My Lullaby of You

by Alia Rose

  “Do you think anyone lives there?” Amy asked. I looked up at the house then back at Amy, whose eyes were searching for any sign of life or activity. It was strange—although the house was empty, it had a presence about it, as if it had been designed to look that way.

  “I don’t know,” I said, slipping my arm around Amy’s waist. She leaned against me, letting out a heavy sigh.

  “It feels nice to get away,” she said, grabbing my hand and holding it in both of hers.

  “Mm-hmm,” I said, resting my chin on her head. We continued to stand there looking up at the mansion. I clutched her a little tighter, realizing how short the weeks left of summer would be.

  “I’m going to miss you,” she said quietly. I lifted my chin off her head and turned my head to the side to see her face. She was looking down at our hands and ignored my gaze, even though I knew she was aware that I was looking at her. I kissed the corner of her forehead, and her skin was warm beneath my lips.

  “I am too,” I whispered. She let go of my hand and started walking ahead. I waited a minute before following, just watching her saunter, clutching her flip-flops in her hand.

  Now I passed by the same mansion that had intrigued Amy all those months ago. Almost all of the mansions were occupied. If the house itself seemed shut up and dark, the yard was still kept up, the flower beds weeded, and the sprinklers turning on at intervals throughout the day. But this mansion was different. It looked exactly the same way it had that summer, dark and untouched, yet nothing about it seemed worse or better. If the house really was vacant, you’d think its appearance would deteriorate, that the yard would be scorched and the flower beds completely dead, but no. Here it stood, exactly the same. Frozen in time.

  I wasn’t sure why it intrigued me so much now. It was just a sad house, but it reminded me of people in a way: damaged, neglected, and empty. The people who showed signs of hardship and wear, the people who made you wonder if they had any purpose anymore, or any thoughts. And just like the house, they did not seem to change. They made do with just enough to keep going, but they had lost all hope of anything more.

  Writing my thank you portion for the CD was rather simple. I was surprised by how easy—and nice—it felt to list all the people I was thankful for. It was certainly easier than coming up with the four words that would become my title. It took a lot of driving and reminiscing to come up with the right words.

  I spent Christmas with Phil and his family after Phil practically begged me to. My being alone on the holiday was apparently too awful for them to tolerate. And it was nice: a great evening with people I actually enjoyed. That wasn’t something I found too often.

  I spent New Year’s with people from the label, at a party that turned out to be huge. I met the other two bands I would tour with, and the members were nice enough. I stayed until three, then left to pack up my things for the tour, which would leave the next morning at eight. I thought it was a little odd to be touring after the holidays and I wondered if we would actually get decent crowds. Phil kept telling me to stop worrying. I wasn’t worrying, really. I was glad to be touring, regardless of the season. But I couldn’t help but be curious about how things would go.

  The morning we left, it was chilly and the city was quiet after a long night of parties. Everyone seemed equally tired, curled up on their seats on the bus that would be our home for the next six weeks. I was wired on caffeine and wouldn’t be able to get any sleep for at least another four hours. I sat and stared out the window, watching the city disappear behind me. I could hear Phil rummaging through a box and then footsteps. He dropped a CD case in my lap and said, “Thought you might like to see how it turned out.”

  I looked down into my lap and turned the album over. It was my album. There was me at the piano, my name just below my feet. The graphics had turned out great.

  “Great title,” Phil said before walking away. I looked up and watched as he sat down, wondering if there was sarcasm in that statement or if he actually meant it.

  I looked back down at the cover, opening it, and then closing it. I couldn’t believe I was actually holding my own album.

  My Lullaby of You.

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  Amy

  It was my second day back in Chicago when I saw it, there for the entire city to see. It was posted up at all the Loop stations. At first I didn’t notice his name under the main band’s name and picture. But then, after staring at the poster a little longer, it hit me. And Introducing Seth Collins, coming to Chicago for two performances. I almost laughed out loud when I took a closer look and noticed that Yellow Road was the headliner.

  The ad stared at me as I waited for the Red Line to take me away from it. “Don’t forget to purchase his debut album!” it seemed to scream at me as I turned away and boarded the train. I sat down and leaned my head back, closing my eyes. I wanted to go to the concert; I wanted to see him. Heck, I wanted to see Yellow Road.

  I also knew someone else who’d want to see them. Cassie. It was one of the first things she’d asked me when she found out I was from North Carolina. I had pinned her for a more mainstream kind of girl, but slowly I learned about her love for finding new music no one else had heard of. When she had asked and I said I knew Yellow Road, I wasn’t sure if she was disappointed or impressed. Either way, I knew there was no escaping the endless excitement about this since she was a concert junkie and would no doubt see the poster pinned at our stop.

  I opened my eyes and looked out at the rooftops of the houses we passed by. No, I told myself, you can’t go. I couldn’t face him now after not having shown up at the beach, after failing to get in touch with him all these months. For all he knew, I had moved on and didn’t want anything to do with him. Oh, how much I wished that were true.

  Not that I hadn’t had my chances. Dan was bursting with excitement once I got back from North Carolina, and told me he had booked our tickets for Peter Pan for the second week in February. I liked Dan, I did, but I didn’t want to move on no matter how much I tried convincing myself otherwise. I couldn’t admit that to anyone but myself, and all that anyone could see from the outside was my stubbornness. At least that’s what Kelly had told me.

  I had been home for a week when I got a call from Sarah.

  “So what happened?” she said the second I answered.

  “Hi?” I said, unsure of what was going on. I was walking along the beach, hoping for a tan, which wasn’t going over well with all the clouds in the sky. I waited for her to continue but she didn’t.

  “Um…” I began, trying to get her to talk.

  “You go off to Chicago and disappear off the face of the earth, and now you’re back in town and Kelly and I don’t know about it?”

  Oh. Oops.

  “Since when did you become all dramatic?” I asked her.

  “Whatever,” she said, dismissing my comment.

  “You act like you are close to home or something,” I argued. “You’re in New York,” I reminded her. Her mom had decided to visit her instead of Sarah coming back home for the holidays.

  “Yeah, duh,” she said. “But Kelly is only two hours away from you and she’s pissed.”

  “Okay,” I said slowly, stopping at the café for a coffee, needing it badly, knowing where this was going. “Then why are you calling me?”

  “Kelly doesn’t know you’re in town yet. I’m just giving you a heads up to tell you to call her now before she freaks that you haven’t already.”

  “All right, all right,” I said, thinking Kelly and Cassie really needed to meet.

  “Thanks, Sarah.”

  “Anytime,” she said, pausing. I could hear chatter and clattering on her end. “I miss you, by the way,” she added.

  I smiled into my cup. “I miss you too.”

  I waited until after lunch with my mom and John before calling Kelly. When she realized I was in town, she squealed for two minutes straight. My mom heard her from the kitchen and raised her eyebrows.

&nb
sp; “Kelly?” she asked.

  I nodded, pulling the phone away from my ear. She began talking fast, telling me she was on her way home and that I had no choice in the matter but I was having Christmas dinner with her family. I had a feeling this invitation was more for Kelly to have me suffer with her and to get her out of babysitting her nephew. I couldn’t blame her. My mom didn’t usually cook a Christmas dinner, so she wouldn’t mind spending part of our evening there. I think she also wanted to spend more time with John. John had moved back in and was transitioning back into my mom’s everyday life, and partly back into mine. Sometimes I caught him observing me with a look of concern, and I wondered if he was thinking about Seth, though he never mentioned him in front of me.

  Christmas at Kelly’s house was always a big deal. Her family put on a large party with great food. My mom wore a fitted black dress, actually fixed her hair and put on a little makeup. She looked good, and more than once I caught her having a good time.

  “So, how are you?” Kelly asked me. We were sitting on the deck, watching everyone else laughing inside.

  “I’m fine,” I said.

  “No, you’re not.”

  I looked at her. She seemed thinner, her hair a lighter blond, but she was still as pretty as ever. I did a dramatic sigh. “Then what is wrong with me?”

  Kelly didn’t answer right away. She just sipped her Coke. “Have you talked to Seth at all?”

  At the mention of his name, my heart squeezed. “No,” I said, shrugging as if it didn’t matter.

  “How come?” she asked.

  “Because I don’t want to,” I answered, taking a sip of my own Coke. I was aware she was studying me. I met her gaze and she said, “Are you sure about that?”

  I stared at her, starting to get frustrated with this conversation.

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning I think you think you don’t want to talk to him, but really…” She took another sip. “…you do.”

  “I do,” I repeated. “And all this you can tell by seeing me for a couple of hours.”

  Kelly shook her head. “You act like I haven’t known you since birth. I don’t need a couple of hours to figure you out.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “You’re just being stubborn, Amy,” she said. “And you know it.”

  I didn’t answer, just looked for my mom inside. It seemed like it was time to leave. “You know,” she said softly, “there is nothing wrong with you wanting to talk to him.”

  I turned my gaze back to her. “I don’t want to talk to him,” I said, closing the subject. She studied me for a minute before shifting her gaze.

  “Okay.”

  After the party I drove back home and changed into sweats, then went back outside. It was nice—a little cool, but it didn’t bother me. I sat on the front steps, breathing in the familiar air and not wanting my vacation to be half over already.

  I heard the front door creak and turned my head.

  “Hey.” John sat down next to me, holding a mug of tea.

  “Hey.”

  John sighed, looking up at the sky. “A lot better here than Baltimore, that’s for sure.”

  “Same with Chicago.” I wasn’t sure what to say to him. I wasn’t mad at him anymore, but we had rarely talked before, so talking now didn’t seem too natural.

  “Listen, Amy,” John began. “I just want to thank you for being so great about everything with your mom and me. I know how hard this must have been on you, especially considering everything that happened with Seth.”

  At the mention of his name, I looked down. John continued talking, more slowly this time. “If I’m being honest, I have Seth to thank for getting me here. He was the one that knocked some sense into me. Made me believe second chances were worth pursuing.”

  I remained silent, my heart pounding and a lump rising in my throat.

  I felt John’s hand on my arm. “He still cares about you. A lot.”

  I looked up at him then and then stared ahead. “I’m glad you’re home, John.”

  I walked to the beach, stopping at the boardwalk, and sat at one of the benches. I felt something rub against my leg and looked down to see Paul’s puppy looking up at me, panting. I petted Sandy’s head. She barked and I looked back at the beach. Paul was sitting on a towel on the sand. It was odd seeing him there, yet a familiar sight I was used to seeing during that summer. A figure on the sand.

  “Come on, girl,” I said to Sandy, and we both walked toward Paul.

  “Look who found me,” I said, letting Sandy join Paul on the towel.

  “Hey!” Paul said to Sandy, brushing his fingers through her fur. He looked up at me and I sat down. “What are you doing out here?”

  Paul shrugged. “Just thinking.”

  “Best place for it,” I stated, hugging my knees to my chest.

  “What do you need to think about?” Paul asked, looking at me. I met his gaze and hesitated. Paul had always been obnoxious, immature, and really got on my nerves sometimes. I never could have imagined I would find myself sitting on the beach with him this late. Still, I had known him for so long, and looking at him now I realized he wasn’t so bad. He had been there for me that night when I cried in his arms, and he had been there for my mom when I was at school. I had to give him credit for all that at least.

  “Just something Kelly said to me tonight,” I said, looking back at the water. I sighed and added, “Why are some things so hard to let go of?”

  Paul didn’t answer right away, just looked at me, studying me.

  “Like Seth,” he finally said. I held his gaze, staying silent awhile before turning away.

  “Seth, life in general…” I replied.

  Paul nodded. “I don’t know.” Sandy circled us before sitting down between us, wagging her tail back and forth.

  “Maybe because you’re not supposed to let them go,” he said after a while.

  I kept my eyes on the water, feeling another lump rising. This is ridiculous, I thought. I needed to get a grip. I let out a shaky breath and felt Paul’s arm slide around my shoulders.

  The train jerked and my eyes shot open just in time for a body to shove me. A backpack fell suddenly into my lap. I blinked and looked down at the bag.

  “I’m so sorry,” a voice said to me, taking the huge backpack out my lap and setting it down on the seat next to me.

  “Amy?” the voice said, and I looked up to find Dan in front of me.

  “Hi,” I managed to say, my head throbbing from hitting it on the metal pole next to me.

  Dan looked around us and then back at me. “Where are you going?”

  I looked up at the station we were slowing down into. Two stops past the one I needed. I had a class in ten minutes and there was no way I would make it in time. I sighed, already hating this day. My mind was exploding with so many thoughts and my body was exhausted from them.

  I looked up at Dan, who was still looking at me, waiting for an answer.

  “Nowhere,” I finally said. The train started moving again, and I gathered my stuff for the next stop.

  When I stepped off the train, I pulled out my cell phone and dialed Sarah’s number. When she answered, I let out a sigh of relief.

  “I need to talk to you,” I told her. She was silent on the other end and so I took another deep breath, and then told her everything.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  Seth

  Being on tour was amazing: a different city every night, all the people, and so much music. I could feel myself coming back, all the damage wearing off, as if I were finally healing. I was happy for the first time in the four months I’d spent without Amy. It might have been because of the songs, which were mostly about her. Even though I wasn’t in Chicago yet and she was nowhere nearby, I still felt her presence. It was as if she were on stage with me as I sang. It was kind of crazy, but it was helping me somehow.

  Phil was in the best of spirits, always patting me on the back for my success, telling me I was doing gr
eat at promoting myself. I hadn’t realized how much I was loved until after the night in St. Louis, our fifth show, when we realized we had sold out of my albums. Phil laughed at my stunned expression. “They love you,” he told me. I just stared at him, puzzled that all those CDs could be gone already.

  “Will we order more?” I asked.

  Phil nodded. “Of course. We’ll have them in a couple of days.”

  “Will we have them for Chicago?” I asked, hoping I sounded nonchalant.

  “Yeah, we should.” Phil said, looking up from his newspaper. I avoided his gaze and continued to look out the window when he asked, “Who’s in Chicago?”

  “What?” I said, looking at him.

  He raised his eyebrows.

  “Oh, nobody,” I said quickly.

  The truth was, the closer Chicago got on the calendar, the more anxious I became. With my confidence coming back to me, I planned on finding Amy when I got there. Even if she didn’t want to see me, I needed to get closure on our relationship.

  I also started a little writing project. Touring was such a fantasy that I needed to share it with someone. So I began writing letters to no one in particular at first, but as I continued to write, I began addressing them to Amy. Mainly because, out of anyone, she would understand why this experience was such a big deal for me. And after sharing so much with her, I felt like I needed to share this with her too. Well, hypothetically sharing it with her since I wasn’t actually mailing them. Which, I’ll admit was a little on the pathetic side.

  We had six hours before we would reach Chicago which would give us a good four hours to prepare for tonight’s show. Phil warned me it would be one of our biggest shows. Phil had ordered four more boxes of my album which should get us through the rest of the tour. He was determined to have me rich and famous by the end of the tour. I still had doubts of that happening.

  “Hey Chicago, how are we doing tonight!” I yelled over the crowd. “Who’s excited for tonight’s show?” More screaming. The screaming was almost the best part about the concerts; even though they were mostly screaming for what was to come, it pumped adrenaline in my veins every time leaving me at some kind of high at every show. The lights were my favorite. It was a constant reminder that this was actually happening as it was happening. I always began with “Curly Hair and Knobby knees”, it seemed to be the most popular and really got the crowd going. I played for about twenty to thirty minutes, getting in four or five songs depending on how long I talked to the crowd in between the songs. I ended with the Nora James cover which usually got everyone frantic and crazy. I met with fans after the show, selling my CDs, which I signed for them and occasionally snapping a picture with some.