Chapter Forty Elton Emu #3
I take Ava off to the side and grab my guitar case to bring with us.
Someone pulls up a chair for us and passes over my abandoned coffee cup.
I sit and pull Ava into my lap as we watch a scene where two birds chat with a child actor about how sharing is caring.
In the corner, there’s that new puppet I don’t recognize.
The ostrich. He occasionally plays piano by bashing his head into it.
It’s so ridiculous I cover my mouth not to laugh.
I cup a palm over Ava’s mouth when she giggles a bit too.
They perform a few more takes, similar to how they filmed our scenes, and there’s another collective round of clapping, like they can’t help but congratulate everyone on a good job with every effort.
It’s so positive.
I want to drink it in.
And then I feel her before I see her.
Beverly stands next to our chair. Her head tilts to the side as she watches the stage. Her shoulder brushes against mine, and I want nothing more than to lean closer.
“Thanks for doing this,” she says. “This is for you.” She extends a small sticker. It’s the logo of Birds on the Block, with all five of the main birds’ faces smiling back. I tuck it into my back pocket.
She’s so close, warm, and still smelling like grapefruit. It washes over me, more than I expect it to. I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to not see her smile for another three months or however long it may be.
We should tap the brakes.
Bullshit.
Total bullshit.
I wish I’d never said that. Another, more rational part of me knows it was the right call. We’ve both been drowning in work these past three months. She got this show off the ground. Could she have done that if she was also distracted by a boyfriend in Europe? I don’t know.
“We’re just happy to be back in town,” I say.
Happy to see you.
“Europe wasn’t an endless party?” she teases.
“Sure, if you call potty training a toddler a party.”
“Don’t talk about Poe like that.”
I bite back a smile, watching as the ostrich puppet is taken offstage.
“He’s new, isn’t he?” I ask.
“Oh.” Beverly flushes red. “Yeah, that’s Elton Emu.”
“Finch’s idea?”
“No, mine.”
“Thought you didn’t like musicians.”
She looks at the ground, winding her hands together, chipping her bright nail polish with her thumb. Then she forces a smile and a laugh. “Yeah, well, piano-playing ones aren’t so bad.”
Every muscle in me tenses.
God, I want to kiss her.
I want to haul her over my shoulder and take her home with me.
I want to play piano for her.
But I already have, haven’t I?
I bend down, pop open my guitar case, and pull out a CD. I extend it to Beverly.
“My new album,” I say. “For you.”
Her eyes dance between mine, really taking me in for the first time since I arrived.
“You look tired,” she observes.
I bark out a laugh, slapping the CD to my palm. “This album was hard work.”
I offer it to her again. She finally takes it, running her thumb over the jewel case.
“I also have these…” I dig into my back pocket, finding the tickets that my fingers have been itching to give her all morning. They’re four tickets—one for her, Finch, Rob, and Nana.
“Our last stop on the tour is tomorrow night,” I say, handing them over. “This album releases at midnight, so we’re surprise playing a lot of the songs on there. I’d love for you to come.”
I want to see you again. I want to spend more time with you. I want to perform for you.
“It’s all general admission,” I say. “I wish I could get you something better, but it’s a smaller venue than usual. A little intimate homecoming thing. Only a few thousand.”
“That’s considered small?” she asks.
“Well, we’re used to twenty thousand.”
“Not fifty?” she teases. “Hmm. Gotta step up your game, Griffin.” I chuckle as she traces a finger over the remaining printed text. “VIP backstage tour?”
“Yeah, I included that in case you want to come early. Figured Rob would love that.”
She laughs. “I told you if I ever attended your concert, I’d go with someone else.”
I almost choke on my laugh. She does, too, but her face has fallen completely.
“You can think about it,” I quickly add.
She gives a smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Yeah, I’ll look at my schedule.”
We should tap the brakes echoes so loudly it hurts. But the words that truly matter tear at my chest even more.
I love you.
I can’t stop thinking about you.
I’ll figure out how to make it work.
I don’t care if we only see each other once a year.
I just want to make sure I’m seeing you.
But I’m the one who said we needed to slow down. Maybe she’s over me now. Maybe I’m just another musician who broke her heart.
Someone calls her from across the studio, and she jumps.
“Beverly, you got a second?”
“Yeah,” she calls back, then turns to me. Her exhale is shaky. “I guess I gotta go.” She gives a weak smile, then playfully bumps her shoulder against mine. “I’ll see you later.”
I love you, Beverly Lark.
I nod my chin toward the CD in her hand. “Listen to it. Come to the concert. Please.”
She opens her mouth to say something, but another call of “Beverly!” grants me only a smile before she walks off. It feels like every bit of warmth in me goes with her.
I can’t make her do anything she doesn’t want to. And I wouldn’t want to. If this is the last time I see her for a while, then so be it. A little bit of Beverly Lark is better than nothing.
Ava tugs my pant leg. “Home, Daddy?”
I sigh. “Yeah. Let’s head home.”
Except I think ours just walked away.