Rio and Polly

Chapter 16: She Still Has One Friend

After appearing on Greyson Whitlock's show, I was bombarded with requests for interviews for a week or so, but I didn't give any. Having already delivered my message on Greyson's show, I had nothing to add. I turned down the modeling offers, avoided the paparazzi outside my door, and eventually a well-known Hollywood actor was caught cheating on his long-time wife with her sister/manager, and they took the focus off me. Not that I was glad, or anything. Simply relieved the focus had shifted.

The next month was quiet Rio-wise. No texts, no calls, no appearances at the pharmacy or at my apartment or in the media. He wasn't even featured in the tabloids. It was as if he'd disappeared, but I knew he was around because, over that month, I received four more guitars to add to the five he'd already given me.

The sixth guitar was the oldest guitar he owned, a beautifully-made vintage one from the 1930s.

Polly ~ 

We always called this the Mystery Guitar because it was sent to me anonymously. All we knew is it was old, rare and had an incredible sound. We didn't know who to thank since there was no note or return address. That always bothered me until you gave me the idea to play this guitar for the last song I did when I made appearances, and to thank whoever sent it to me every time. I might not know who to thank for the guitar, but I know who to thank for my music, Polly. No mystery about it -- I always knew where that came from. You.

I'm giving you time, Polly. Don't think that just because I'm not bombarding you with texts and calls and drop-in visits that I don't want to. I do. More than anything. I miss you, miss being with the woman I love. But I want to give you time to think, to feel, to maybe see if you miss me and want to try again.

I love you, darlin'.

Rio

I placed the guitar among the others and looked at them gathered together, wondering how Rio felt giving up his guitars to me. Wondering how I felt receiving them. Wondering what the purpose was. About a week later, the seventh guitar appeared outside my door.

Polly ~

This is the guitar I never recorded anything on, never used for appearances, never used it to teach at the foundation, never even wrote songs with it. This one was saved for something even more special than any of that -- I took it on every picnic we ever went on. We'd pack some sandwiches, a few drinks and dessert, a blanket and this guitar, and we'd just drive until we found a quiet spot by a lake or a river. We'd eat and talk and kiss and laugh...and then you'd ask for a serenade. That word always made me smile because you were so serious about it. "Serenade me, Rio," you'd say. Then I'd start playing you your songs, and you'd lay back on the blanket, a smile on your lips and you'd close your eyes and listen for as long as I'd play. I want to play for you forever, Polly.

Giving you this time is so hard. I miss you every day. But I know you need this time to see if you feel the same.

I love you.

Rio

I couldn't help smiling at the memory of all those picnics. When I'd been in school, I was exhausted from class and studying and Rio was exhausted from working like a dog to get me through school debt-free. We had no money, so we'd make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, fill up our water bottles, grab some cookies and chips and go. We always ended up by water, and we'd eat and talk while we sat by the water. Cheap dates, but I wouldn't trade them for anything. They meant more to me than all the expensive places we went to when Rio began earning some serious money. Simpler times that I missed more than I realized.

If the seventh guitar sent me down memory lane, a week later, the eighth guitar made me blush when I remembered my high-pitched squealing reaction to it. I'd made Rio take so many pictures of me holding the guitar and pointing to the autograph that it was embarrassing. But Rio indulged my giddiness and grinned at me the whole time he was taking pictures.