Page 29 of Between Now and Always

The video starts and my heart shoots off in my chest like a rocket.

It’s me…or at least a girl who looks like me - dancing in a black bathing suit, short hair, port wine stain andall- in front of a huge bonfire. The backdrop is a diamond crusted midnight sky that’s cloaks and shadows the girl as she dances by herself.

And then, a man who looks like Carter walks to her, reaching out as he approaches. Just before he gets to her, it starts to rain. Instead of running home like we did that night, they stay and dance.

The rain soaks them, but they don’t seem to notice. The move together, forehead to forehead, nose to nose as the music plays.

“Can I dance with you?

Cause they’re playing our song.

And baby, in my arms, is where you belong.

The perfect night, I lost my heart.

To the girl who gave me paradise.”

I can’t look away. It’s like watching my life play and not being able to take part.

He hugs her, and I ache from the absence of his arms.

They kiss, and my lips throb.

The scene goes dark in the middle of their kiss and I feel the loss of the visual keenly. But before I can mourn the loss, a new scene comes into focus, filling the screen with light.

It’s his band on stage in an open air arena with an audience that the dark has turned into a a rolling sea of lighted phone screens

Blue Clover is spelling-binding. - all of them so different looking, but perfectly matched - in energy, talent, and passion and sex appeal. When you see them like this, it’s not hard to understand why they’re such a phenomenon.

And Carter is their gravitational center.

The spotlight shines down on him. He’s sitting at his signature blue piano. His tall, lean body moves like it’s an extension of it. He’s wearing a bomber jacket zipped up, jeans and the same adidas sneakers he wore every day of the three months we spent together. His hair is shorter now, dark curls clinging to his forehead.

His eyes are closed as he sings about love and heartbreak, forever and loss, always and never, and I can’t take my eyes off him.

He’s the star that shines brighter than all of the others in a sky full of light - the one that lights my path. The one that I am drawn to.

When the drum solo starts, he hops up from the piano and unzips his jacket. He whips it off and the crowd goes wild.

Their singing is louder than the band’s and Carter’s body moves like it’s synced to the wave of their excitement.

He dances with his eyes closed, his body, long, powerfully built, is lithe and loose. The blue t-shirt he’s wearing goes from dry to sweaty in a matter of seconds.

As the other instruments join the drums, he spins his jacket in the air over his head and then sends it flying into the audience, their screams are wild with elation and my tears have dried and I’m laughing as I watch the joy on his face as he grabs his mic and starts singing, “You’re a dream I never want to end. A love I’ll never forget.”

He sits back down, pounding the piano through the end of the song, singing with his head thrown back, his entire body covered in sweat, the veins in his neck strain as he pledges that he’ll take every chance for the love he’ll never stop needing.

I watch the whole thing twice, singing along - every word a reminder that what we had was real. The summer I spent with him inspired this music.

I hear strangers singing on the train, and in the aisle of my local grocery store. I’m hopelessly caught up in the world I’ve created in my mind. In it, we’re together.

My alarm, the one I set before I came home goes off and I put my phone down, drained and energized at the same time and start to get ready for my first day at my new job. I strip and I know it’s wrong, but when my hands skim the sensitive spots on my body, I imagine they’re Carter’s.

I don’t know what it means that all I’ve done with the time I’ve had on my own is fall deeper into a cycle of longing followed by shame.

I slather lotion on my shower damp skin, I brush the thin silver bangles on my wrist and remind myself that in the three months since I left Winsome, I’ve found so much to be proud of.

These bracelets are the symbols of my emancipation. They’re the only non-essential purchase I’ve let myself make. On the last day of every month that I’ve lived my own terms, I add another one to my wrist.

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