Chapter 19
Back on the Footbridge
Maisie
I’m sitting at one of the small outdoor tables outside the Griddle I know that, but because looking at me would make it harder to keep going. If he sees the care for him in my eyes, he might break before he gets the words out.
He’s still learning that he’s allowed to lay all of his mess out there and still be held with love. So he watches the trees instead. They offer him a place to rest his gaze while he finds the strength to speak what he needs.
“You know what I still wonder? Why that song. Why did she choose ‘Beyond the Chords’ out of everything I wrote?”
He turns to look, as if to see if I share the same question.
“Part of me thinks it’s because she knew it was the most complete thing I’d ever created: layered, deliberate, and vulnerable in a way I didn’t even know I could be.”
“Hmm,” lets him know I’m listening.
“It exposed something inside me, put everything in my soul on display that a man—well, anyone, I guess, tries not to admit. That he’s human, weak, fragile.”
This earns him a hand squeeze.
“I emptied everything I am into ‘Beyond the Chords.’”
I place my right hand on his forearm and stroke it slowly and encouragingly.
“That’s probably why it connected with people. Why it made her famous. Because it peeled back something universal, something intimate.”
“Probably,” I agree.
“I don’t think Sabrina believed she could write something like that herself. I think that’s why she took it. Because she wanted that kind of soul-level truth attached to her name.”
I glance at him carefully, and something inside me moves. “Do you think she believed it was hers?”
He nods once, then frowns. “Maybe. Maybe she needed it to be. I think it said things she wished someone had written for her. But it wasn’t hers. Not really. And the worst part is…I think a part of her knew that truth, deep down.”
“Maddeningly, I can sort of understand Sabrina’s feelings, to a point.”
Trying to connect even more with him, I add, “When you sang that song to me, for me, about me, I felt so known and valued. I also felt honored that you would want to be known by me in that way.”
He huffs a quiet breath and gives a small shake of his head.
“You have no idea what that means to me, hearing you say that.” He looks at me now and continues, “Ironically, I showed it to her because I really wanted her input. I wanted to hear how she could elevate my song with her unique vocal skills. Make it better than I could on my own.”
A breeze picks up, tugging at the hem of my dress and rustling the grass on the river’s shore. I shift my stance, because I can feel something unspooling in him—and I want to be present for it.
“She didn’t ask. I don’t think she even considered asking. And she didn’t say a word about releasing it. Not a text. Not a call. Nothing.”