Chapter 40
Chapter Forty
W e're late departing for Red Rocks because I spend the day trying on and dismissing every clothing item in my suitcase—and almost every clothing item in every store within a five-block radius of Ryan's condo. I settle on my favorite pair of jeans, a black tank top, and a new and insanely expensive green bomber jacket by Acne Studios that I found at a boutique around the corner. Money is no object at this point. I can barely keep my hands steady as I put on earrings and my watch, the watch, from Matt, spritzing myself with perfume as Ryan yells at me to hurry up.
On the drive over, I feel like I'm going to throw up. I'm sick over the fact that I let all the otherness of the world muddy what I feel for Matt and what I know he feels for me. I cannot believe I almost lost someone truly spectacular because of my own fears, my old wounds. I feel like I suddenly have complete clarity. As we speed along the highway, I reflect on how different my experience was with Nick.
Our marriage crumbled in isolation. It was only when we pared down every outside influence and were left with just each other that we realized how wrong we were together. We hadn't the wherewithal to take a second to think about what we wanted, where we were headed, how we'd navigate conflict, how we'd keep each other a priority—we blindly followed what we thought was ‘right’. And then when things got tough, Nick shut down and couldn't muster up any fight for me. For us. That feels like an important thing for me to understand.
With Matt, our relationship turbulence is a result of the opposite. We are good together, just the two of us, so good. It was only when our love became something for public consumption that I let doubt and fear creep in. Matt has been fighting for me, for us, every step of the way. Even in our time apart, he has still found ways to tell me he’s thinking of me, that I am worth it. We have a foundation, just the two of us, that is strong enough to weather the inevitable storms.
I hope I can tell him all this clearly.
I see the famous giant Ship Rock and Creation Rock formations looming in the distance as we pull up and find parking. As we make our way inside, the opening act performs on stage—Timmy Campbell, an up-and-coming bluegrass singer, local to Denver. Matt once told me how it important it was to him to help give musicians opportunities whenever he could.
"All it takes is one lucky night, one Sliding Doors moment, for a musician's career to take off. For their life to change. It's my little way of paying it forward. A lot of people gave me a chance, and I've never forgotten it."
I stand next to Ryan on the left side of the stage, several rows back. The lights dim and Matt walks out. His hair has grown longer since I last saw him—it curls over the tops of his ears. He has on his dark jeans, a T-shirt, and a pair of sneakers I don't recognize. His arms, the muscles, the tattoos, capped by a watch—his watch, the one I gave him for his birthday, the one that matches mine. Seeing him, even at a distance, after all these weeks is extraordinary. It’s at once familiar and like I'm seeing him for the first time. I resist the urge to run to him.
I try to focus on him, which is no small feat because the crowd around me is going crazy screaming and cheering his name. The snare drum rumbles and the lights blast on as Matt’s fingers drive down on the guitar playing the first notes. For the next hour as Matt performs, I grab for Ryan's hand—for emotional support and for something to hold on to so I don't float off into the thin night air.
As spectacular as the show is, I am eager for it to end. Only a few more songs and I can see him again. Touch him again. I watch closely as he walks up to the microphone. "This is something new I've been working on," he says softly.
I pour a glass of wine and see your smiling face
Why aren’t you next to me? I see you in every place
Room four sixteen, my heart on the floor
I rocketed to outer space when you walked through the door
Your brown eyes, and the sunrise
I’m thinking about a house on a hill,
with a garden, and a room with a crib
The doors slid open
And brought me right to you
The doors slid open
What do I do
Are you feeling it too?
You're in bed, in my shirt, so damn beautiful, it hurts
The moonlight on your skin, makes me believe again
Could this be the love I've been looking for, finally coming to find me?
That mind of yours keeps me on my toes. I'll follow wherever it goes
The doors slid open
And brought me right to you
The doors slid open
What do I do
Are you feeling it too
Are you feeling it too
Are you feeling it too
I'm thinking about forever.
I turn to look at Ryan, who, once again, is smirking, looking at me like he knew all along that this is how it would end. The song isn't even over before something, a force, propels me toward the stage. I move not of my own volition, Ryan at my heels. I veer to the left side, where I see Marcus standing guard. His face breaks into a wide smile when he sees me. “Hey, baby girl! I was hoping I'd see you tonight. I know I'm not the only one." He wraps me into a giant bear hug.
“Can I come back?”
“You? Of course. Our boy is going to be ecstatic.”
I turn to Ryan. “I’ll meet you back at your place after the show.” Ryan nods in understanding.
I move backstage and find my way to a dressing room full of familiar things. A to-go container with half-eaten grilled chicken, broccoli, and rice, a half-finished mug of Throat Coat tea, honey, candles, scratched-out set lists, and, of course, his collection of guitars. I know he has maybe one or two more songs left before the show ends. I try to sit on the worn leather couch, but my nerves are jumping. I pace the room, touching the familiar items—his coat, his extra soft T-shirts, his scuffed boots. I think back to the first day I met him, when he walked onto the critical care unit and into room 416. If I could go back to that moment and slow it down, maybe pay closer attention, I think I would know that this was it. That he is the person for me.
Forever.
The rest of our relationship plays through my mind in a series of short clips, the spectacular moments mixed in with all the ordinary ones. I try to steady my breathing.
The door flies open.
Matt walks in. His face is flushed, a sheen of sweat on his brow. When he registers me in the room, he stops and stills.
“Jules." He stares.
“Ryan brought me to your show. He told me you reached out.”
He tucks his hands in the front pockets of his jeans, his eyes wide, body taut like he is focusing hard on staying still. Before he can say anything, I continue, hands sweaty, my body trembling, but my voice calm and strong.
“I saw the Q you somehow manage to be the softest place for me to land while also making me want to be a better man. When I see your face, I feel like I am home. I cannot imagine my life without you. I've tried in the last few weeks, and it was impossible. I know it will not always be perfect or easy, but I have not a shadow of doubt that we will figure everything out, together.”
I think my face might split in half, the way a smile bursts out of me. Relief courses through my veins.
He kisses me so deeply, so passionately that it feels like we somehow have cemented the words we’ve just spoken to each other. A promise. A vow. When I pull back, his eyes are shining with love and emotion that I know is reflected in mine. I rest my head on his chest, smelling his familiar scent and feeling calm wash over me.
Home. I am home.
Matt lets out a deep exhale as he leans down and softly whispers in my ear, “What's going on in that beautiful mind of yours?”
“Just thinking that maybe I'm the long-winded one now."
He laughs and kisses the top of my head. "Impossible."
"Hey, what's the name of that song?"
He pulls me tighter, smiling, his mouth pressed against my ear.
"Thinking About Forever.”