Coop
Ichoose a different spot at the retreat than yesterday, in between a couple of dudes. I’m not going to be distracted today. Focus is the name of the game.
The Master enters the room and bows to the group, before assuming his starting position.
He instructs us to close our eyes and clear our mind.
The first is easy to do. The second requires me to kick more things out than usual.
Lillian’s the first to go. Admittedly, it’s becoming easier to oust her. Like a flick of my finger.
In fact, my ex-wife has been laughing at me on the sidelines rather than taking an active part in my practice for the past three weeks.
This is because a new woman has replaced her.
A short stylist with a pixie haircut and an eyebrow piercing.
Lillian motions toward Nese with a knowing smile on her face as if mocking me for letting her leave.
I sigh and reposition myself. This is for the best, I remind myself. Nese deserves to be with someone as outgoing and vibrant and full of life as she is. Or, at least, not someone like me.
The Master admonishes everyone to focus on one point of positivity. Something that brings joy.
Of course, Nese pushes her way to the foreground of my mind and I shove her away like I used to have to do to Lillian.
A vision of UC performing in front of thousands replaces her.
Bennett’s riling up the crowd. Río tosses his drumsticks high in the air.
007’s rockin’ the bass while Tris stands behind his keys.
I’m off to the side, wailing on my guitar, the place I find true joy.
Picturing it in my mind, I glance behind the curtains and Nese is at the ready with my towel. Like she always is after we finish a set and before we head back out for our encore. She’s there for a purpose, not to mock me. Good.
The Master guides us to embrace the joy.
I join my bandmates at the front and we wave, then we rush backstage to do a quick shirt change—all except Río since he’s not wearing one. Jenna assists Bennett while Hayden’s there for our drummer. Nese hands towels to everyone else, then turns to face me.
She rubs the towel against my now naked torso, catching all the stage sweat. Then her attention turns into something more … erotic. She changes to creating circles. Kissing my tiny nipples. On the pillow, I shift my hips to maintain proper posture.
Thankfully, the Master chooses this moment to move onto a different meditation. He talks about how we chose to come to the retreat today and are here to deepen our practice. How we all have agency over our own choices.
In my mind’s eye, Nese protests. “Except me.”
The Master focuses us on the fact that true agency in decision-making comes not from the ego’s desire to control outcomes, but from being fully present, centered, and acting in alignment with reality as it unfolds.
My mind ceases to maintain its meditative posture. Did I allow Nese to have full agency when I practically kicked her out of LA? Did my own ego seek to control the outcome because I was scared of allowing her into my life?
Or how attached to her…
The Master continues, but I cannot release this new revelation. Did I ignore her needs? In no uncertain terms, she told me how much she despised being controlled—did I give her any choice but to return to Georgia?
The Nese in my mind frowns. “You did not.”
My heart races. Was I so convinced that my life was complete as it was that I denied her own agency? Was I so busy deciding what was best that I never gave her an alternative?
How could I do that to the woman I love?
I inhale.
Love.
I no longer am able to deny the truth. I’m helplessly in love with this spunky, spontaneous woman who can bring five grown rockstars to their knees when she says we have to go shopping. Who is funny and laughs free and loud. Who is nothing like Lillian ever was. Who challenges me to do better.
Be better.
Allow myself to love.
The meditation comes to a close and the Master instructs us to open our eyes. They’re open alright. I can’t continue to stay here until I set things right with her. But should I confess that I love her? Or simply apologize for forcing her to go back to Georgia?
Deciding to remain for the afternoon session, I do more deep work on discovering where I fit into Nese’s life. She’s the band’s stylist, yes, but she’s so much more. She’s our confidence booster—or at least mine.
When the workshop ends, I get to my feet in the Zen robe Nese bugged me to purchase and I approach the Master. “Thank you for an illuminating session today,” I tell him.
“I noticed you were concentrating very hard. I hope my guidance aided you on your journey.”
“You did. Very much so.” I bow. “I have to set something right before I can return to class. Then my work is taking me away for a long time, so I’m not sure when I’ll be able to return.”
He bows to me. “You must resolve this issue in order for you to resume meditation with a clear conscience. I wish you a healthy journey in finding what you seek.”
After saying my goodbyes, I drive back to my empty house. It’s bleak without Nese here. What should I say to her? Where? When? Should I text her? How can I make this happen?
These unanswerable questions roll around my mind as I wander through the halls. To the guest bedroom—her bedroom—which is devoid of her things. No shampoo in the shower. None of her clothes still hanging. Although her spirit is gone, she lingers.
Downstairs, I enter the music room but, for once, the guitars don’t call to me.
Because they don’t have the answers I seek.
I step into the media room and something on the side table catches my attention.
Investigating, I realize she left her jewelry kit here.
She has beads and baubles and wires in tiny compartments.
Wire cutters and scissors. I run my fingers over her kit, wishing she were here to show me how everything fits together.
Without her, I’m lost as to making jewelry.
Or simply lost. I close up the kit and bring it upstairs.
I’ll give it to her when we arrive in Australia.
No.
I can’t wait that long.
What if she wants to make someone a present? She needs her kit back. Picking up my phone, I call the one person who must know where she is. He answers, “Hello.”
“Hey, Luke. I was wondering if you have Nese’s address in Gainesville? She left something at my house and I want to be sure she gets it.” This sounds better than I’m hopelessly in love with UC’s stylist and can’t wait another minute to see her.
“I do have her address, Coop, but why don’t you simply give whatever it is to her next week? I’m sure it’s not too important if she left it at your house.”
Ever the practical one. But not in this case. “I thought about it, but it’s her jewelry making kit. She uses it to decompress. I’m positive she’ll need it with her. Maybe even make something for her roommates, since she hasn’t seen them in a year.”
“That makes sense. Let me pull it up.” He gives me Nese’s address, which I write down. Should I laminate it? “You can ship it overnight.”
“Thanks, man.” I have no intention of mailing it though.
With this newfound information, I should be at the airport.
Yet, I’m still firmly planted in my desolate house, stuck in an endless loop of self-doubt and disgust. Off the top of my head, I list what attracts me to her—she is strong and capable and resilient and courageous and funny and smart and inquisitive and sexy as all get out.
Not to mention she’s overcome so much in getting away from the cult and her mother. She’s the real deal.
Even if I am in love with her, what makes me think I am what she wants?
More unsettling, however, is the possibility that she could be with someone else.
No one could look after her like I do. Anticipate her needs and wishes before she knows them. Show her the mysteries of the world. Make her scream out in pleasure.
I have to talk to her. Beg her forgiveness and see if we can create the most beautiful life together. Touring with UC. Having a family. Creating our own version of nirvana here on earth.
Armed with this new information, I call the only woman who I trust to give me the best advice. Mom answers the phone. “Hi, Coop. Are you getting ready for the next leg of your tour? Australia and New Zealand should be amazing.”
I love how Mom always knows what I’m up to, without my having to tell her. We discuss the upcoming tour for a bit, then I dive in. “Mom, remember I told you my luggage got lost and Luke sent over UC’s stylist to replace all my clothes?”
“I do. I also remember you promising to send me pictures of your new outfits.”
Shit.
“Uhm, I’ll send some over later.” I inhale. “Anyway, Nese, that’s the stylist’s name, did a great job. I even was asked to be in a photoshoot for Tumi luggage.”
“Fantastic. Make sure you let me know when the campaign comes out.”
“I will.” I fiddle with Nese’s jewelry kit. “There’s something more. This stylist, Nese, well, she’s not only good at her job. She’s really smart and funny. She—”
I clamp my lips shut.
The line is silent.
A couple of beats later, Mom says, “You love her.”
Not a question. A statement. Of fact.
I take a deep breath. “I do.”
“Oh, honey, I’m so happy to hear this. I can’t tell you how long your father and I have been waiting for this day. Your first wife wasn’t right for you. I wanted to tell you at the time, but your father told me to stay out of your business.”
“Lillian was….” For the first time, I hold back from defending my ex-wife. “You’re right. We were a bad match. But Nese is different.”
“Do tell.” I can’t stop talking about her for a good ten minutes. “She sounds wonderful. Pass her your cell. I want to meet her, even if it’s only over the phone.”
I lean backward. “Well, she’s not here.”
“That’s okay. You can call me back when she’s at your house.”
I shake my head. “No. I mean she’s not here, here.”
Silence. “Is she visiting her family?”
“Oh God no,” I explain. “It’s only her mother, and she got messed up with some sort of cult. Nese escaped from it a few years ago.”
“She doesn’t have any contact with her mother?”
“No.”
“At all?”
“No.”
Mom doesn’t respond for a couple of moments. “Well, never mind about that. I can mother her all she needs.”
This is why I love Mom. She already loves Nese without even meeting her. Still, I need to come clean. “I’m sure she’d love that. She’s been without a mother in her life for way too long. It’s just, well, I urged her to leave.”
“Why on earth would you do that?”
“I thought it was for the best.”
“Ah, huh. Now what do you think?”
“I made a mistake.”
“What are you going to do about it, Cooper?”
Crap. When she uses my full name, I know she means business. I tell her my idea. “Do you suppose it’ll work?”
She takes her time responding. “Not having met the girl, but knowing how deeply you feel for her, I can’t imagine how she could turn my boy down.
I will say, with one hundred percent certainty, that being with the one you love makes the highs that much better, and the lows that much easier to bear.
I’m sure your brother would agree. Grandpa says it every chance he gets. ”
I smile. “I knew you would say something like that.”
“So, what are you waiting for? Go make me proud.”
With Mom’s words echoing, I end the call and immediately book a flight to Atlanta.
Ready or not, I’m coming for you, Nese.