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"these misty memories of you are driving me insane"
the parking lot's become a beach coast at low tide.
i watch the shallow puddles ripple and fill as the rainstorm drags on. what a grey, low week. walking here, i clutched my umbrella tight to fight the wet, but also to quell the thoughts of you in my mind. you're as constant as the weather.
i suck in a breath and turn back to the halls of the club, just as dark and muggy. hiding near the service hallway won't get me anywhere.
it's tiny here, so much smaller than the backstage of royal albert hall or the huge sports stadiums of the states. it doesn't take me long to find you. your voice rises in pitch as you tell a story. through the open door, i catch you exchanging a sweaty shirt for a dry one. the shapeless birthmark, the one i'd discovered after our first night, still sits on your back. i used to trace it and trace it until i was sure i'd wear the edges away.
but it never left. only you did. the letters and phone calls stopped, but the tours dragged on. my home turned quiet without your visits. those grey, low years.
i stand in the doorway and watch. in the dressing room, you laugh in the middle of your speech as a journalist sits beside you. he wears an elated smile. his tape recorder shifts in his hand as he asks another question.
you look so similar, wearing the same colorful tops, brushing your hair from your face.
"is that all?" i hear you ask.
the journalist breathes out, "yes, but i thought if you wanted to meet the rest of the crew over dinner. . ."
a vicious laugh threatens my lips. how wanted you are.
"i'm promised to other engagements tonight. maybe at the next show?"
your interviewer stumbles over his words. you're already leaving the room. your boots thud on the tile and the sound brings me to heel.
turning the corner, you spot me at the doorway and smile. your voice sharp and slow as molasses greets me.
"do i know you?" you ask.
"i'd like to think so." your scent is even the same, sending goosebumps over me at the memory. i breathe deeply to hold it all.
"are you waiting for me to take a guess?"
"maybe. or i could tell you. which would be better?"
you laugh at me. the dimples in your cheeks have turned to long lines. if i was courageous, i'd reach up to touch your skin.
"i'll guess. we can walk while we chat."
i'm a coward. i stuff my hands in my pockets and follow you down the hall.
"you were in the front row?"
"no." i couldn't even watch you perform. i had to sneak in for the after-party.
"hmm. we met last night?"
"no."
"i would've liked that," you quip. "i was rather lonely last night."
i turn my head away, feeling my face warm and my mouth twist in a smile. this is how you pulled me in the first time.
we've reached the catered food. you gravitate towards the beverage table.
"alright. one more guess. i'll give up if i'm wrong."
i nod in agreement and watch you sip from a bottle of beer. you sigh after a long swig.
you slap your thigh and face me fully. "you were working at that restaurant in milwaukee!"
this time, i'm the one who laughs. i lean against the plastic table cloth and smile into a space behind your shoulder. your ego is bruised, your face folded in confusion.
"you've been a lot of places. . ." i carry out a conversation with the air. "hawaii, bangkok, india. do you remember when i was with you?"
something murky like the sky outside flashes your face. it's a heavy, hard, serious look. i've opened that barred memory.
my name pulls from your lips; it's strange to hear it again, as flat and as dark as my disappointment.
"that was long ago," you say.
"but somehow i still remember it all."
you nod slowly and set the beer down. it crinkles the plastic of the table. "i was wrong for that, then. but i was so young."
"you're still the same. you just showed me you're the same. i don't know why i came here."
" . . . it's good to see you again. you look like you did twenty years ago." your tone has turned soft and careful. "i thought about you a lot after i stopped calling. there was so much to get caught up in. and there's been grief since we last talked."
"i know." it's my turn to navigate your words. the familiar bile of guilt burns the back of my mouth. i also left too, i realize, leaving the band, and you, to crumble.
you reach out and touch my shoulder, a warm caress, and stare at my face of regret. "i'm sorry. we can always catch up, if you'd like."
my emotions have turned so heavily that it takes a moment to understand myself. your warmth and brightness shivers near me. i remember the comfort i shared with you.
"yes, i would," i say. you grin and bring your hand to the small of my back, guiding me from the club to a bar down the street. my bitterness leaves me. suddenly, i'm wrapped in you again.
