Page 40 of Missed Exit

“Are you?”

“What are you asking me, if I’m done listening to you call me gutless or done babysitting Derringer?”

“It doesn’t even occur to you that the question might’ve been about you? Just you? Not you in relation to me or you in relation to Derringer?”

“All I know is I don’t want to be done with you. I don’t know why you would be willing to give anyone a second chance after what you’ve been through, but I want one. So, this is me asking, can I try again with you? Will you try again with me?”

“We still have a lot to learn about each other.”

“We do, but we’ve learned a lot in the past twenty-four hours. We both had a secret. I used to be a singer, and you write songs.”

“I bet you could be a singer again, if you wanted to. And I’m not a real songwriter. I’m actually the last person in the world who should be writing songs. I know nothing about music. I can’t read it. I can’t write it. The best I could do is hum to give someone an idea of what I have in mind, and even that would be terrible, because did I mention I also can’t sing? I can’t carry a tune. Can’t recognize a chord or name it . . .

“But I understand people and emotions, and I just have this strong pull to write about that. And I don’t know why I need my words to be lyrics instead of short stories or novels or poems for the sake of poetry, but that’s all I can see them as. Lyrics. With no music.”

“Huh. If only you knew a guy who knew something about music.”

“Are you saying you want us to write songs together?”

“I’m saying I’m willing to give it a try if you are. But you’d have to actually show me the lyrics.”

The way this possibility makes me feel is not like me at all. As if a switch just flipped inside me, I say, “Okay. Yeah. Let’s take a chance on each other.”

He pulls me onto his lap and kisses me. His hands are in my hair, and there’s such a natural rhythm to our kiss that I’m sure every kiss before I met him had to have been bad, even the ones that seemed great at the time.

I don’t want to let my guard down too much yet, but I melt into his kiss. This is the kiss that made me believe in second chances. How does something so fundamental change so fast and so entirely?

His sudden stark honesty stripped away layers—of what I don’t know, but it’s all gone.

When the kiss breaks and I look into his eyes, I know he’s not gutless. It took courage to admit how he feels and ask me to try again. I want to write songs with him, but I want to hear him sing, too.

“I promise I’m not putting any conditions on us when I ask you this, but will you get on stage again? Even just one night somewhere local, so I can hear you sing?”

“Yeah, I’ll sing for you.”

“And will you please hang in there with Derringer for a little while longer?”

I know that look. That look tells me I’m pushing my luck, but I had to ask.

“I still think I’m right about him, Greta. But I can’t fucking say no to you.”

Lying awake later that night in my bed alone, I hear a guitar being randomly strummed. I’m no musician, but I know he’s tuning a guitar on his side of the wall. I’ve never heard him playing a guitar over there. But he’s playing now, so I close my eyes and listen. I don’t recognize the song, but I like it. It’s soothing. Things are changing on both sides of our shared wall.

21

Law

Gotta Get It Right

I’vebeenworkingonit for a few weeks, but I’m still trying to nail the composition for “The Way I Love the Dark.” In my defense, it’s still baseball season.

And I keep staring at games that I have zero interest in because I need to get this perfect. I keep getting close, but it’s not there yet. Reading these lyrics without her permission is the reason I nearly lost her. Now, she's listening to my input, letting me tweak words. Every time I read through them again, I like them even more.

And I’m more grateful every time that something good came out of my mistake.

She’s a lyricist, and I’m a musician, and together, I know we could create great songs. But I didn’t realize how much pressure I’d feel trying to put music to lyrics she wrote on her own.

I keep telling myself the breakthrough I need is coming.

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