Coop
The plane touches down, and the flight attendant ushers me out through the door first. Being a member of UC has its perks.
However, being surrounded by fans in the hallway isn’t one of them.
Despite wanting to pick up my rental car and be underway, I’m stuck signing autographs and taking selfies with several people I don’t know.
Nese’s observation that I should step up and give Bennett and Río a break guilts me into staying with the pack.
The fans seem excited to meet me, so it makes this delay easier to bear.
I bend down to his level. “I am.”
He holds up his hands, showing me the beginnings of calluses. “I started playing guitar because of you. I can only play chords and stuff, but I have several picks. And I got these.” He wiggles his fingers.
Tucking my sunglasses into my shirt, I show him my palm. “Keep it up, and your fingers will look like these in no time.”
“Wow.” He reaches out, then pauses. I nod, and he traces my fingertips. “These are so cool.”
Amazing what kids find impressive. “They’re a hazard of the profession.”
“I want them,” he announces. “You’re my uber favorite guitar player.”
I try to think of something to sign for him, but neither one of us has anything worth autographing.
My hand steals to my sunglasses, and I remember Nese making a comment that I should update these.
I pull them out from the neck of my shirt and put them on the boy’s face.
“If you wear these, they’ll give you rockstar vibes. ”
He grabs the temples and pushes the too-big sunglasses up his nose. “Thank you, Coop! I’ll wear these whenever I’m playing. When I make it big like you, I’ll be photographed in them all the time.”
I tousle his hair. “I bet you will.”
I’m called to the desk and turn to leave, watching the little boy run back to his parents, gesticulating like Río does.
With a smile, I rent a car and drive directly to a hotel in Atlanta UC has frequented.
While I’m anxious to see Nese right away, I don’t want to arrive too late at night Georgia time to have the meaningful conversation we need. Besides, I have earrings to make.
In my room, I order a meal and spend countless hours on YouTube trying to figure out how to use Nese’s jewelry-making kit.
At some ungodly hour, I’ve finally created a pair of simple earrings.
The beads are dark blue like her eyes… which are my attempt at counteracting the uneven guitar strings I used to connect them.
The morning finally arrives. After carefully packing her jewelry kit in my carry-on, I begin the trek to Gainesville.
Along the way, a billboard instructing drivers to turn in one mile to get “Unrivaled Dresses For All Occasions” catches my attention.
Perhaps I should bring her a dress as well as the earrings?
In any event, it could offset the many imperfections in my initial jewelry-making attempt. I enter the parking lot.
When I enter the store, racks and racks of clothing greet me. Thanks to all the shopping Nese made me do, however, I don’t get antsy. Rather, I approach the dresses like she taught me for men’s clothing, assessing colors and style. She could never blend in, so all the conservative ones are out.
I come upon a rack of fun dresses, with some bottoms cut on a slant. I flip through several pieces in her size and pick up three. As I’m shopping, a woman wearing a nametag approaches. “Hello, may I help you with anything, Sugar?”
Not used to being called such an endearment, I reach for my sunglasses only to realize the little boy from the rental car line has them.
Whatever. Nese is more important than a stupid pet name.
I clear my throat. “Actually, I like these three dresses for my, uhm, my girlfriend, but I’m not sure which to choose.
” I hold up the hangers, praying my characterization of her is accurate.
“Oh, this will be fun. I know your sweetie is sure to love whichever one you land on, but we definitely want to get her the exact right dress.” She checks out the items. “It so happens that I’m her size. How about I try them on so you’ll have a better idea?”
“Thanks. That would be great.”
She leads me over to the dressing rooms and tells me to take a seat. I wait for her to appear in the first dress, which is pretty but doesn’t scream “Nese” to me. Same for the second. When she appears in the third dress, though, it’s clear this one is the winner.
Sounding like Nese, I ask, “Can you do a three-sixty?”
She twirls and the subtle butterfly pattern seals the deal. I’m positive this blue dress will look amazing on Nese. Bonus—my earrings will appear as if they were designed to match.
“I love the hemline,” the clerk notes. “It’s fun and flirty without being overly sexy.”
I stand. “Perfect. I’ll take it.”
“Wonderful. Does your sweetie have a pair of shoes that’ll complement this? I have just the ones here…”
I shrug. “Sure.” What woman doesn’t want to have another pair of shoes in her closet?
When I instruct the clerk to wrap them all up, she brings me to the register. “What about jewelry? I have a great pair of earrings that match this dress.”
“Nope. I have them covered.”
She smiles and rings me up. “Now, you take your sweetie to a fantastic dinner tonight, so she can show off her new dress.”
Dinner. Shit. I better make reservations. I lift the bag. “Thanks for the tip.”
“Have a good night, Sugar!”
I don’t even respond to her, as my mind is occupied with making a reservation.
Back in the car, I stow her presents in the backseat and pull up my cell phone to find the best restaurant in Gainesville.
A place serving Southern food has near perfect reviews, so I reserve a table for two there at seven o’clock. I hope she agrees.
On the road, I practice everything I want to say to her. How my life is meaningless without her in it, and not merely as UC’s stylist. What she’s brought into my world. Why I will be so proud to have her at my side.
The GPS makes me navigate into a questionable neighborhood.
The buildings are close together, with metal frames on the doors and windows.
Barbed wire spans some of the fences. I’m instructed to turn right at the stop sign.
Given I’m less than a half mile from her address, I hope this will take me into a whole different neighborhood.
It doesn’t.
A few doors down from a bar, the GPS announces: “You have arrived at your destination.”
An available spot sits across the street from her apartment building. Well, I suppose it’s a parking place—I better follow what others have done and park half on the sidewalk so cars can still drive on the road.
After I park, I decide to bring my carry-on and her new outfit into her space, as it seems a bit shady out here.
Is this where she lives? I remember her describing this apartment with such pride.
Saying how excited she was to be able to move into it with her roommates.
Amazing how her description and reality differ.
Her esteem rises another few notches in my book.
There’s an empty lot next to her apartment that apparently has been taken over as the neighborhood garden. Yellow flowers are lined up against the fence. I blow them a kiss. “Wish me luck, Harold.”
At the front door, I’m presented with a bunch of names and doorbells. I press the one with her last name included in the list. A guy’s voice answers. “Yeah?”
I inhale. “I’m looking for Nese Dalton.”
“Sure. Come on up.”
The front door’s buzzer goes off, spurring me to launch myself into the foyer.
Since her name was next to the number two, I presume I need to go up one flight.
A quick scan doesn’t reveal an elevator, so I climb the stairs.
When I reach the second floor, one door is ajar. I walk over to it and knock.
The door swings inward a pace. “You’re here for Nese?”
A decent-looking guy, slightly taller than me, greets me on the inside. His hair is on the unkempt side, and he sports a beard. Leaving my small luggage on the floor, I juggle the dress into my left hand and extend my right. “Hi, I’m Coop.”
He leaves my arm hanging—rather, tips his chin upward. “Noah. Roommate.”
I return her bag into my right hand, and replace my other hand on top of the luggage’s handle.
He does a double take. “Wait. Coop as in the guitarist for her band?”
I’ve never heard UC referred to in such a way. But I like it. The band can be her band so long as she’s always with us. Before I get to her, though, I better respond to her roommate. “That’s me.”
“Well, I’ll be damned. Come on in.”
The door swings wide. Finally. I enter a tiny foyer, where I leave my carry-on. Unable to find a closet to hang the bag, I keep it hanging over my shoulder. I glance around. “Is she here?”
“Nese? No, she ran out to the store to get something she needed for a recipe. She’ll be back soon, I’m sure. Why don’t you come on in and make yourself comfortable.” He starts walking down the hallway.
I follow.
“Where are my manners? Want a beer?”
Since I’m stuck with Noah the Roommate for as long as Nese is out of the apartment, I reply, “Sure.” He disappears into what I presume to be the kitchen, while I lay the bag over a chair and sit down on their tattered sofa. I notice it doesn’t have any lumps. He hands me a can.
Opening his, he takes an extended swig. “Nese tells us you’re introverted.”
Out of the many things she could’ve told him, I suppose this is one of the most innocuous. “I do tend to refuel by myself rather than from other people.”
I can see his brain parsing what I explained. Better help him out. “Yeah, I’m introverted.”
“So you stay in the background during interviews because you don’t like to have the spotlight on you?”
“Pretty much.” I take a sip of the beer. Not my preferred brand by a longshot, but under the circumstances, it’ll do.
“I told Nese you appeared to be stuck-up, and she jumped down my throat.”