Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
Wynter
The band has two days off the following week, and Ross and I decide to take a day to explore Vancouver.
He said something about going out on a date, but we’re going to play it by ear instead of making plans or reservations.
We have nowhere to be and nothing expected of us until tomorrow, so it’s nice to spend time together without anyone else.
We’re alone at night, of course, but that’s different.
This is about spending quality time together that has nothing to do with sex, the band, or Ross’s music.
This is about us, Ross and Wynter, the couple.
We start the day at a little bistro with a great view of the water. It’s quiet on a weekday and we squeeze into a booth sitting next to each other. Ross slides his arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer.
“The one thing I love about touring is seeing so many different places,” he says.
“Sometimes we’re in and out before we have time to enjoy anything, but there are also lots of times where we can.
Like today. The band tries really hard to build in time to be tourists when we’re overseas.
It doesn’t always work out but I have to admit I’ve gotten to do things a lot of people never can. ”
“Yeah, I’ve been lucky to have traveled with Harley quite a bit. Otherwise, I don’t know that I would have ventured out of the country.”
“Hopefully, we’ll get to visit lots of places. And not just when we’re on tour.”
“That would be fun.”
“What’s your dream vacation?” he asks.
She pauses, knitting her brows together thoughtfully.
“You know, I never really thought about it. It was always Paris in the past, but now that I’ve been there, I’m not sure that’s the dream anymore.
Maybe Greece? Island hopping, eating all the food, lying on those glorious beaches you see in pictures… I think that’s my dream now.”
“I could be down for island hopping in Greece,” he says with a chuckle.
“Of course, then there’s Egypt. Seeing the pyramids. And also Japan. I guess I have a lot of dreams.”
“Nothing wrong with having dreams. I mean, look at me.”
“Is music all you wanted to do when you were a kid?”
“I started singing in the choir in high school and started a band right after I graduated. I don’t know that rock and roll was always what I wanted to do but I knew it would be something in music.
Ross & the Rock-it’s just happened. I went to high school with our guitarist, Joey, and he knew Dixon—Craig Dixon, our drummer.
From there, we held auditions for a bass player.
Rambo walked in and said we were going to hire him. And we did.”
“Do you still miss them?” I ask softly.
“It comes in waves. Once I got over the initial grief, which took a really long time, I tried not to think about them at all. For the longest time, I battled with why I lived when everyone else died.”
“Did you ever discover why?”
“Not really. I had the flu, so Clara wasn’t in my bunk with me.
I’d taken something to knock me out and I was wrapped in a bunch of blankets because I was cold.
The doctors said that may have saved my life.
Everyone else was up at the front of the bus, playing cards, and we were hit head-on. I was in the back.”
“I’m sorry, babe.” I wish I could tell him how awful I feel but I know he doesn’t want pity. “Did they get the person that hit you?”
He nods. “Drunk driver. I think he did three years or something.”
“For killing all those people?” I’m incredulous.
“It wasn’t intentional. He was an alcoholic, impaired. You know how the attorneys spin it. I spiraled after the sentencing, drinking and partying to numb the pain, which backfired because that’s when I started having nightmares.”
“Do you have the nightmares more when you think about them or when you don’t?”
“There’s really no rhyme or reason,” he says. “They’ve slowed down a lot in the last year, and I don’t know if that’s good or bad.”
“And the driver got out of prison?”
“Yeah. Long time ago. The justice system is fucked up, but if we’re being honest, what difference does it make? Whether he’s in prison or not, nothing is going to bring them back.”
“Maybe there’s a way to honor them with the new album.”
He smiles. The kind of smile that’s equal parts amused and exasperated.
“What?” I ask when he doesn’t respond right away. “You know you want to record new music.”
“I do, but I still haven’t decided if I’m ready to risk everything for a pipe dream. That kind of success usually only happens once in a lifetime. I’d be na?ve to assume I can pull it off again. I appreciate your support, truly, but I have to figure this out on my own.”
“Okay.” I take a sip of coffee and stare out at the water. “You know what’s weird?”
“What?”
“I don’t think I ever had big dreams. Nursing was a career. A way to make money, support myself, and I do enjoy helping people. But I don’t think it was ever a dream. A calling. It was just…a job.”
“Do you have a dream, or a calling?”
I slowly shake my head. “No, I don’t think so. Is that weird? That’s weird, right?”
“I don’t think so. I think there’s a lot of pressure put on us at a young age to find ourselves.
They’re not talking about maturity, they’re forcing us to figure out what to do for the rest of our lives.
Many of us just aren’t ready, so we—in this case, you—choose a career that will pay the bills.
Something we can tolerate. Ostensibly, for the rest of our lives.
I don’t think you’re the first person to say what you just said. ”
“I think I just assumed I would get married, have kids, and focus on family,” I say in a voice so soft it’s almost a whisper, like I’m embarrassed to say it out loud.
“And as a strong, modern, independent woman, that’s shameful, right?”
My gaze snaps to his. “Do you think it is?”
“No. But it’s obvious you do.”
“I guess so. I mean, the right guy didn’t come along in my twenties and then River was born, and my sister needed me.
We were finally figuring that out when Carter died and she spiraled all over again.
I had to focus on the two of them, so it was easy to just forget about myself. And now I’ve met you.”
“Does that change anything?”
“Yes and no. I still want and need to work, but watching you struggle has made it clear to me that I’ve never allowed myself the luxury of dreaming. Not about anything big. A trip or winning the lottery or falling in love, yes, but not—”
“Wait. You don’t think falling in love is a big deal?” He cocks his head curiously.
I’m thoughtful for a few seconds, ruminating.
“I guess…I’ve had such bad luck with love, and men, that I made myself believe that it’s not.”
“I promise you—it is. A very big deal. A huge deal. There’s nothing better than falling in love with someone who loves you back the same way.
Who shares your dreams, at least in the sense of supporting them, and wants to go along for the ride.
But that doesn’t mean giving up their own dreams. It’s about finding a way to merge the two. ”
“What was Clara’s dream?”
“To teach and then write children’s books.
She also wanted to make a home for us. A place I could come back to between tours that would feel happy, safe, and welcoming.
I mean, she planned to travel with me too, but obviously, at twenty-one we had no idea what the future would look like as far as kids and stuff.
We figured we had all the time in the world for that.
Short-term, she wanted to teach so she could get up close and personal with the kids she wanted to write books for.
Then she would retire and write those books while I made music. ”
“Oh.” I can’t help but smile. “I think I would have liked her.”
“I think so too. Want to see a picture?”
“Yes.” And I really do. Not just because I’m curious, but because I don’t want his past to feel like some dirty little secret.
“This was us the night of the record release party,” he says, turning his phone around.
I gently take his phone and stare down at the picture.
“I want to be jealous,” I say after a beat, “but I’m just so sad for you.” To my surprise, I feel tears welling up in my eyes.
“Hey, don’t do that.” He reaches over and brushes my tears away. “I want to share my past with you, but I don’t want you to cry.”
“I’m sad for her, that her life was cut short for no reason. The woman in that picture was so happy, so full of life.”
That makes him smile. “I’d like to think she was. I mean, I know she was. We were happy and in love. She, uh, thanked me for loving her before she died.”
“They didn’t die right away?” I ask, overwhelmed with sadness for him all over again.
“Dixon and Rambo did. Joey died on the way to the hospital. Clara died in my arms on the side of the road before help got there.”
“Oh, Ross.” I lean over and rest my head on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize…I don’t know what I thought but for some reason I assumed they died on impact.”
“Not all of them.” He gently kisses my forehead. “And it’s okay. Don’t be sad. It was a long time ago. I’m just glad we got to say goodbye.”
“I’m sorry, babe.” I nestle closer.
“I have no regrets,” he says after a moment.
“If the choice was never having met any of them, so I wouldn’t lose them, I would still choose to do everything exactly the same way.
Clara taught me about true love. My band taught me about true friendship and making amazing music. I wouldn’t trade that.”
“I wouldn’t trade the friendship I had with Carter either, even knowing I was going to lose him. And I think Harley would say the same thing.”
“I have to agree with that as well.”
“And now, because of them—collective them from different parts of our lives—we’ve found each other. We wouldn’t be here right now if not for them.”
He cups the side of my face and leans in for a kiss. “Amen to that.”