’t want to relive it yet? Kaitlyn, you went through the equivalent of a 10-car pile-up. Fires and ambulances and the whole deal. It’s absolutely normal that you don’t want to return to the scene of the accident yet. But it’ll pass.”
“It’s not just that. I’m… I’m afraid I don’t have what it takes.”
“I don’t believe that. I mean, I believe you might have your own personal demons on that topic, but I
know
you have what it takes.”
“How?”
He grinned. “Because I just read what you wrote, remember? I can recognize talent and hard work. It’s the difference between bands that play primarily in garages, and the ones that make it onto the club scene. Talent only takes you so far; beyond a certain point, you need hard work. Hard work will actually take you a lot farther than talent, but to soar, you need talent, too. You’ve got the talent, and from everything I’ve read of yours on the internet, I
know
you’ve put in the hard work. Now you just have to get over the fear of driving past that spot where the accident happened. Once that happens, you’ll be unstoppable.”
My heart soared.
No one had ever,
ever
been this supportive, this much in my corner. Not previous boyfriends, not college professors, not friends, not my parents – not even myself.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
He smiled at me. “You should thank the woman you see in the mirror every morning. She did all the hard work. I’m just pointing it out.”
I got up, walked across the room, and straddled him in his chair – then kissed him passionately, deeply. When we finally came up for air, he looked at me in wonder. “What was
that
for?”
“For believing in me.”
“Well, in that case, I want to believe in you all night.”
I laughed, and we went back to kissing.
And, yes, we ending up ‘believing in each other’ all night long.
60
Things quickly got more complicated, though.
The phone rang the next day while I was writing in the library. Since the last person who had called me was Shanna – and in this very room, no less – I thought it was her.
My stomach immediately turned. After all her talk about breaking up the band, I had no interest in telling her I was going to Athens with Ryan. I considered not even answering the call, but I picked up the phone anyway, just to make sure –
And saw the word ‘MOM’ on the screen.
“Oh crap,” I breathed out, then hit ‘Accept Call.’ “Hi, Mom.”
“Hello, honey. How are you doing?”
“Fine.”
“That’s nice. Are you still on tour with that band? What was their name again – Large? Larger?”
“Bigger.”
“Oh yes, that’s right, Bigger. Are you still hanging out with them?”
“Um… no, that’s over.”
“Oh, good. Well, your brother’s going back to college next week, and Dad and I were wondering if you could come down for awhile before he leaves.”
I always came home for a week at Christmas, and I had been promising to do the same this summer. Because I’d been with the band, and then in South Dakota, I hadn’t made good on my promise yet.
“Uh… yeah… I think so…”
“Oh, good. Just put the flight on your credit card and we’ll pay you back when you get here. You
do
have room to put it on your credit card, right?”
“…what?… yeah, yeah, no problem…”
