“What do I have to offer her?” My question came out low and pathetic.
The whole table groaned.
“What?” I asked.
“Don’t make me say it, man. Tell me you aren’t that dumb,” Wes shook his head.
“What?”
“Would you ever let anything harm her?” Ma asked.
“Will you ever stop wanting her? Caring for her?” Dad asked.
“Will you always want to talk to her? Hear from her? Do you want her to be that person that knows all the little things about you? And have her be the one that knows everything about you?” Kelly asked.
Wes said, “Is she the one who can make you laugh and hold your hand? That will push you in return? Will you always put her first? Make her dreams, your dreams?”
My throat tightened. I felt queasy. “Yes,” I rasped.
“Well that’s love, man. That’s what you offer her. Real Love. Capital R, capital L. Chagny talks the talk but the second Kim doesn’t make him money anymore …” Wes shrugged.
“Chagny doesn’t love her.” Kelly gestured to her phone. “Not if these costumes and performances are for him and not her. She looks miserable in those pictures. She’s trying, but her eyes are dead.”
“It sounds to me like Kim made the best decision she could in that moment. That’s all you can expect from people,” Dad said.
“Well, she needs to do better.” I sounded like an asshole, even to my own ears.
“Gosh, you’ve always held people to such a high standard.” My mom turned to Dad. “Is that because of something we did? Did we put pressure on him?”
“No. That was stardom. It fucked with his head.”
“Wesley.”
“Sorry, Ma. But it did. He sets unrealistic expectations for people. Meanwhile he won’t take off that fricking mask and just hides.”
“I’m right here,” I said. “And she could change. If she really wanted to.”
Wes rolled his eyes. “Oh sure, because it’s that easy. Step one: be better. Step two: happiness.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Okay. So then take off your mask. Not just here with us. Out in the world. Own your past and who you are.”
“That is not the same,” I growled.
“No? Okay, well, I thought you wanted to be better.”
“Again. Not the same.”
“It’s something from your past making you cling to an idea that you won’t let go of.”
“When did you become a philosopher?”
“Wes is just trying to say people are a complicated set of rules based on their pasts. Kim can’t suddenly make a rational decision under pressure any more than you can walk into a room as Erik Jones and feel like a competent composer,” Kelly said.
“I know how people will react. I’ve seen how they are.”
“And she hasn’t? Kim was treated like a pariah. She’s Jethro Winston’s ex that went missing. She ruined her whole future because she was a kid that made a dumb choice. ‘The girl that hung out with a motorcycle gang and ended up in rehab,’” Dad said.
“You were a kid when you were thrust into fame. We shouldn’t have let you go.” Ma shook her head.
“You couldn’t have stopped me Ma, I was eighteen. That’s not on you.” I looked down and brushed my knuckles across the table. “I just wanted to be enough for her to stay.”
“You are enough. She just didn’t have all the facts,” she said. “And here’s the real kicker—it isn’t about if she loves you. It’s about if you love her, and what that love means to you.”
This wasn’t about whether or not she loved me. That was an excuse that I’d used to keep myself hidden from her. To push her away. God, it seemed so obvious after talking to my family. Of course they knew me better than anybody else. I thought they didn’t understand me, that they couldn’t handle me if they knew I’d been quitting. I’d been quitting because I was afraid of things when they got too hard.
That would all change.
It wasn’t about whether or not she loved me for me. It was about what my love for her meant. I’d been egotistical. I’d been proud. I’d locked love down inside me for so long that I had lost what it meant.
My loving her was what mattered. Her needs, wants, desires—those were what mattered. Those were the priority. Whether or not she loved me didn’t matter as much as how I loved her. But only if she knew. To think that she might have thought, even for a minute, that it was about the music and my career and not her … I’d been such a fool. But not anymore.
After my family left, I replayed everything they’d said. When I truly replayed the last time we’d spoken from her point of view …
I felt sick.
She needed to know all the facts. They were right. She needed to know I’d sent the letters. She couldn’t read minds.
I needed to tell her everything, and what better way than a letter?
I took out a piece of paper and a pen.
Dear Kim,
First of all, I’ve been a fool.
I’ve never been able to say words the way I’ve wanted to, which was why I wrote you all those notes so long ago. Here’s the truth: you asked me why I chose you. And I never answered. I had convinced myself the lessons with you were about proving I could stick to something. I told myself that if I had someone from my past who could help me hold it together, I would make it through. I wouldn’t quit. But that was me lying to myself. It was a poor excuse to spend time with someone I love. I love you.
I think I’ve loved you since I was seventeen and I first saw you at summer camp. My feelings felt too big back then. I needed time to grow into them. The notes were my immature way of getting you to notice me. You had Chagny. But I noticed you. I will never forget the first time I heard you play. You gave me chills. Your playing inspired me like no one else ever has. I’ve never stopped thinking about it.
Can’t Look Back was for you too. About you. It’s always been about you. I’ve wasted so much time not telling you everything. I have so many regrets. But not anymore.
Here’s another truth. I came back to Green Valley to prove that I could commit to something. I came back to re-center and see my family. And then I saw you at the first rehearsal. You didn’t recognize me. Why would you? But I knew it was you, name change or no. Whenever you play, you take my breath away. You tried to hide yourself, but I saw through it. You were still the most beautiful and talented woman I’d ever seen.
I’m tired of being alone and pretending like that’s what I want. I pushed you and everyone else away because I couldn’t chance not having you feel the same way back. I understand now that isn’t how love works. I understand so much now that you’re gone, and I can’t see you smile and laugh every day. I miss just talking to you, catching up. All the little things.
I love you. I want everything for you. Please make sure that toolbag—sorry, Chagny—is taking care of you. All I want is for you to be happy.
Anyway. I’m sorry I pushed you away because I felt too much. I’ve been letting my past ruin my future. But I’m done. I’m no longer a prisoner to my life.