“I wanted to be last,” he said, shaking his head again, like he couldn’t believe his own foolishness, “so you wouldn’t forgetme.”
“We’ve never forgotten you,” I toldhim.
A silence fell, filled only with the soft roar of the ocean and the crackle of the fire. Seth’s eyes held mine, shining a little in the firelight, and he nodded slightly, as if to sayThank you forthat.
I swallowed, trying to loosen the knot in my throat. I hugged my knees tighter against me, though it wasn’t cold. “I’ve popped in to see Ray a few times over the years,” I offered, looking to change the subject alittle.
“I know,” he said. “He told me. You never returned my calls, though. I would’ve thanked you for looking in on him. I remember you did that, back then, too. Even when Icouldn’t.”
“I always likedRay.”
“He likes you,too.”
I knew that was true. And maybe, part of the reason I’d felt it was important to look in on Seth’s foster father whenever I could was because Seth would’ve liked that. I always knew if Seth wasn’t so messed up himself, he’d be looking in on Raymore.
“I’m sorry I never took your calls, Seth. I guess… I just wasn’t ready,” I told him honestly, “to move on from the way you’d hurt us. It still felt too fresh, even yearsafterward.”
“I never meant to hurt youguys.”
“I know,” I said. “But youdid.”
He was silent for a moment. Then: “I’m sure there was no love lost forBrody.”
“Don’t say that. Brody always liked you. It’s just… you know how he is aboutJessa.”
He didn’t say anything, just nodded and looked out over theocean.
“Anyway, I’m not talking about Brody. Or Jessa. I’m talking about the band.” But the words didn’t feel quite right, and I amended: “No, actually, I’m not. I’m talking about Zane, and me. Losing you was… brutal… for the two ofus.”
Our eyes locked again, and in that look, I could see Seth’s regrets. How much he’d suffered over hurting us. I knew in my heart he never wanted to dothat.
His drug abuse was never about us. Overdosing was never aboutus.
He was headed down that road long before he metus.
And Zane went down a somewhat-similar road himself, before he got sober. We had a lot of growing to do, personally, and as a band. We were such kids when we startedout.
We’d all come a longway.
I could already see how far Seth had come. Not just getting clean, but finding some kind of peace within himself that wasn’t there before. I could feel it, just sitting here next tohim.
And I decided to trust that feeling. Let down my guard a littlemore.
“You want to play together? Just once?” I shrugged, striving to sound casual about it, when actually, I was itching to play. “You know… for old time’ssake.”
Seth tipped his chin at the array of guitars before us. “Pull up a guitar,” he said, a spark of challenge in his eyes, and I knew he was itching,too.
I took him up on that challenge, pulling the nearest acoustic into mylap.
He selected one, and started right into a song… “Angel” by Jimi Hendrix. Maybe because he knew that I loved me someJimi.
Maybe because of what that old homeless mansaid?
Sometimes the angels come a-callin’. Be a fool of a man to pass ’emup…
I followed his lead as best I could. I knew the song, but I wasn’t exactly a Seth Brothers-level guitarist, much less a Jimi Hendrix-level guitarist. I was a bassist, but I could hold my own on a six-string. Seth sung as well as I did, arguably better, and I found myself holding back so I could listen to his voice… realizing, in doing so, how much I’d missedit.
Listening to himsing.
