Page 82 of Poetry By Dead Men
For the choice I made for you?
—An excerpt from "Little Bird," written and performed by Robert Beckett
My phone rings as I pull out the key to my dorm, and I grab it, my lips tipping up in a smile when I see it’s Bobby.
"Hey. I was just about to head your way," I answer, holding my phone between my ear and my shoulder as I unlock the door.
"Hey, Beth," Bobby says, but his voice doesn’t sound right.
"What’s wrong?" I ask, freezing. It sounds like he's crying. Not in a tears-streaming-down-his-face way, but he's definitely choked up. He hesitates.
“I wanted to talk to you. Did I catch you before you left?” he asks.
“I was about to leave in a few minutes. Why? What's going on?" My voice is squeaky with panic, but I can't help it. Ifeelpanicked. In two years, I've never heard him sound like this.
Bobby clears his throat. "There’s no easy way to say this. But I don’t think you should come to the show tonight. Or fora while, actually."
The world falls from beneath my feet, and thank God I'm standing near the bed, because I collapse backward onto it.
"I don’t understand…" This can’t be happening. This ismyBobby. We talked yesterday, and he seemed excited for me to meet him tonight.
"I think we need to take some time apart. Just for a little while," he continues.
I’m too shocked to cry. Too taken aback to say much of anything at all. "What's happening? Where is this coming from? I don’t—what's happening?" I'm talking in circles, but I don't know what else to ask, because this makes no sense.
"It’s just for a while. Really. But I need some time to focus on my career. This tour is going to be a lot harder than I thought, you know? I’ve never headlined before, and Marissa is adding more dates and radio interviews and talk shows, and I don’t want you following me around when I won't even have time to hang out with you. I’ll feel too guilty. Plus, you have school to focus on…that internship."
"What?" I truly don't understand. I already told him I'm not taking the study abroad opportunity. My heart splinters, cracks spreading out in every direction.
"It’s just not fair to you, Beth." His voice is firm, resolute.
The cracks gape open, and I press my fingers to my chest, trying to push the pain back in. "It’s notfairto me? We’ve gone long stretches of time without seeing each other before. Tell me what this is really about, Bobby.”
He clears his throat again. "I told you what it’s about. This tour is going to be crazy, and I don’t want you sitting around waiting for me for a whole year, maybe longer if it gets extended. You deserve more than I’m capable of giving you right now."
"I can decide what's best for me." My words come out sharp and angry, but Iamangry.
"But youwon’t, and that’s the problem. You can’t live your life for me. I—hold on a second," he says. There are muffled voices, and I imagineBobby covering the phone with his hand so I can't hear what's being said.
"I have to go. I'm really sorry, Beth."
"Are you breaking up with me?" I ask, my voice shaking, because even though I know that’s what he’s doing, I still can’t seem to believe it.
"No. Really." He sighs, and I can hear the exhaustion in his voice. "It's just a break. Just for a little while. I promise. There will be a time for us, but we both have other things we need to focus on right now."
My bleeding heart thunders in my chest, spreading the pain throughout my ribcage. "I can’t believe you’d do this over the phone." Maybe it's not Bobby. Maybe it's a clone, or one of those bad scams where they steal your voice and demand money.
"I wanted to talk to you in person, but—"
"You were too much of a coward?" I spit.
Bobby's silent, and I picture him rubbing the back of his neck. “Because I love you too much to let you keep living your life for me,” he finally says. “I didn't want you to drive all this way just to turn around again."
"You love me so much you’re dumping me?" I cry, big, fat tears filling my eyes. I struggle to breathe, my lungs refusing to cooperate as sobs begin to work their way up my esophagus.
"No! It's just a break, Beth. Listen, I’ll call you in a few weeks and we can see how we’re doing and reevaluate, okay? Just trust me." Bobby’s interrupted again, but this time I recognize the voice.
"They’re about to drag you by your hair on stage if you don’t get to soundcheck," Kelsey Darling says, and hearing that voice is enough to make my tears turn into anger.
