Jenna's been in a writing cave since they've gotten back from Mississippi. She's been in the studio everyday for about twelve hours a day writing tons of little bits of songs but nothing is clicking with anything.
"Hey." Morgan says, leaning against the door frame.
"Yeah." She mumbles back, rubbing her eyes.
"You want some company?" She doesn't respond, scribbling something out. "Jen?"
She looks up with dark, bloodshot eyes. "Huh?"
"Jeez, you look exhausted." He says as he sits next to her on the floor.
"Thanks." She yawns. "What's up, Wallen?"
"Michael told me you been workin' yourself to the bone and I wanted to see if you need help or company or whatever."
She leans back against the wall and sighs. "I have like a hundred lines but no songs. They don't go together."
Morgan picks up a couple papers. "Hm."
Jenna groans and turns herself on her back, her feet kicked up on the wall. "What the fuck is this? Writer's block?"
"Yeah." He sighs, running a hand through his hair.
"You should get a haircut."
"What?"
"You'd look good with short hair." She grunts as she sits up. "I met Michael's family this weekend."
"How'd that go?"
"I had no idea what a real family feels like. The only family I had was my granddaddy." She clears her throat. "When his momma hugged me," tears swell in her eyes at the memory. "I almost broke down in front of them. Growin' up in my family, it wasn't lovin'. It was really just a buncha people livin' together."
Morgan looks up at her. "You okay?"
"It felt nice to feel wanted in a family. Y'know, my parents don't like me and they told me they don't like me either but the way Michael's family was treatin' me made me feel loved."
"C'mere." He pulls her in for a friendly hug and she buries her tear streaked face in his shoulder.
He's glad that her and Michael worked things out but also upset because he might still have feelings for this girl.
The door opens and Jenna quickly pulls away from him.
"How's it go- you okay?" Michael's brown eyes land on Jenna who still has tears on her face. "What's wrong?"
"Nothin'." She smiles back, kissing him sweetly. "I'm gonna get outta here for a while, get some fresh air and I'll be back to finish 'em songs."
"Okay." Morgan says, clearing his throat as he sits on the black leather couch.
Jenna closes the door behind her and wipes her cheeks quickly.
She knows this is worrying Michael but she doesn't want to tell him that his family made her cry. She doesn't want him to get the wrong idea.
After a while of sitting on Michael's tailgate and smoking, she's on her way back to the lounge.
"You feelin' better?" Michael asks, looking at her over his glasses.
"Yeah." She nods, kneeling at the table across from him. "I'm good."
Morgan glances between them. He accidentally spilled to Michael what was going through Jenna's head and his words make Michael's heart twist.
He doesn't know if he should feel blessed or happy or pissed. He knows Jenna's family suck ass and all but-
"I'm gonna go grab somethin' to drink." Morgan says, excusing himself.
As soon as the door is shut, Michael says, "You doin' okay?"
"I'm fine." She responds. "Just a lot on my mind." She sits next to him and sighs. "I need help with these." She hands him a handful of papers. "I got writer's block."
"I know a real good way to break that."
+++
It's not what she was expecting.
Jenna was expecting sex but not this.
"We're just sitting on a fuckin bench." She mumbles, side eyeing Michael.
"I know but people watching helps me."
She groans over dramatically, her head against the back of the metal bench. "Can't we do this in a bar?"
"It's too noisy to think in a bar."
Jenna huffs.
She knows he's right. He's been doing this a helluva lot longer than she has and he went to school for it so he knows what he's doing. She's know better than to question him.
"I like to make stories about people I see." He says. "Create situations for them and I get lines from those moments which turn into verses, you see what I mean?"
"You's too smart for me." She replies, her head still tilted back. He pats her thigh and she looks at him. "What?"
"Try it with this guy. Put yourself in his shoes." He keeps his voice low. "You're him."
Jenna watches a middle aged man walk past. He's talking on his phone and he's dressed in a pair of Wranglers and a t-shirt. She keeps his image in her head as she closes her eyes.
It's like she's transported into another town.
Her vivid imagination put herself in that man's boots and within seconds, she has a verse spelled out in her head.
"You're a fuckin' genius."
Michael chuckles. "Told ya."
Jenna elbows him in the belly then starts writing down every adjective, noun, verb in her brain while this man's story is still in her head.
+++
"Eight years old, couple cane poles sittin' down by the creek, lines in the water watchin' those bobbers, seein' that red sun sink. Mama's on the porch yellin', "Supper's hot, y'all come and get it" We yelled, "Five more minutes"..."
Jenna sits on the couch with her legs crossed, a mic in one hand, her eyes closed.
With her eyes closed, she can picture herself sitting in the middle of a golden wheat field, the soft Kentucky breeze blowing her soft blonde waves around her sunkissed face. With blue eyes, she gazes across the land to a red fenced pasture and a couple cows grazing. Her sight moves to the rundown barn attached to the fence then across the chipping paint peeling off the crookedly hung door.
She looks past the decaying structure to the beautiful red farm house, wind chimes hanging in front of a white wicker couch with dark blue cushions. She can see the old woman mentioned in that first verse standing at the screen door, one hand holding a wooden spoon and the other in a loose fist on her hip. Her apron has flour patches across the red fabric and some sprinkled in her gray streaked hair.
She can see this so clearly like she's physically sitting in this field, the sun shining gold as it's starting to sink behind that gorgeous farm house.
Ever since Michael shared his tip on how to get over writer's block, moments like this have been filling her subconscious day and night.
They're never ending pictures running through her mind.
Jenna loves it.
Every song she's written since has had substance and a meaningful story behind each verse.
She feels like a true songwriter.
+++
Five More Minutes - Scotty McCreery
YOU ARE READING
Signed, Sober You - Michael Hardy
Fanfiction"I know you think you miss her But I promise you, you don't There's healing in the lonely Sit back, kick off your boots And you'll thank me in the morning Like you always do Signed, sober you..." Or In which Michael Hardy meets Jenna James and falls...
