Chapter Twenty-One #2
They strolled along the deck of the ship, and John almost reached for her hand again.
Instead, he shoved his hands in his pockets, tilting his head back so he could see the stars.
It was hard to believe that only a day had passed since he’d been walking along the deck in a similar way after the Silver Cuties show, except alone and thinking about Micah asleep back in his bed.
Their history was so long and this one day felt somehow like the longest part of it.
He could tell she was similarly in her own head as they walked, and he wondered what she was thinking about. But then he didn’t have to wonder, because she took a breath and asked the question that had obviously been on her mind.
“What did you want to talk to me about?” she said. “Back at the shuffleboard game.”
The last thing he wanted to talk about was ElectricOh!, but he couldn’t put it off indefinitely. “The band was discussing a potential reunion tour,” he said. “And wondering if you’d be into it.”
She stopped for a second, looking at him. “A reunion tour.”
John ran his hand through his hair. He really wished he hadn’t agreed to be the person to bring it up with her. For one thing, he knew less about it than anyone else—it hadn’t been his idea.
“I don’t know how it would work,” he said. “Tie it to the anniversary of an album? Play a couple festivals? That’s all the kinds of stuff we could figure out, I guess, but yeah. Get ElectricOh! back together, at least for this one specific purpose.”
She was standing very still, and everything that had felt so open to him only a few minutes ago now seemed totally closed off. “And you want to do it.”
He didn’t know what he wanted. He certainly hadn’t signed on to this cruise with any hope or even desire to get the band back together again. But it had felt magical, being back onstage, playing their songs. And if it meant an excuse to see more of Micah, well, that also sounded pretty good to him.
“I think it’s interesting,” he said. “Worth some consideration, at least.”
She pressed her lips together, giving a nod like he really had given her something to think about. But John knew before she even spoke that whatever those thoughts were right now, they weren’t good.
“The band discussed this,” she said. “The four of you. The band. Whose idea was it? Let me guess—Ryder’s?”
Since John hadn’t been present for those initial discussions, he had no idea, but he would put money that Micah was right.
Frankie and Steve both seemed satisfied enough with the way their lives were going after ElectricOh!
—Frankie had their session work, Steve had his family and his job at Best Buy, and he could see them going along with the idea but not coming to it themselves.
Ryder was the one who had a chip on his shoulder about everything and would want a chance to try to rewrite their legacy.
Normally, John’s knee-jerk reaction to anything that originated with Ryder was to reject it, but this was such a big decision, he didn’t want to act too rashly.
Some of what he was thinking must’ve shown on his face, because Micah’s eyes narrowed. “He asked you to talk to me, didn’t he? He knew if he tried it I’d just say no. But he knew if it was you…”
John felt something slipping away, but he also knew there was no point in being anything less than honest. “Yes,” he said. “He asked me to talk to you.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, looking out over the water. A strand of her hair was blowing across her eyes, but she didn’t seem to care. “Was that what this was all about?” she asked. “The—what we just did? You figured you could seduce me into going along with it?”
The very idea was so wrong, so ugly , that John was struck speechless. That had never even crossed his mind, and he didn’t know whether to be more anxious to reassure her or more angry that it had crossed her mind in the first place.
“That’s what you think of me,” he said. “After all this time.”
She swallowed, and it could just be the shadows on the dark ship, but he thought he could make out a small purple mark he’d left on her pale throat, next to her dandelion tattoo.
She still wouldn’t look at him, and he felt himself veering toward angry, which was an emotion he hated feeling.
He hated it more directed toward Micah, because he’d so rarely felt it with her.
He hated it because he knew there were other emotions underneath it, deeper still, that were even harder to look at head-on.
“If you don’t want to do it, say no,” he said.
“I don’t really care. But just remember that at one point, Micah, we were a band .
The five of us. We were a group of people who made something together, who supported each other, who rode the highs and lows together.
Maybe we can’t get that back. Maybe we shouldn’t try.
But I’m not going to erase what we had then, either. It’s too important, it’s—”
Now it was his turn to take a hard swallow. It wasn’t just the band, obviously. It was them . Even before they’d had the band, it had always been them .
“It’s probably four o’clock in the fucking morning,” he said. “And I’m sure we’re contractually obligated somehow to be on that beach. You can think about it and let everyone else know your decision. I’m heading to bed.”
He waited a second, to see what she might say.
Only a few minutes ago, he’d assumed they’d be sleeping together that night—not even having sex necessarily, just sleeping together in the way they’d done so many times before.
He’d been looking forward to it. The ability to snuggle up against her if he wanted to, to hold her if he wanted to, to open his eyes the next morning knowing she’d still be there.
But all she said was “Okay. Have a good night.”
The echo of his earlier words had to be deliberate, and they only frustrated him more. That and the fact that she’d directed them toward the water, and not toward him.
“You, too,” he said. And then he walked away, heading toward the interior part of the ship.
Right before he disappeared through the door, he glanced back once to see her still standing there, a lone figure dressed in black, her hair bright in the moonlight.
She was still staring out at the ocean, and he felt a sudden pang of…
what? It wasn’t as easy to name as the anger.
It was a feeling that could pull him under if he let it.
John realized they’d never gotten to see the port. At this point, they’d see it in daylight, and they’d do it separately. He opened the door, and left her behind.