Page 59 of The Girl with No Name

He shakes his head. “I’m not going to be a part of this.”

Tension builds inside me. I glance at the painting I made for him.

“You get rid of that baby or it’s over.”

“Babe, maybe we can have a discussion?—”

“Under no circumstances are you keeping it,” he says. “I have to go. Work meeting.” He looks at the eggs I’d started to whip. “You’re kind of slow, aren’t you? I’m a little disappointed.”

“Gatsby…” I begin to cry. “This is life stuff. Why are you being like this? This is what happens. Let’s talk about it.”

He shakes his head. “There’s no discussion to be had here.” He walks out, and the door slams behind him.

I stand there in the vast emptiness of that luxury apartment, a slew of emotions running through me. I feel cold, and so very, very alone.

In this moment, I stop being a romantic.

I understand now, what the lyrics to that Red Lemons’ song mean.

It’s never this easy baby, can’t you see?

Though part of me, that soft part, still holds onto some kind of hope for Gatsby and I.

We can get through this.

13

REED

“SOAK UP THE SUN” – SHERYL CROW

Railfest is held at an old race track that’s been converted into a field used as a festival venue. We make the mile and a half or so walk there, and as we get to the venue, a huge, genuine smile comes over my face.

Dunn sees me grinning and smacks me in the chest. “Yep. This is what I’m talking about, Walker. One concert like this is worth six months of therapy.”

There are women everywhere wearing cutoff jean shorts, cowgirl boots, sunglasses, and cowgirl hats. Guys wear flannels and boots, too. Luna’s got on this short flowy skirt and a tank top, and I’m a little shocked at how attractive she is.

I mean, I’m not attracted to her, not really. I have a girlfriend. But Inoteher insane attractiveness.Objectively.

Okay, Iamattracted to her. But like Dunn says, just because I’m glancing at the menu does not mean I’m eating anything.

We show our tickets to get in, and once we’re inside, we look around at the huge field with several stages. I hardly know what to do with myself.

“This is my favorite part,” Dunn says. “The anticipation. We’ve got the whole day ahead of us.”

Some music drifts over from one of the far stages where an early act of the day is playing.

“And first things first,” Dunn adds. “I have to go to the bathroom.”

We follow Dunn to the line of latrines, and then Luna and I wait together in the sun, while he waits in line. A couple of musicians walk by with guitars, grinning and chatting with each other, and I’m struck with a bout of envy.

I struggle to tamp it down. For all my seesawing, I do know what I want in life, really, and it’s pretty simple. If money was nothing, and I knew I could bend the world to my will, I’d want the artistic life. I’d be a spark of hope for people around me, showing that it really is possible to devote your life to an art and live that way.

Like these guys walking with their instruments. Who knows which band they play for? They could be bass players in one of the early bands. But still, in my eyes,they’ve made it.

Mostly, I just want to create more.

“You’re pensive,” Luna says, cocking her head. “What are you thinking about?”

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