by Shey Stahl
The day Dixie would have been a year old was hard, and with it brought a pain I didn’t know I could still feel that real. Pain I thought would have gotten easier.
Beau sent me a message.
I love you, pretty girl. Still. Always. Forever. My heart is with you today.
I sent him one back that said: My heart hurts so badly today, but there’s comfort in knowing someone feels that same way.
I wanted to tell him I loved him.
I wanted him to wait for me.
I wanted him to move on, and not put himself through this.
I was thankful he hadn’t.
I struggled for so long not to feel the pain of losing her, and the reality that I let Beau go, when I knew he was the best thing for me. Maybe it was because I needed to heal on my own. I wasn’t entirely sure what my thought process was on that one, but feeling was what I needed.
Like my mother always said, “Whatever your struggle is, sugar, own it. Feel it. Life is messy, so just deal with the shit and smile. You’re not perfect, and you’re not alone.”
I’d like to think I was better and I wouldn’t have days where even breathing hurt, but I did. I knew, no, I wanted to believe there was beauty in that too.
Now what was I supposed to do? Live my life again? How was that even possible?
I spent Christmas alone, despite knowing Beau was in Mountain Brook with his family. He didn’t call, and I didn’t either.
All I could focus on was I didn’t have a family right now.
On New Years Eve, I made a resolution I was going to change.
The change came for me when I spent the evening with my mom, watching television when everyone else was out partying.
It was somewhere between The Voice and Grey’s Anatomy when she asked about Beau.
My mom knew about Dixie and that Beau and I broke up, I wasn't sure though how much she comprehended it.
“He’s on tour right now.” I told her, kinda hoping she'd leave it at that.
Beginning to panic a little, the rush of emotions that always seemed to flood me came back in full force.
Standing, I made my way over to her cabinets in search of a water glass and found a firefighters helmet in there. “Mom, did you steal this from the fire department?”
“No,” she picked up Shep and laid him gently on her lap. “I’m sure he'll be back for it soon.”
Crazy woman, stealing stuff just to get them to come back.
“When are you going to bring Beau back? I miss that charming country boy.”
Me too, Mama. Me too.
I laid my head against the cabinets and mumbled, “Not you too.”
I always wondered if it was really Corbin dying that tore my parents apart or if it was something else. They fought constantly growing up and I always assumed it was just them. Until losing Dixie I couldn't comprehend how life changing it was to lose a child.
“Hey mom,” I sat next to her again, taking her hand in mine, her dark eyes tender. “Do you think if Corbin hadn’t died, you and dad would have been okay?”
After Corbin died, my father was a drunk, crazy and violent at times. I didn’t know him all that well. When he was home, he was in the garage, drinking, tinkering with his truck or out back on the tractor, and probably hoping to fall off the damn thing.
One day, he never came back.
Death destroyed families.
I didn’t ask where my father went, neither did my mother. Maybe it was some unspoken reality we were both avoiding, I might never know.
Mom’s eyes drifted to a photograph she had of me and Corbin standing next to an old Buick, big cheesy smiles on our dirty little faces. “I never thought your father was someone I should have married in the first place. He was the rebel from the wrong side of town and I was the preacher’s daughter hell-bent on pissing off daddy. I loved him dearly but you're right, losing a child changes who you are inside. We changed in opposite directions.”
Had Beau and I changed in opposite directions?
I didn't think we did. I pushed him away and he was hanging on.
“You and Beau are different.”
Of course she would say that.
“I'm scared I won't be enough for someone like him.”
“Is that really why you broke up with him? Because you never thought you were good enough?”
“That among other reasons.”
“You are good enough.”
Was I? Did I deserve someone like Beau?
I wasn’t so sure.
It was another Saturday night and I was laying on the couch, alone, watching movies when I heard a knock at my door. Peeking out the window, I noticed a black car I’d never seen before.
As I opened the door, I saw Payton standing before me. “Why haven’t you listened to his CD, or returned any of his calls?”
“Oh, hey, Payton, so nice to see you.”
She looked confused. “Really?”
“No, fuck off.” I was about to close the door when she stopped me, her hand on the door.
“Okay, I deserve that.”
Stupid twat waffle. You deserve more than that.
“Yeah, you do. If I had a dick, this is where I would kindly tell you to suck it.”
Payton smiled, shaking her head as she tucked a strand of her silky dark hair behind her ear. “Now I see what Beau liked about you.”
Funny, I don’t know what he saw in you. Maybe it’s your winning personality. NOT!
“There was always more than my looks.”
“I deserve that too.”
“Why are you even here?” I wanted to slam the door in her face. “You don’t like me.”
“I didn’t like you before because I was in love with Beau and, well, he was looking at you like he never looked at me.”
Very true, beauty queen.
“So?” I opened the door and let her in. I guess I’d hear her out.
“You look good. Boney, but good.”
Rolling my eyes, I offered her a Coke, only to have her decline. “Not everyone can have Dolly Pardon tits. And what, are you too good for Coke?”
“Do you have diet?”
“Yeah, it’s called water. Would you like some?”
She nodded, and I handed her a bottle of water from the fridge.
There was a moment of silence between us and then she sighed, a heavy but jagged breath that caught my attention. “I’m sorry I let you believe there was something between Beau and I, and there wasn’t. It ended a long time ago, maybe even before he cheated on me.”
My eyes found glossy green. It was easy to see why Beau was attracted to her and how much he loved her back then.
But I was still mad at her and she knew why.
“And I’m sorry for those things I know you heard at the store…about Dixie. I’ve never lost a child, and I had no right to pass judgment on your pain.”
She was getting somewhere, but not yet.
“You’re right, you don’t get to judge me.” Breathing in deep, I stared out the window, unable to look at her. “I’m sure you’re not perfect.”
“Beau wasn’t my first.” Payton couldn’t look at me now, a nervousness she usually never presented in the pink that rushed to her cheeks. “Everyone in town thinks he was, but he wasn’t.”
“Who was?”
“His brother, Jensen, when I was only sixteen and Jensen was eighteen.”
Figures she’d do something like that.
“Does Beau know this?”
Payton breathed in deep. “It’s exactly why he and Jensen don’t get along.”
“So you cheated on him?”
“No,” she whispered, “we weren’t dating at the time. We had broken up because I wanted to date other people for a little while. All I had ever known was Beau, and I was curious as to what else was out there.”
We had sat there in silence for a while, when I sighed. “I still don’t understand why you’re here. Beau and I broke up. That’s great you wanted to apologize
, but you and I will never be friends.”
“I’m going to the Grammy awards tomorrow…with Beau.”
Is he seeing her? Are they…fuck, they’re having sex. Goddamn it!
The rush of emotions that swarmed me was more than I expected. I stood, pointing to the door. “I’m not surprised, you whore. Now please leave.”
Payton refused to leave, crossing her legs like she was getting comfortable. “I deserve that.”
“You deserve a lot more than that, Payton. And Beau and I broke up, so you’re free to go with him. I hope you two are happy.”
“Are you?”
“No.” Sighing, I scrubbed my hands over my face and then let them fall in my lap. “Just go, Payton. I don’t…want you here.”
She waited for our eyes to meet. “You guys didn’t break up, Bentley. You may have parted ways for a while,” she said with all-too-sad eyes, a portrait of a woman who had given everything to one man, and now he wasn’t there. “You’ve broken him, though.” Payton swallowed, like she couldn’t bear to tell me this, but was. And then I wondered if Beau knew she was here. More than likely, he didn’t. “You need to tell him he still has a chance.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s destroying him and it’s not fair. For months I’ve watched him drink himself into what he believes is normal and functioning, when in reality, he’s killing himself.”
“I didn’t break him.” I’ll admit, my response was snipped. I felt like she was accusing me. “Life broke us.”
“It’s not fair, none of it, losing your daughter, all of it and I know you still love him. He did everything for you, to make you see his love for you, and he was nominated for a fucking Grammy because of it,” Payton said. “But you haven’t once made an effort for him. Make a damn effort.”
A Grammy? Holy shit!
He was doing this for me?
But why?
Why not for him?
Payton seemed to understand my confusion. “He wrote that song for you because he loves you and he was trying to make you see it.”
It was then I started to go into all out panic mode. As if suddenly it all made sense and what he said at the wedding.
“The way I feel about you hasn’t changed. It never will.”
“What if he’s moved on? It’s been nine months.”
Payton scurried over to me, sensing her opening to convince me, taking my face between her hands. “He’s waiting for you.”
“I doubt that,” I said, unsure of what I was saying.
“I can tell you without a doubt, Beau loves you.” She held my stare, begging me to see. “That song he wrote, ‘Everlasting Light’ you know the one that’s been number one for so long, it earned him a Grammy, and he wrote it for you.”
As she spoke, I wanted to tell her she didn’t understand and her theory was wrong. Only, I didn’t know. She could have been right. Maybe that was why he wanted me at the concert so badly.
When I didn’t say anything, Payton rolled her eyes. “Bentley, he’s performing at the Grammy’s tomorrow, and for the first time ever he’s playing ‘Everlasting Light’ live, and you’re going to fucking hear that song, and he’s going to sing it like it was meant to be heard if I have to drag you by your hair to get you there.” Stunned by her verbal lashing, my eyes about bugged out when I noticed Blaine in the driveway, now standing outside Payton’s car now with a bag in hand and sunglasses.
Had they planned this?
Was this their intervention?
“I got us a redeye flight to L.A. which means we’ll get there in the morning. The Grammy’s start at five. Nine months has been way too long. Now get your boney ass inside that damn car. We have a long flight and still have to make you look like you’re alive.” She pushed me toward the door. “You’re too pale.”
I was rushed out of the house in my sweats and messy hair in a bun with barely enough time to put shoes on. Once inside the car, Blaine peeked over the seat where I was sitting in the back. “I’m sorry, but we had to do something.”
I wasn’t sure how to respond and then she patted my shoulder.
“And don’t be mad at me after you talk to him.”
I whipped my head around to face her. “Why?”
“No reason.”
My nerves skyrocketed. Was I really heading to LA to see Beau perform live?
NINETEEN HOURS LATER, I was standing in a dark parking lot outside a limo behind the Staples Center, all by myself. If I had nails, they would be gone. I’d thrown up twice, brushed my teeth three times, and had enough makeup on I was afraid to smile in fear I’d crack it.
When Payton returned, breathless, she drew in a couple calming breaths. “He’s backstage right now in the dressing room. Miles said he could get us back there.”
I flattened my palms over my black dress that clung to every curve I didn’t have and made me look ten feet tall. I felt absolutely ridiculous wearing it, but then again, this was the Grammy awards. Clearly my usual attire of yoga pants wasn’t going to work. “Is he okay?”
“Yeah, he’s just nervous. Back there biting his nails and pacing the floor. He was nominated for Best Solo Country Performance, Best New Artist, Record of the Year and Song of the Year.” And then Payton eyed me and the dress I was wearing. She and Blaine had spent hours on me and this black dress. “You look great, a little bony, but great.” She clapped her hands together. “What’s your plan?”
Was she serious? We flew here and she wanted to know my plan?
“My plan?” I gasped, my eyes wide. “I thought you had one?”
She started to pace the parking lot. “I do…I think. Let’s get in there and well figure it out. He won for best solo country performance.”
“Really?” My eyes stung with happy tears. “He won a Grammy?”
“Yep. They already announced it, but he’s backstage at the moment. He’s performing in a few minutes, but you need to get in there and get in my seat that way he sees you when he performs.”
“Why?”
She waved in my face, like I shouldn’t concern myself with the minor details. “Because it’s like a grand gesture. He’ll never expect this. Not in a million years.”
The nerves hit me like a punch to the gut. “What if I waited too long? And what if he wants you there and not me?”
“He’ll want you there, believe me. He hasn’t said a single word to me all night. He loves you. He never gave up on that.”
Stepping toward the building with her, I prayed.
Don’t trip.
SOMETIMES I WONDERED if I had moved on, mostly because I couldn’t even listen to his music. Unfortunately for me, that hadn’t happened. I might have set down the pen, I might have thought I was moving on, but there was a good part of me that, after seeing Beau at Blaine’s wedding, still hoped there was a chance for us.
Seated in the front row, directly in front of the stage he was about to perform in front of, I was shaking so bad I looked like there was something physically wrong with me.
Thankfully no one paid me any mind.
“Performing his hit single ‘Everlasting Light’ for the first time live off his latest album Tail Lights, here is Beau Ryland.”
The crowd around me cheered, the applause shocking to my already ringing ears.
As the lights of the stage dimmed, I spotted Beau walking forward wearing dark jeans and what appeared to be a black shirt just a few shades lighter than his jeans. His hair was messy, no reason to the madness but it fit him so well. Around his neck was the same necklace he always wore, a simple cross.
He looked amazing. Slimmer than I remembered, the muscles in his arms appeared defined, like maybe he was leaner than before.
A single light shined down on him standing in front of a microphone with his guitar as he started a slow rhythm I knew was going to make me cry.
There was a reason why I hadn’t listened to this song before.
Behind him was a small band, playing softly, but appeared this wa
s an acoustic performance and nothing fancy, just like our love. Simple.
I couldn’t move. Frozen.
Holy fuck. It’s really him. I’m really here about ready to hear him sing.
Shit. Breathe.
No seriously. You need to breathe.
When he scanned the crowd, his eyes swept over me, and then darted back when he saw that familiar blonde in a seat where there should have been a brunette beauty.
I wanted to wave, do something, but I was just as frozen as him.
He stared down at me like I wasn’t real, wide eyes taking me in from my face to my feet. The look on his face was pure shock, but then just as quickly, he blinked the look away, smiling at the cheers around him as he began to play his guitar. Every few cords, he’d tap his hand to create a unique rhythm.
I thought, hoped, that my feelings would have changed for Beau. I wanted them to. But they hadn’t, and in that moment, I realized they probably never would.
He was the father to my baby girl.
He was the man who I fell for in a matter of hours, and erased from my life just as quickly.
Like it or not, part of me was still holding on to that summer and his smart-mouthed Southern drawl I knew him to be.
Now, here I was, waiting for him to acknowledge me, to give me hope, or not.
Feeling the sudden panic rise, my hands and heart trembled as I decided what I would do next.
I really, really needed to relax, but I was running on adrenaline. And, suddenly, before I knew it, I was living my life through memories flashing in my head, fourteen again, sky blue passing in the halls, and living for a boy with a guitar in hand, sun glowing, the days long and hot, sticky and heavy—everything his memory was—beating down in rays so hot you couldn’t breathe.
Beau was visibly nervous when he stared down at me, his breathing intensifying like the muffled roars of cheers around us, his hands shaking as he reached for the microphone in front of him.
He looked down at me as if the world stopped for him and it leveled me. I’d forgotten how it felt to have him look at me like that, and the power it held.
And then he began to sing.
