A Song of Life: A Fictional Memoir (Song for You Book 2)

by Megan Rivers

  The idea of spending the holiday in the snow covered hills of Germany with Galvin, mixed with the rush and promise of our conversation was intoxicating. “I'll see what I can do,” I promised.

  The next morning, during their interview on Good Morning America, Galvin let the whole world know about our relationship which caused quite an uproar in all our lives. Galvin, who hated interviews was constantly pummeled by inquisitive interrogators. I, suddenly, was getting too much attention by people I didn't even know at my high school. We had to change our phone number when unplugging it didn't work and reporters even showed up on campus during one of Mom's classes to ask questions.

  I was getting a taste of Galvin's everyday life and I didn't like it. However, it was the price I had to pay to have Galvin in my life and it was worth it.

  Besides, this attention wasn't going to last forever.

  At least that's what I convinced myself.

  VI.

  Lavender Memories

  “Baby, It's Cold Outside” – Dean Martin

  Of course my mother didn't let me go to Germany for Christmas.

  “Please try to see this from my point of view,” she pleaded after I cried out that it wasn't fair in a typical teenage fashion. “I cannot let my sixteen year old daughter go to a foreign country, by herself, with her older, rich, famous and successful musician boyfriend that I have never met. I wouldn't be a good mother if I allowed it.” Her hand moved to her forehead as if she were getting a headache.

  While I understood her point of view, I still pleaded my case (and stomping my feet, huffing and puffing). “But you can trust me! I have never let you down!”

  “No, Christine. That's my final answer. He is more than welcome to come here, but I want to spend Christmas together with Kevin and Meadow and I know you do too.” She had gotten up from the couch to signify that it wasn't up for discussion any longer.

  “Uh!!” I grunted, throwing my hands in the air and marched (with heavy feet) to my room. She was one hundred percent right and it frustrated me, at that moment, that she knew me better than myself.

  And we did spend the holiday together in Lincoln Park. Usually Mom and I spent it watching It’s a Wonderful Life on TV and tried to transfer our turkey and mashed potato TV dinners onto my grandmother’s blue and white china because we couldn’t fit a real turkey in our tiny oven. But this year everything was different.

  Mom and I were at the mercy of the Langston's holiday traditions this year. It started off with large steaming mugs of hot apple cider while playing Scrabble, a filling dinner of spinach lasagna followed by midnight mass on Christmas Eve.

  Though Mom and I weren't church-goers, we fell victim to the beauty and awe of the beautiful Lutheran church and its infamous nativity scene on its front lawn that people looked forward to each year. After mass, people rushed to their cars to escape the biting chill, but we stood staring at the nativity scene, despite the huge, fluffy snowflakes that began to fall.

  The aura around the four of us was pure happiness. I’m almost sure we were radiating some type of vibe that made people point and say, “Now there’s a happy family!”

  “The bells are amazing, we have to stick around until they toll. It’s tradition,” Meadow insisted beneath her giant, faux fur-lined hood. “You can actually see the colors of the bells.”

  “Right Meadow,” I patted her on the shoulder, doubtful.

  “Really. I went to elementary school over there,” she pointed behind me, “and after lunch our teacher would tell us to put our heads down on our desks and close our eyes and if we were quiet and concentrated, we could see the colors of the bells.”

  “What Meadow didn’t know,” Kevin interjected, “was that it was the teacher’s way to get the kids to be quiet after lunch. Nevertheless everyday she would come home from school and mix together her crayons and make up the colors of the bells.

  “I got worried when Meadow said she saw the bells make colors, because it never ended. Every day I came home she’d have three more pictures of just colors hanging on the fridge. Her mother, though, insisted that Meadow was showing her creativity and uniqueness. Finally, we came to this church on Sunday, stood in this spot and Meadow held our hands and insisted that we close our eyes and we could see the colors too.”

  “It’s almost time,” Meadow said, looking up from her wrist watch. She tugged on my coat sleeve and looked up at the bell tower. “You guys have to try it.”

  I looked at Mom; she shrugged. We closed our eyes and seconds later the bells began to toll. I kept waiting for a burst of color to erupt behind my eyelids but I saw nothing. The chill outside was beginning to seep into my bones and I started bouncing on my heels to regain some warmth.

  The bells sounded like bells to me and I was disappointed when they stopped and I still hadn't witnessed their magic. I opened my eyes to declare it a hijinks but Kevin was on one knee, a diamond ring in his hand. Meadow stood beside him, beaming.

  Out of the corner of my eye I saw Mom's hands fly to her pink cheeks. My eyes shot from Kevin to Mom, to Meadow, and back to Kevin. When my brain realized what was about to happen, the size of my smile matched Meadow's.

  “Cynthia,” Kevin began, his breath visible in the crisp night air. “The past several months with you have been a blessing. We found each other at a time when we each needed someone and we've grown so naturally to fit together as a family. If the next fifty years are only a fraction of how wonderful the past five months have been then I'd be an idiot to let them go. So, we would love to make the both of you part of the family. Would you grant our Christmas wish this year and marry me?”

  The elation I saw radiating from my mother was something I never saw before and it made tears come to my eyes. At that moment I realized how much I loved my mother and was ecstatic that she was finally getting the happiness she deserved.

  She nodded her head and the dark curls that poked out beneath her black hat bobbed as if they reiterated her decision. “Yes, yes! Of course!” she exclaimed, her emotions floating to the surface as she was swept up by her fiance.

  Meadow and I hugged, jumping up and down being enveloped by the emotions tangling between the four of us. The diamond on my mother's finger sparkled in the street light, twinkling like the snow around us. We watched our parents and experienced a new level of lightness in their faces.

  When we woke up, hours later, we opened presents under a real seven foot tall Christmas tree with an angel on top and a train chugging along the tracks at the bottom (which Meadow and I decorated while listening to N Sync’s Christmas album weeks ago). Mom and I always had the same three foot fake one we kept on the coffee table in the living room, but I didn't miss it.

  Meadow’s present to me was a copy of Hanson’s This Time Around album and I laughed because I wrapped up Prey for Chance’s Quotations for her! As we sat in our pajama's laughing at each other, Mom cleared her throat, putting her cup of coffee on the end table, the sound acted as a gavel in our frivolity. “There's something we have to tell you girls,” she started, holding Kevin's hand who sat beside her on the couch.

  “Christie,” my mom started. Her movements were slow and measured as if she wasn't sure how to break the news; she knew how I would react before I did. For a fraction of a second I thought she was going to pull out a pin to pop my happiness-bubble, but she spoke before I would worry further. “You and I are going to be living here permanently.” Meadow and I turned to face each other and then turned back to our parents.

  “We've been talking about it for a while,” Kevin shared.

  “Are you serious?” I asked, a smile creeping across my lips.

  “For seriously?” Meadow stood up on her knees and looked at her father; they were eye-to-eye. “Don't toy with my womanly emotions, father!”

  “I already talked to the landlord,” Mom explained. “We have until the first of the year to move out.”

  Meadow and I faced each other again. “I get to keep you!” Meadow declared, her arms
out stretched, falling on top of me, tackling me to the floor. “I promise to feed her and love her and I shall call her 'Stie.”

  I laughed and struggled against her. “I'm not a dog!”

  “No! You're better! You're house-trained!” Meadow stood up on her knees again so I could get up from the swamp of wrapping paper. “You're my best friend, but now you're going to be my best sister.” Meadow gasped realizing something I didn't. “You're my Bestest Fri-ster!” she claimed, then wrapped her arms around my waist and sighed. “My Frister, Stie.”

  I rolled my eyes but I was beyond excited at the fact that I was to be a part of this family every day from now on.

  ♪ ♪ ♪

  Galvin arrived two days after Christmas. I originally planned to meet him at O’Hare Airport but the news that he was spending his holiday in Chicago leaked out to the press. Fans, men with giant cameras, and even a news crew sent airport officials to raise their security measures.

  As I was leaving the house to go to the airport, the phone rang. “Christie?” Kevin came around the corner just as I closed the front door behind me. I opened it again and peeked in. “It’s for you.” Kevin stood holding the phone on the wooden floor in his black dress socks. He didn’t make his way over to me so I climbed back through the door and took the phone from him.

  “Hi, this is Christie,” I said.

  “Christie, Samuel. There’s been a change of plans. The media is swarming O’Hare so I’ve arranged for Galvin to take a car from the airport to the Drake Hotel on East Walton Place. He’ll meet you at your residence in an hour.”

  “He’s staying at the Drake?” I tried to hide my disappointment.

  “Yes. Well, no. We have reserved a suite for him there, but he will, undoubtedly, not spend any time there. We hope the media will buzz around the Drake for a bit while Galvin sneaks out the back door and arrives to you in another car. We--that is he--wants to keep you and your family out of the media during his stay.”

  “Okay,” I said. It was a strange phone conversation. All of this was happening because Galvin was coming to see me. A pang of guilt struck, but I brushed it away as if it was a strand of hair in front of my face.

  “Great, he’ll be at your door on Prairie Street in about two hours.”

  “Oh, wait!” I was too late, Samuel had already hung up. Our apartment was on Prairie Street and we were all at Kevin’s house, nowhere near the south side of Chicago.

  I relayed the new plan to Kevin, who I found in his office upstairs. He was busy typing away on his laptop. “Are you going to head out now?” he asked.

  I still had my coat, hat, and gloves on. “Yeah. I’m going to finish packing up some things in my room while I wait.”

  Kevin tilted his head, drinking in my appearance. “Try to be home before your mother gets home. I don’t want her to kill me because you’ve gone missing with your European, rock n' roll boyfriend.”

  I smiled, rolling my eyes. “I’ll be fine, you have nothing to worry about.”

  “It’s not you I’m worried about, it’s your mother.”

  “We can take her, the both of us,” I joked.

  He lifted an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t be so sure.” He wagged a finger in my direction and laughed. “Be good, we’ll see you in a bit.”

  Meadow was baby-sitting the neighbor’s five-year-old twins so I drove Ribbit to the other side of Chicago and was amazed that the best parking spot was open. Mom and I didn’t own a car, we didn’t need one living in the city, but I had never seen that spot open in all my years of living there. I carefully parked Ribbit in its place and made my way up the familiar cement stairs, through the heavy security door, up two flights of stairs and to our door. Ours was starkly barren, compared to Mrs. Sanchez's whose door brandished a large wreath with paint-chipped, plastic figures depicting the nativity.

  Over the past two days we had emptied out most of the apartment. We dropped off our furniture and dishware at Goodwill (or gave it away to our neighbors) and packed every essential to transfer to Kevin’s place. I opened the front door and walked in.

  The bare white wall, where the entertainment center used to stand, seemed to jump out and yell at me for my absence. The aloe vera plant that Mom so desperately tried to keep alive no longer stood on the window sill. There was no couch or framed Beatles poster hanging above it. There were clean patches in our light blue carpet that marked where furniture, for nearly ten years, stood. I sighed, took off my coat and threw it onto the counter that separated the living room and kitchen.

  I walked straight ahead, down the tiny hallway where my school pictures once hung. As I reached my bedroom, there was a knock at the front door. Approaching the hallway, I was wondering if my mom was on the other side. I was conceived because she was left alone with her boyfriend. Now, since I now had a real boyfriend, she was beginning to get paranoid that history would repeat itself.

  I swung open the door, ready to begin a sermon about how responsible I was, but was taken aback. Galvin, sporting his infamous brown leather jacket, his hair melting around his face, smiled at me. “Hello.”

  My face cracked into a huge smile and I jumped on him with a hug. “You’re early!” I squealed.

  His embrace was warm and I was comforted by the smell of the Woodhue cologne he always wore. I held his head in my hands and kissed him. I couldn’t believe how much I had missed him.

  He returned my kisses. “This is better than the way I imagined it,” he revealed. His eyes painted my entire face. That look made me love him even more.

  My lips pulled tight with bliss. “Samuel called and said that―“ I started.

  “Yeah, they wanted me to wait at the Drake for another hour. I told them, ‘If you had a pretty girl waiting for you, would you stick around here?’ I slipped out and came as quickly as I could. It’s starting to snow, you know.”

  I studied his features as he talked and was washed away by memories that I had no idea I had of him which had started to fade until that moment. “I’m so happy that you’re here!” I kissed him again. When a neighbor passed by we broke apart and walked through the door.

  He took off his jacket and scanned the empty room with his finger. “There seems to be something missing,” he said, breaking the excited silence between us. He unzipped his jacket and I followed his gaze around the nearly empty apartment.

  “Yeah, about that,” I took his jacket and threw it on top of mine. “Did I forget to tell you we had to move out by the first?” My arms instinctively went around his waist; I needed to be close to him, absorb him into my pores.

  “No, you told me,” he said, putting his arms around my back. “I'm surprised you did it so quickly.”

  “Do you blame us?” I smiled looking up at him. “Do you mind sticking around here for a bit?”

  “As long as I’m with you, I don’t care where I am.” He kissed the top of my head and pressed my body up against his. His eyes sparked with electricity and it was painful to have to look away.

  “Behave, Galvin,” I warned with a smile. “My mother is going psycho.” I tore myself from his strong, warm grip. “Would you like the grand tour?”

  “Of course.”

  I waved my right hand towards the living room. “Here we have the south wing, used primarily for company.” I raised my left hand towards the kitchen. “And over here is the north wing. Our chef has taken a momentary leave of absence, excuse the mess,” I joked. I led him seven paces down the hallway. “Mom’s room is to the left, the bathroom is to the right, and my room is right here,” I said, walking backwards. He followed me inside.

  “Roomy.” He nodded, taking in the atmosphere I grew up in. I opened the yellowing shades and big fluffy snowflakes fell onto the top of the bare, scrawny tree outside my window. My room was lavender, and there were noticeably darker spots on my wall where my calendar, a world map, and a large framed poster of Van Gogh’s Starry Starry Night used to hang. Galvin leaned against the wall next to the window, not taking his eyes off me
.

  “I’m sorry that this empty, depressing apartment is your first impression of Chicago-me.” I said, standing in front of him. Months of wanting to be together and dreaming of this moment did not live up to the reality in my mind.

  “Why?” He looked bewildered but put his arm around my waist. I felt his fingers drumming along my hip bone.

  I scanned the bare room and shrugged. “It doesn’t feel like a home.”

  He smiled. “It's your home. Besides, I have you here, that’s home enough for me.”

  I matched his smile. “I have to pack a few things and then we can go.”

  He shrugged, indifferently, still studying my every move. I sighed having to pull him from my side.

  Mom and I had emptied everything from the apartment except for a few things in my closet. She was ready to start a new chapter of her life away from this place. I was excited to do it by her side but a little part of me was still tied to my childhood home. I pulled open the closet and tugged on the braided yellow yarn that hung from the ceiling and awakened my closet with a filmy yellow hue.

  The top shelf of my closet was something I wasn’t allowed to even think about touching when I was younger. A ceramic piggy bank, Cabbage Patch doll bank, and a plastic Oscar Mayer Weinermobile bank sat up there and came down on my birthday, at Christmas, and after visits from the Tooth Fairy so I could safely store the money I was gifted.

  If I stood on my tippy toes I could reach the shelf. Important things like my pitiful coin collection, old journals and diaries, my jewelry box, letters and other things of the sort had a permanent residence on the top shelf. I had been avoiding cleaning that shelf off because everything up there was permanent; if I took it down and moved it, this bedroom would cease to be mine. I couldn’t avoid the task any longer and began taking things, one by one, off the shelf and placing them in the box Mom left on the floor.

  After I had placed each bank prudently in the box, I threw a shoe box down to Galvin. I was reaching for my wooden jewelry box, when Galvin started to recite, “Leonardo DiCaprio, how do I love thee? You are great, you are super, you are amazing to a T.”