36. Emerson
EMERSON
“Are they keeping their setlist the same for this last show?” Ava asks, leaning closer to me. We’re in Mateo’s special little VIP area, and the buzz of the crowd behind us threatens to drown out her voice, even when she’s standing right next to me. “Or are they changing it up?”
“I’m not sure,” I answer. “Mateo didn’t say anything to me about it, and I wasn’t at their soundcheck today since Crew was with Talia.”
“How was coffee with her the other day?” Rumi asks from my other side.
“Really good,” I answer, and it’s the truth. I didn’t know what to expect when I met Talia, and I was surprised how we instantly clicked.
Talia met me at Hey Honey’s yesterday, and it was a nice distraction from the disorientation after coming home. We chatted about tour and her photography agency, and she told me all about how Crew already has ideas for his Halloween costume—even though Halloween is five months away.
The silence of my apartment that greeted me when I got home the night before last was enough to send me down a pretty scary spiral.
It was like being plucked out of the life I thought I knew and landing in an alternate universe.
It took me a few hours to re-acclimate and remind myself that tour wasn’t real life… This was.
I’ve been able to keep myself busy these last two days, diving back into freelance work and working my first shift back at Hey Honey’s this morning before going to Rumi’s with Ava to get ready for tonight’s show.
But it feels like I’m floating through the hours, counting them down until I can stop pretending to have the energy to get through the day that I can’t seem to find.
My eyes wander the space around us, recognizing the owner of Lenny’s and his wife chatting with the Hey Honey’s owners. Talia is talking to Anderson as Jack stands next to him, who keeps looking at his watch, no doubt counting down the minutes until he can go home and see Evee.
Mateo’s sister, Mia, who I’ve only ever met in a professional capacity, started chatting with Ava and Rumi, and I can’t tell if I belong in the crowd, or if I’ve just become familiar with the loneliness that lingers even when I’m surrounded by people.
The lights around us begin to fade, and the crowd behind us cheers loud enough to have the entire venue shaking. The ground beneath my feet vibrates, the excitement and anticipation of this very last show completely overtaking the space.
I lift my hands over my head, clapping as I watch Eddie, Silas, and Theo walk on stage the same way they do every night.
Watching it from the crowd feels weird after so many months being backstage, but I cup my hands around my mouth anyway, screaming as Eddie taps his drumsticks together three times and the music starts.
I can’t see Mateo backstage, but I know he’s opening and closing his fists, taking one last deep breath before he lets his shoulders drop just a few seconds before his cue.
Then, he’s walking on stage, heading directly for the microphone stand, grabbing the mic in one hand before he starts to sing.
I’ve heard this song a million times, during soundcheck, while dancing backstage with Crew, in my headphones just before I drift off to sleep, but somehow it still feels like the first time.
Mateo’s eyes are closed as he holds the microphone in both hands. His hair falls over his forehead, and I’m close enough to see the way the veins in his neck strain as he holds a note.
“How’s it feel being on this side of the stage?” Rumi asks over the music.
“Wrong,” I admit just as Theo’s riff cuts through the air, the crowd cheering as he points to a woman in the section in front of him, two little boys standing at her side.
We fall back into the music, the first song fading into the next, and I let myself drown in the music, watching Mateo as he puts every piece of his soul into each lyric he sings.
He truly does belong up there.
Crew cheers loudly in his stepdad’s arms, and Mateo waves at him as he walks along the stage, always making sure to sing to all corners of the venue, like he wants to make sure everyone here gets his attention.
He runs a hand through his sweat-slicked hair, breathing heavily as the second song ends, his eyes roaming the VIP section until they land on me.
His lips curve into a smirk, like he knows something I don’t.
I’m close enough to the stage to make out the details on his face—the ones I’ve come to know all too well.
His long dark lashes, the specks of gold in his brown eyes, the way his tongue darts out to wet his lips before he introduces the band to the crowd, even though we all know who Theo, Silas, Eddie, and Mateo are.
“We are honored to end our farewell tour here where it all started,” Mateo says as they finish their second-to-last song, pausing for a moment as the crowd erupts in cheers at the mention of the end of the tour.
“We wish we had the right words to convey how truly thankful we are,” he continues, “for each and every one of you.” More cheers sound, and he has to keep pausing between phrases, a huge grin on his face as he holds a hand to his chest. “We wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you all.”
He looks around the venue until his eyes find mine again. He brings his microphone to his lips. “And even though this is our last show together,” he says, and it’s like he’s talking directly to me. “This isn’t the end.”
My breath catches, my heart lurching like it’s trying to jump out of my chest and to Mateo on stage.
This isn’t the end.
He’s just talking to the crowd. Not me.
He can’t be.
Can he?
The crowd cheers so loud at the mention that this might not be the end that Mateo has to almost yell into the microphone.
“This last tour has been unlike anything we’ve ever done before, for plenty of reasons,” he says, the crowd finally dying down just enough for him to get the words out.
“The biggest of those reasons, I got to have my son, Crew, on tour with me. Everyone, give it up for Crew!”
Crew’s stepdad hikes him onto his shoulders as a spotlight finds him. Crew’s mop of brown hair is pulled back into a bun at the top of his head, and he’s wearing a black Cross My Heart T-shirt.
He waves his hands with a grin on his face as everyone claps and cheers for him.
“And Crew made a very special friend during this tour. And she’s the reason he was able to be part of this incredible experience,” Mateo continues as Daniel holds Crew over the barricade that separates the crowd from the stage.
Crew lands in the arms of one of the security guards before he’s pushed up on stage to join his dad, and, this time, I’m positive my heart jumps out of my chest, using every ounce of energy it has to get to Crew.
And Mateo.
“And he wanted to show her how lucky he is to have her,” Mateo finally says, and something tells me he isn’t just talking about Crew.
A spotlight shines directly down on me as Rumi and Ava’s eyes go wide from next to me. All of Mateo’s family and friends in the VIP section turn to look at me, mixed expressions of knowing to surprised faces surrounding me as the music begins.
“Crew told me that his friend’s favorite Cross My Heart song is the one that reminds her of her mom,” Mateo says as Eddie’s drums come over Theo and Silas’ chords, and my knees threaten to buckle.
The familiar beat envelops me as someone on the stage crew runs out to hand Crew a microphone, and tears burn my eyes as he holds it up to his mouth, holding it with both hands.
Crew looks to Mateo, who points to me in the crowd. Crew follows his gaze until he sees me, a small smile forming on his face. “Ems,” he says carefully into the microphone, his little shy voice going straight to my heart. “This song is for you.”
When Crew asked me what my favorite song of his dad’s was a few weeks ago, I should’ve known whatever I told him would get back to Mateo—the kid can’t keep a secret to save his life.
And even though this song is like a knife to the chest, and I’ve been avoiding it for the most part, it truly is my favorite song.
It destroys me, reminding me of the weight of losing my mom, forcing me to feel how painful it is to miss her.
But maybe that’s why it’s my favorite.
It forces me to feel after so long of forgetting how to. I’ve been numb for so long, comfortable in the apathy; numbness became easier than grief—easier than carrying the ache of her absence into every ordinary moment.
Somewhere along the way, I stopped letting myself feel the loss because feeling it meant acknowledging how permanent it is.
This song doesn’t let me hide from that. It pulls everything back to the surface. Every memory, every conversation I wish I could have one more time, every moment I reach for the phone before remembering there’s no one on the other end.
It reminds me that grief never really leaves—it just changes shape, settling quietly into the corners of your life until something wakes it up again.
And as much as I hate what it does to me, I think I need it. The pain is unbearable sometimes, but it’s proof that the love is still there. The tears, the ache in my chest, the feeling of being completely undone—they’re all reminders that she mattered, that she still matters.
Losing her created a kind of loneliness that no room full of people can fill.
Most days I carry it quietly, but right now, the song refuses to let me. I know it’ll break me apart, but it will always help me feel connected—to my loss, to my love for her, and somehow, in a way I can’t explain, to her.
Crew begins to sing, softly at first as Mateo sings with him, and my lips part. A tear runs down my face at the way the words don’t sound muffled or strung together.
They’re quiet, but they’re there. All of them. Clear as day.
Mateo is kneeling at Crew’s side, the two looking at each other as they sing together, Crew’s confidence building with every beat of Eddie’s drum, every strum of Theo’s guitar, every pulse of Silas’ bass.