Chapter 30 Josh
JOSH
I saw the letter in Melanie’s drawer when I was going for her vibrator last week.
It looked old—a piece of our past that for some reason, she doesn’t want me to see.
It’s nagging at me, but for the past few days, I’ve tried to put it out of my mind.
If she wanted me to have it, she’d give it to me.
But something about it doesn’t sit right with me.
What the hell could be in that letter that she won’t share with me now, twenty-five years later?
But now we’re a week out from the concert, and I know I have to put it aside.
Something has shifted with us since we recorded our song.
Melanie, who’s usually hesitant about putting herself out there, has started to let a quiet hope slip through.
Several times she’s asked me if I think the record company will like our song, if I think she’ll be good enough, but there’s a light behind her eyes when she asks.
It’s cautious, like she’s afraid to hope too much.
Several times I’ve had to talk myself off the solo career ledge.
The truth is, I’m terrified they will only want me with her.
Or worse, only her. The viral TikTok video is still gaining traction, and I can’t believe the comments.
It went from people discussing the song, to discussing my personal life, my accident, my breakup with Keira, and speculation on my relationship with Melanie.
I am trying not to let it bother me. I want it to be about my music, and it mostly is, but there’s a part of me that wonders if this will all fizzle out. And if it does, if I would even care.
Melanie is on day shift today, so after a morning shower I decide to go visit Cara’s grave.
I am looking for inspiration to finish my song for her.
I’ve written most of the song with Mel, but I feel like the end of it must come from me.
I hop in my car. Remembering how bare Cara’s grave looked the last time I was there, I quickly stop at Sunset Blooms for some flowers.
The bell jingles above the door when I walk in and a woman, who I assume is the owner, whirls around. When she sees me, a look of surprise flashes across her face. “Good morning!” she chirps.
I walk up to the counter, leaning on it and perusing her pre-made bouquets. “Hi, good morning,” I say, my voice thick. “I’m looking for a small bouquet to put on my sister’s headstone.”
“Of course, I can help you with that. I’m Tina.” She smiles genuinely, and I let my guard down some.
“Josh,” I say, returning her smile.
“I know who you are,” Tina says quietly. “I saw your TikTok. I knew who you were before, but, wow.” Tina appears momentarily starstruck but quickly recovers. “Anyway, I think it’s so great you’re back in town and singing with Melanie.”
I chuckle. “Thank you, it really has been awesome,” I say, scratching my jaw. Suddenly feeling undeserving of such praise, I’m desperate to escape the conversation. I point at a pale pink and white bouquet of carnations, roses, and baby’s breath. “How about this one?”
“That’s lovely,” Tina agrees.
“I’ll take it,” I say, opening my wallet.
Tina takes the bouquet from the case and hands it to me. “It’s on the house,” she says with a genuine smile.
“No way,” I say, waving my hand.
“Yes way.” Tina gives me a pointed look, as if to say don’t challenge me.
I ignore it and slide a fifty-dollar bill on the counter anyway. Money feels like such a small thing compared to the welcome I’ve been given here, the kindness that keeps meeting me at every turn. “Then consider this a thank-you donation.” I turn and start walking out the door.
“Josh, that’s way too much,” Tina calls after me.
But I’m already gone.
* * *
I find Cara’s gravesite easier this time, parking my car on the dirt trail just off to the side of it.
I grab my guitar, the flowers, and the beach towel that I brought, and as an afterthought, the notebook sitting on my seat.
My plan is to sit with Cara, talk to her, and then work on her song.
I spread the towel out and place the flowers gently on the headstone and then take out my guitar.
“Hey, sis,” I croak, talking aloud to her, something that felt strange to me the last time I was here. “I told you I’d be back.”
Then I tell her everything I’ve never said before.
I tell her how much I loved Melanie when we were seventeen and that when I lost her, I lost Melanie too.
I tell her how we’ve reconnected, and it seems as though we’re getting our second chance, a thought that thrills and terrifies me at the same time.
Then I tell her everything I am ashamed of—my drinking, my own accident, my lack of ability to move past it.
This time, when I talk to her, a weight lifts off my chest. I’m not sitting here crying and feeling guilty. I feel almost free.
I pick up my guitar and start strumming the chord progression that I’ve decided fits but I’m still unsure of the lyrics. I don’t want the song to be sad; I want it to feel uplifting. I want Cara’s spirit to be ingrained in the words.
“The sound of her name, soft in the air. Melody’s fading, but she’s still there,” I sing softly.
“She could light up a room just walking through. If you knew her then, you still do.” I pause, jotting down those words.
“Hmm,” I say, putting the pencil between my teeth.
I close my eyes and try to picture Cara.
I picture her laughing over a spaghetti dinner, telling my parents and me about her day.
I picture her fighting with me over the bathroom.
I can see her scoring the winning goal at the state championship.
The second verse comes easier then, as memories flood my mind of times we spent together.
Most of my memories are from the summer before she died.
Because Melanie and I were close, Cara and I spent more and more time together.
She’d stopped thinking of me as her annoying younger brother and began thinking of me as a friend.
I will always cherish those summers spent around the fire pit, laughing and talking about our dreams, making music with Mel.
I pick up my pencil and begin to write feverishly.
“
We keep her alive in the stories we tell
Every late-night fire, every found seashell
We talk about her like she just stepped out
Like she’ll walk right in when the sun goes down
[Chorus]
So here’s to the girl with the wildflower soul
Gone too soon, but never let go
The sound of her name still carries me home
Through every high note and every low
She’s the laugh in the dark, the tear in your eye
She’s not just a memory—this isn’t goodbye
No, this isn’t goodbye
So we raise our glass and we play her song
Tell the same old jokes like she’s not gone
She’s the heart of the night when the sun sinks low
The reason we dance when the music is slow
I pause when I get stuck. I need Melanie to help me with the bridge, and I’m sure I’ve been here long enough.
I pack up my things and stand, stretching.
Maybe some old photos of Cara would help.
I’m sure Mel has some around her house. I drive back quickly, only one thing on my mind.
Finish this song, play it for Melanie, tell her I want to do this thing with her. For real.
When I get in my car, I do something I haven’t done in a long time. I dial my parents.
My mother answers on the first ring. “Josh? Is everything okay?”
A laugh bubbles out of me. What a shame it is that I haven’t called my parents in so long that my mom immediately assumes something is wrong when I do.
“Yes, Mom. I just called to say hi. I wanted to hear your voice,” I say slowly, cautiously.
“Oh!” my mother chirps. “Well, hang on, your father is here too. Let me put you on speaker.” Then I hear her call for him. I take a second to wonder if they’d seen the TikTok but quickly abandon that thought. No way they’re looking at social media.
“Josh! How are ya?” my dad barks a moment later.
I chuckle. “I’m good, Dad. How are you?”
“You know, same old, same old. Life in retirement is boring.” My dad sounds grumbly, but I recognize it as contentment. He is probably happy to be bored, having spent thirty years doing manual labor.
“What have you been up to, sweetheart?” My mother’s voice interjects.
“I’m actually… I’m in Cape May.” I pause, waiting for a response.
“Oh…you are?” My mom sounds uneasy.
“I am. Liam and Melanie and I are working on a memorial scholarship concert in Cara’s name.
It’ll be September sixth at Rotary Park.
I’d love if you two came.” I blurt this out quickly, so I don’t chicken out.
My parents haven’t been back here since Cara died.
I’m not sure how they would feel about it.
“Oh, I don’t know, son.” My dad’s voice is quiet, regretful. “It’s been so long.”
“We’ll think about it,” my mom interrupts.
“Please. I’d love to see you.” I rub the back of my neck, feeling the tension slowly creep up. “It would mean the world to me. And Mel.”
“Mel? Are you two seeing each other?” My dad has never been subtle.
I let out an easy laugh, relaxing then. “Yeah, we are.”
“I always loved Melanie,” my mom chimes in.
“We’ll think about it,” my dad repeats my mom’s earlier words.
“Thanks,” I say. “I love you guys.”
“Love you, too.” Their voices come in unison and then they’re gone.
As soon as I’ve hung up, my phone rings again. Mark’s name flashes across the screen on my dash. I tap the green button.
“Mark,” I say, easily. “How goes it?”
“How’s the latest viral sensation?” Mark barks happily.
I laugh. “I’m…optimistic,” I say cautiously. “What’s going on?”
“I just wanted to tell you that Gary, Chip, and I loved your record, and we will be up for your concert. We can’t wait to see you two live!”
A grin spreads across my face. Sometimes Mark comes off like a slimy record producer, but most of the time, his approval means a lot to me.