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The house seems bigger, emptier, and definitely quieter. That little dog of hers had nails that clicked on the floor everywhere she went.
Pulling the pick out from between the strings, I strum a G chord, a D chord, an E minor chord, and a C chord. My fingers are a little stiff, but getting back at it is just like riding a bike—you really never forget.
The harmonies of the chords echo through the room, and the familiarity it brings calms me. Why I let the weeks pass, I’ll never know. Playing the guitar was never something I just wanted to do; it was something Ineededto do. It’s always connected me to myself and given me a release that I’ve not been able to find anywhere else.
Playing the chords again, I think about a Willie Nelson quote—“Three chords and the truth, that’s what a country song is.”
That’s what my songs used to be . . . true.
Ava’s right—we’ve lost our originality, and it’s time to get that back. Shifting my fingers, I play the intro to “Why Can’t the Future Be Now,” and lose myself in remembering what her voice sounded like singing my words.
Her voice.
I wonder if she’s ever considered singing professionally. She said she plays the piano and has perfect pitch—maybe she’s a songwriter too.
Thinking of her and some of the things she’s said, I pull my favorite composition book and a pencil out of the drawer of the coffee table and jot down some potential song lyrics. I should have known she’d be a muse as well. The thoughts and feelings I’ve had around her over the last four days, I could write a dozen songs about.
My phones buzzes next to me, and I see that it’s Juliet calling. I contemplate not picking up, but she did call me last night too and I never called her back. Dropping the pencil, I answer my phone.
“Hey, Jules.”
“Hi,” a little voice says back to me. It’s so good to hear his voice, instantly I smile.
“Hey, Bryce, how’s my little man?” I set the guitar down and walk over to the large windows along the back wall.
“Good. When are you coming home?” he asks.
I glance toward the sky and see some clouds moving in. Rain means the leaves will drop, and along with them, the temperature too. The fall season is officially winding down and snow is just around the corner.
“Tomorrow.” I had thought about tonight, but I’ll wait out the weather.
“Promise?”
“I promise.” Just the thought of seeing him so soon has me excited. I can’t wait to hug him.
“Okay.” I can hear the smile in his voice.
“Has Uncle Clay come by?” I sure hope he’s checked in on them.
“Yes, but mama wants to see you. We miss you.” I run my hand over my jaw and close my eyes.
“I miss you too, buddy. Tell your mom I’ll be there for dinner.”
“Okay,” he says softly. Gotta love little kids on the phone.
“I love you, Bryce.”
“Love you too.” My heart gets bigger every time I hear this from him.
“Later, cowboy.”
He giggles at my nickname for him. “Later,” and he hangs up.
Placing the guitar on the couch, I walk back to the room Ava slept in. Opening the door, strawberries float my way and I breathe in the smell of her. She’s made the bed, and her towels are lying on the end of it. Looking around the room, she’s left nothing behind, and a pang of sadness hits me; I don’t even have a picture.
Lying down in the middle of her bed, I glance at the clock. Two more hours until she lands. Two more hours until she texts me. Twenty-four more hours for me to figure out how to implement what happens next in my life.
IT’S BEEN A little over four weeks since I’ve seen Ash, and not a day goes by that we don’t talk.
