by R. E. Blake
Our sandwiches arrive, and mine tastes like wood. Halfway through it I look at Helen in the shadows. “No offense, but I don’t want to have to wonder.”
“Maybe the reason all this happened to me was so I could have this conversation with you. Wouldn’t that be funny? Maybe the whole reason I’m alive is to tell you to do whatever you have to do so you never wonder.”
“That’s kind of creepy.”
“I’m just being melancholy, Sage. Don’t mind me. Truth is I envy you. You found love, you made it in an impossible business, and your whole life is ahead of you. I’m a broken-down long-haul trucker with only a few more good miles left on her.”
“That’s not true!”
“Sage, no need to blow smoke. I tell it like it is. I don’t pretend to be something I’m not. I had my spin at the wheel. Now it’s your turn.”
I chew the last of my sandwich like it’s cardboard. This wasn’t at all what I’d hoped to get out of her. I’m more depressed than ever.
“What would you do with Derek? About him?”
She fixes me with a frank stare. “I’ve heard you say a lot of things about him. How great he is. How hot he looks. How much you enjoy being with him. The sex. But now I’m going to ask you the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question: Do you love him?”
And there it is. The one I’ve been grappling with. The question whose answer is so serious, I’m afraid to ask it of myself. Part of me says, of course I love him. I gave myself to him. All I think about is him. But an immature part is afraid of the words – or rather, the meaning behind the words.
“I…I do.”
“There’s hesitation.”
“Well, crap, Helen, it’s not like there’s an exam or something. I love him. But how can I be sure?”
“Would you do anything for him? When he screws up, will you be there for him? Can you live with him being something less than a photo-perfect model sharing your bed? I mean, I know you love the way he looks, the way he has sex with you…but what about the him underneath that? Do you love…him?”
“I…I think so. I mean, yes, of course I do.” But she has me thinking. I’m always enraptured with Derek’s smile, his eyes, his body, his easy way…and over the last few weeks I feel like I’ve gotten to know way more about him, even more than in our time on the street. But…love? Like she’s describing it? Forever kind of love, where it’s not just about having the other person, but being there for them, even when you kind of hate them for how they’re behaving or what they’ve done?
“How can anyone know that for sure?” I ask, my voice shaky.
“The only way?” She takes a small bite of sandwich and puts it down. “Truth? By living it and finding out.”
We’re both quiet after that. I have no snappy comebacks; she has no pop wisdom that will make everything okay. I’m now an adult, and with that comes the responsibility for making decisions I might regret the rest of my life.
I’m sure I love Derek. And I believe he loves me, too. But I’ve only recently gotten to the point where saying that to myself doesn’t scare me, so how real can it be? My anxiety ratchets up at this new wrinkle. How can I know the unknowable? How can I control a future I can’t imagine?
We finish lunch and I feel worse for having seen Helen, though it’s no fault of hers. I was hoping for some wise woman juju, and what I got instead was the harsh truth. Am I a hundred and ten percent committed? Would I support Derek even if he screwed up bigtime, like he did during the show? I walked away from him then – justifiably, my inner voice insists – but is that really what love is about? Being there for the other person until they do something you disapprove of, and then bailing?
I realize as I hug Helen goodbye that I need to seriously reevaluate my beliefs and my expectations. I’ve been so focused on what I want I haven’t really given much thought to what making a serious commitment means. And I have no idea what’s going on in Derek’s head. I’ve never had a deep discussion with him about the future, or our ideas about commitment, or family, or any of that.
I wonder if there’s really so much wrong with just screwing our brains out and figuring everything out later. But I can’t make myself buy into that, even if it’s Melody’s mantra.
The reason I wanted Helen’s advice is because deep down, I want something more. But I’m still living at a level where I instinctively avoid the hard words. Love being the biggest and most loaded.
Do I love Derek?
I walk to the waiting taxi and nod to myself.
Damn right I do. Like nothing else in the world.
And I need to let him know.
Chapter 40
Derek has an appearance with a local radio station, and I don’t see him until sound check. My stomach’s roiling like the surface of a stormy sea, and I feel vaguely ill with nervousness. He has to know I love him. I mean, I’ve been having marathon sex with him, and have moved heaven and earth to get us onto the same ticket for the new tour.
If that isn’t love, what is?
Except I’ve never said it. Not out loud. Not to him.
I’m not sure why. Because I don’t want to jinx us? I don’t want to scare him off? Because there’s no need to give voice to it, to cheapen our special thing?
When he appears, his manager is with him as well as someone from his label. I move toward them, but they look so serious that I veer off and go in search of Amber to give myself something to do. She’s standing by the stage door with a severe-looking woman holding a tablet and fiddling with bifocals. When she sees me, her face brightens.
“Sage. Just who I was looking for. This is Audrey Willard. She’s doing a piece for the Los Angeles Times, and she wanted a word with you.”
“Now might not be the best time…” I say weakly.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Am I interrupting anything? Is there a better time?” the woman asks, and I’m trapped by my own politeness.
“Well…no, just prep for the show. I’ve got a few minutes, I guess.”
“I’d be grateful for any time you can spare.”
Audrey’s super nice and easy to talk to, and before I know it an hour has gone by and I hear the usual preshow commotion in the halls. I look at my watch and see that Derek’s going to be on in twenty-five minutes. Crap. Time totally got away from me. I want to talk to him someplace private, but then maybe right before he goes on stage isn’t the best time to declare my undying love and, more importantly, for me to try to gauge his reactions.
My phone vibrates. It’s Melody. I glance at the message.
Mel: Need to talk 2 u.
Me: Got a show coming up.
Mel: Call. Please.
I think about how many times Melody’s been there for me, and I shake my head as I press her speed dial number. When she answers she sounds frazzled.
“Thank God. Can you talk?” she blurts.
“I called, didn’t I?”
“I’ve been trying to reach Sebastian for three days. He’s not answering my calls, not responding to my messages, nothing.”
“Melody, you know how focused he gets at the end of a record. He’ll go dark for weeks. It’s like he goes into some trance and doesn’t pull out of it until he’s done.”
“I don’t think that’s it. I think he’s decided to pull the plug on us.”
“Why do you say that? Has he done anything?”
“Woman’s intuition.”
“Melody, you’re just freaking. Relax. If it’s meant to be, it’ll all work out.”
“Listen to you. Miss Confidence.”
“Seriously. He’s a grown man. You can’t control him. Melody, if you want something with Sebastian, you’re in uncharted territory. The usual manipulative stuff won’t work, and it’ll probably turn him off.”
“Are you saying I try to manipulate him?”
“Only with every move you make. But I think he thinks it’s cute.”
“Meaning he’s humoring me.”
“No, meaning he likes you. But you need to
give him room, and most importantly, you need to be someone he wants to be with. It seems like the hard sell isn’t working the way you want it to, so I’d back off, keep it real, and just be you, not the bigger-than-life Melody you’ve been putting out there for him.”
A long moment of silence hangs over the line. Melody sighs. “I’m getting on a plane.”
“I’m not sure that’s a great idea.”
“I want to see him, Sage. In a really big way.”
“I’m sure you do. And he probably wants to see you. But here’s a question: why do you get to decide when, and expect him to jump to meet your schedule?”
She has no comeback. “Fine. What should I do?”
“Try sending him some flowers. Seriously. Tell him you miss him and you want to spend a weekend with him. That you know he’s busy, but you want him to make time to be with you.”
“Really? Just like that?”
“What else can you do? Storm his studio? Stalk him? What I’d do is let him know how you really feel, no acting, and ask him for what you want.”
It’s scary, I know. I also know how vulnerable she’s feeling. Even the great Melody is subject to bouts of insecurity, although she probably couldn’t put a name to it. But if she wants anything serious with Sebastian, he’s got to want her back; and more importantly, he has to respect her and care about her.
We go round and round until I think she gets it, and then I hear the opening chords of Derek’s first song, and curse. “I gotta go. Derek’s going on.”
“Okay. Kick major ass.”
I make it up to the stage level and watch Derek’s show, which I never get tired of. He’s got so much damned talent it almost hurts to watch him. He’s so polished now, so assured, and you can tell he’s got the audience in the palm of his hand as he croons out a ballad. Fan girl shrieks greet every twitch of his hips or flip of his hair. He sees me by the side of the stage and smiles, and even after spending every minute of the last ten days with him, I glow inside and smile back.
His last song of the night is the one that brought down the house during the talent show, and it never fails to choke me up: “Every Time You Go Away.” His rendition is mesmerizing. The seasoning from countless performances since that unforgettable night have added a depth that moves everyone listening. When he finishes, the last note hanging in the air like an echo in the coliseum, it’s the most amazing effect ever.
The crowd roars with enthusiasm as he leaves the stage, followed by his band, and he comes up to me and plants a long kiss on my lips. He’s perspiring from the heat of the lights and the exertion of his performance, but I don’t care. I pull him to me as though we’re the only two people in the world.
Someone clears his throat nearby – Derek’s road manager, Glenn.
“You going to do this, or wait all night?” Glenn asks dryly, the veteran of countless tours.
“Yeah. Sure. You ready, Sage?”
“Sure.” We’ve agreed I’ll sing his encore with him – fittingly, “Me & Bobby McGee.”
Derek glances at Glenn. “You all set?”
“We can always wait until next Christmas, if you want.”
Derek smiles nervously and I wonder what’s going on. He seems on edge, preoccupied, and has for most of the day. Probably the realization that our time together is nearing its end until we can begin our tour. Then he’s striding back into the limelight as the audience cheers and chants his name.
When he reaches center stage, he looks over at me, pulls the mic from its stand, and begins pacing with it.
“I want to thank everyone for coming out and making this a special night for me. You’ve been great, and I can’t tell you how much it means to me to hear you had a good time.”
More applause and cheering.
“A big part of why I’m lucky enough to be here involves someone you all know. But I don’t think I’ve ever told the story of how two scared runaways at the end of their ropes decided to brave everything to make our fantasies come true. I knew Sage was something special the first time I laid eyes on her…” The applause drowns out his voice after he says my name, and I wonder what he’s doing. Normally he welcomes me on stage, we sing a song, and that’s it. Short and sweet.
“The truth is that we chased a dream, and we risked everything. As you all know, we started out as a team, and then one thing led to another and we went our separate ways.” More applause, and a young woman screams Derek’s name from near the front of the house. “Actually, what happened is I screwed up badly, and Sage gave me the boot. Which she was right to do. But there isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t remember the two of us hitching across country, singing to survive, more alive than we’d ever been as we took on the unknown together.” He pauses, and when he continues, there’s a catch in his throat. “Since then, a lot has happened, but the one thing that hasn’t changed is that I wake up every morning thinking of her, and she’s the last thing that goes through my mind when I drift off to sleep. So that’s our story, and now, without any more delays, I give you the most talented person I’ve ever met…the one…the only…Sage!”
I don’t know what brought all that on, but as the stadium cheers I wipe my eyes with the back of my arm, straighten my shoulders, and walk out on stage, waving, feeling like I’m floating from Derek’s words. Glenn rushes out with two battered wooden stools and sets them center stage, and I adjust my wireless headset mic – another perk of climbing the charts is nothing but the latest technology now, with my monitor in an earbud and my microphone so small it’s barely noticeable.
I move to Derek and, overcome with emotion, give him a long kiss, which sends the audience into a frenzy. When our lips part he’s staring at me with such intensity I’m afraid I’ll wither under his gaze, and it’s with relief I sit down on one of the stools and look out over the sea of faces.
“Well, after that buildup, I’m not sure anything I do is going to be very impressive,” I say. Laughter and applause meet my words. I wait for it to fade and push my bangs out of my eyes. “What Derek told you was only part of the story. The part he left out is that, without him, without him pushing me out of my comfort zone, I’d still be sitting in my spot on the sidewalk in San Francisco, sleeping in the park, praying it doesn’t rain today. I don’t know if all that about everything happening for a reason is true or not, but in this case, it absolutely did. And because of Derek’s determination and drive I have a dream career, as well as the best man I’ve ever met.” I choke up a little and glance at Derek. “Now can we get to the song already, before I start blubbering?”
The cheering is an explosive roar, and Derek pushes his wayward shock of hair back, stares at the fret board for a moment, and then starts the song. I take the first verse, he takes the second, and even though we’ve sung it together a hundred times, this time feels like the first. My tattoo seems to tingle as I sing the famous words imprinted on my skin.
We’re nearing the big build we always do on the last chorus, when he appears to stumble over one of the chords, and then stops playing. All the lights on stage blink out, and for a moment I’m spooked – this has never happened before. I lean toward him and whisper, “What’s going on…?”
The scoreboard on the far side of the coliseum lights up like a neon Vegas come-on, and for a second it’s so blinding I have to squint. I see the letters of my name framed in glowing hearts, pulsing from red to green to blue, and then four words flicker to life beneath, and I really seriously do think I’m going to faint. I feel so off balance that I about fall off my stool as I read the message. The stage lights come back on as I turn to Derek, who’s smiling at me, a look of expectation on his face.
He glances at the audience and calls out to the crowd, “Hey, everybody, this is a really important moment for me. Would you help me out here and read along? Maybe we can get an answer out of her. What do you say?”
The crowd’s cheering, and Derek rises from the stool and puts his guitar on a nearby stand. He turns to me and gets dow
n on one knee, that crooked grin of his lighting his face, and then he, and nine thousand people, read the message on the scoreboard out loud.
“Sage. Will. You. Marry. Me?”
There’s a moment in every person’s life when something like fireworks go off in your head, and the entire world tilts – and from that instant you know nothing will ever be the same. I turn to him in slow motion. He takes my hand in his, and when I speak I’m sobbing so hard I can barely get the words out.
“Yes. I love you so much. Yes. Of course I’ll marry you.”
The next few minutes are a blur. I’ll see it on YouTube later, but I don’t remember any of it except Derek smiling so big his face almost cracks, and saying the words my soul has been longing to hear since before forever.
“I love you too, Sage.”
Afterword
The three books in Sage and Derek’s trilogy, Less Than Nothing, More Than Anything, and Best of Everything, are special to me for a host of reasons, not the least because they’re a departure from my usual style. When I sat down to write them I had no idea what I was doing, what story I was going to tell, what would ultimately have significance and what would be left on the cutting room floor.
The characters came to life in a way beyond anything I’d hoped for, and I found myself just rolling with the complexity of Sage’s view of the world – that odd combination of pragmatism, acceptance, stubbornness, cynicism, hope, determination, and all the illogical push and pull that is youth, where one minute everything’s hot, the next it’s all cold, and everything has special weight, can seem so all-or-nothing, so damned important and immediate.
If I could do it over again, I’d have written another hundred thousand words of story, and offered more insights into Derek’s inner world, tackled the ugly complications of homelessness at a deeper level, as well as explored Melody and Sebastian’s maybe/maybe not budding romance. I’d have kept going and taken the story through the wedding, with all the second-guessing, the anxiety, the pressure, the hope, the excitement I can see in my mind’s eye. But then it would be practically War and Peace and this last book would weigh as much as a bowling ball, and that’s not what this series is about. Really, it’s meant to be a snapshot of a key juncture of Sage’s life at a time of enormous change, and that’s how it wound up being told. We see her go from survival mode adolescence to a blossoming force of nature, and get to watch as her view of life, love, success, and the future morph and grow.
