She’s not here to make me feel better. There’s not a big enough brewery in the world to ease the pain of losing her, losing our child. Music hasn’t been helping, either.
I can’t do this—be this—without her.
In this room, I’m trapped with my sadness—like a shadow that follows me. Sadness is my constant companion. Sometimes anger joins the party, too. But there is no joy and happiness. They were once here, but not anymore.
Because she’s gone. He’s gone.
Loss is part of life. It’s part of love. I learned that early on. Losing my mom taught me that. But I wonder if having that kind of loss so young marked me in some way. Am I cursed? Will death always haunt me? Do I carry a mark of darkness?
Darkness sure as hell seems to follow me, stealing any light. Now my darkness touched Kailey, the one person I didn’t want to ever feel it. And it’s consumed her, filling her with grief and anger. For the rest of her life, she will know those feelings. She will miss our child forever, as will I.
Her due date will forever be a day of mourning, instead of one to celebrate our child’s birthday. Her accident date will forever be one to relive the death of our child. Each and every year, that will be her reality.
I did that to Kailey.
I could’ve done everything differently.
Not pulled her out of the rain that day. Not introduced myself, taken her back to my room. Been an asshole and not cared she was pregnant. Even that would’ve been better than this.
Told her I loved her. I should have.
Looking down at the paper, I could tell her now.
Is it too late?
Words begin to float through my head, and I begin to write. Not in sentences, but in song. The words come faster and faster, and my hand tries to keep up.
A song lives forever. My way of telling her I will love her forever.
She’ll always know, no matter where she is or how much time passes. The song will live on as my love for her always will.
This is it. One more song. My last song.
This one’s for Kailey, and then I’m done.
My Forever.
*
Waiting backstage, I feel the bass of the intro. Music pulses through the walls, the floorboards, making my blood pump harder through my body. It’s a familiar rush. And it’s the last time.
I’m ready.
Lots of artists announce farewell tours, and ten years later, they are still “retiring.” It’s publicity, but this is no stunt. I’m through. This is it. Maggie knows it. My label knows it. My brother knows it. Knox and Mae are in the audience, surrounded by security. I couldn’t really keep them away. He wanted to be here for me, for this. He must not have gotten the memo that I’m a loner because he keeps calling and showing up whether I want him to or not. He’s a good brother.
I hear the crowd chanting my name, calling me to the stage.
The band walks out, and the crowd roars, knowing I’m following, but for a few moments, I’m alone—just me and my guitar. Running my hand along the wood, I silently thank her. A lot of musicians smash their guitars at the end of shows. That’s one reason a guitar is often called an axe, but not me. This baby has meant too much to me—given me so much.
I reach for a guitar pick in my pocket, looking down at the familiar engraving—J. C. A grin comes to my face, remembering Kailey thinking J. C. was for Jesus Christ. Really, it was a reminder of what I’d done. A way to remember that I didn’t deserve the life I had. It was just another form of punishment. I’m ready to stop.
Ready—I put the pick down, leaving it behind, and step out onto the stage.
A concert is a lot like love. There’s an opening act. The person that comes before you, either leaving the audience cold and distant or wanting for more. That’s when you take the stage, front and center.
In love, like any good show, the beginning starts hot, full of passion, sparks, electricity. You’re on your best behavior. The middle tends to slow down, you settle in, get comfortable—introduce the band, sing a ballad. The end comes in a fury, a heat. You want to go out with a bang, leave them waiting more, leave with the last word.
But then the inevitable happens. The lights go out, everyone leaves, and you’re left alone with nothing but memories hanging in the air, like the faint echoes of notes strummed from your guitar.
My eyes land on the last seat in the first row. That’s her seat. Always will be.
It’s empty. The one empty seat in this sold out house.
Her seat.
For ninety minutes, that seat stays empty. With each song, I hope she comes walking in. Last seat, front row—that’s where she was sitting the night she showed up at my concert, pregnant. I wish I could go back to that night—change what happened. I’d tell her everything—my past, why I am the way I am—how I feel about her, how much I want to be with her.
There’s one song left to sing. The last live performance of my career is here, but she’s not.
And this one’s for her. This is her song.
My Forever
I’m not a man that’s easy to love
But I’m hoping I’m harder to hate
’Cause you are my forever
Come back to me
Baby, please come back to me
There was rain in your hair
The day that we met
There were tears on your cheek
The day that you left
But you are my forever
I’ll be the man
That you deserve
I’ll say the words
I need to say
I’ll tell truth
Stop all the lies
’Cause you are forever, my forever
I wish you could read my mind
Know how I feel
When I can’t say the words
Forever I’m lost
Never to be found
The only way to get through this is to go through
Through the pain
Through the hurt
Through the anger
And be forever with you
I will hold your hand
I will dry your tears
I’ll feel the pain
I try to hide
I cannot run
I’ll promise you forever
I’ll be the man
That you deserve
I’ll say the words
I need to say
You are my forever
Kailey, I’ll love you forever
*
The lights go out, the crowd is gone, and I walk out to that empty seat.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Ryder
Packing the last of the children’s books in the box, I come across the onesie my brother and Mae gave us. Then I pick up the shit/shine notebooks Addison gave us, placing them inside. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I pull them back out. Opening up the shit list, I see Kailey and I’s original posts but nothing else. Gently, I run my fingers across her handwriting. She had so much shit about me she could’ve put in here, but she didn’t. Reaching for the shine list, I wonder if maybe she just never wrote in either notebook again, but then I open it. There’s only one new entry.
I love Ryder.
My eyes close. What I wouldn’t give to hear her say those words to me again. I take one last look around the house, all the boxes. It’s amazing how much stuff Kailey and I collected just in the couple months we lived here. I guess that’s part of making a life with someone—stuff.
It’s mostly packed now. The house is on the market. My life isn’t here anymore.