by Jay E. Tria
Song to Get Over You
I didn’t think it could end like this
Don’t most good things start with a kiss?
But this is good
This epiphany, a bit of a quandary
The truth that I have to get over you
I didn’t think you’d taste so bittersweet
Like rain on a scorching day when lovers meet
It doesn’t end well
A shower, a summer spell
It’s cold so let me get over you
So I stare back at the darkness
You and I sprawled beneath it
I feel so small, the sky so endless
I want to escape it
Oh I, I’m positively broken
And passively reactive
Trying to find the right way
To get my air back from you
I’m liking the sound of silence
Walls closing in on the distance
Trying to find the one way
To get my air back from you
I always thought wanting you had to hurt
Didn’t you swear it would get easier?
Meanwhile it felt good collecting
Secondhand love, stale memories
I didn’t want to get over you
But I, I’m positively broken
And passively reactive
I’m trying to find the right way
To get my air back from you
I’m liking the sound of silence
Walls closing in on the distance
Trying to find the one way
To get my air back from you
The farther I look back
The more I see the end
I’ve ran out of high hopes
In the end you will always run
While I keep on stumbling down
But I’m up, I’m up,
I’m walking now.
Now I’m still positively broken
And passively reactive
I’m trying to find the right way
To get my air back from you
I’m liking the sound of silence
Walls closing in on the distance
Feels good to find the one way
To get my air back from you
I’m a man trying to get over you
It’s such a chore getting over you. (Miki, Kim)
October 22, Thursday, night
It took Miki ten days and a breakup songwriting session outside a chemo ward before he understood that grand gestures weren’t made over cellular lines. Grand gestures were made in public places, in front of complete strangers mingled with a smattering of friends, and usually came with tulips and truffles, a serenade, and maybe a hot air balloon. How could he have thought he had a master’s level education in romantic comedies when he missed this?
He understood though that these things were secondary components, because the gesture had to start with a truth. A conviction that he was doing it not because his first love had broken him, but because he was already in repair, and now he was ready for another fall. That truth was key.
After that, the gesture proceeded with a search, a race across cities scouring through familiar places, until he found her in the last place he thought to look.
“Since when did you study in the library?”
She started at the sound of his voice, his shadow looming over her. But Ana recovered in a heartbeat. She leaned back on her chair, inching its wooden legs away from him.
“Since I’ve been afraid that you would show up at work,” she huffed, eyes fixed on the open book in front of her. “Or where I live. You’d only mess with my concentration, and I’m behind on my workload as it is.”
She turned her attention to her laptop. Tap, tap, tapping on the keys. Miki settled on the seat across from her on the wide wooden desk, settling his nerves and his breathing. Her silence gave him time to explore her face—the deep trenches of the furrow on her brow, the firm line of her full mouth, some of those lines possibly accountable to him.
The tapping stopped. “But you never showed up. Why?”
Her voice was low, but to Miki it sounded like the words bounded against the high shelves. He never thought he would find her here, hidden behind bookshelves, obscured by the shadows they cast on the empty desks. She never liked the library. She once told him that the silence mingled with the smell of old pages made her feel like the stacks of books were closing in on her. But when he couldn’t find her in her office or at her apartment, and desperation started to set in, he thought the place might be worth a shot.
He wasn’t the type to linger in a library either, but there were times when he needed the safe haven offered by its walls and its musty perfumed silence.
“Didn’t you see the gazillion unanswered texts and missed calls on your phone?” He tried a light tone, a stark contrast to the heaviness in his chest. “They all had my name on it, if you didn’t notice.”
Ana scowled. “I’m not going to get into this over the phone, Miki.”
“No.” He recognized this rule now. “Of course not.”
She caged her chest with her arms, lifting her chin, finally looking at him. “Why are you here?”
“I missed you.” There it was. The truth, served from his heart sliced wide open.
Miki could’ve sworn she was about to return the sentiment. But Ana blinked and shook her head. “Have you fixed it?”
“I broke it actually.” Miki allowed himself a small smile, something hot stirring inside his heart. It will take more than a breakup song to change years of his futile persistence and selfish longing. But he was finally moving, and that was the important catch. The key truth. “It will take some time though. And you don’t deserve half a heart.”
“No. I deserve all of this.” Ana pushed her fist against his temple, his chest, with force, leaning towards him across the desk and books between them. “And so do you.”
Miki caught her small fist in both his hands, coaxing her fingers, cradling her palm. “I’m trying. I’m sorry. I should have tried harder. But I’m getting help now.”
“Are you seeing a shrink?”
“Something like that.” His thoughts drifted to his friends, to his former professor. If together in the same room for too long, they would likely explode and destroy each other. But apart and in their brighter moments, they pushed him forward and kept him sane.
Ana pulled her hand from his grip, but kept her gaze on him. “I’m sorry too. I knew you weren’t over her. I guess I overestimated my charm.”
“And I underestimated mine.”
“Really? That joke now?”
“Sorry. I take that back.” He breathed in, reigning in his awkward humor. “What I meant was that I wasn’t thinking. Not the right way.”
Ana moved her small shoulders. “Who knows what the right way is with all of this anyway?”
“Well, I know I like you.”
Ana jumped back in her seat, eyes wider pools than the first time. Miki didn’t think it was a good sign that he could surprise her with such small words, with feelings he should already have made her feel, unlabeled as they were. He wished he could claim this moment and call this love, as Jill had declared for him with conviction. But a statement like that shouldn’t come with apologies, at least not in the first time it was said. Not while it was yet to be whole.
He clenched his fists against his stomach, arching towards her.
“I like you and I know it’s true not because I want you to forgive me, and not because I want you to give me another chance. Not only because,” he amended in a huff. “I’ve known it for a while now. I like that you’re a planner and a closet procrastinator. I like that you can pretend to like my music until you actually like it. Or maybe you’re still pretending and you’re so good at it now, I can’t even tell anymore. I like that you can walk into a room of strangers and come out with new friends. I like it when you look at me, demanding for a kiss, and when you let me wake up beside you. I l
ike that you thought I was actually worth the jump.”
“You might not think that’s enough, or if I deserve another shot. Another fourth date. But you don’t need to decide right now.” He added in a rush, panic steeling his heart when he caught Ana’s mouth opening, the mere suggestion of her response terrifying him. “You can sleep on it. Take a few days. You know, to ensure a clear, error-free, decision-making process.”
The wrinkle deepened on Ana’s brow, until a whisper of a sigh escaped her lips, and in another moment, her eyes were laughing at him again.
“I don’t have time for your shit anyway.” Ana pivoted her chair away from him, her fingers resuming its insistent beat against the keyboard. “Now shush, I’m working here.”
Miki felt his chest unclench, deep breaths freeing his lungs. He left his seat and flew to her side of the desk, swooping over her shoulder. “Is that still Marketing? I thought that presentation was the final project.”
“I still have an exam. Go away.”
“You and I both know I am great help when it comes to Marketing.”
“That was a fluke. And you came with reinforcements. Seriously, Miki. Go.” She pushed a palm against his face as he moved to look closer at the laptop screen.
Miki planted a kiss on the base of her thumb before he straightened up. “Okay, okay, I’m going. But can I tell you something about my job first?”
“I’m not going on another trip with you,” she retorted, not looking up at him.
“It’s not a trip.” Miki took a mental note, vowing he would make her say yes to him again, and someday soon. “Remember I told you before about Free Fall Festival?”
“That event where you guys will launch To The Moon?”
“Yes. I thought you’d want to be there. Since you requested that song.”
“Will you sing it?”
“Yes. It’s just a song. It’s time to sing it.”
She stopped typing. “When is this?”
“Uh. Tomorrow.”
Ana shook her head, staring him down. “You really should start paying more attention to your own schedule.”
“I actually did this time. But it took me a while to gather the balls to come find you.” He flashed her a wide grin, finding the agony of the past few weeks a tiny bit funny now. “So, you’ll be there right?”
Ana’s front teeth bothered her lower lip, teasing him. “I don’t have to answer right now.”
Miki laughed, the booming sound dragging the ears of the librarian who peered at them, giving him a stern scowl as his first warning. Miki bowed his apologies and returned to his seat, his forefinger against his pursed lips.
Ana had returned her attention to her work, ignoring him as she would an empty chair or a non-Marketing book. She had told him to leave several times by now, her expression reverting to its mask of annoyance, the one that hinted she hadn’t completely forgiven him. But still Miki didn’t want to go, deciding he had no plans of leaving her alone, not for a long time.
October 23, Friday, night
Free Fall Festival wasn’t too different from any other concert. Events like these always brought out the same fun crowd. College kids roaring out of their classrooms, throwing all thought of the looming finals week away, ready to celebrate the start of another glorious weekend. Yuppies crawling out of their desks and paperwork, looking for excuses to sneak back into a college campus for cotton candy, booze, and rides on a rickety Ferris wheel. Everyone was out to get their throats hoarse and watered, to get dizzy and sweaty from the heat and noise of the mob. Every band on stage fed off from this energy, and sent it right back.
But to Trainman, Free Fall was a wonderland. Years ago they were standing among the horde, five lanky teenagers in their 80’s band shirts and identical, dirty, black Chuck Taylors. Their guitars were left safe and sleeping in the trunk of their cars, the pick hanging by a cord around Son’s neck and the drumsticks tucked in the pocket of Nino’s jeans the only clue that they played music too. Once or a few times, a face in the mob would recognize them from a gig they had played, in a cramped bar near the dorms, or at a party they had crashed. They would dance with the crowd, arms flailing in the air, yelling back the lyrics to the band on stage, while in their heads played only one tune: Someday, it will be our turn up there. And you’ll be singing with us too.
Miki peeked through the gaps of the dark tarps hiding the backstage entrance, the sight of the blossoming masses of people making his stomach lurch. He angled his head, caught sight of the Free Fall banner flying in the heavy breeze, and saw what he was looking for. The name of their band up in lights, crammed in with names of their fellow acts. A voice from the speakers boomed: up next, Trainman! the announcement answered by high pitched screams.
He returned to their hiding place, looking for his friends.
“Since when did Koreans play at Free Fall?” Nino’s voice floated over the noise backstage as he came up to Miki. He seemed to have come from watching the band before them, three pretty foreign boys called East Genesis Project.
“Since today, I guess,” Miki answered. “I heard their roadie is Filipino.”
Nino grinned. “I heard she’s pretty.”
“I think it’s really great that you never lose your focus.” Miki clapped his friend’s shoulder, shaking his head.
Jill came rushing up to them, bouncing against Miki as she braked her soles a second too late. “There are people out there,” she whispered to his ear, her eyes wide as orbs.
“I know.” He gulped. He watched as the color of her face moved down to another notch of pale. He was losing the feeling on his right arm as her grip on it closed tighter, a favor he returned with his hand firm on her elbow. “I saw.”
“Why are they all here? And so many of them, why?” Jill’s voice rose to a squeak.
“Somebody tell them to clear out.” Nino’s chuckle reached their ears as he came up behind them, arms closing around their shoulders.
“I think I’m going to puke.” Son shuffled to their tight space, his pink pick between gritted teeth. “I just saw a guy run to the stage only to dive back to the mob. He’s crowdsurfing out there to the sound of their screams!”
“That’s terrible!” Jill gasped, fingers digging into Miki’s flesh.
“That’s awesome!” Son blurted out at the same time, choking on his own nervous laughter.
Kim appeared, settling himself between Jill and Miki. He put a shaking hand on each of their shoulders, closing the circle. A film of sweat was shining on his forehead. “What was I thinking? I can’t do this. There’s too many of them out there.”
Spots of color rose to Jill’s cheeks as her eyebrow knitted. “Who are you and what have you done to Kim?”
“You’re high aren’t you?” Son shot him an accusing squint. “What did we say about a drug-free working environment?”
“I never thought I’d see the day, Kimball.” Nino shook his head, reaching out a hand to pinch Kim’s chin, a smirk on his lips. “Don’t worry. I got you. I got all of you. Just try and keep up with my beat, guys.” He fixed them a commanding glare in turn. “I keep telling you, you’re all slowing me down.”
Jill and Miki exchanged looks, igniting the first spark of laughter. Jill pulled Kim’s head down toward her, breathing words to his ear that Miki couldn’t hear. When Kim angled up, his face was still pale, but he was laughing as he reached out to give Nino’s cheek a crisp slap.
He turned to Miki with a grim smile. “Do you remember the set list?”
Miki nodded. “We open with Bright Side, then Jill takes it with two songs, ending with After Hours—”
“Then it’s your turn,” Kim continued. “With To The Moon.”
Miki felt Jill gift his arm with a soft squeeze. He grinned at her before returning to Kim. “I remember. We rehearsed this. I was there.”
Hands rained on Miki’s back, and then Son was pulling them into a five-person embrace.
A panicked voice breached their bubble, shouting, “
Trainman, you’re up!”
They kept their heads bowed, foreheads bumping against each other, wide grins mirrored on each face. It was Kim who said it, but Miki knew they all echoed the words inside their heads.
“And you all will be singing with us too.”
***
They were on song three out of five when Miki saw him.
Miki was expecting him earlier on, before the band wrapped up their last rehearsal this afternoon, or while they were backstage waiting their turn. Or rather he was hoping he would come, if only to bring the color that Jill’s face was sorely wanting. Miki hadn’t heard Jill talk about Shinta since that time outside Commute Bar, and that wasn’t much of a catch up story than it was a prelude to a long winding tale. He wanted to ask her, to be the friend that she needed. But the past few days they were both walking on broken glass around each other, toeing the line they now had to draw between them.
So when he saw Shinta’s long frame rise from the jumping mass, Miki crashed his shoulder against Jill’s, whispering his name into her ear. Because he really meant it when he said he wanted things to work out with his best friend and the sparkly, difficult man she loved.
Jill missed a beat in her strumming as her eyes found him, the boy who had somehow managed to find a stool to stand up from in the middle of a mosh pit. Shinta’s long arms flew in the air, waving, gaze fixed on her.
She gripped the mic. Miki picked up the rhythm with his guitar as her song continued, its flow now dedicated to the man in the crowd.
“Here I am wondering/ Why are you so perfect?/ I think you said you’re mine/ The moon is going down/ I hear your whispers now/ I don’t like to wait, you know.”
Miki returned his gaze to the crowd, his eyes roaming each face. He was glad to see Shinta, but he wasn’t who Miki was looking for. Son collided against his back, almost sending him crashing to the wooden boards. Miki swore, spinning to face Son’s leering face.
“You’re looking the wrong way,” Son muttered to his ear. He galloped away, clearing the path so Miki could see Ana, standing in front of the black tarp doorway.
