The Treble With Men

by Smartypants Romance

  I frowned at the table, scratching my beard. “She asked me to give her a reason to stay. She asked me to tell her that I would choose her long term.”

  Three blank faces glared back at me. I wished I hadn’t said that last part out loud. Out of context it sounded bad on me.

  I pressed on, trying to explain my point of view. “But that was her making me do the work again, don’t you see? I needed her to decide. I wouldn’t force her hand only to face her resentment as the years went on.”

  My dad at least nodded once as though he could see my point of view.

  “Yeah, but what did you do?” Wes asked. He drained his bottle of beer and set it back down loudly before going on. “Did you tell her how you felt? Did you explain that you sent the notes and Chagny is a lying bastard? Did you fight for her even a little?”

  “Language,” Ma scolded.

  “Why should I?” I asked. I sounded petulant. Dammit.

  “Because that is what you do when you love someone,” Wes said with vehemence I’d never seen in him. “You don’t just give up before it begins. I’m really starting to see a pattern with you now. This quitting. Your talent, as always, comes so easily. You work so hard, but you quit before you can ever fail.”

  Kelly grabbed her husband’s hand and made a face. “What you and Wes have told me about Kim, she has had some trouble in her past right? Well, Kim is chasing her life now. She is trying to do the best thing for her. She has made bad choices before. Maybe she’s just trying to do the smart thing now. For her. He offered her everything she wanted.”

  “She doesn’t want any of it,” I spat. “She only thinks she does.”

  “Yeah, there you go. Deciding what she wants,” Ma said. “She thinks that’s what she wants. Love is about wanting what the other person wants and trying to make it happen for them. Supporting their dreams. And Chagny tells her all the right things. I’m not saying I like him, but he lays it out for her. He makes it an obvious choice. You just said that Kim struggles with making the right choices.”

  “Yeah.”

  “She’s trying to be smart.” Wes slammed his fist on the table. “You’re broody and moody. You run around the world leaving any time things get hard. She doesn’t know where she stands with you. Did you talk about any sort of life outside her playing? About what her performance means to you? Chagny says, hey, I’ll do everything for you.”

  “He won’t challenge her.”

  “No. He won’t and that’s exactly why she picked him. But you have to make it clear to her that you are worth the fear and the uncertainty. You’re the real deal,” Wes said. Kelly reached out and grabbed his hand to squeeze it.

  “What do I have to offer her?” My question came out low and pathetic.

  The whole table groaned.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Don’t make me say it, man. Tell me you aren’t that dumb,” Wes shook his head.

  “What?”

  “Would you ever let anything harm her?” Ma asked.

  “Will you ever stop wanting her? Caring for her?” Dad asked.

  “Will you always want to talk to her? Hear from her? Do you want her to be that person that knows all the little things about you? And have her be the one that knows everything about you?” Kelly asked.

  Wes said, “Is she the one who can make you laugh and hold your hand? That will push you in return? Will you always put her first? Make her dreams, your dreams?”

  My throat tightened. I felt queasy. “Yes,” I rasped.

  “Well that’s love, man. That’s what you offer her. Real Love. Capital R, capital L. Chagny talks the talk but the second Kim doesn’t make him money anymore …” Wes shrugged.

  “Chagny doesn’t love her.” Kelly gestured to her phone. “Not if these costumes and performances are for him and not her. She looks miserable in those pictures. She’s trying, but her eyes are dead.”

  “It sounds to me like Kim made the best decision she could in that moment. That’s all you can expect from people,” Dad said.

  “Well, she needs to do better.” I sounded like an asshole, even to my own ears.

  “Gosh, you’ve always held people to such a high standard.” My mom turned to Dad. “Is that because of something we did? Did we put pressure on him?”

  “No. That was stardom. It fucked with his head.”

  “Wesley.”

  “Sorry, Ma. But it did. He sets unrealistic expectations for people. Meanwhile he won’t take off that fricking mask and just hides.”

  “I’m right here,” I said. “And she could change. If she really wanted to.”

  Wes rolled his eyes. “Oh sure, because it’s that easy. Step one: be better. Step two: happiness.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Okay. So then take off your mask. Not just here with us. Out in the world. Own your past and who you are.”

  “That is not the same,” I growled.

  “No? Okay, well, I thought you wanted to be better.”

  “Again. Not the same.”

  “It’s something from your past making you cling to an idea that you won’t let go of.”

  “When did you become a philosopher?”

  “Wes is just trying to say people are a complicated set of rules based on their pasts. Kim can’t suddenly make a rational decision under pressure any more than you can walk into a room as Erik Jones and feel like a competent composer,” Kelly said.

  “I know how people will react. I’ve seen how they are.”

  “And she hasn’t? Kim was treated like a pariah. She’s Jethro Winston’s ex that went missing. She ruined her whole future because she was a kid that made a dumb choice. ‘The girl that hung out with a motorcycle gang and ended up in rehab,’” Dad said.

  “You were a kid when you were thrust into fame. We shouldn’t have let you go.” Ma shook her head.

  “You couldn’t have stopped me Ma, I was eighteen. That’s not on you.” I looked down and brushed my knuckles across the table. “I just wanted to be enough for her to stay.”

  “You are enough. She just didn’t have all the facts,” she said. “And here’s the real kicker—it isn’t about if she loves you. It’s about if you love her, and what that love means to you.”

  This wasn’t about whether or not she loved me. That was an excuse that I’d used to keep myself hidden from her. To push her away. God, it seemed so obvious after talking to my family. Of course they knew me better than anybody else. I thought they didn’t understand me, that they couldn’t handle me if they knew I’d been quitting. I’d been quitting because I was afraid of things when they got too hard.

  That would all change.

  It wasn’t about whether or not she loved me for me. It was about what my love for her meant. I’d been egotistical. I’d been proud. I’d locked love down inside me for so long that I had lost what it meant.

  My loving her was what mattered. Her needs, wants, desires—those were what mattered. Those were the priority. Whether or not she loved me didn’t matter as much as how I loved her. But only if she knew. To think that she might have thought, even for a minute, that it was about the music and my career and not her … I’d been such a fool. But not anymore.

  After my family left, I replayed everything they’d said. When I truly replayed the last time we’d spoken from her point of view …

  I felt sick.

  She needed to know all the facts. They were right. She needed to know I’d sent the letters. She couldn’t read minds.

  I needed to tell her everything, and what better way than a letter?

  I took out a piece of paper and a pen.

  Dear Kim,

  First of all, I’ve been a fool.

  I’ve never been able to say words the way I’ve wanted to, which was why I wrote you all those notes so long ago. Here’s the truth: you asked me why I chose you. And I never answered. I had convinced myself the lessons with you were about proving I could stick to something. I told myself that if I had som
eone from my past who could help me hold it together, I would make it through. I wouldn’t quit. But that was me lying to myself. It was a poor excuse to spend time with someone I love. I love you.

  I think I’ve loved you since I was seventeen and I first saw you at summer camp. My feelings felt too big back then. I needed time to grow into them. The notes were my immature way of getting you to notice me. You had Chagny. But I noticed you. I will never forget the first time I heard you play. You gave me chills. Your playing inspired me like no one else ever has. I’ve never stopped thinking about it.

  Can’t Look Back was for you too. About you. It’s always been about you. I’ve wasted so much time not telling you everything. I have so many regrets. But not anymore.

  Here’s another truth. I came back to Green Valley to prove that I could commit to something. I came back to re-center and see my family. And then I saw you at the first rehearsal. You didn’t recognize me. Why would you? But I knew it was you, name change or no. Whenever you play, you take my breath away. You tried to hide yourself, but I saw through it. You were still the most beautiful and talented woman I’d ever seen.

  I’m tired of being alone and pretending like that’s what I want. I pushed you and everyone else away because I couldn’t chance not having you feel the same way back. I understand now that isn’t how love works. I understand so much now that you’re gone, and I can’t see you smile and laugh every day. I miss just talking to you, catching up. All the little things.

  I love you. I want everything for you. Please make sure that toolbag—sorry, Chagny—is taking care of you. All I want is for you to be happy.

  Anyway. I’m sorry I pushed you away because I felt too much. I’ve been letting my past ruin my future. But I’m done. I’m no longer a prisoner to my life.

  You’ve inspired that in me.

  You made everything better. The months we played together are some of my best memories.

  I love you. I always have.

  I think I already said that. Anyway, I do. It’s okay if you don’t love me back. Well, it’s not okay. I feel like I can’t take a full breath thinking about it. But I get it. I did such a stupid thing. I’m sorry for that night. Not for punching Chagny; I’d probably do that again. But I am sorry I hurt you. So sorry. I only ever want to make you feel good. God, I’ve wasted so much time.

  Like I said, not anymore.

  I’m done.

  I hope this letter finds you happy. I hope you are living the life you want to live. I hope you are spreading that light inside you now. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.

  Yours always,

  Erik

  I shoved the letter in an envelope and sealed it before I could change my mind. I’d send it to her house; her parents would ensure she got it. Writing it was crucial. My handwriting would prove my words.

  Now for the part I dreaded. As the phone rang, regret had my anger boiling. But I didn’t want to indulge my anger; I was ready for apologies.

  “Hello?” the voice answered.

  “Andrew, it’s Devlin. I have a proposition for you.”

  Chapter 38

  You’re an angel when you play.

  KIM

  It was hard to know what to do or who to be when you couldn’t be trusted to make your own choices. I wasn’t the same person I was before I met Devlin, before I knew him and spent time with him and learned what it meant to feel alive again. I’d tried to go back to that. I’d tried to let Roddy lead me to what I thought was the safe choice, but that had been a failure.

  I was back home now. Floating. Back to waiting for my life to start. Or something. I wasn’t even sure what I wanted at this point. But I knew the life Roddy had planned for me wasn’t it. I was proud of myself for moving past that and owning that choice. But still, there was a hole in my soul, and I didn’t know what to do.

  “Kim?” my mom said from behind me. She was wrapped in an oversized pashmina despite it being the beginning of September.

  “Hey.” I sat on the back porch swing looking out at the fireflies. My legs were tucked up under my chin and I rocked slowly in the breeze.

  “Do you have a minute? Your Dad and I would like to talk to you.”

  “Sure.” I got up and followed her into the kitchen where my dad sat with three mugs of steaming tea and a plate of cookies.

  “How are you?” he asked. My dad looked old, tired. Maybe my bad mood had permeated the house.

  “I’m—” How did I answer that? Did they really want the truth? I wasn’t bad, but I was far from great. Mom and Dad stared back at me with matching expressions. Their shared pair of squared-framed glasses were currently perched on dad’s nose. He took them off and placed them on the paper.

  “I’m neutral,” I finally answered honestly.

  They shared a look. It was one of their looks that always made me feel a million miles away. They were such a unit—twin planets rotating around each other’s axes—and what was I? A satellite? A cold dark moon a thousand miles away?

  I grasped the mug and studied the swirling steam.

  “That’s what we were afraid of,” Dad said. “I think we owe you an explanation.”

  Mom took a deep breath. “As you know, when your father and I met, our lives were turned upside down. We always talk about how we left our partners and started a new life. It wasn’t always easy as that. There was actually a bit of drama in the beginning.”

  “I was married,” Dad added. “To a very nice woman. Divorcing her was hard. I felt terrible. But when I met your mom, I knew I could no longer live that life.”

  I’d heard all this before, but I didn’t know that it had been hard. It was a piece of history, but I realized now how complicated it all could be.

  “We never thought we would be good parents. We were from a time where children were an expectation, the next step in the life plan, not a product of love. We never wanted that,” my mother explained. “We always said that if the universe wanted us to have a child it would be because we loved each other fully. And for more than a decade, it didn’t happen. Until it did. We were quite old and set in our ways, but we wanted that child to have everything, for you to have everything.”

  “We were so set on being different from our parents and letting you be your own person and … well, we did our best,” Dad said sadly.

  “That’s all anybody can do,” I said automatically. Were they saying this because they knew I had messed everything up?

  They shook their heads in unison. “You don’t understand. We wanted you to have everything. We love you so much it terrified us.”

  My head shot up. They’d never seemed afraid of anything.

  My dad’s eyes watered. “When I met your mother, I felt an earth-shifting love. Literally, turned-my-life-upside-down sort of love. I would have done anything to be with her.”

  My heart constricted in my chest. I knew this. I couldn’t quite breathe because I’d had a taste of that, and I’d lost it.

  My dad gripped my mom’s hand and reached across the table and gestured for mine. I placed it in his. “Listen. When you were born, the love your mother and I felt for you made our love feel like …”

  “Suddenly, after all these years of having a printed postcard of a Degas or Monet, suddenly we had the actually original art hanging on the wall,” my mom tried. “We loved you on a level that we never imagined possible. It was literally terrifying. We knew the stakes. Every choice and action, everything we said to you. You were this little wide-eyed miracle that came into our lives that made us feel wholly inadequate for the first time.”

  “What?” I said.

  “You cannot understand how terrifying it was. I swear. At age five you carried your tiny cello around everywhere with you. You were always wanting to be with the adults, and you were so wise for your age. We were in awe of you. You knew who you were and what you wanted from the beginning. It was awesome in the truest sense of the word. We were filled with awe of you.”

  “I had no idea.” My t
hroat constricted. “I’d always thought, I dunno, like you didn’t want to be around me.”

  Dad squeezed my hand. “Sweetie, no. You were a miracle, but we were terrified of screwing you up, and then you seemed so perfect. Juilliard acceptance at seventeen. We were the proudest parents.”

  Were.

  “But we never felt like we had anything to do with it.” Mom shrugged.

  “It was surreal,” Dad added.

  “You came out of me as this perfect, fully-formed adult, I swear. We joked about it all the time. We were always so set on letting you be you and not pushing ourselves on you. We knew we would be oddball parents, so much older and more eccentric than the rest. We wanted you to be whoever you were going to be. We can see now that you put so much pressure on yourself to be perfect.”

  Dad frowned and said, “Let me be clear about something. We never, ever, stopped being proud of you. Even now. I’m thinking we need to communicate better.”

  Mom nodded. “I love you. We are so proud of you. You’re amazing to be around. But sometimes it feels like you feel the need to be something you’re not around us and that’s heartbreaking.”

  “After you came back from camp, we could tell that poor girl’s death changed you. You were so distant,” Dad said.

  I swallowed down a lump that formed. They had seen the change in me but hadn’t understood why. I couldn’t talk about it. I was so ashamed.

  Mom said, “When you fell in with that bad boy, in a weird way, we were relieved. At least at first. We were like, ‘Okay, she’s living a little, getting some world experience.’ But we couldn’t have seen what happened coming. As soon as we saw you go too far, we freaked out.”

  “It’s possible we overreacted,” Dad said.