Page 120 of Over the Edge

Oliver tuts and shakes his head. “You can’t put a price on love.”

“Well, you can put a price on rent and basic needs.” Quinn takes the poker that she appointed herself in charge of and pushes at one of the logs. “You like eating out too much and you’re still paying off your student loans.”

“Okay, fine. Kill my dreams.”

“Drama queen,” Quinn says.

I look down and see Evelyn beaming at her friends’ interaction.

“Let’s promise that this won’t be a one-time thing,” Oliver says.

Evelyn looks up at me. “Can I convince you to come visit with me?”

“I think I can be persuaded,” I say, and she nestles closer.

“I mean, if Ev moves back then you’ll have even more reason to replicate this with us. I mean without the fire pit because both of us are in apartments,” Oliver suggests. Evelyn stiffens under my touch, it’s the only indication she gives that she’s uncomfortable with this turn in conversation.

Evelyn swallows hard then tilts her face so our eyes lock. “I have the opportunity to interview for a position at my old job, a better position. I still haven’t given my answer yet.”

My stomach churns. She told me about her options, but the fact that there’s an actual job and not just some what-if possibility makes it more real. She doesn’t want to be in the spotlight, so what would that mean for us if I start up a solo career? I could just write songs. I think I could be happy withthat. We can make it work. When it comes to her I’ll make sure it works.

But there’s another thing that starts to tear at me. Every time we’ve written or played together it’s been impossible to see a world where she stops. She is music to me, in so many ways. After today, after having her song be a part of someone’s love story like that? It’s hard to see the woman I know shy away from what she’s so gifted at. I just don’t get it.

“I know they’ve gotten a few good applicants, but if you’re not interested, that’s fine. We want you to be happy in New York, if that’s what you want,” Quinn says and there’s something odd in her tone, apologetic almost.

“Thanks.” Evelyn gives a soft smile.

“Okay. Something more urgent to think about,” Quinn says, “What the hell are we going to do with all the daisies?”

Oliver and Evelyn let out startled laughs and Quinn forges on. “I’m serious. We spent hundreds of dollars on those and have nowhere to put them.”

“I’ll take care of them in the morning,” I promise. “Pat will put them to use for the festival.”

The rest of the night goes with the same ease that comes after a collective victory. Slowly the fire starts to crumble into glowing embers. It’s just past eleven when Oliver and Quinn head out. They still need to pack for their early afternoon flight out of JFK tomorrow. Evelyn and I end up at the piano and she starts recording on her phone as she starts to play and jot down notes in her nearly full notebook.

She talks through the next three songs she wants to write. We still haven’t decided on the ending, up until now I thought it was obvious. I do my best to shrug it off. It’s her choice. Still, I can’t manage more than short answers.

“I like that,” I say after she works through a potential key change.

The corners of her mouth are drawn downward as she lifts her hands from the piano and puts them in her lap. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine,” I say.

“You’re not okay,” she says. “You’re hardly talking to me.”

“I just didn’t realize you had actual jobs you were considering. I should have assumed. It’s nothing.”

“I didn’t tell you and I should have,” she says and her shoulders slump. “I guess I got swept up with being here and wanted to forget I had to make the decision. There’s no going back after I take the leap, you know? I’ve been in limbo for so long, and now it’s all or nothing.” I expect her to look away, to hide from this moment but she reaches for me. “I got the email on my second day here. With everything going on it felt like the best plan B I could have.”

“I don’t know how to feel about that. I mean, am I just someone for you to get swept up in when you need a distraction?” I don’t want to believe it, but she ran here to hide from things, this isn’t the city. This is a vacation and just like songs, vacations end. “I know I’m dealing with shit, but that’s the first place my mind goes. I can’t help but think that when you’re done with your album and have to make decisions, you’ll realize that this won’t work anymore.”

“It will.”

“How do you know? Can you tell me right now what you want to do with the job offer? What about the label and your new contract? Those are your two options, right? Going back to a normal life or going for music?” The frantic questions spill out of me, and I feel like I’m losing her even while she’s next to me. I see it play out in front of me, the exact thing I’ve been avoiding by not being with her.

I’ll go back to the city where I’ve lived for so long. I’ll write music, like I used to. The days will pass. But I don’t want to learn what that would look like without her. I used to be contentwith life, but now she’s breathed a purpose into me that has irrevocably changed me. Content will never be enough for me again.

“I don’t know. What do you think I should do?” she asks earnestly.

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