Not This Time

Jon: July 12, 2013

     I led the band offstage. The crowd was still screaming for more, but we'd already done the last encore and I was wiped out. One of the roadies handed me a water bottle as I made my way toward the dressing room. I twisted off the cap, took a big swig, and then poured a little bit over my head.
     Normally, by the time we got backstage, Richie would have made some loud comment about how awesome the show was. He'd been gone for about three months by then, but it was still an adjustment. He'd chosen to stop coming to work and I didn't have any choice but to fire him. Thankfully, Phil was there to fill in and tour with us. Just like Hugh took over when Alec left in '94 so that the show could go on. That was the important part. The music was all that mattered.
     The rest of the band was heading into the hospitality room, but I was dripping wet from pouring the water bottle over my head. "I'm gonna go grab a towel really quick," I told David, walking backward toward my dressing room, "I'll be right in."
     "Whatever!" David called out jokingly in response as he walked into the room. I smirked and turned back around so that I could see where I was going. I was ready to change clothes and cool off for a minute or two after that show. It really was an awesome show.
     I was just about to step into my dressing room when I noticed the woman down the hall. An unexplained chill ran down my spine. She was walking away from me, pointing at each door with a pencil as she passed it. I just stared for a minute. I didn't understand what she was doing. She paused at the end of the hall, looking at something in her hand. When she turned to face me, I couldn't believe my eyes.
     "Nina?" I breathed.
     She didn't respond, of course. She was down the hall and it looked like she had headphones in. She was nodding along to her music and examining whatever she had written on the notepad in her hand as she strolled slowly and casually down the hallway toward me. All I could do was stare as she drew closer. She looked exactly like the last time I'd seen her. Less makeup, but not a day older.
     I could see her mouthing along to whatever she was listening to. She bit her lip as she wrote something else on her notepad. She was about five feet away from me when she finally glanced up. At first, her gaze immediately dropped to her notepad again, unconcerned with my presence, but almost as quickly as it had dropped, it returned to me.
     There it was again. She looked shocked and confused, just like she had the last time I'd seen her all those years ago. We just stood there staring at each other for a minute until her notepad fell out of her hand and hit the floor with a very flat-sounding smack. She jolted and looked down at her notepad, then back up at me, before kneeling down to pick it up. She looked flustered.
     Once she had straightened, she fumbled with her pockets, looking for something. I just watched and waited, still trying to figure out what she was doing there. She finally yanked her headphones out of her ears and stuffed them into one of her hoodie pockets. Then she looked back up at me. She looked like she wanted to say something but she wasn't really sure what.
     There were so many things that I wanted to say to her. So many things that I wanted to ask. I didn't know where to begin. I honestly didn't know if I was still angry with her for leaving or if I just wanted to know, now, if she had actually meant to go. I wanted to know why she looked so hurt back in 2006, and why she'd left me that book. Was it supposed to be some sort of explanation? It was the only thing that made sense, if any of it were possible.
     "Damnit," she sighed finally, "I was just getting used to living with it."
     I wasn't sure how to react to that. Before I got a chance, however, she excused herself and started to stalk past me. Where the hell was she going? What was she doing here anyway? Nothing about this made sense. I reached out and grabbed her arm before she could get away.
     "Woah, woah, Nina! Hold on a minute," I scoffed. She looked at my hand where it held her arm and then up at me, like she couldn't believe I was touching her. She looked surprised again. I shook my head at her. "You are not gonna run away again," I demanded, "You've got some explaining to do!"
     Without letting go of her, I tugged the door to my dressing room door open and ushered her inside. She didn't protest. In fact, she dragged along more like a rag doll. As soon as I'd gotten the door closed, I let go of her arm. She strolled further into the room and looked around as I grabbed the towel I'd originally planned on getting.
     I wiped my face and dried my hair. "Okay," I grumbled, dropping the towel back on my rollaway. "What are you doing here?"
     "I have a show tomorrow," Nina mumbled, plopping down onto my couch. "I was checking out what kind of connections I had access to and how much space I'd have for each band member," she explained casually, "That sort of thing. I had permission from the venue."
     "You have a band?"
     She shrugged and made some vague motion with her hand. "Yeah. We're called Tell. You probably haven't heard of us," she grumbled, "We've only got the one album." I paused and thought about it. I'd heard that band name before. Stephanie had been really excited about this one new band back in December. I could recall her and Jesse talking about how they'd love to see Tell in concert. Stephanie thought the songs were great and Jesse thought the singer was hot. I grimaced and shuddered a little at the thought of my son looking at my ex-girlfriend that way.
     "I didn't realize Tell was your band," I mumbled, now regretting some of the conversations I'd had with my almost-adult son.
     "Oh cool," she scoffed sarcastically, "You have heard of us."
     "Yeah. My, uh," I stammered, "my daughter loves some of your songs." I paused and ran my hand through my hair. "I just didn't realize they were yours."
     Nina didn't say anything at first. I wasn't looking at her, but I could tell she didn't want to be there. The tension in the room was hard to describe. When I looked over, her lips were pressed into a thin line and she wouldn't look at me.
     "If I sign something for her, can I go?" she suggested, still not looking at me. I wasn't sure if she was really considering my presence when she went on muttering to herself. "I really just wanna go back to my hotel room and die....and maybe break some things." She paused again and I watched her shake her head in those rapid, tiny shakes that I hadn't seen in decades. "Fuck," she sighed, her voice breaking a tiny bit as she leaned her head back on the back of the couch, "Just when I thought I was getting the hang of it!"
     I could feel the confusion on my face. I couldn't tell if she was angry or anxious or both. Probably both, knowing Nina. I pulled a chair up to the couch and sat down. She didn't even bother to look at me. She was just staring at the ceiling and shaking her head.
     "Look at me," I spat.
     "Why?" she snapped back as she sat up and glared. "Who are you?"
     Her reaction caught me off guard. All I could do was gape at her. She really didn't remember? I knew the book she'd left had hinted that she might not, but it never outright said it. I just wasn't sure what to say. She was so angry and I didn't know how to help. I didn't know if she'd let me if she didn't know who I was.
     Her glare intensified when I didn't answer her. "Look, I know I know you and I'm sure you know me too, I just. I don't know how and I've been trying so hard just to forget about it ever since I saw you in Nashville! And it is killing me!" In her frustration, she articulated every word, just like she used to. She didn't seem to care, though. She just shook her head again and repeated herself. "Who are you?"
     The nostalgia faded away again when she asked that. Right. She didn't know me. It still was still pretty weird. I didn't know whether I should feel hurt or not. If the book was to be believed, then it wasn't even her fault.
     "I'm Jon," I whispered. I wasn't sure what else to say.
     Nina's eyes narrowed and she shrugged. "Jon?" she sneered, shaking her head. "So fucking helpful," she grumbled sarcastically, "thank you! That clears it all up!"
     She tossed a hand up in defeat and looked away from me again. I didn't say anything. I'd learned from twenty plus years of marriage that sometimes the woman just needed a chance to cool off without me running my stupid mouth. Nina rubbed her face and continued her hands through her hair. I waited patiently for her to collect herself.
     "Look, whatever happened in the 80s," she finally began again. She looked like she didn't want to be talking about this. I knew that look well. She'd worn it a lot when we were together. "I don't-I don't remember any of it, okay? I was.." with a sigh, she paused and rolled her eyes, "...trashed, or something for most of it."
     "You don't believe that, do you?" It was the eye roll that gave it away.
     "No," she choked, "But I don't know what to believe anymore."
     She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, and stared at the floor. I scoffed in frustration as I rose from my seat so I could pace. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I'd been wondering and hoping for years and years only to find out that she's been just as confused and clueless about the situation as I was. I wanted to tear my hair out.
     "Well I guess that makes two of us," I growled after a minute or two. She didn't look over at me. "Nothing makes sense! The only things that make sense about this aren't possible!" I complained, turning to her. "How can you not remember? You look like you walked out of our hotel room and straight into the hallway out there!"
     "Our?" Nina breathed as I ranted.
     I didn't acknowledge her. I had only just barely heard her. "It's been twenty-six years for me and I still remember!" I argued, "How can you not? How do you write a whole book detailing our life together if you don't remember any of it? That doesn't make any sense, Nina!"
     She looked up over her shoulder at me incredulously. "What book?"     "The one you left me."
     "I didn't leave any book in the 80s."
     I stepped around the couch and sat down next to her, holding my hands out to her pleadingly. "Yes you did," I insisted, "I thought it was an explanation about why you left because it used our names, but then there's time travel in it and it reads like fiction!"
     Nina leaned away from me. Her mouth hung open a little as she stared at me out the side of her eyes. That expression was hard to identify, but she kind of looked like she thought I was crazy.
     "About a girl who goes back in time and falls in love with someone she's not supposed to?" she asked.
     "Yes!"
     Her expression grew even more confused. "That sounds like the one I'm writing.." she said slowly, "I haven't finished it yet."
     I returned her confused expression and dropped my gaze in thought. What did she mean she hadn't finished it? I'd had that book since 1987. Was there more to the story than what was in it? When I looked back at Nina, her gaze had drifted too, and she looked just as concerned as I felt.
     There were those rapid little shakes again. "Are you saying that was us?" she asked frantically, still staring at the floor, "Cause I don't remember any of that!" She looked up at me and I could see the panic on her face. I started to reach out to her, but she jumped up and away from me, still shaking her head. "I-I," she sputtered, "I gotta get out of here!"
     I jumped up too. "Nina, wait!"
     Nina stopped in front of the door and shook her head in big, exaggerated shakes. "I can't!" she cried. She leaned her forehead against the door, but I couldn't tell if she was crying or not. "I've worked so hard!" she whined quietly.
     I could sense her desperation. Or maybe it was my own. Who knew when the next time I'd see her again would be if she got away now...if I ever did see her again. I didn't know what else to do. I don't know what possessed me to do it, but just as she turned the handle to open the door, I started singing.