Songs Unfinished

by Holly Stratimore

  “Well, you just did me a huge favor, so name it.”

  “I need a place to stay, just for a few days. I just need time to find a job and then I’ll get my own place and be out of your hair.”

  “Yeah, of course you can stay with me.” Jaymi felt like she knew Shawn well enough from their time together in LA to be comfortable having her in the apartment, and some company might actually be nice for a while.

  Tension visibly drained from Shawn’s features, replaced by a smile. “Really? Thanks so much. Peach won’t mind?”

  “Peach and I aren’t together anymore.” Jaymi hated the sudden feeling of insecurity that hit her at the mention of Peach’s name. She thought she was beyond that now.

  “Oh shit, I’m sorry. I feel like a jerk now.”

  “That’s all right, you didn’t know. We split up almost a year ago. But whatever. Follow me back to my place—it’s cold out here and I’m wiped.”

  Jaymi’s headlights stretched down the long driveway when they got there twenty minutes later. Passing the old farmhouse on the left, she made a slight right to park in front of the barn. Part of the barn’s loft had been converted into a two-bedroom apartment by the couple that owned the property, and her living quarters occupied a good portion of the upper floor.

  Jaymi told Shawn to make herself comfortable in the living room while she brought Shawn’s bag and guitar into the spare bedroom. But Shawn was pacing the room when she returned, her arms wrapped around herself as though she was cold. Jaymi could understand why that would be. Shawn was unseasonably dressed in a denim jacket over a gray hooded sweatshirt. There was a frayed hole in one knee of her faded Levi’s 550s and the cuffs at the bottom were tattered. The pants had probably fit her perfectly at some point, but now they barely clung to her small hips and nearly mimicked the oversized style of popular hip-hop artists. The rubber soles of her Converse tennis shoes were cracked and blackened with age, their red canvas faded and soiled. When Shawn nervously swiped back her bangs, her eyes beneath were dark with exhaustion.

  “Sorry. I needed to stretch my legs. Been on the road for ages. Listen, I don’t want to impose—”

  “You’re not imposing, really. And I know you well enough to know you’re not some psycho,” Jaymi said, turning up her thermostat.

  “You have no idea how much I appreciate this.” She shivered and rubbed her hands on her arms. “I didn’t know who else to turn to. You’re the only person I could think of. I heard your song on the radio and remembered you’d moved back here.”

  “Look, it’s late, and I can see you’re exhausted. Other than rehearsal in the afternoon, I’m free all day tomorrow. So you can fill me in then, okay? Right now, you need to rest. I don’t know what’s going on with you, but I can tell you’ve had a rough night. Are you hungry? I could fix you some soup.”

  Shawn’s smile was shy, but her eyes lit up. “Starving, but I don’t want to be any trouble. I think I still have some munchies out in my car.”

  “It’s no trouble, Shawn, really. Go get into some pajamas. The bathroom’s down this hall on your right. If you’d like a shower or you just want to freshen up, please, go right ahead. Either way, I’m fixing you something to eat.”

  The genuine gratitude in Shawn’s eyes reminded Jaymi of a rescued puppy. She studied the worn face. It was obvious she hadn’t had a professional haircut in months—her hair was unkempt and much longer than Jaymi remembered, a mop of light brown hair with a hint of rust, parted on the side in a style similar to the young Paul McCartney’s. It fell loosely layered, with overgrown bangs reaching well below her dark eyebrows. They practically hid her soft hazel eyes, which in certain lighting, Jaymi remembered, appeared a faded brown that matched her hair. Jaymi thought her eyes beautiful, the sad and insecure face cute, and the mysterious, quiet manner intriguing.

  Jaymi showed Shawn to her room, set up the bathroom with clean towels and a brand-new spare toothbrush, and told her to help herself to anything else she needed. Content that Shawn was all set, she put on a can of soup and made a tuna sandwich.

  As she prepared everything, she wondered what had happened to her friend. Shawn had seemed insecure when they’d first met, but everyone starting out was insecure, and she certainly hadn’t been the frail and timid refugee who showed up at her show tonight. Had she gotten into the drug scene out there? God, I hope not. I already dealt with one addict in my life. That was enough. She didn’t recall Shawn ever doing drugs before. She’d seen her have an occasional beer or two, but that was it.

  Why was it that she had no one else to turn to? She’d grown up here. Didn’t she have any family to take her in?

  Jaymi finished making the sandwich and cursed when she noticed the soup bubbling. She turned down the heat and gave it a stir. Come to think of it, Shawn had never spoken of her family. If she had, Jaymi didn’t remember it. Even if her parents weren’t an option, she must still have friends or relatives in the area.

  There was also the question of how long she might need to stay. If she truly had nowhere else to go, that might throw a monkey wrench in Jaymi’s plans. She was finally in the clear to focus on nothing but her own needs and career. I don’t need any complications in my life. Not now. I need this time for myself. She almost immediately felt guilty for having such thoughts, but it was true. She had worked hard to overcome the impulse to put everyone else’s needs ahead of her own.

  On the other hand, the condition of her friend broke her heart. The look in Shawn’s eyes when she offered to feed her was a good indication that it had been a very, very long time since anyone had treated her with kindness. What had happened to her? Jaymi was curious to find out, and that alone was enough temptation to let her stay awhile—at least until she could get back on her feet. A few weeks can’t hurt, right? Besides, I always liked Shawn.

  She heard the bathroom door open as she placed a glass of milk next to the soup and sandwich. She turned and caught her breath. The transformation was remarkable. Shawn’s damp hair was combed back, so Jaymi could see her face better. Jaymi smiled, and Shawn’s eyes twinkled when she returned the smile, and she shyly clasped her hands together and shrugged. She wore navy-blue cotton sleep pants with white music notes on them and a heather-gray pocket T-shirt. She looked absolutely adorable. I might be in trouble here.

  “Feel better?”

  “You have no idea.”

  “Good. Sit and relax, okay? You’re not intruding. I wouldn’t have said yes if I didn’t really mean it was okay. My God, you look scared to death. You’re safe here, honestly.”

  Shawn nodded, concentrating on her soup. The way she devoured it made Jaymi wonder when she’d last had any real food.

  “Mmm. That hits the spot.” She gobbled down several crackers, added a handful to the soup, and finished it off. She then bit into the sandwich. By the look on her face, Jaymi would have thought she was tasting filet mignon for the first time.

  “Again, I can’t thank you enough. Do you…would you mind…shit, I’ve got some nerve showing up here…”

  “We’ll talk about it tomorrow. Tonight, relax and know that you’re welcome here. Okay?”

  She gave Jaymi another warm smile that made her face light up. “Thank you, Jaymi. Really.”

  Jaymi retrieved the pot of soup from the stove and emptied its remaining contents into Shawn’s bowl. There would be time to talk later. Tonight was about rest and food. Tomorrow would take care of the rest.

  Chapter Four

  Shawn sank her head into the plush pillow and let her weary body melt into the cushions. This is heaven. She relished the feel of clean sheets and inhaled their crisp scent. She cuddled into the cocoon of warm blankets, without shivering once. No sharing a room with cockroaches and traffic noise tonight.

  She awoke to the welcome aromas of bacon and coffee. She stretched and yawned, blinking lazily as she recalled where she was. She smiled contently. She had slept through the night—no small thing after what she’d been through.

&nbs
p; Bright sunlight filtered in through the curtain and Shawn wondered how late she had slept. She figured she could probably sleep for several more hours, but already felt more rested than she had in months. Her stomach grumbled and the need for nourishment prompted her to get up.

  “You sleep okay on that futon?” Jaymi asked when Shawn shuffled into the kitchen after a brief stop in the bathroom.

  “Better than I have in weeks, thank you.” First night this week without nightmares.

  “Sorry that room’s kind of a mess. I’ve used it more for storage. There are some hangers in the closet if you’d like to hang any clothes.”

  “It’s fine, Jaymi. You weren’t exactly expecting company.” Beats sleeping in the car.

  As Shawn stood in the hall at the edge of the kitchen, she absorbed the surroundings that exhaustion and anxiety had hindered her from noticing the night before. Starting at her immediate left began the U-shaped wraparound of appliances and countertops that ended in a small bar. On the left wall was a window above the sink, complete with country-style red, beige, and blue plaid curtains that pleasantly complemented the textured beige paper on the wall. In front of her against the right wall was a round natural-finish pine table with four matching chairs. Though the rest of the apartment was carpeted, the kitchen retained its stained maple hardwood floor, its prominent knots adding character to the charm of the place.

  The breakfast bar separated the kitchen from the entrance to the apartment on the left. Looking beyond the kitchen was the living room, and there seemed to be another room off to the right. There was a bay window on the left wall and a glass patio door led to a spacious balcony. Shawn marveled at how much she felt at home already, yet at the same time, it felt very strange. She hadn’t had a real home in so long. Until this moment, she hadn’t known how badly she wanted one. Suddenly, she ached for the stability of having the same place to go to every night. A place that was actually hers. A place where she could be herself. A place where she would feel safe and comfortable.

  A place like this. I could get used to this. She quickly reprimanded herself for having the nerve to think such a thing. Don’t think like that. You’re only setting yourself up for a big fat fall. “That smells so good. You didn’t have to do all that for me.”

  “Who says it’s for you?” Jaymi teased. “I always treat myself to a big brunch on Sundays. When I’m really ambitious I make omelets or pancakes. Gotta admit, it’s nice to have someone to share it with. Want some coffee?”

  “Yes, please. Black.” Jaymi poured her a cup and placed it in on the table. Shawn pulled up a seat and thanked her. Yeah, I could definitely get used to this. Of course, the odds of that happening were probably zilch once Jaymi learned what a screwup she’d become. She stirred in a spoon of sugar and sat quietly sipping her coffee. Jaymi returned to the stove and started flipping the bacon.

  Shawn had a perfect view from behind and took full advantage of the fact that Jaymi’s attention was on the food. Jaymi held an imaginary guitar pick in her right hand and absentmindedly played air guitar on her thigh and nodded rhythmically to the song playing in her head. She was wearing dark blue New England Patriots boxers and a long-sleeved hunter green T-shirt. On her feet were fuzzy red slippers with Peanuts characters all over them. Damn, she’s cute.

  Jaymi turned her way to open the fridge, and Shawn quickly looked away and faked a cough. I’ll bet my face is as red as those slippers right now.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah. Just a tickle.” Shawn faked another small cough just to be on the safe side.

  “Here, this’ll help,” Jaymi said, pouring a glass of orange juice and handing it to her.

  A plateful of scrambled eggs, two strips of bacon, hash browns, and a slice of wheat toast followed. Jaymi joined her and they sat in silence as they each dug into their meals.

  “LA’s a tough town, huh?” Jaymi finally said.

  Shawn closed her eyes for a moment and nodded. “The worst. Well, for me, anyway. Some people like it. I just couldn’t stay. It got too hard.” She could feel tears beginning to well up and turned her head, hoping Jaymi wouldn’t notice. “Anyway, I need a job. I’ll find one this week, I promise. I don’t expect you to put me up here for nothing. My first check, I’ll give you some money, and I’ll work on finding my own place. Then I’ll be out of your hair.”

  Jaymi looked at her for a moment, but her face was unreadable.

  “Okay. I know a few temp agencies in town. You might find work through them until you find something more permanent. If that’s what you want, anyway.”

  Shawn nodded, her mouth too full to answer, and avoided Jaymi’s gaze, afraid she’d see Shawn’s shame in them. Yet she wanted to look into those eyes, crystal blue and wise.

  Contemplating the woman in her company, with song lyrics practically writing themselves in her head describing the beauty before her, Shawn wondered how in the world Peach could have ever let this amazing woman get away. Or was it Jaymi who ended it? There was an air of aloofness to Jaymi—not distant or detached, but in the sense that her focus was elsewhere, and that focus was so strong and so intense, it seemed unbreakable. When that focus was on you, it held you, penetrated you, leaving you frozen and motionless. You couldn’t escape; you didn’t want to escape. It was as if Jaymi could see inside your soul, and she loved you for what she saw in it. You wanted to surrender to her sweet embrace forever.

  It was no wonder Jaymi had named her band Passion Play, for the passion she exuded when she sang, or strummed her guitar, or gently played her piano, was just as intense as her eyes. Her voice was sweet, sensual, provocative, rebellious, tender, and sometimes full of angst, all rolled into one. Each emotion released in its most appropriate time, flowing effortlessly and believably with each note, each phrase. As she lost herself in her song, you too were lost, as if the two of you were one, and through her voice, she was expressing your feelings, in a way so eloquent and revealing you would never dare expose such confessions on your own. Certainly, Shawn had been captivated every time Jaymi took the stage.

  Jaymi didn’t have the stereotypical features sought after by modeling agencies or tabloid magazines. But there was something about her, something unique that made her stand out. She had a soft-edged oval face, unpronounced cheekbones, a petite sharp, straight nose, and thin lips. She looked serious, contemplative, and damn sexy. Shawn felt drawn to the somber ache in Jaymi’s expression that suggested she understood things most twentysomethings didn’t. Like she was an old soul or something.

  As Shawn finished off her breakfast, she realized she had been staring at Jaymi. She took a long swallow of coffee and decided she would try to talk. “So, last I heard, you guys left LA because your mother was ill. How’s she doing?”

  Jaymi looked down at the table and her long, elegant musician’s fingers wrapped around her coffee cup. One hand remained still, while the fingers of the other absentmindedly stroked its handle. Shawn watched the nervous gesture and knew immediately she had hit a nerve. And she tried to dismiss the awareness that she suddenly wished she were Jaymi’s coffee cup. Jaymi’s voice forced her attention back to her face.

  “My mother was diagnosed with cancer. When I got the news, I had to come home,” Jaymi said softly, her eyes still glued to the cup. She took a deep breath. “We lost her, not long after.”

  Shawn bit her lower lip, pinched her eyes shut for a few seconds, and sighed. “Oh, Jaymi. You must think I’m the biggest jerk. I didn’t know. That’s twice I’ve stuck my foot in my mouth. First with Peach, now this. I am so sorry.”

  “It’s okay, how could you have known? We didn’t exactly stick around to say good-byes to everyone before we headed back here.”

  “I noticed. I really missed you, you know? You were one of the only real friends I had out there.” She stole a brief look at Jaymi, and with a shrug and another sigh, picked up her spoon and needlessly stirred her coffee. Without looking up, she quietly said, “It’s been seven years since I lost my moth
er. Stroke.”

  Jaymi looked up. “Looks like we’ve got something in common—besides music, that is.” They sat in silence once again. It was obvious neither of them felt like discussing the topic any further. Jaymi stood up and began to clear the table and Shawn followed suit, and insisted on washing the dishes, despite Jaymi’s objections.

  After cleaning up, Jaymi poured Shawn another cup of coffee and suggested she hang out in the living room while she showered. Cozy place, Shawn thought. Even though it’s big. Natural pine walls were tastefully decorated with photos. A navy, tan, and forest-green tweed sofa had a matching recliner, and both faced a television positioned in the left corner. There was an elliptical coffee table and what looked like an antique wooden rocking chair, fully restored and refinished, with quilted cushions.

  Through the open door to the right was Jaymi’s music studio. Her upright piano and multi-guitar stand flanked a desk with a digital multitrack recorder on top. There were notebooks and musical lead sheets galore. To anyone else, it might have looked like a scattered mess, but to a fellow musician like Shawn, the disorder was the sign of a creative genius at work. She listened and, satisfied that the shower was still running, gave in to the temptation to peek through the papers on the recording desk. Page after page of lyrics, purposely written with space between lines to write in chord names, were scribbled in frantic handwriting, as if the ideas might escape quicker than they could be written down. She knew that feeling. She kept a tiny handheld tape recorder with her at all times, one she could readily pull out of her pocket to record an idea, lyrical or musical, before it was lost. It had become indispensable. It was amazing how quickly an idea could come into your head—a phrase, a sequence of words that perfectly expressed that thought, that feeling, that emotion. And if you didn’t get it down that instant, it could be lost forever.

  Jaymi had many good songs. Maybe even great songs. Better than mine, thought Shawn, as she jealously skimmed over page after page.