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Lauren knew her point hit home when he dropped his eyes.
“I’ll ask again: what would have happened if one of us had given up our own dream for the other?”
Danny deflated a little more. “We might have resented each other.”
“Mighthave?” Lauren didn’t push the point. Instead, she said, “You’d hate my life, Danny. Even when I’m not on stage, I’m in the public eye. Everything always changes, things are rarely the same. You’d either be in the spotlight or forced out of it. I know you, Danny, and it would mess you up.”
He didn’t like what she said, because the obstinate frown she remembered so well creased his face. When he finally spoke again, his voice held a melancholy note. “And if you’d stayed with me, you would have always wondered what might have been.”
“I would have felt held back.”And,she thought,I would have hated you for it.
“But shouldn’t we have tried?”
It was Lauren’s turn to look away, and she bit her lip. She’d wrestled with that question, that doubt, for years. “I honestly don’t know. But after hearing my songs, how could you think I hated you? I can’t always talk about how I feel, but I sure can sing about it. You know that.”
Danny leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees again, and looked at the floor. His words were muffled, dusted with embarrassment. “I haven’t listened to most of your music.”
“What?”
His next words rushed out as he tried to explain himself. “I’ve listened to some of the big anthem songs, but the ballads?” He shook his head. “Too afraid I’d hear about how the boy you loved deserted you. Broke your heart. Longer I went without hearing them…” He let the rest of his sentence trail away.
“Danny!”
His head jerked up at the sharpness in her voice.
“You’re anidiot.”
He recoiled as if she’d slapped him.
“Stay right there.” She got up and disappeared into the other room and returned carrying an acoustic six-string guitar. Her name was carefully scripted on the upper part of the body, near the neck. In the opposite corner were several hand-painted ivy leaves. Surprise washed over Danny’s face.
“You still have that?”
“Still have—? Ofcourse,I still have it.” The guitar in her hand was special—Danny had given it to her for her sixteenth birthday—and Lauren was a little offended he thought she might get rid of it. “Just about every song I’ve ever written professionally has started with this guitar. Of all the ones I own, it’s my favorite.” She sat down and started to strum, an affectionate smile blooming on her face as she caressed the guitar.
“OnConcrete Beach, our first album, yeah, there are a few broken-hearted songs. I poured my heart out in them. But if there’s one album I’d want you to listen to, it’sTrajectory, the one we did when I got out of rehab. For starters, I was focused again, and The Kingmakers were back on top of their game. Second, there’s a song on there that I specifically dedicated to you.”
“To me?”
“Yes, to you. Look at the CD jacket: right after the song’s title it says, ‘for DP.’ It’s called ‘Rearview Mirror.’” She started to pick out some notes and sing.
“I wish time and distance didn’t matter. I wish I’d known what the future would bring. When I left, I said no regrets but now I see it all so clearly laid out behind me, scars and skeletons, regrets and tears…”
With the lyrics, Lauren told the story of someone confronting their past, how they thought they knew everything, and grasping—too late—what they’d really left behind. There was sadness woven through the words, but the song was also about acceptance and moving on. It was soft and melancholic, reflective and touching. Lauren let her voice trail away at the end, and after a few seconds, she allowed her eyes to meet Danny’s. His were as shiny as hers felt.
“If I had to choose one song of mine for you to listen to, it would be that one.” She put the guitar down as the emotions rolling through her threatened to sweep away her tenuous control. “Excuse me again for a sec. I’ll be right back.”
In the bathroom, Lauren splashed cold water on her face and stared at herself in the mirror. Despite what her lyrics had just said, she hadn’t moved on. The more time she spent with Danny, the more she realized she still cared for him—yes, loved him. She pinched the bridge of her nose. Part of her wanted to race back to the other room, throw her arms around him, and kiss Danny like it was her last night on Earth.
“Pull your shit together,” she said to her reflection. “You and Danny were a long time ago.”
When she came back to the living room, Danny was holding her guitar. With a light touch, he ran his fingers along its curves, tracing the painted vines. Lauren forced herself to focus on something—anything—other than his hands and what they’d feel like on her skin.
“I cried when you gave me that guitar.”
“I knew how much you loved it. You admired it every time we went to the music store. But with your dad out of work, I knew your parents wouldn’t be able to afford it.”
She nodded, remembering that lean year. “They were so stressed about paying for Jackie’s college tuition. Plus me, Carolyn, and Stef were all at Saint C’s.”
