Step 34 was a kiss. Step 35 was a date, and 36 was holding hands. There's a rough plan in my head, but I'm keeping it flexible, and it's okay if a few things are a bit out of order. The important thing is that we come to trust each other again. And communicate. And respect each other's boundaries and limitations. There are a lot of important things, really, but they're all falling into place. There are more dates, and it's all very formal and tentative at first, but we gradually get more comfortable. It's a sign this is the right direction.
It was scary at first, wondering when we'd fight next and what it would do to us, but nothing has happened, and I'm starting to worry less. Maybe it isn't inevitable. Maybe now that we both know we want the same thing, we'll be okay.
Eventually the formality melts like dark chocolate, and I end up spending all my waking hours with Scott. He has no free time because of all the preparation he has to do for his upcoming tour, but besides the occasional interview and red carpet appearance, I'm wide open. It takes a while for us to get there, but step 48 is me going to work with him, watching him record, and helping him write lyrics. He jokes about making me write all his songs for him, but I'd honestly love to. He doesn't quite comprehend how much I miss music. For him, it's become little more than the daily grind, but for me, it's fresh again. He wants to get me set up with a contract and compensation for my help, but there's no way I'm waiting for that before diving in.
Tour starts too soon. Scott leaves, and I stay. It doesn't matter if we're ready for the test of tour or not; it's simply logistically impossible for me to join him this late in the game, which is why step 49 is waving goodbye to his large caravan of tour busses. Surely one of them has a little extra space. I could stow away. There are hotel reservations and flights and visas I don't have, though. Next time.
It's a lot easier being separated because of tour than it was being apart on bad terms. It's easier, but it's not easy. I worry. I worry when he says he misses me every time we call. I worry when he starts getting really homesick. He's fine, though—improving, even. His self esteem doesn't come back all at once, but it is getting better. At the end of four months, he discontinues his treatments as planned, and it seems to be okay. Esther says he's stable, he says he feels good, and as far as I can tell long-distance, it really is going as well as we'd hoped.
I'm always aware that Scott's depression could come back. It's happened before. Sometimes there's a reason: he burned out from working too hard, he fell off the wagon, or something bad happened. But sometimes it just comes from nowhere at all, and that's the most frightening part. No matter how hard we try to stop it, it can defy all our efforts.
The chances of that are getting lower and lower, though, the longer he's well. It's a gradual process. He catches himself smiling. He has bad days, but he gets through them. He never stopped being able to find the silver lining if he tried, but now when he finds it, sometimes he can actually believe in it. His efforts are paying off.
While he's away, I try to get back into making music. If he can write, so can I, right? Not so much. I can, but it all sucks. No matter. I'm just going to sit here in front of the keyboard until magic pours out of it, even if it takes all week.
Scott always starts with the words and adds music, but I pick words based on the tune. I play chords until I come across something good, just by chance, and I nurture it into a melody. What were we thinking? One line down, fifty-ish to go. It's a start, but it's also a dead end. What were we thinking? I've asked myself a thousand times, and the infuriating thing is that I know the answer. I know why we left and why we stayed apart so long. I just can't understand how we were both so stupid.
By step 125, I've stopped asking myself that and just accepted that it happened, and we're not going to let it happen again. I listen from backstage as Scott sings the first song of the first show of the first tour I get to come along for. His voice makes my heart swell. I am listening to the sound of a human soul. Seventy thousand people have come to hear Scott Hoying tonight, and I am one of them, and I'm going to get to listen to this for an entire tour. Granted, I can barely hear him over the seventy thousand souls screaming in adoration, but I can't blame them.
The lights and sound cut out abruptly three quarters of the way through the song. It's pitch black, but I know exactly where I'm going. We rehearsed this. Ten steps, and I'm standing right beside him. Three. Two. One. The lights return and we dive into the next song. If I thought the crowd couldn't get any louder, I was very, very wrong. My blood is carbonated with euphoria, and all of it is surging to my head like the bubbles in an overflowing 2-liter of strawberry soda.
No one was expecting this. A lot of the audience probably has no idea who I am other than that one guy who covered some songs very emotionally on Scott's YouTube once. They'll be pretty angry that some stranger showed up to split the spotlight when they paid to see Scott Hoying, but I'm hoping to win them over. Tonight is an experiment. We're singing duets for the whole show. Esther is prepared to refund some tickets if people are upset because they payed to see Scott, not me, and I can become and opening act instead if this is too much of a change. I wrote some songs during the last tour and arranged a few covers, so I have enough material now. If it goes well, though, I'll do this all tour.
Either way, I get to stay with Scott. So far, one day into tour, it's pretty good. We haven't driven each other crazy or stopped speaking to each other yet. I really hope we can keep it this way.
