Chapter Eighteen. Luna
Chapter Eighteen
Luna
The next week of shows is the most grueling of the tour.
Riley and I keep sending each other voice memos every day, and even though we haven’t spent much time together in person since that night in my hotel room in Madrid, I feel like we’re getting to know each other more intimately than I have with anyone else, ever.
She narrates her Ryanair flight to Lisbon in a series of voice memos so I can imagine flying on the most budget of airlines, and one night at the hotel I finally play the song I wrote in Paris and send her a voice memo of it, even though I should really be trying to write something else.
During the show days, I try to focus. I’ve worked really hard to get here and I’m not about to let this tour suffer because I’m figuring my own life out, and so I try to push Riley and Hudson and everything out of my head altogether and only think about performing when I’m onstage.
It only half works.
It’s easy not to think about Hudson. Riley …
Riley is harder to keep off my mind. When I perform, I wonder if she’s watching me.
I think of her while I sing love songs, when I wink at the crowd.
I wonder what it would be like to run my fingers through her hair, to grab on to the belt loops of her denim shorts and pull her to me.
I want to guide her through crowds with my hand at the small of her back.
The amount of space that thoughts of Riley take up in my head is nothing like when I started to date any guy.
Dating a guy was fine. I’d go on dates and smile and laugh and do fun things and usually enjoy their company, and I’d always feel fairly certain I knew where they stood.
I could tell that they liked me and I knew at the end of the night they’d try to kiss me and after a few dates they’d want to invite me over to do more than kiss me and maybe it was average, maybe it was better than that, but all in all it was fine.
Riley is so much more than fine. And I can’t help but think with startling clarity that this is what falling for someone actually feels like.
I’m consumed with wondering what would have happened if I’d leaned in when we were at the pool in Spain or sitting in my bed.
I feel breathless at the thought of more with her, and I desperately want to know every little thing about her, even the most mundane details.
I want to watch her brush her hair and wear one of her sweaters to bed and smell her stale morning breath, and the thought of her not feeling the same way about me is a crushing concept.
There’s no element of the usual take-it-or-leave-it attitude I had with Hudson and the guys before him.
The thought of finally getting to really talk to her is both exhilarating and terrifying and I think that now that I’ve felt this, I won’t be able to go back to the half liking people who I was always comfortable settling for before.
But the thought of risking my career or success in any way is also unimaginable to me.
Breaking up with Hudson is one thing. But the tabloid headlines and scrutiny that would come with dating a woman make my stomach twist and my palms sweat.
So I just try to push down the feelings and keep giving the best performances I can while I grapple with all this.
Onstage in Zurich I sing and dance and try not to think about the fact that I haven’t seen Riley in the VIP tent since Madrid.
The shows have all been going well, and even though I still mess up the steps occasionally in the complicated pop numbers, it’s started to become something that fans find endearing.
They’ll make lighthearted videos of me missing a step and laughing or contrasting clips of my last tour’s basic stand-at-mic-with-guitar routine with this one, with text on them like, Me when I lied on my résumé but then have to learn Excel, When you’re the personality hire, or Giving us nothing?
Not in this economy! They’d sting if the captions weren’t so sweet, and I have to admit, they are kind of funny.
I repost them to show I’m in on the joke, and fans love it.
And it doesn’t hurt that when they go viral with my pop songs on them, the songs get a bump in the charts.
After the song ends, the platform I’m standing on sinks down into the stage, and two PAs rush over to me.
I peel off my sequined bodysuit, now drenched in sweat, and they help me pull on a flowing ball gown.
It has a crop top and shorts under it, because for my next change, I do it onstage while hidden by my dancers.
I sip water through a straw so my lipstick doesn’t move, and a PA hands me a tissue to dab any sweat with.
I can hear the music gearing up for the next song, so I take my guitar and step back onto the platform.
The stage above us parts and I rise upward, as do pairs of dancers all around me.
They begin to ballroom dance as I sing, since it’s a folksy ballad. “Ever After” was one of my first hits, and lately I hear it on the radio constantly.
I was the golden girl
But you caught my eye
And I swore I saw right through your tough guy disguise.
But everyone I met warned me
That you’d rust my golden glow
And so I tried, I tried
To stop it all, to stem the flow.
But every day I waited for you to let me down,
You caught me, you held me up, and you swore
We’d be more than anyone else in this godforsaken town.
So I throw away all the lectures
And when you take my hand on the bleachers
There aren’t any more maybes.
You’re my ever after, baby.
This song always gets an enthusiastic response.
Even the parents know it and sing along.
Since I’m standing still for “Ever After,” I’m able to see the fans as they sing along, and tonight there’s something happening in the front-row floor section.
Tons of phone lights are on, pointed at one guy, and for a moment I wonder if there’s some sort of medical emergency happening.
But then I see him drop to one knee in front of a girl and pull out a small box. I can’t hear them, but I can see the girl start to cry and throw her arms around him as everyone near them films the moment on their phones, and when I get to the end of the song, I lean in to the mic.
“I think I just saw someone find their ever after,” I say with a smile. “What are your names?”
The audience quiets, and the man shouts back. “Tess! Tess Adler. And I’m John.”
“Well, Tess and John, I am so happy for you. I can tell you have an ever-after kind of love. You’ll have to DM me the registry.” The crowd shrieks in delight and John pulls Tess in for a sweeping kiss. But I feel stunningly close to crying.
I’m never going to find my ever-after kind of love like this.
I’m holding love at arm’s length, when all of my songs are about striving to find the real thing, and for a moment I feel so empty, I don’t know how I’ll go on.
I know it’s been over with Hudson for ages.
I want to fight for Riley, and instead I’m ignoring her to let Hudson bolster my career.
And, if I’m being honest, because I’m worried about the career ramifications of being with a woman.
What am I doing? My mother wouldn’t even recognize this version of me, who’s entirely focused on success at the expense of everything else.
But I have a show to put on. So I force the thoughts away for the moment and I smile wide. “This next song is dedicated to Tess and John.”