55. Griffin
GRIFFIN
I bring my guitar to the shop. It’s probably a weird thing to do, but I don’t care.
Zeb and Frank told me what happened when Ember came over. I don’t blame them at all, but at the same time I’m insanely jealous that I missed it.
But the fact that it happened tells me that Ember isn’t over us, just like we’re not over her. And that gives me hope. And determination.
None of her usual button-down lunch dates have come in, and that gives me courage too. It would be awful if she started seeing other guys again, and we had to endure seeing them with her.
At closing time, I tell the other guys to leave without me, and I bring the guitar out from where I stowed it in the back. When Ember sees it, her expression is a mix of worry and anticipation.
“Got another song for you,” I tell her.
“Griffin—”
“Just listen, okay?”
She presses her lips together, but doesn’t protest.
The first song I wrote for her was jaunty, lighthearted. This one is slow, soft, soulful. And a little bit scary to sing, because the lyrics are not at all funny. She deserves all the honesty I can give her.
I strum a few chords, then start picking out the background. After a few bars, I let my voice join in.
Baby
One look at your face and I’m so happy
One look at your heart and I see beauty
Beauty
I know
You need to feel safe about your future
You need to feel loved and like you matter
You matter
Life isn’t perfect, it’s full of surprises
And not many guarantees
All I can tell you is that I can promise
You’ll always matter to me
Baby
Look in my eyes and see it’s real
All that I feel and how I need you
And miss you
I miss you
Her eyes are filled with tears. As the final notes fade, one of them spills over; then she whirls around and races down the hall. The bathroom door slams, but even from a distance I can hear her sobs.
Fuck.
I set the guitar aside and go to the bathroom, but she’s locked the door. I wish she’d let me in. I’ve made her cry, and the least I can do is hold her. But when I tap on the door, she doesn’t respond.
“Emmy,” I say softly.
Her voice sounds broken. “I can’t talk to you right now.”
“I can’t leave you like this.”
“I’ll be all right.”
“Emmy,” I say again, a little less patiently this time. She can’t seriously expect me to go home while she’s sitting in the bathroom crying. For any reason at all, let alone because I sang her a song.
“Please, Griffin.”
“I’m not leaving until you come out.”
Silence, then I hear the water running in the sink. A minute later, Ember opens the door, her face pale but composed. “I have to catch my bus,” she says, her voice still rough.
I follow her as she marches back to the front to get her things. “Emmy?—”
“I’ll talk to you later,” she says quietly, and I know that’s all the response I’m going to get. I’ll take it, for now, because I don’t really have a choice, but I’m not leaving things like this. We need to have a real conversation, and soon.
She’s at the door, waiting for me so she can set the alarm. I put my guitar in its case and go outside, waiting as she locks up. When she turns to me, her eyes are bright again, more tears on the way, and it’s all I can do not to haul her into my arms and keep her there.
“See you tomorrow,” she says.
I give her that, because she needs it. “Okay. Good night, Emmy.”
“Good night,” she whispers, and then she turns and hurries toward her bus.
Fuck.
I hope I haven’t made things worse.