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“She was probably hurt, Ben. From her perspective, all she could see was you pushing her away. So, she left. I mean, come on, it’s all in that final song, the one that isn’t working. Here, listen.”
James jumps up and puts on the track again, and I bow my head as I listen intently, trying to hear it as he is. The clashing of angry guitar chords opens and then the lyrics start. I concentrate as I pick up pieces here and there.
I’m meant to be a road warrior…
Nobody can weigh me down, hold me back…
Love is for those with homes,
Not those on the open road…
You don’t belong in this world,
You’re not that kind of girl…
I grit my teeth as I listen to the words. Even though I wrote them myself, they’re taking on a new light following James’s comments. Was he right? I had been so focused on my own feelings and how hurt I had felt that I hadn’t really considered the fact that Lacy might have been hurting too. She’d been so icy those last few days at Rose Manor. Now, looking back, I realize that her cool demeanor was her means of self-protection. How had I been too dumb to see that at the time?
The song comes to an end, leaving me and James in silence.
“So?” James asks pointedly.
“Maybe you’re right,” I say gruffly.
“Well, the album isn’t finished,” James says. “There’s still time to change the final song. I’ll leave you to it,” he says briskly, draining his drink and hopping to his feet. “Oh, and Ben?” He asks, turning just as he’s about to walk out the studio door. “There’s also still time to fix things with Lacy. I would guess.”
I just give him a nod as he walks out the door. James may have been right about there still being time to fix the song. But fixing things with Lacy? Fat chance. It’s been one month, and she’s made zero effort to reach out to me.
Well, you’ve made zero effort to reach out to her, Ben,I remind myself.
But still, by this point, she’s probably moved on. She’s focusing on her book launch, I assume. Good things are happening for her. I don’t want to get in the way of that.
I spend the rest of the evening furiously reworking the final song on the album. I get rid of the angry guitars and replace them with some acoustic work. I revisit the lyrics. The song becomes my hypothetical apology to Lacy. It’s what I’d say to her now if I thought she wanted to hear it. But I know she doesn’t. So I’ll just pour my emotions into my music. I rework the lyrics again and again.
You were the dream girl I never knew I needed…
I was caught up in my own hurt, in my own curse…
I’m sorry.
Please come home.
Meet me in the garden of roses at day’s end,
We’ll watch the fireflies come out and pretend,
That this could be forever.
By the time I’m done, I’m exhausted. But the song is perfect. It’s exactly what the album deserves for a closing track. Poignant and real. Raw and simple. Honest. Truly honestly how I feel. I give a heavy sigh. The thought of returning to my place alone right now bums me out, even though it’s late and I’m tired. I grab my phone and shoot my bandmate Rob a quick text.
Up for a drink?
He responds almost immediately.
Bixby’s in 20?
I smile as I reply. Bixby’s is a hole-in-the-wall that Rob and I go to when we want to actually talk, not just party. It’s pretty much always empty, the media are never there, and the old guy who runs the place is usually half-asleep at the bar. Long story short, it’s a place where we can go and nobody will bother us. A place we can really talk.
Twenty minutes later, I step inside Bixby’s. Rob is already sitting at the bar, one beer in front of him and a second in front of the empty chair next to him. He raises the bottle to me as I step in the door, giving me a wry smile.
