Page 86 of Poetry By Dead Men
"Honestly, you should have expected that from Molly," I say, wiping my nose on my sleeve.
Bobby smiles. Not big enough for his dimple to appear, but it’s a brief break in the sorrow and tension bracketing his mouth. "I should have." He rubs the back of his neck again. "I knew you hated me." Bobby rests his forearms on his knees, sighing. "I would have traveled to Europe to find you, but I had no clue where you were, so I waited the year," he says, subconsciously rubbing the inside of his arm.
I stare at his fingers fiddling with the fabric over his tattoo. The one I'd known was for me the moment I saw it. "Is that when you got the tattoo?" I ask.
Bobby nods. "It was a year of absolute hell. A whole year where I knew you thought I’d betrayed you, and it almost killed me." He pulls up his sleeve, showing me the pink wild rose. "I got this so I could keep you with me while I waited for you to come back home. 'The summer blooms, not heading my one song—'"
A lump forms in my throat at the memory of the last time he quoted the poem to me. "'How can I wait?'" I finish for him, my voice barely a whisper.
"'How can I wait?'" he says with a sad smile. "I prayed every night you were happy. That you were elbow deep in poetry and taking in every moment of being abroad. And then when the year was up, I came to find you.”
My breath catches. “You did?”
His lips press into a thin line. “I did. You just didn’t see me.” He swallows, shifting in his chair. “Your dad had a fundraiser in New York. It was a rare Friday that I didn’t have a show, so I went. I had to sneak through a back door to get in. I searched everywhere for you, but for the longest time I couldn’t find you. I wondered if maybe you hadn’t gone, but it was heavily publicized, and I knew your dad would want the whole family there.” He takes another deep breath, but I stay silent, letting him continue.
“I was about to leave, and then I saw you. You were tucked away in a quiet corner, and God, you looked beautiful. My heart stopped.Actuallystopped.” He places his hand on his sternum, gripping his chest like he’s reliving the pain of it. “You were with Harrison, your headsbent over your book of poetry, and you were smiling. He leaned in to kiss you, and I couldn’t watch. I left before you could see me.”
“That was the night I met him,” I say breathlessly.
Bobby’s eyes squeeze closed as if my admission causes him agony. “I just wanted you to be happy. That’s why I’d insisted on the break to begin with. To let you make your own choices without having to think about me or what I wanted. It felt like the same thing. You’d chosen someone else.”
“I was dying inside.” My throat feels like it’s closing, and suddenly I can’t catch my breath. “I was in therapy. It tookyears, even after Harrison and I began dating, for me to really feel like I was all in with him.”
“I didn’t know. All I’ve ever wanted for you is happiness, Beth.”
We sit in silence for a moment, and while I don’t know what Bobby’s thinking, I’m cursing fate. Why had it tried to keep us apart for so long? Too many coincidences. Too many misunderstandings. That’s all that stood in our way.
"There were times I tried to move on," Bobby finally says. "But every girl I’ve dated has fallen short. Because they weren’tyou." He meets my eyes, and the agony there makes my breath hitch. "I thought about reaching out to you so many times, but I didn’t even know where to start. I didn’t know where you were, or who you may be with. But I’veneverstopped loving you. Every song I sing, it’s about you. I wrote an entire album the year things ended, begging for you to listen to the truth. It’s all there, everything I was feeling, every regret I have. I laid it bare for the entire world to hear, all for the almost non-existent chance you’d hear it and know I was sorry. That I was yours, and always would be, even if your heart belonged to someone else."
Tears stream from my eyes as he moves closer, grabbing my hands in his, his thumbs rubbing across my knuckles. "I don’t know if it’s too late—"
"It’s not," I breathe. My bottom lip trembles, but Bobby's touch grounds me—gives me the courage to look him in the eye. "I tried to cut you out of my life completely. But you were always there. Alwayslingering. I hated you for what happened. I really thought…" I trail off, unable to even say the words.
"I know," he says, so gently it hurts. "I know what you thought. I’m so sorry, Beth. And I know this is the worst possible timing, and that you need to heal from what you’ve been through and find a way past it, but I just need you to know that I love you.”
He swallows as if holding back his own tears. “I love you more than life itself. I always have. More than my life.Thislife." He looks around the bus.
"I was wrong back then about what was important. None of the things I worried about mattered.Youmatter. This thing between us, this love that feels so much bigger than that word can even describe? That’s what’s important. And if you can forgive me—"
"I forgive you." I shift forward, tilting my face closer to his. "Can you forgive me?" I ask, looking up at him from beneath my lashes, my voice nearly a whisper. It hurts knowing that all this time was wasted. All because of a series of events that should never have happened—Michael’s death, Kelsey sleeping on his bus, Bobby going off to get drunk to forget that he’d just chosen to break up with me so I could pursue an opportunity I didn’t even want.
"There’s nothing to forgive, Beth." Bobby breathes as his hand comes up to cup my cheek. The muscles of his arms ripple as he pulls me closer. "Whenever you’re ready, give me another chance. Please."
NOW
September 2024: Blacksburg, VA
I want a love that will go down
Alongside stories long been shared
By the ones with hearts of poets
The words written by the baird
—An excerpt from "Poetry," written by Beth Winters, performed by Robert Beckett
I close the distance between us. Pressing my lips against his.
