38. What’s a Moment?
38
WHAT’S A MOMENT?
FELIX
Here Is Gone By The Goo Goo Dolls
T he backstage area is a storm of movement, with roadies hustling, bands weaving in and out, and the faint hum of music bleeding through to the backstage area. The cramped space feels like it’s closing in on me, the buzz of activity amplifying the tension in my chest.
The only thing keeping me tethered is Maggie. Her presence is an anchor in the storm, and I reach for her like I’ve done many times before. My hands cradle her face, and I press my forehead to hers. I close my eyes, just for a second, to ground myself in her.
“Five minutes,” Dusty announces, breezing past us with a clipboard in hand, his voice cutting through the din like a whip.
“I hate this,” I whisper, the words slipping out before I can stop them. I don’t expect her to hear me over the noise, but she does.
Her lips find mine, soft yet urgent, but something about the kiss feels… off. It’s like playing a chord that should work but doesn’t. Sour where it should be sweet. Or maybe I’m just imagining it. I want to ask her, to dig into what’s lurking beneath the surface, but before I can, she pulls back, her breath warm against my cheek.
“You gotta go,” she murmurs, her voice steady but her eyes flickering with something I can’t quite place. “We both have jobs to do.” She offers me a small, almost apologetic smile and steps back, her hands slipping away from mine. It feels colder without her touch, even in the sticky heat of the evening.
I never thought of being on stage as a job, but tonight I do. Everything feels heavier, like I’m dragging myself through molasses. We haven’t had the chance to really talk about what happened earlier. Not that I even know what I’d say. What is there to say?
“You’re on,” Dusty calls again, his tone sharp, and I force myself to tear my eyes away from Maggie. She’s already busy, camera in hand, her focus somewhere else. I join Bash, Dex, and Gunner at the edge of the stage, the roar of the crowd swelling to meet us. Normally, that sound ignites something in me—excitement, adrenaline—but tonight it feels hollow.
I sling my guitar over my shoulder and step up to the mic, the stage lights blinding and hot. Thousands of faces blur together, their energy palpable, but I can’t connect with it. My usual enthusiasm feels forced, like I’m wearing someone else’s skin. I’m just trying to get through this set, one song at a time. It’s the worst kind of feeling, like I’m an imposter in my own life. All I can think is, we should’ve canceled .
A negative pregnancy test was supposed to be the best outcome. Neither of us is ready for that kind of responsibility, and up until a few hours ago, parenthood wasn’t even on my radar. But now… now I can’t shake the ache in my chest. Why the fuck does it feel like I lost something? There’s this tiny, insistent voice in the back of my mind whispering that maybe, just maybe, I wanted it to go the other way.
I glance backstage, where Maggie stands with her camera, her face partially obscured by the viewfinder. Normally, I can read her like a book, but tonight she’s a closed one, and it’s driving me insane. Nothing’s changed, yet everything has at the same time.
Between songs, as the applause dies down, Bash steps closer, his brow furrowed. “Dude, you good?” he asks, his voice low enough that only I can hear.
I shake my head, running a hand through my hair. “I don’t know,” I admit, my voice cracking slightly.
I must be wearing my emotions on my sleeve for him to even ask. “Kind of going through something,” I add, pacing in front of him.
He stops me with a firm hand on my arm. “What do you want to do?”
“Do you think we could try something?” I ask, glancing at him.
Bash studies me for a moment, his face unreadable, before finally nodding. “Yeah. Whatever you need.”
“Just follow my lead,” I say, stepping back to the mic. The crowd is starting to stir, their anticipation building, and I take a deep breath to steady myself. My fingers find the opening chords of the song I’d been working on—the one I played for Maggie earlier.
The venue falls quiet, the stage lights dimming until it’s just me and my guitar. The intimacy of the moment feels raw, like I’m baring my soul to a room full of strangers. My voice is steady but low, carrying the weight of everything I’ve been holding inside. Every chord, every strum, every lyric feels like a confession. I picture Maggie in my arms, her cheek resting against my chest, and pour that memory into the song.
When I hit the bridge, Bash’s guitar slides in, his sound complementing mine perfectly. Gunner and Dex follow, layering their instruments in a way that feels seamless, organic. For the first time tonight, we’re all in sync, and it feels… right. Sacred, even.
You got a hold on me,
And I lost my hold on everything else
Turns out,
I didn’t even know myself
Until that one second…
As the song swells, the crowd begins to react, holding up their phones like tiny stars. The lights sway in unison, creating a galaxy that moves to the rhythm of the music. It’s breathtaking, and for a moment, I let myself get lost in it.
I glance toward Maggie, catching her just as she lowers her camera and looks at me. Our eyes meet, and it’s like the rest of the world fades away. There’s something in her gaze—something unspoken—but before I can decipher it, I turn my attention back to the crowd.
The song crescendos, and I unstrap my guitar, handing it off so I can grab the mic and move to the edge of the stage. The crowd surges, their energy feeding into mine, and I let it carry me.
Didn’t think I needed a queen,
Until you came on the scene
Let me hold you for just one second
So you can see what I mean
I continue to sing the chorus over and over as I start to wave my arm in time with the melody. The lights fall in sync with my movements. It’s like a small galaxy is bowing to my whim, and it’s magic. I turn around and tilt my chin at Bash and he nods with a smirk. Fuck me, I don’t know how we learned to communicate like this, but he knows what I’m saying.
With a sharp motion, we cut the music, the amphitheater plunging into silence. The crowd erupts, their cheers and whistles echoing into the night.
* * *
“Okay, so that was amazing,” Bash says, his voice brimming with excitement as we step off the stage, the lingering hum of the crowd still buzzing in my ears.
I have to admit, for the first time in a long while, I felt completely immersed in a song. It wasn’t just the lyrics or the melody—it was the way Bash, Gunner, and Dex fell into sync with me, like we’d been playing together for years instead of just one summer. Any lingering doubts I had about recording an album with them? Gone.
“Yeah, it was,” I reply, a breathy laugh escaping me as I grab a towel to wipe the sweat from my face.
Dex twirls his drumsticks with a cocky grin. “Just goes to show I’ve still got it. Gotta call Ivy.” He wiggles his eyebrows in that exaggerated way of his, and I can’t help but roll my eyes.
“Still keeping up that charade?” Gunner smirks, giving Dex a playful shove that sends him stumbling toward the backstage area.
“Whatever,” Dex grumbles, steadying himself.
Gunner’s laugh echoes off the walls, and they disappear into the chaos of roadies and crew members packing up equipment. I hang back, scanning the crowd for Maggie.
“Hey,” I say.
Her lips part, like she’s about to say something more, but all she offers is, “Hey.”
She shifts her weight, her sneaker scuffing against the concrete floor. It’s such a small movement, but it feels heavy, there’s so much unsaid hanging between us.
“I didn’t know you were gonna perform that song,” she finally says, her voice quiet but steady.
I blink, caught off guard. That’s not where I thought this was going. “I didn’t either. It just sort of… happened,” I admit, rubbing the back of my neck.
She tilts her head slightly, and the summer breeze sneaks around the corner, sending a few stray strands of her hair across her face. She doesn’t brush them away, and for some reason, that small detail twists something in my chest.
“I don’t understand,” I say.
“It’s just… of all the songs, you picked that one.”
“Are you upset about it?” I press, stepping closer, though I stop myself before closing the distance completely.
She moves to the side, out of the crew’s path, and I follow her instinctively.
“I just wasn’t prepared, that’s all,” she says.
“I didn’t plan it, Maggie. Especially after…” I trail off, the words catching in my throat.
“But you did perform it.” She exhales.
“I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable. Believe me, that’s the last thing I wanted.”
Her lips press into a thin line, and for the first time, I notice the way her fingers tighten around her camera strap. She’s holding it like a lifeline, like it’s the only thing grounding her.
“Well it did,” she says angrily and I look at her confused. “I mean, you get to perform that song, let it all out on stage, and I had to stand there and film it. Do you know how that made me feel?”
I blink, unsure what the right thing to say is.
“And how do you feel?” I ask.
She turns away from me, chewing on her fingernails.
“How am I supposed to know what you want if you don’t tell me?”
“Because I don’t know.” She throws her hands up and I feel helpless. “It felt personal and you made it public!”
“Maggie, I didn’t…”
“I’ve had to share you since the day we met and I get it, you’re a public figure, but there are some things that I want to be just between you and me.”
I feel the weight of her words like a heavy press against my chest as understanding blooms.
We stand in silence for a beat while the chaos of backstage teems around us.
“How did we go from being in that hotel room,” I start, my voice breaking slightly, “where I’ve never felt closer to anyone in my whole life, to…” I gesture to the space between us, which feels impossibly vast despite being only a few feet. “To this?”
Her eyes glisten, and for a moment, I think she might cry, and I desperately want to wrap my arms around her but it feels like I can’t move the two feet it would take to close the distance between us.
“I’m sorry.” Not just for the song, but for everything that’s led us here.
“You don’t need to be sorry, Felix,” she says with exasperation. “And you don’t have to be the one to take the blame for my…” she leaves the sentence hanging.
“For your what?”
“You don’t need to be my knight in shining armor, saving me from myself, taking the blame for all my fuck ups, and for being so… nice,” she accuses.
“So now I’m the bad guy because I’m nice?”
“You’re not the bad guy!”
She shakes her head, her gaze dropping to the floor. “Maybe…” Her voice falters. “Maybe we need to take a step back.”
I feel those words deep in my bones and they make their way right to my heart.
“What are you saying, Maggie?”
“I just… I need a moment to process everything.”
“What’s a moment?”
“I don’t know,” she says, her tone sharp and defensive.
I rake a hand through my hair, trying to find the right words, but all I manage is, “So, what now?”
“I don’t know. I’m tired. Maybe if we both just get some sleep…”
I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Yeah.”
I hook my thumb in the direction of the trailers. “I need a shower,” I give her a wane smile.
She holds up her camera, forcing a small smile. “I should get some editing done. We can talk more tomorrow.”
“Yeah.”
We stand there, the silence stretching between us, until finally, she takes a step forward. It’s like gravity—pulling us together despite everything. I meet her halfway, and when our lips connect, it’s achingly soft, a kiss that feels like both a goodbye and a promise.
When we pull apart, the tremor in my chest is almost unbearable. And as she walks away, I can’t shake the feeling that something between us has shifted in a way we can’t undo.