AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Slidingintotheboothat Brail’s, I adjust my backward hat before taking a sip of the water the guys ordered for me. The rest of my band still lives in California, but having all grown up in Oregon, this final week with shows in Eugene also serves as a trip down memory lane.
“All the guys we are interviewing next week are from Cali,” Seth, our drummer, says as he pushes the non-prescription black framed glasses up his nose. The guys weren’t thrilled when I initially talked to them about retiring from the band, but eventually they kicked into action and are on the search for a new lead singer. “It’ll be weird having a local in the band.” He runs his fingers through his dark hair with frosted tips. He’s going through a phase, and nothing screamsCaliforniamore than that.
“I think wearelocals at this point. I feel like a tourist here,” Mason, our lead guitarist, chimes in. His dirty blonde hair pulled back into a man bun and the leather bracelet collection on his wrists make him look more like a California native than a lot of the locals.
I disagree. It feels so damn good to be home. LA was always meant to be temporary.
“Either way, it’s going to feel weird without you.” Seth directs his comment at me.
Weird, maybe, but not in a bad way. I’ve known these guys since high school, but I wouldn’t consider them good friends—at least not anymore. We may have traveled and toured together, but outside of that, I don’t have much in common with them now. They don’t even know what is going on in my life, especially when it comes to Maci. Ever since Seth offered me drugs in front of her, I’ve been a little resentful. It created a lot of tension during our east coast tour.
“Yeah, weird because you’ll have to find someone new to drive your drunk asses to get tacos at 2 a.m.” I joke even though it's a valid statement.
“Hey! Don’t act like you didn’t suggest the tacos. You can’t even get good tacos here.” Mason isn’t wrong, but even if I’m always down for midnight snacks, it’s the neverending partying I can’t get behind. They aren’t ready to settle down yet–which is fine–but they can’t even seem to comprehend why I would want to.
They don’t know Maci.
Even before Maci and I got together, I knew I’d want a family someday and to be near Avery while we raise our kids since we didn’t have a lot of fond family moments during our childhood. Being with Maci, though, has me wanting to fast-track it. I love the vision we have for our life. It’s something I held onto every night on tour when I was away from her. My excitement to get on stage faded each time I stepped onto it, and not knowing how long it would be until I got to go home to her was rough. Although, knowing when she is coming home next isn’t exactly easing my unsettledness either. I’ve been kicking myself for months for not communicating these thoughts or feelings well enough to Maci. Maybe everything would be different if I had.
“I will definitely miss the tacos.” I attempt to stay present in the conversation. “New food is the best part of touring. I will, however, not miss babysitting you two every night.” I chuckle. I love food, but a lot of our late-night adventures were to prevent me from spiraling. I was depressed as hell missing Maci and trying not to resent music for taking me away from her. Instead of leaning into her, I gave all my energy to each show, hoping our success could help build a life for us. That and all the babysitting.
“Mack?” Seth asks, snapping his fingers in front of his face to get my attention. I have no idea what he’s talking about–something about food.
“What?” I can’t focus on my future vision right now. I can hardly focus on the present. All I play over and over in my head is visions of all the ways tomorrow will go. I have so much more I want to say to Maci, and I’m worried I’ll never get the chance.
Seth laughs. “What the hell are you going to eat?”
“Order me the breakfast burrito, please. I’ll be back,” I announce to neither one of them in particular before slipping out of the booth. I walk out the side door–only slightly chilly in the fresh spring air–and pull out my phone. My thumb hesitates over her contact info before I hitcalland bring my phone to my ear. Part of me hopes she answers so I can hear her voice and maybe get an inclination toward her decision. The other part of me worries I’ll know the moment she speaks what her answer is. I’m so unsure of what it is, it’s fucking terrifying.
It rings three times then goes to voicemail. Her sweet voice talks to my ear.You’ve reached Maci… well, my voicemail. I’m either exploring whatever country I’m in or sleeping because time zones are weird and you probably forgot to take that into account. Anyway, leave a message, and I’ll get back to you.
I can’t help but chuckle at her outgoing message. Before the beep, I take a breath, having no plan for what is about to come out of my mouth.
Hey, Mace. I heard from Avery you’ll be out here for the wedding. Look, I don’t know what or if you’ve decided anything. I’ve been trying to give you your space, but I know it’s going to be hard when we are stuck in the same place. I thought I’d at least remind you where I stand so there aren’t any surprises. Despite giving you space and focusing on my other dreams, I love you. I never stopped. Every day I hate you’re not here with me.My words are coming out rough and desperate, so I take another breath to refocus.I have been sober every day since you left, and I hope when you see me, you see how hard I’ve been trying for us, in case there is still a chance when you’re ready. I know this weekend needs to be all about Avery and Miller, and I don’t want to take away from that, so I wanted to get it out now. Avery said you land tomorrow before the rehearsal dinner, so I’ll see you then.I debate saying it again, but I do anyway.I love you.
Hanging up, I shove my phone into my pocket, push up the sleeves of my baseball shirt and adjust my hat before rejoining the guys. One more day. Then I can say all that again to her face and so much more.
DEAN
Mypalmsdigintothe edge of my bathroom counter as I stare into the mirror. I drank in Costa Rica, but nothing more than a few beers here or there. Last night after Marcus picked me up from the airport we went to Jameson’s. I was hoping for an early night, but agreeing to go out with my best friend to celebrate my return and his new business venture turned into an attempt to drink away my anxiety about knowing Maci will be in the same place as me soon–although I don’t know how soon. Not knowing when she’ll be back or what she’s thinking is killing me.
I run my fingers through my hair realizing I need to get it cut soon. Between how much it’s grown and lightened, and my skin being at least five shades darker, I hardly recognize myself. Mentally, I’m in a completely different place too. I have so much more direction than I did before I ran away, and I’m thankful as fuck I figured out my priorities. I hope it’s not too late.
Grabbing my basketball shorts off the counter, I slide them over my briefs before walking to the kitchen. Marcus glances up from where he sits at the table looking at paperwork. “Morning. It’s strange having you back,” he says with a grin.
“Thanks for letting me crash until I figure out what I’m doing next,” I say, taking a seat next to him and scanning the page in front of him–it is something for the bar. Jameson’s has been our go-to bar since we turned 21, and Marcus is about to own it. Everything he touches turns to gold, and I know this won’t be any different—except I can see this is finally a work endeavor he’s excited and passionate about.
“Your room is always yours.” Marcus has owned this house since we moved in junior year of college. I pay rent whenever I’m here, but he doesn’t have to keep space for me. I’m thankful he does, though.
“Thanks.” The word comes out less powerful than I intend.
Pushing the papers aside, he gives me his full attention. “Are you hungover or is it something else? You’re emanating unease, man.”
“Do you believe in soulmates?” It’s the only thing I can focus on.
“Just reviewing some light airplane thoughts I see.” He chuckles.
“Yeah.” I slouch in my chair, waiting for more Marcus insight. He might not be an expert on relationships, but he’s still the smartest person I know.
