43. Garrett
43
Garrett
F or the first time in my life, I understand why grooms cry when they first see their brides walk down the aisle. I’m not hearing wedding bells necessarily, but the moment Evelyn walks into the hall of replica letters wearing the dress she sent me a picture of the first time I took her to The Gas Station, I could weep. She’s incandescent.
I used to think of her as a whirlwind. She is definitely a force of nature, but something less disastrous than what I used to think of. To me, she’s sunshine cutting through the clouds. A rush of light that forces your eyes to adjust and view the world differently.
She does a spin. The black silk flows like water against her form. “Too much?”
“If it wouldn’t ruin everything we’ve done for Javi, I would pick you up and carry you away.” I walk up to her and pull her flush against me. I kiss her cheeks before finding her mouth.
“I think I would let you,” she says.
“Noted.”
She twists in my arms looking around. “This looks great.” The normal array of couches has been pushed to the corners of the room. The piano and a microphone have been set up along the wall furthest from the door. Buckets overflowing with daisies have been positioned along the perimeter.
“Are you ready?” I ask.
“Nervous, but in a good way. I haven’t performed one of my songs before. This will be my first time, even if I’m only at the piano and not singing.”
“Well, I haven’t performed one of your songs before either, so it will be mine too.”
“That’s such a bad joke,” she says but still lets out a light laugh.
“I know what you mean, though. It’ll be great and I’ll be right there with you,” I tell her.
Quinn walks into the room dressed in all black in the style of a stagehand or non-descript photographer. She’s agreed to slip in and film the entire thing.
“Javi just texted they’ll be here in five minutes. I’m going to turn off the light. He’ll flip it on when he comes in and that’s your cue to start,” Quinn instructs, adopting an all-business tone.
“Got it,” Evelyn says. We pull apart and take our positions, her at the piano and me behind the microphone, then the room descends into darkness.
Neither of us risk talking on the off chance we’ll ruin the moment. The first sign for us to prepare is the warm, purposefully too loud greeting from Haven.
“Someone must have turned off the lights,” says Javi.
Even though I was expecting it, the sudden light takes a moment to adjust to. Still, we only have a second to jump into the song. I give Evelyn a quick nod while the world is still coming into focus and she starts, not missing a beat. The intro is short, but just before I start singing there’s a quick gasp.
“Dance with me?” Javi asks. Kathrine nods through her awe and he pulls her close.
They sway together as I sing, and Evelyn plays along.
I’m in a rush to do nothing at all, except to do nothing with you.
It’s Sunday in July and I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.
As close to you as the sun when it kisses your skin.
At the end of the song, Javi sinks down onto one knee and starts to talk. I don’t listen, I’m caught up watching Evelyn. Tears are collecting along her lower lashes and her eyes are on the couple. This woman did this for perfect strangers. Sure, I might have said yes without her. But if it weren’t for these last few weeks, I’m not so sure I would have.
She raises her hand and wipes away a trailing tear.
“Yes, of course I’ll marry you. Yes, a thousand times yes,” Kathrine says, and I’m pulled back into the moment.
I move quietly to join Evelyn on the piano bench and start to play another of her songs. Her eyes gleam, and I lean in. “I told you I listened to them. I might have forgotten to say I learned them too.”
She kisses me and I don’t know how I manage it but I keep playing, it’s probably because I’ve played it so many times that I don’t have to think any more.
I continue through Lyla West’s slower songs until Javi and Kathrine are done. Quinn sends them the video and then they’re on their way to dinner.
“Is being a proposal planner a thing? We’d be great at it,” Oliver says, still riding the high of the day, a grin splitting his face.
We’re all back at the rental, doing our best to stretch the day as far as it can go. For the first time, we’ve set up the fire pit and we’re clustered around, sitting on Adirondack chairs.
“If you’re interested in a massive pay cut,” Quinn says pragmatically.
Oliver tuts and shakes his head. “You can’t put a price on love.”
“Well, you can put a price on rent and basic needs.” Quinn takes the poker that she appointed herself in charge of and pushes at one of the logs. “You like eating out too much and you’re still paying off your student loans.”
“Okay, fine. Kill my dreams.”
“Drama queen,” Quinn says.
I look down and see Evelyn beaming at her friends’ interaction.
“Let’s promise that this won’t be a one-time thing,” Oliver says.
Evelyn looks up at me. “Can I convince you to come visit with me?”
“I think I can be persuaded,” I say, and she nestles closer.
“I mean, if Ev moves back then you’ll have even more reason to replicate this with us. I mean without the fire pit because both of us are in apartments,” Oliver suggests. Evelyn stiffens under my touch, it’s the only indication she gives that she’s uncomfortable with this turn in conversation.
Evelyn swallows hard then tilts her face so our eyes lock. “I have the opportunity to interview for a position at my old job, a better position. I still haven’t given my answer yet.”
My stomach churns. She told me about her options, but the fact that there’s an actual job and not just some what-if possibility makes it more real. She doesn’t want to be in the spotlight, so what would that mean for us if I start up a solo career? I could just write songs. I think I could be happy with that. We can make it work. When it comes to her I’ll make sure it works.
But there’s another thing that starts to tear at me. Every time we’ve written or played together it’s been impossible to see a world where she stops. She is music to me, in so many ways. After today, after having her song be a part of someone’s love story like that? It’s hard to see the woman I know shy away from what she’s so gifted at. I just don’t get it.
“I know they’ve gotten a few good applicants, but if you’re not interested, that’s fine. We want you to be happy in New York, if that’s what you want,” Quinn says and there’s something odd in her tone, apologetic almost.
“Thanks.” Evelyn gives a soft smile.
“Okay. Something more urgent to think about,” Quinn says, “What the hell are we going to do with all the daisies?”
Oliver and Evelyn let out startled laughs and Quinn forges on. “I’m serious. We spent hundreds of dollars on those and have nowhere to put them.”
“I’ll take care of them in the morning,” I promise. “Pat will put them to use for the festival.”
The rest of the night goes with the same ease that comes after a collective victory. Slowly the fire starts to crumble into glowing embers. It’s just past eleven when Oliver and Quinn head out. They still need to pack for their early afternoon flight out of JFK tomorrow. Evelyn and I end up at the piano and she starts recording on her phone as she starts to play and jot down notes in her nearly full notebook.
She talks through the next three songs she wants to write. We still haven’t decided on the ending, up until now I thought it was obvious. I do my best to shrug it off. It’s her choice. Still, I can’t manage more than short answers.
“I like that,” I say after she works through a potential key change.
The corners of her mouth are drawn downward as she lifts her hands from the piano and puts them in her lap. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m fine,” I say.
“You’re not okay,” she says. “You’re hardly talking to me.”
“I just didn’t realize you had actual jobs you were considering. I should have assumed. It’s nothing.”
“I didn’t tell you and I should have,” she says and her shoulders slump. “I guess I got swept up with being here and wanted to forget I had to make the decision. There’s no going back after I take the leap, you know? I’ve been in limbo for so long, and now it’s all or nothing.” I expect her to look away, to hide from this moment but she reaches for me. “I got the email on my second day here. With everything going on it felt like the best plan B I could have.”
“I don’t know how to feel about that. I mean, am I just someone for you to get swept up in when you need a distraction?” I don’t want to believe it, but she ran here to hide from things, this isn’t the city. This is a vacation and just like songs, vacations end. “I know I’m dealing with shit, but that’s the first place my mind goes. I can’t help but think that when you’re done with your album and have to make decisions, you’ll realize that this won’t work anymore.”
“It will.”
“How do you know? Can you tell me right now what you want to do with the job offer? What about the label and your new contract? Those are your two options, right? Going back to a normal life or going for music?” The frantic questions spill out of me, and I feel like I’m losing her even while she’s next to me. I see it play out in front of me, the exact thing I’ve been avoiding by not being with her.
I’ll go back to the city where I’ve lived for so long. I’ll write music, like I used to. The days will pass. But I don’t want to learn what that would look like without her. I used to be content with life, but now she’s breathed a purpose into me that has irrevocably changed me. Content will never be enough for me again.
“I don’t know. What do you think I should do?” she asks earnestly.
It takes everything in me not to tell her to take the leap. I think it’s the right decision from what I know, but there’s so much I haven’t been in her life for, how could I make that choice?
I pull in a sharp breath. “I can’t make that decision for you. I won’t.”
“I just need an answer, you know.” Her voice cracks over the words. “Flip a coin. Shout what pops into your head first. Anything.”
“I wish I could give it to you.” It would be so easy, but I can’t. I just can’t and I need her to know why, but that requires me to break out truths I hate voicing. But maybe it’s time.
I reach out and grab one of her hands and my thumb immediately starts to trace lines across her knuckles.
It takes another moment for my thoughts to collect. “I’m going to tell you this because I need you to understand why I can’t tell you what you should choose.”
“Okay,” she says.
“You know why I got a vasectomy?”
“I’d just assumed you were being cautious.”
“When I was eighteen, Lana came to Vegas. She ended up running into Wes and I before the show and she just went off on me. Some of what she said I doubt she meant, but there are things that got to me. Things she’d said before, how I was responsible for depriving her of the life she always wanted to live. That she was better off without me.” If she never had me. “I got one of my migraines after and never made it on stage. I made the appointment the next day. I never wanted my actions to cause someone to resent me the way my mother did; I never wanted to risk the chance that I would bring a child into this world that I would resent either. I lived it. No one else needs to. I want to be with you, but whatever choice you make can’t be because you want to stay with me.”
I’ve lived so much of my life trying to make up for choices I had no part in. I want to support her, I want to be there for her, but I can’t make this choice for her. I can’t tip the balance of her life pushing her toward something because of her desperation to keep things stable between us.
I can’t make Evelyn love me. I don’t want to make her love me. I want her to choose to, the same way I’ve chosen her.
“It wouldn’t be like that,” she insists.
“Are you sure? I am one of the only people who know your secrets and it’s not because you told me. I stumbled on them. Yes, you’ve let me in, but I have to question if you would have if I didn’t know the rest. Did you choose me because I was the only option?” I don’t like admitting these thoughts, but I need her to understand. I need her to see that we are my favorite coincidence, but that doesn’t change everything else. “You never had a chance to hide from me.”
“You are the only option, but not for any of those reasons,” she insists. “God, Garrett. When I’m around you I’m never scared that you’ll look away. I know that if I’m too much for others you won’t feel that way. But also because silence doesn’t feel like silence with you. I’d do anything with you. I do want the answer about how to keep you. But if that means I have to find it myself, I’ll figure it out.”
“I know you will.” I need to believe in her. It’s hard to relinquish this, but for us to work, I’ll trust her.
“I will. I’ll figure it out,” she echoes. “Give me until the end of the festival. Let me think about it and we can enjoy this time.”