The Only Living Boy in New York

TWENTY-EIGHT

Van

"One minute you're on top of the world, the next minute the world is on top of you."

I sat on the patio and nursed on a glass of wine slowly, the evening breeze rustling through my hair and blowing at the collar of my shirt. My skin felt hot, likely from spending the day outside in the sun with Taylor. She'd pulled me from the soundest sleep I'd had in weeks as soon as the sun crept through the curtains. She paraded me through town and made sure we bought swim suits, toted me to brunch, and then rushed me to the beach where we drank seltzers all afternoon and walked up and down the shoreline.

I hated the beach most of the time, but it was different with Taylor. She loved it so much that it brought something different out of me. I didn't mind the sun or the heat as long as I was in the sun with her. I didn't mind the sand or the saltiness of the sea when she drug me out where the waves were breaking, as long as I was with her. We laughed liked teenagers and splashed water at each other like we had no other worries in the world. Taylor was at ease for the first time in weeks, other than wanting to do everything at once. It was like she was afraid she was going to miss something if she didn't act on it right away.

We made it back to our condo around four and tried to decide where we wanted to go to eat, but that turned into us arguing because we couldn't agree on anything. We were exhausted and a mixture of hungry and angry which led us to a heated moment of anger that somehow turned into us making out. Before I knew it, I was undoing the strings of her swimsuit and neither of us cared about being hungry for anything other than each other. It was rushed, passionate sex that made me want to never leave the room and return to the real world. I knew it would kill me when it was time to go home on Sunday.

It was pushing seven and we were too exhausted to go anywhere. So we settled for room service from the resort and we ate outside. Now we were finishing a bottle of wine as she tiptoed around the subject of the band's breakup.

I'd told her about me disappearing before the pandemic, and Bondy claiming he was done. I told her about my disbelief in the world shutting down, and how poorly I reacted to everyone. She didn't seem shocked, just sad. It wasn't disappointment or concern that marred her features when I let it all out, but rather true, blue-sadness. An emotion that I wasn't used to having to deal with in others, only within the confines of myself.

And now she was asking questions again. Maybe the wine made her brave, that's when things seemed to be easier for her.

"What do you mean by the world's on top of you?"

I took another sip slowly, thinking over my reply.

"When we were good, we were good. Headlining massive shows at arenas I used to watch my favorite bands in, that was humbling. That was incredible. Maybe I took it for granted. Maybe I let it spoil. Because it's not like that now. Now there isn't anything, not even a show at a bar, you know? We didn't go out with a bang, even though our last shows were massive. We went out on a whimper. None of us liked each other at the end. What should have been celebratory and the biggest moment of our careers, turned sour."

I watched her face twist into sorrow again.

"I went from feeling like I had it all, to realizing I had nothing."

"How did it end?"

I thought about the last time we were in a room together, and Bondy leaving before we negotiated the rights to songs or how things would be moving forward. I thought about Bob's statement he made regarding his departure minutes after the meeting ended. It felt timed, calculated even. And maybe it was. Maybe I wasn't as good to Bob as I could have been. Maybe I'd been cold to him longer than I thought.