The Only Living Boy in New York

TEN

Van

For four, going on five weeks, Taylor and I had plans.

Saturday nights were spent at local bars and small venues, having drinks with Tom and Chloe. Kelly tagged along sometimes, and Brody showed up twice, and I still couldn't understand the dynamic of his and Taylor's relationship. To be fair; I didn't know if I wanted to. I tolerated Brody, but Tom and I shared a lot of similar interests. He'd become a friend, someone I even shared a few texts with. We spoke mainly about music and the scene and history of it all, and Taylor kept encouraging me to let Tom hear my songs when I had them ready. She said he had an ear for things that made sense to me and he'd get everything I was trying to say. I agreed I would someday, but I wasn't ready yet. I wasn't ready for anyone to see them yet. Saturday nights were vampiric events that bled steadily into Sunday afternoons.

On Sundays, we met at Vines at one, sat in our normal spot, and led a slow start into a lazy afternoon. Those afternoons consisted of her working on arranging a different room of my house, while I wrote words to songs regularly. The lyrics flooded in easily now, and I was up to five completed songs and another two that could be done any day. I probably could have finished them sooner, by my writing only happened while Taylor was there.

The words stopped when we called it a night and didn't start back up until our Saturday rendezvous. I liked Saturdays, but I liked Sundays more. I had Taylor to myself. There was no need to share her with others or yell over the crowd to her. It was just her and I, even if I was upstairs writing and she was in another room. It still felt like we were the only two people in the world.

If she had a question, or she was getting hungry for dinner, she'd slip a note and a menu under the door. I'd laugh, write down what I wanted and tell her to come get me when it arrived. I'd close up shop for the day after that, not wanting to be entirely rude, especially if it was getting to be late. But the words always left me after that. They'd evaporate and I couldn't get them back. The first week I panicked. I spent nearly every day and night forcing things out of me that melted me into extreme exhaustion. I almost cancelled meeting up with everyone on Saturday because of my sanity. I'd tried everything to get to write that week, including sleeping with Ivy. I felt rotten afterwards especially because the words still didn't come. Nothing was curing me, nothing was helping me, and I felt like shutting down and crawling into a hole, but Taylor told me to come out, told me I needed it. So I caved.

I met Taylor and Chloe that night at a new place in lower Chelsea. We had a beer as we waited on everyone else and when Taylor stepped away for a moment, Chloe cleared her throat.

"She said you've been writing songs again."

I sipped my beer slowly, not wanting to admit I hadn't written a thing since she left. "Here and there, yeah."

"She writes, too you know."

I smiled. "I had my suspicions, just with the few things she's said."

Chloe nodded. "She won't tell you much, she doesn't talk about it. Doesn't feel good enough for the world of literature. But she's written a lot of good stories in her life. It'd be good for someone on the outside to read them. Maybe it would give her some confidence."

"Maybe I'll get her to talk about it sometime."

She smirked. "Good luck."

"Is she that secretive about it?"

Chloe nodded and looked over her shoulder as if she didn't want to get caught talking about it. "Her and her words, they're thicker than thieves."

I felt an idea creep into my mind, a lyric that needed to be recorded. I pulled my phone out quickly and typed Chloe's words into my notepad so I wouldn't lose them. The realization that the itch to write needed scratched, allowed me a sigh of relief. Taylor made her way back to us with a smile on her face, and I realized at that moment, she was the key to writing. She was the reason I could write again, it had to do with her.