Chapter 10
Jake
Josh was ready for me at the stage, which was not much of a stage, but enough for this casual gathering.
Josh started these nights with some recorded music, then invited willing participants to take over with open mic or karaoke performances.
I’d become known to kick off the live portion of the night with an acoustic version of some cover song I’d been working on.
I wasn’t much of a musician. I knew how to finger some chords on the guitar and sing along. It was just a fun hobby.
Ever since meeting Ali, I’d had one song swirling around in my head and only just now decided I would play it tonight. I was overthinking it. Meeting this incredibly beautiful and engaging woman had me in a state of mind that I was not used to.
I kept my life routine, stable, predictable.
It’s the way I’m wired. I was sure Ali would find it supremely unattractive if she knew the full me.
She was my complete opposite. All spontaneity and whimsy.
She really was like a wildflower like Marjorie said after tonight’s meeting.
She was so far out of my league, she was playing an entirely different sport.
My sport was like watching baseball. Slow. Almost lazy for most of the game with a few bursts of intermittent excitement. A stolen base. A home run. A triple play. But it was brief bursts with plenty of time for spectators to enjoy their beers and hot dogs.
I was content with a life like a baseball game. A stable, solid, easygoing life with small meaningful moments of joy and excitement peppered in there. I was routine. Regimented. Cautious. Predictable.
And women like Ali . . . who were sunshine. Effervescent. A ripple in the undisturbed surface of the lake that started in one spot and moved out to larger and larger rings of impact. We weren’t a match.
The understanding that someone like that isn’t meant to stay in a town like this with someone like me—that’s what my relationship and breakup with Charlotte had taught me.
It didn’t matter that when I was actually around Ali, I felt differently than I had ever before.
Like earlier at the meeting. I felt like I was fulfilling a need in Ali and that she did the same for me.
Just being ourselves. I huffed a laugh to myself, dismissing that idea.
“You ready, Jake?” Josh asked me from the side of the stage.
I nodded and waited for Josh to give me the go-ahead signal. I’d been participating in this event for a couple of years, so I knew the drill: tune, plug in, say hello to the audience, play.
“Hey, everybody. I’ve been working on a new cover to share with you tonight. I hope you enjoy it.”
I looked down as I plucked the strings on my guitar, starting with an A minor chord and a fairly open hand. Then I added a light strumming pattern of down-down, up-up, down-up. I lifted my chin to the mic and with closed eyes sang the opening words about a sky full of stars and giving of a heart.
As the lyrics started to build, I strummed a little faster and realized the words were pretty intense. No wonder this song would not leave my head since Ali walked into town. The song gave words to how I felt in her presence.
I looked up and found her eyes again. Again . . . I seemed to always connect with her eyes. Immediately. Unconsciously. Unwaveringly. I wasn’t sure how much of the song she heard. But once my eyes found hers, I just held on to that gaze and sang.
The lyrics laid out all my insecurities and all the ways I didn’t even care if I ended up with a broken heart. I was a man ready for something intense, serious, unpredictable. Ali inspired a different side of me.
I looked right at her. It felt like I was singing directly into her soul with more than just the lyrics. Everyone else disappeared from view. I didn’t break eye contact to look down at my fingers or close my eyes to conjure the falsetto.
The song just flowed from all my senses. I could feel it in every fiber, and I was sending it like a transfer of energy and power directly to Ali. A signal? Permission? Confirmation? A question? I wasn’t quite sure and I certainly didn’t plan it. I was simply giving over to it.
Color rose to her cheeks, and I wondered if she felt things too or if I was kidding myself and she was completely embarrassed for me.
Then with the last line and a few last plucks of the chords, the song was done. I felt raw and exposed, but I liked it. I liked showing her.
The small crowd applauded, unaware of the intensity that had just transpired between two people being pulled together in a vortex of attraction. At least I hoped I’d left them unaware. I had zero clue what I was doing. It felt vulnerable as shit. But it was honest. Of that I was sure.
Someone whistled. I gave a small bow, which felt really dumb. This was an open mic night in the backyard of the Lakeside Tavern, not a concert at the Sylvee in Madison. It felt more monumental tonight I think because I made a decision.
I looked back at Ali. She put down her drink. A pause that felt like a million heartbeats. I dropped her gaze for a second to prop the guitar in its stand. And that’s when she fled.
“Ali. Where are you going?” I said, raising my voice so she could hear me. She bolted from the wash of light off the Tavern and into darkness.
“Ali. Seriously. If you’re going to attempt to walk home, you should take the trail around the lake, not the roads. There are no sidewalks. No streetlights. It’s dangerous. Especially at night.”
She stopped. Pivoted and doubled back toward me. She walked tall and confidently. I stopped and waited for her to approach. Frozen in place. I almost opened my arms for her to rush into them. But she breezed right past me in the direction of the trail. Fuck.
“Ali. Let me drive you home. Misha asked me to make sure you got home safely.”
“No, thank you. I’m used to walking everywhere in the city. I’m sure I can manage.”
“Why are you upset?”
“I’m not upset. I just want to walk. I need some air and it’s late. I’m tired. That’s all.” There was a bite in her words.
“Okay. You just seem a little upset. At least let me walk with you.”
“OHMYGOD, Jake!” She stopped and turned toward me. “I do not need to be taken care of. I can take care of myself. I don’t need you. I don’t need anybody, okay?” She pointed her index finger wildly toward me, the frustration finally releasing with every stab into the air of that finger.
“Of course. No. I didn’t mean to imply that you couldn’t take care of yourself.
I just . . . I promised Misha.” I was scrambling for some explanation that wouldn’t make her feel less than.
I just wanted to be with her. This was so pathetic .
. . I was so pathetic, and now it had made her uncomfortable. What was I doing?
“What if I asked Marjorie or another friend to walk you home? It’s just . . . You haven’t walked the trail yet, have you? At night. It can be tricky if you’re not familiar with it.”
“Errr! For fuck’s sake. Even the path is an obstacle course?” Ali stopped again and turned to look at me. Her inhale was deep, traveling all the way down to her belly. As she exhaled it looked like she was resetting.
“What was that back there?” she asked.
“Umm . . . which part?” There were so many things that happened back there, and I wasn’t sure I had answers for her.
“The song, Jake. What was the song?”
“It was Coldplay. ‘A Sky Full of Stars.’” That, I could answer.
“I know what song it was. What was that? Your performance?” Her arms were lifting wildly.
“I . . . I don’t know.” I took a beat, pulling my hands through my hair. I decided to come clean. I didn’t have answers necessarily, but clearly she too felt whatever was pulling us together. “I just saw you and sort of . . . I don’t know, couldn’t look away.”
“I feel like you’re always seeing me, Jake. It’s intense. It’s too intense. I came here to get away from intense. To breathe. To recharge. To . . . hide from the world for a while. But you . . .”
She jolted to a stop and turned back to me. She crossed her arms around her middle. Hugged herself. She looked cautious. Of what? Of me? Or was it because these feelings were unique to her too and she didn’t know what to think?
She lifted her gaze toward me.
“You look at me and I feel completely exposed. And you don’t look away.” Barely a whisper. But with the noise from the Tavern so far behind us now, I heard every part of what she said and maybe even some of what she didn’t.
She dropped my gaze and turned her face toward the water. With more conviction in her voice, she continued. “I’m not a good person for you. I am irresponsible. And impulsive. And just silly in general. I’m not . . .” She trailed off. Maybe not sure how to finish that statement.
But she started again. “I’m . . . temporary. My stay here is temporary. I will leave. I will. I need you to understand that.” Her eyes were pleading now as they looked back at me. “And stop seeing me. It’s all-consuming. Soon enough you’re bound to see something you don’t like.”
“I hear you—”
“First you see me. Now you hear me. Stop it, Jake. Just stop.” A painful tone rang just below the surface.
I recalled how she’d mentioned humiliation and dismissal from GlennGlobal and a past relationship that brought her here.
I saw now that the pain and letdown from that and maybe even much more were still raw. She was still hurting.
A few beats of silence settled over us. I could hear her breaths start to slow and calm.
We stood looking at each other in the darkness on the trail.
Moonlight cast a delicate glow that highlighted sections of her hair, the tops of her cheeks, the end of her nose.
I stepped closer. She didn’t move. I took another step.
“I’m sorry that I make you feel chaotic and panicked.” My voice was gravelly.