“So, you came backherefor inspiration?” Melanie raises her eyebrows. She doesn’t acknowledge my music career, though I’m sure she knows it took off. I also know it’s something she used to want for herself.
I let out a grunt, scratching the stubble on my jaw. “I came back here because it’s one of the last places I remember feeling happy, despite losing Cara.” I pick up my sandwich, no longer too hot, and take a bite.
“I see,” Melanie murmurs. “Well, I hope you find what you’re looking for.” She turns away, scouring the bar for anyone who may want her attention. There’s a lull in the music. Then her eyes find mine again, and just as hope blooms in my chest, it disappears when she says, “I’ll let you eat before it gets cold.”
And then she’s gone.
Then
Josh,
I have been having such a great time making music with you. I’ve never been able to collaborate with someone else. It feels really good.
The thing is, Cara is asking me questions, and I think she thinks it’s weird. Has she said anything to you? I don’t know why it matters. It’s not like we’re dating. And she spends all her free time with Liam and then I’m all alone. I’m tired of feeling alone. (sigh)
So listen, this can be our notebook. Let’s pass it back and forth and we can put lyrics in it or just chat, ok? If she sees me with notes, she’s going to want to know who they’re for. This is much less obvious. And if you don’t mind, let’s just downplay this for now. Maybe instead of practicing at your house, we should go to the park or somewhere else? Just a thought. Let me know what you think.
Mel
Mel,
I like it. You know how dramatic my sister can be. I’m really not in the mood to deal with it. The notebook is a good idea. Let me think where we can play besides my house. What about the park on Lafayette with the gazebo? Meet there after school? 3:30? Let me know.
Josh
PS – This has been really awesome for me too.
3
MELANIE
NOW
As the night wears on, I keep waiting for Josh to wave me over and ask for his check, but he never does. He settles in, picking at his food and nursing his soda. I can’t help wondering why he didn’t order a drink, but that’s hardly the only thing I’m curious about. Every time I sneak a look at him, something catches me—how his hand drums the counter, how he seems settled here, like doesn’t want to be anywhere else. He looks older, sharper around the edges, but somehow still the boy who used to sit on his porch with a guitar and make me laugh until my stomach hurt.
Around midnight, the crowd in here thins, and I find myself able to breathe a bit. I hover, debating whether I want the solitude of the office closet or the chance to talk to Josh. He’s been here for hours, and even with my check-ins, he doesn’t look like he’s in any rush to leave.
I duck behind the center of the bar where he can’t see me and reapply my lip gloss, sticking a piece of gum in my mouth while I’m at it. I don’t usually mind these late-night shifts, but I always end up leaving here smelling like food and beer. I smooth my hair, like that’ll undo hours of grease and fryer smoke clinging to it. I never cared what anyone thought before—not really—but with Josh, it feels different. It feels like being seventeen again, waiting for him to notice me.
I can’t help thinking about the way he said goodbye. Or, rather,didn’tsay goodbye. He left me a stupid note in my mailbox. Didn’t even have the courage to give it to me himself. I thought we were close and that he’d at least respect me enough to come by and tell me to my face that he was moving. I was stuck at home with a broken leg. Ishouldbe mad at him. Part of me still is. But watching him now, it’s hard to hold onto it. He’s here. After all these years, he’s here, and something in me can’t stop wanting to know why. I let out a sigh. I saunter over to him, hands in my back pockets.
“I thought you’d be heading out by now,” I say, fighting the twitch of my lips.
Josh lifts a brow. “I could say the same for you.” He nods toward the other patrons at the bar. “You’ve been hustling.”
I laugh. “I’ve still got two more hours till we close.” I duck under the bar and pull out the stool next to Josh. Surely, I can sit for a minute. “Ugh, my feet ache.”
“I bet they do,” he says, glancing down and then slowly raking his eyes up the rest of my tired body. “Do you always close?”
“Andrew and I take turns,” I say, resting my head on my hand and peering up at him sideways. “His kid had a track meet tonight, but usually I’m off on Fridays.”
Josh nods in understanding. “Got it.”
“So how long are you in town for?” I ask, hoping my voice doesn’t give away my desire to see him again.
“Indefinitely.” His lips quirk and he gives me an easy shrug.
“Indefinitely?” I repeat, curiously. “Well, where are you staying?”
