I stopped writing in my journal after Chloe and I ended our relationship. I wrote in it that last time but then I didn’t open the journal again until about a month later. I had been so used to opening it every day, writing down stories, memories, songs, that it was understandable that it seemed like a long time since I even laid eyes on the thing. By then, a month after I had last seen Chloe, my brothers and I were gearing up for our first headlining tour and we were starting to gather songs to record for our new album.
Nick, Kevin, and I were brainstorming in the living room late one night. We were each on our own couch, stretched out and comfortable. We were scheduled to leave for tour in two days, and we were all strangely in the mood to write. Well, we had been twenty minutes earlier, at least. We were all slightly depressed after those twenty minutes of sitting in silence, though. We had been trying to come up with any sort of part to a song but it just was not working. Nick had tons of songs written up, but none of them felt right to any of us. A few of those songs ended up being on his Administration album. But that night, absolutely nothing seemed right for the album. And we were supposed to start recording in a few days. The atmosphere was a hectic nervousness.
Suddenly Nick said to me, “Hey man, what about all those songs you had in that journal of yours?” Kevin’s head popped up from the pillow it had currently been situated on.
“Yeah,” added Kevin. “That one you played at Christmas was really great.”
I couldn’t help but inwardly wince at their eager faces and suggestions. It still hurt to think about Chloe. There was a dull ache deep down in my chest that I felt all the time. I looked away from my brothers, stared at the ground, the wall, anywhere but their faces. I didn’t want to think about Chloe at all; it was too soon, too sudden.
And then I remembered that last day, and what she had said.
“So how many are there?”
“What?”
“You know…” She was attempting to act casual. “Songs about me?”
Joe laughed at the look on her face. It was so hopeful and eager. He didn’t really understand that; the songs he wrote about her weren’t particularly happy.
“There are a lot.”
She huffed. “Tell me an exact number.”
“I don’t have an exact number. Hey, watch the hot chocolate,” he added when she started to push him over. She pouted. “Okay, okay, let’s just say I definitely have enough to fill an album.”
“Seriously?” Chloesat back with a contemplative look on her face. “Wow. A whole album about me.”
“That will probably never happen, though. Sorry to burst your bubble.” Joe sipped his chocolate, chuckling at the dejected look on her face. “It’s just that every time we put together songs for an album that could happen. I mean, we could have them all be about one girl, one relationship; we usually have enough songs from one relationship to do that. But it just never happens for some reason. Usually because we need a variety of songs, rhythms, different moods; one relationship doesn’t give that.”
“Usually. But maybe this time will be different.” Chloe looked at Joe. “I want the whole album to be about me.”
Remembering her words and persuaded by my brothers’ eager faces, I slowly got up and made my way to my bedroom. The journal had been living in my top nightstand drawer for the last month. I opened the drawer and pulled the journal out. I sat on my bed and stared at it for a moment. To my eyes, it looked older than it ever had. It looked worn. But that was acceptable. It had been through a lot.
