34. Avery
Avery
“ A s you all know, tonight is bittersweet, the start of something new. I’ve been up on stage for over half my life.
Making music and memories with the man next to me,” I start, and as I speak, I remind myself to take it in for the last time, scanning the crowd and drinking in how impossible it feels for so many people to care about the songs we make.
For days counting down to now, I waited for the regret to sink in, to run to Lydia and tell her I changed my mind and I’m not ready to let go. Instead, there’s been a sharp clarity to every moment as I press them into my memory.
“Thank you,” I continue. “Because without you, this dream wouldn’t have been possible.”
There’s a clatter of applause, and in the front row I smile softly at the handful of mascara-streaked faces looking up at us.
I understand them. The artists from my CDs were my only friends before I met Wes.
They spoke to something in me that needed to be witnessed.
These people have grown up with us, cried with us through heartache, laughed with the windows down.
“There are a few other people who were with us along the way, and it didn’t feel right to end things without them here with us. So, if you can give a warm welcome to our special guests and people who have changed our lives.”
Wes and I step aside as they walk on the stage, the brilliant beams of spotlights tracking their movements. Jared, Drew, and then Garrett and Evelyn, who walk hand-in-hand. Each holds a mic and waves.
Evelyn’s chin quivers and her eyes glisten. She’s trying not to cry, but I’m not sure how long she’ll last. The guys embrace Wes, thumping him on the back.
With a last look, we take our positions around the perimeter of the stage, heads held high for this final goodbye.
I think music is the closest we get to magic. Because when I blink, I’m seventeen, singing this song for the first time, buzzing from too much caffeine, the sound of my boots hitting the floor muffled by layers of sound absorbing foam and rugs in the studio.
All around me, I’m joined by the people who have become my closest friends, as we forget we’re supposed to be recording and let the music carry us wherever it wishes us to go. I’m the happiest I think I’m ever capable of being.
One more blink and I’m back on stage, completely in my body as my foot pounds a beat against the floor.
The same people are with me now. And I’m impossibly happier because the moment has come, despite loss and loneliness.
Because we found each other all over again.
It’s a contrast as stark as the lights slashing through the shadow shrouded crowd of fans, their screams clashing with the music while somehow lifting it higher.
Glitter sticks to the black stage floor. Confetti and debris litter the stadium. Everyone is gone, back to reality. Everyone but Wes and I, as we sit on the edge of the stage overlooking the evidence of a perfect evening.
“This is really it isn’t it? The end.” Wes asks, breaking the veil of silence we’ve allowed to fall over us.
“Feels more like a beginning to me.” The moment we leave, everything will change.
The next time we’re at a concert; we’ll be in the audience.
And yes, I know there will be concerts. Concerts and long nights listening to music and burnt garlic bread and so many beautiful normal things.
A future stuffed full of as many as we can fit.
“Somehow that’s even scarier.”
“We’ve done a lot of scary things together and seem to have come out on the other end all right. You know, I was checking that list of yours and there’s one thing we forgot to do.” The paper is practically burning a hole in my pocket.
“I know we checked everything off.”
“Nope.” I tip my hips and pull it free from my pants. “I think you should take a closer look.”
He quickly unfolds the paper the moment I hand it over.
“See,” I say, tapping the bottom of the page where I’ve added one final task for us to complete. I know his answer already, but there’s a hum over nerves that zips through me.
Get married, for real.
Awe takes over his face as he looks from me to the page and back again. “You’re serious?”
“There’s nothing else I want more than to marry you, Gaflin. And you’re not talking me out of this. I forgot a few important things the first time.”
“Is that so?” He quirks a brow as he unleashes one of his best smiles on me, dimple on full display.
“Our friends. George…” I pause. “Well, you forgot to give me your last name, Gaflin. I want it to be a celebration this time. Not a necessity.” One final moment to reclaim and make our own.
“Avery.” He cups my cheeks and kisses me, slowly like he has all the time in the world, because finally we do. “I’ll marry the fuck out of you all over again. However many times you ask.”