Page 134 of The Song We Lost

I sit in the booth, headphones on, with the track running.

I miss the cue.

Again.

“Let’s take that again,” someone says.

We do.

I miss it again.

My hands won’t stop shaking.

My voice won’t hold.

It cracks.

Drops.

Disappears halfway through a line.

I close my eyes.

Try to find it.

The feeling.

The thing that used to come easy.

The thing Bailey used to pull out of me without trying.

Nothing.

Just…

Hollow noise.

“Cut it,” the producer says.

Dave steps in immediately.

“He’s exhausted,” he says. “We will get him rested and we can push it tomorrow.”

Tomorrow.

Always tomorrow.

I pull the headphones off.

My ears ring.

My chest feels tight.

Like I can’t get a full breath.

“I’m fine,” I say.

No one answers.