21
Had she not imagined herself consulting his good, even more than her own, she could have hardly given him up. — Persuasion
My phone dings with a text on Wednesday night.
freddy
Why did you send Carlos to see me in 2019?
This is the first I’ve heard from him since he rescued Rosie. Yesterday, I saw him on a talk show. Sitting next to Rosie Musgrove. Holding her hand. Looking all couple-y. And now he sends me this.
Strange, strange, beautiful, infuriating man.
april
I thought you were a talent worth hearing.
freddy
How did you know that?
april
I went to some of your performances.
freddy
????????
The phone rings. It’s Freddy. Old instinct kicks in, and I answer it automatically.
“Are you serious?” The sound of his familiar, deep voice thrills me. “How did I miss you? I never played to big crowds.”
“I wore a wig.”
“You’re kidding?”
“Nope, not one bit.”
“Why did you come in disguise? Was I really that terrible?”
“Why have you been ignoring my texts and calling me now about this?”
“Did you text me?” He sounds pleased.
“I wanted to know how you were doing after almost drowning.”
“I didn’t drown. I lost my phone in the Pacific. It took a day or so to get a new one. If I had seen your text, I would have replied. Promise.”
All I can utter is an eloquent “Oh!” I’m surprised by how friendly Freddy is being. I wonder if his jump in the ocean knocked some sense into him.
“Back to my original question.” His tone is warm and cajoling. “Why did you hide from me at my early concerts? Was I that terrible?”
“No, no.” How honest to be here. “It was the opposite.”
“What do you mean?”
I pause for a long time. I’ve been desperate to explain this to him, but now that I have the chance, my reasons seem flimsy.
“You don’t have to answer.” His previous playfulness has left his voice, and I miss it.
“This is a conversation I’d rather have in person,” I say.
“Too bad, I’m in New Jersey.”
“Are you at a hotel?”
“Yep, the Hyatt, I think. No, wait, this pen says Marriott.” I can picture him lounging on a hotel bed. Texting me after a show. I distinctly recall that aftershow feeling of walking into a generic hotel room. The luxury of alone time, counterbalanced by the sterile loneliness.
Might as well talk now. I take a deep breath. “Back then, I knew if I talked to you in person, I’d cave in and ask to get back together.”
“And I would have ruined your life,” he says, not bothering to hide his disdain.
“I didn’t think that. Though some of those around me did. I didn’t think it was fair to make you put up with that garbage from my dad and manager.”
“Are you saying you dumped me to protect me?” He sounds incredulous.
“Kind of. Freddy, my mom married a television star, and from all counts, she was happy for a few years. Then they moved to LA, and my dad couldn’t find any good work. She was miserable. It was not the life she signed up for. And you know what happened.” Freddy’s one of the few people I’ve ever told about growing up with a narcissistic father and an alcoholic mother. From a very young age, I felt like the only grown-up in the house. I did my best to shield my sister from their crap. I expect Freddy to say something. But the phone is quiet. “Freddy?”
“I’m here. I’m thinking about what you said. It makes sense. It still doesn’t make up for how you ended things. But I get it.”
“I know. Does it help to know I waited to see you for two hours? I thought about coming back again. But I knew that if I did, I would lose my courage. It took everything I had to walk away from you. I really thought what I was doing was the best for you. I was certain you’d become a hotshot lawyer, find some nice, normal girl, and settle down. That I would become an anecdote you tell people at parties.”
“I never told anyone.”
“Why is that?’
“I wouldn’t have, but also, Janene had me sign some NDAs.”
“What? When?”
“When we first started dating and another right after you ended our engagement. I was reluctant to sign the first one. For the NDA to be an enforceable contract, there has to be an exchange of value. I didn’t want to be paid off, but I also wanted to prove my good faith. So, I took the $1000 they paid me and bought you a surfboard.”
“Oh, Freddy! Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I knew it would upset you, and I didn’t want to add any stress to your life. I was desperately trying to be chill with your fame and everything. I refused to sign the second one after you broke off the engagement. I wasn’t going to take money in exchange for not telling anyone that you broke our engagement. I wasn’t going to tell anyone anyhow. But, Janene was furious.”
“I’m so sorry, Freddy. That must have been humiliating.”
“It was. I had to sign legal documents promising not to tell anyone who my girlfriend was and not to share any revealing videos or photos of you. I mean, I get it. But the wording was so insulting, as if the only reason I’d date you would be to sell a story.”
“I can’t believe you put up with that.”
“I was willing to put up with much worse.” His voice is low and raw. It knocks the wind out of me. This time, I’m the one who goes silent. “Rainy, are you there?”
“Yes, I am just thinking about lost chances. Does it help to know that I regret ending things with you?”
“Yeah, it does... somewhat.” I hear the smile return to his voice. I wish I could see his face.
“I feel awful about how I ended things,” I say. “It was so immature. I cannot believe I did that to you. When I think about it, I can’t believe you’re even civil to me.”
“I’m not always.”
“You’re nicer to me than I deserve.” I think of him saving me a cinnamon roll that first time we tried to write the song, carrying in all that stuff for the fire pit, and giving me his umbrella. (Okay, maybe the umbrella was more of a joke, but I love that he gave it to me.)
“Enough talk about the past,” he says, and I can hear his sheets rustling. I imagine him sitting up straighter. “The important thing is we’re good now. We are good, right?”
Yes, I think, except you are dating Rosie. I kind of want to ask him about that. But also, I don’t. “We’re good.”
“Great, because I think I had a breakthrough on this song.”
“Yeah?”
“Wanna hear it?”
“Please.”
“Okay . . . remember this is just a start.”
He plays the notes on his guitar. I quickly reconfigure my image of him in my mind. He’s sitting on his bed with his guitar, probably cross-legged.
“When I met you, it all made sense.” His voice courses through me like something electric. The chords he plays add weight to every word. “What the poets say of love and romance.”
The melody is bittersweet and epic at the same time. He sings the chorus one more time. His tenor trails off.
“I love it.”
“You do?” he asks, a little nervous, which goes straight to my heart.
“Freddy, you know you have a hit here, right? I mean, this is a song that will be played at a million weddings.”
“I thought maybe I had something. But you really like it?” Sheesh, his schoolboy anxiousness is killing me.
“I do.”
“Good. It kind of came to me all at once. I had a moment of clarity this weekend. We don’t always know how much someone means to us, until we nearly lose them.”
Is he talking about Rosie? Or me? I desperately want it to be me. But Rosie makes more sense. He saw her disappear in the water just like I watched him plunge into the deep. And this song... it captures the soaring, sinking feeling I had at the moment. I love him. I have lost him. Please don’t let him be singing about Rosie.
“Whatever inspired it,” I say. “It’s umm... working.”
“You sound unconvinced. Are you sure you like it?”
“Freddy, I love it. It’s really, really good.”
“Okay... well, we’ll have to work on it over the phone. With the added interview, I’ll be gone for a month. I won’t be back until the week of the wedding. How is wedding planning going?”
“It’s going. September and Gloria are at odds on a couple issues.”
“Do tell.” I can hear the smile in his voice. “I wouldn’t want to get in a fight between those two.”
“Okay, so...” I stroll to the kitchen to get a snack. It looks like this call might last a while. “Gloria wisely wants to have white tents in case of inclement weather. But September says the tents would ruin her aesthetic, and there’s no way it could possibly rain on her wedding day.”
Freddy belts out, “It’s like rain on your wedding day!” I laugh.
“How did I not know you were such a good singer,” I say. “I was totally blown away the first time I saw you perform.”
“I am a man of hidden talents.”
“That’s the truth.” I pause. “And some not so hidden.”
It takes a moment for him to say anything. I wonder if my last comment took him off guard. “Anyway, what else are Gloria and September fighting about?”
“Gloria wants her nieces to be flower girls, but September wants to use the kids of an influencer.”
“Is this influencer a friend?”
“No, in fact, September keeps getting her name wrong.”
“September stories are my guilty pleasure,” he says with a chuckle.
“She’s actually been less of a bridezilla than I expected. I think part of that is because Gloria is such a gifted party planner. I was skeptical about September’s whole plan to be an influencer, but her posts about her wedding are taking off.”
“You’re skeptical because you want less fame, not more.”
“True.”
“I don’t mind it as much as you do,” he says.
I snort. “Of course you don’t.”
“What does that mean?”
“I’ve seen photos of you with a different woman every other week.”
“I’m not proud of that phase.”
“So, you are calling it a phase?”
“It was absolutely a phase, and it’s well behind me. I was, as you well know, nursing a broken heart. Now, I’ve grown up, and I’m looking for something more serious, more permanent.”
Is he talking about Rosie? He can’t be. I mean, I think she likes Benwick, but maybe I just want to see that. And how could any woman resist Freddy West talking about forever? I certainly couldn’t—I mean, not this time around.
I feel a little queasy thinking about him and Rosie. I need to end this call.
“Hey, I got to go now. Thanks for calling.”
“Uh, okay.” Freddy sounds disappointed by my abrupt tone shift. “Is it alright if I call you Sunday and work on the song some more?”
“Freddy, who are you kidding? I’m not actually helping here.”
“It helps to sing my drafts to you.”
“Then Sunday, yes.”
“Great! Talk to you then. Bring your guitar.”
“It’s always right beside me.”
“Good. Good night, Rainy.”
“Good night, Freddy.”
It takes me a minute to hang up. It feels wrong to end a conversation with him. I notice the phone icon is still green. I can still hear his soft breathing.
“Freddy? You there?”
“Yeah.” He sounds guilty as if caught.
“I really am going to hang up this time,” I say.
“Go right ahead.”
“Bye.” I feel the words on the tip of my tongue like muscle memory. I push the button, ending the call before I say, “Love you.”