Imagine Us in Heaven

Your Song

This is the third week that I'm writing songs with Gavin. We talk about his album and what he wants to see and hear from it. Just like in the past, he is undecided. He doesn't know which direction to take or what kind of music to make. He appeals to all kinds of audiences; I mean, the man is handsome and very talented. His voice can be likened to a heavenly choir, and I can't wait for Winter to hear the music we create.

"So, you can finally hear his voice?" he asks as we take a break from writing and composing music, munching on pizza.

"Hm," I hum in response and continue eating. I don't want to talk about Winter when I'm with him, but he keeps bringing him up.

"What's it like?"

His question catches me off guard since no one has ever asked me that. Maybe they see it on my face and don't bother asking. Also, what would I say? How would I describe the voice?

"He has a lot to say," I answer.

This makes Gavin laugh. "But are they really...angels?"

"You've seen them, haven't you?"

"I don't know what to believe, man. It's overwhelming, don't you think? Angels in this day and age?"

I'm not sure what to say, given my last conversation with Winter. He asked me to believe in him the same way he believes in me. I suppose, for now, that should suffice.

"The songs are almost finished. Do you have plans for the album title?" I ask, changing the subject.

Stress seems to be showing on his face. I can clearly see the bags under his eyes. Not to mention, he looks like he's lost some weight; his cheeks are sunken.

"Is something wrong?" I insist when the silence drags on.

"I don't know, Blythe. Everything seems wrong."

I frown. "Care to elaborate?"

"I don't know where I'm going with this. I always wanted to do this kind of music, you know? But..."

"This isn't what you signed up for."

Gavin suddenly realizes that I'm not asking a question but making a statement. "You sound confident."

I shrug. "I've known you longer than any of your producers or even your manager."

"Yeah? Can you also tell what's wrong with me?"

I go still. Something tells me I shouldn't answer, so I don't. We remain silent until Gavin can't take it any longer.

"I'm playing with a band tonight," he says. "At a bar nearby."

"That sounds nice."

"Will you come if I invite you?"

"As a guest?"

He smiles at me. "You can play with us if you like."

I shake my head. "Nah. It's been years. I don't think I even remember how to hold a guitar."

"You can try."

I stare straight into his eyes. "Will it change anything if I play with you?"

Gavin looks momentarily startled. "Geez, Blythe, so brutal."

I laugh, and he laughs too. But we both know what our laughter means and what it signifies for both of us. Maybe this is what it's like when you refuse to have closure with someone. I can't even tell if we're friends now or if I'm just paying a debt that's long overdue.

Noticing the time, I start bidding him farewell. I borrow his bathroom to wash my face and change my shirt since I feel a little sticky. Just before I leave his hotel room, I look over my shoulder at his face. Gavin blinks, obviously perplexed by my sudden action.