Only You
I had another dream about you last night. Sometimes, I think you’ll be with me forever. Sometimes, I’m worried that you won’t be. If I keep having dreams like this, I’ll start to think they’re premonitions. That I can see the future. Maybe I actually can.
Shortly before he left, my father told me that time is circular. History tends to repeat itself. It’s one of humanity’s greatest flaws. We pretend to progress, but really, we’re stuck doing the same things over and over again. I don’t know about the legitimacy of that statement, but he sounded confident when he said it.
I remember once you said love is fleeting at best, so we better enjoy it because before we know it, it’s already gone. You also sounded confident when you said that, but it’s been almost four years since I last saw you and my heart’s still beating the same.
If anything is fleeting, it’s life. Seems like it’s criminally long at the worst of times and practically nonexistent at the best. Just a flash of colors and faces. A blur of sounds and emotions. A blink of the eye, and it’s all gone.
If we could go back and do it all again, do you think you’d let me love you? That you’d abandon your preconceived notions about misery and love. Forgo your sanctimonious sacrifice of trying to spare “me” from the pain. I think your motives were as altruistic as they were selfish when you told me you didn’t love me, that you couldn’t love me. I think you were trying to spare yourself from the pain. Trying to deny reality, to deny yourself.
It’s hard to know if that’s true, especially since you’re not around to confirm or deny it, but it sounds pretty confident, and sometimes, sounding confident is enough.
***
From the stage, the lights in the bar looked bright and vibrant. Blurry to his bleary eyes. The people in the audience too. They melded together into a hazy smear of amorphic faces and washy colors like water paint.
Sounds other than his guitar were unintelligible to his ears. As if everyone were on a different plane of existence, within another realm adjacent to his own. Moving to their own speed, dancing to their own beat.
They were about halfway through a cover of Only You by Yazoo when Jeremy saw her in the back of the club, standing against the far wall. Lit by a stray spotlight he couldn’t be sure was entirely real. She was the lone solidified figure his eyes could discern against the rest.
Back when he knew, actually knew her, she was tan with a round face. Her eyes were warm and blue like glittering crystals. She was beautiful. Spritely and considerate, but also, kind of a smartass. She had long brown hair with a tinge of auburn red. Most of the time, she kept her hair tied up or stuffed into an old baseball cap from her dad’s college baseball career.
Now, her skin was midnight blue like ink from a ballpoint pen. She had black spots around her eyes giving her the appearance of a raccoon. Her hair was frayed and tangled. And there was a soft shade of purple over her lips. The most disconcerting change were her eyes. Once beautiful, mesmerizing. They had become milky white. Swirled by a cataract mist.
In the beginning, when he first saw her, was about a month after he had moved to the city, a month after her surgery. She looked just as he had remembered her. But after almost four years, she was now this thing. This pale imitation. A shadow on the wall.
The song came to an end. Alexis, the bassist and bandleader, snapped her fingers at him. She leaned away from the mic and whispered: “Get your shit together, Atkins.”
His crazy was starting to show again.
“I’m fine,” he said. “Let’s play another one already.”
Alex opened her mouth to rebuttal, but it wasn’t the time nor place. She turned to the crowd and opened the set for requests. After about another twenty minutes of playing whatever the audience shouted out at them, the band took their leave, reminding the audience to come see them this weekend for another show.
Everyone, aside from Duncan (the drummer), grabbed their equipment and quickly exited stage right. Another band filed in behind them. Dressed in white and black suits with whacky hairstyles and neon-colored instruments. Jeremy was suddenly glad Alex had not been a stickler about band appearances. She could be strict, but she wasn’t controlling.
“Anyone else sick of playing Seven Nation Army?” Tegan, the backup guitarist, asked. She was a shorter girl with blond hair and an eyebrow piercing. She wore a plaid skirt with black leggings and her boyfriend’s bomber jacket sat heavy on her petite frame.
“It’s a good song,” Duncan said idly.
“I’m not saying it’s a bad song, but Christ alive, it’s every single show. Why the hell do people always request Seven Nation Army?”
Jeremy would’ve laughed, but he kept seeing his shadow around the club. Lou, the thing pretending to be here, had a way of distracting him.
“You guys want drinks?” Duncan asked. “I’m gonna grab some drinks.”
“Babe, I need the keys to the van,” Alex said.
“Jere, you mind stowing this for me?” Tegan handed him her guitar case. “I’ve gotta go find Henry.”
Duncan handed Alex the keys and followed Tegan into the crowd, heading toward the bar. Jeremy moved out into the alley where Duncan’s van was parked, Alex directly behind him.
“So, you good?” she asked, placing her bass in first before taking Tegan’s solid-body electric, shifting it in next to hers.
The instruments and equipment were organized just perfectly. Neatly aligned. Wires and cords coiled up and tied with Velcro. Larger, heavier objects suspended by leather straps with metal hooks. Alex had a system for everything.
“You seemed distracted,” she said.
“I’m fine.”
“You sure, ’cause it’s been happening a lot recently.”
“Just tired.”
“All the time?”
“Why are you asking?” he said. “Did Duncan put you up to this?”
She frowned. “Why do you say that?”
“Because this isn’t something you’d ask me unless he mentioned it.”
If Alex were a punch, Duncan was the kiss. If she were the lemons in lemonade, he was the sugar. Not Yin and Yang, as some people were wont to say. Positive and negative. Like magnets.
“Tegan’s been noticing it too,” she said. “We’ve all noticed it, but they wanted me to talk to you because…I guess it’s kinda my job to make sure everyone in the band is doing alright.”
“Like I said, I’m just tired.”
“Well, if it’s something else, you can talk to us about it.”
He handed her his guitar and removed the soft pack of Viceroys from his back pocket. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
“If I’m being honest, it’s not really distracted. It’s almost like you’re lost. Like half the time, you don’t know where the hell you are or what you’re doing.”
“Is it affecting my performance?” he asked.
“No, I don’t think so.”
“There you go.”
“Fuck off, that’s not fair,” said Alex. “You could play guitar in your sleep. You can play almost any instrument in your sleep.”
“Not piano.” He liked the piano, but the piano did not like him. Stringed instruments were his forte. It was too bad because his mother had wanted him to play the piano so badly while he was growing up. Unfortunately, he could never meet her expectations.
He placed the cigarette between his lips and removed the matches from his other pocket. Alex slammed the van doors shut and joined him under the awning. Overhead, the sky swarmed with thick billowing black clouds. There was static in the air, but as for right now, only a light shower misted down on the city, giving the headlights and neon signs an ambiguous haze.
“You know those things will kill you,” Alex said, rubbing her hands up and down her arms, trying to generate some heat.
“I’m not too worried about that.”
She thought it over. “They’ll ruin your vocal cords too.”
He hesitated to light the match, but ultimately, struck it against the small strip of sandpaper and held the flame to the end of his cigarette. The tobacco crackled and wafted smoke.
“You’re seriously not gonna tell me what’s going on,” she said.
His shadow appeared on the wall opposite him. Standing beneath a flickering neon sign for an underground club. She was untouched by its pink glow.
“Nothing to tell,” he lied, removing his jacket and handing it to her. “Doesn’t really feel like summer, does it?”
“Never does. Seems like the air stays cold until late July or early August. Then, it’s unbearably hot. And before you know it, it’s freezing cold again.”
“I don’t think I really ever know what season it is. I just wait and see what the weather does.”
She slipped into his coat. Alex was shorter than him. She had pale skin and short black hair fashioned in what some people called a punk style. It wasn’t a look she was going for. Alex just hated long hair because it was too much effort. Shorter hair meant she could save on conditioner and shampoo.
She had a tattoo on both wrists. One said Nate and the other read Caleb. There was a swirly ink-black heart below the names.
“How are you brothers doing?” Jeremy asked.
“They’re fine. Don’t try to change the subject.”
He shrugged. It wasn’t his intention, but then again, he sometimes acted without even realizing it.
“Are you doing drugs?” Alex asked.
“Is that a serious question?”
“Not exactly, no. But I don’t know what else would be causing it.”
“I just need a little more sleep.”
“Seems like you’re already living in a dream as is.”
“If I were living in a dream, we’d be making studio albums instead of playing bar shows.”
“Hey, watch it. We’re pretty damn lucky to be in this position. Most people don’t get paid to perform. Well, they don’t get paid cash.”
“But we’re barely making enough to survive.”
“That’s art, Jeremy. The world makes you suffer any way it can. Then, you transcribe that pain into whatever medium you’ve chosen. For us, it’s music.”
“Music no one wants to listen to.”
“They wanna listen to it. They just don’t want to pay for it. And without a manager or studio backing us, we don’t have the connections to distribute yet.”
“Yet?” He laughed. “You’re still hopeful.”
“Either it’ll happen or it won’t. The question is: will we be able to stick it out until we find the answer.”
Jeremy exhaled a flume of smoke and watched the rain pierce it like a thousands swords through a wispy veil of cloth.
“I hate to ask, but is this still something you’re interested in pursuing?” Alex asked. “I don’t blame you if you wanna throw in the towel. That’s what it is, right? You’re getting tired of doing this?”
“I’m getting tired of certain things, but no, I still wanna play. It’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted,” he admitted. “I think I’m just tired of the grind, y’know. Tired of punching my way through the dark, hoping I’ll eventually come across something. Tired of the shadows around me.”
“If it’s any consolation, you’re not alone in the dark. We’re all punching too.”
But you’re punching together, Jeremy thought. You’ve all got someone to punch with.
As if to prove his point, Duncan stepped outside to tell them he had drinks ready. He looked between the two of them and smiled. “You guys good?”
“Don’t worry, I talked to him,” she said, strutting past, pushing her way inside the bar. “He said nothing’s wrong.”
Awkwardly, Duncan lingered for a moment, rouletting between responses. He eventually settled on: “I should get back in there.”
Jeremy quietly nodded. It was nice to have people concerned about him. Annoying but nice. Not everybody had that.
He looked across the alley at her, his shadow. Her milky eyes swirled at him, blinking occasionally. The rain picked up, pelting the pavement between them, flooding the alleyway with runnels of water. The droplets passed right through her.
“Feels like we’ve been here before,” he said even though she wouldn’t respond. She couldn’t respond. He’d forgotten her voice, or maybe he had never really heard it to begin with. “Like we’ll be here again.”
The side entrance opened again. This time, Tegan and Henry walked out. Henry was a few inches taller than Jeremy. He had short brown hair and pensive eyes. The kind that examined everything.
Currently, they were staring at him.
“What?” he said.
Henry glanced down at Tegan and nudged her forward.
“I just wanted to make sure you were okay or whatever,” she said, averting her gaze from him, her words trailing off into an incoherent mumble.
“Is everyone going to ask me?”
“I’m not,” Henry admitted. “I actually came to give this back.”
He handed Jeremy his phone. Things could get chaotic or sweaty on stage. It was best to keep personal possessions, especially fragile ones, with a trusted adviser.
“By the way, you got a phone call a few minutes ago,” he added.
“Right, thanks.” He turned to Tegan. “Like I told them, there’s nothing to worry about. I just need a little more sleep.”
“Okay, well, if there is something…” Once again, Tegan swiveled her head around like a sprinkler gone wild. “…so yeah, feel free, or whatever, to talk to me. If you want.”
“I’ll keep that in mind, thanks.”
She retreated inside, pulling Henry with her. But he elected to stay, telling her he’d catch up in a minute. She frowned, but she didn’t fight him on the matter.
“If you’re gonna bum a smoke, I’ve gotta warn ya,” Jeremy said, “this is sort of my last pack.”
He shook his head. “No, I don’t do that shit.” He examined Jeremy like you would a statue in a museum. Trying to see beneath the marble surface at the human below. “Look, they’re worried about you. All of ’em. They think you’re gonna leave or something, I don’t know.”
“I didn’t plan on leaving anytime soon.”
“Right. I told them you’re an adult, you’ll figure it out, and if you can’t, you’ll reach out.”
Jeremy agreed with a nod.
“But I also recognize the look.”
“What look?”
“That dazed look you get sometimes. I used to get it too.” He rubbed his jaw nervously. “Uh, few years back, I was going through some shit. Lost someone very close to me. Got into some trouble, got sent to a new school, wasn’t sure if I was going to make it past eighteen. And I may be completely off here, but if you’re going through something similar, I should tell ya, it gets better. You just have to let it get better. Which is a lot easier said than done, but trust me, this feeling, it passes. Doesn’t disappear, but it passes.”
With that, he opened the door and went back inside. Jeremy unlocked his phone and checked his missed calls. There were two, one from his mom. He swiped it away. The other was from Carol. He tapped the notification and called her back.
The phone rang.
And rang.
And rang.
Until finally, click!
“Hello?” a guy said on the other end.
Jeremy checked the caller ID. “Yeah, Carol there?”
“Are you the guy?”
“What?”
“There’s a woman here who said a guy would come pick her up.”
Jeremy didn’t know how to respond.
“Can you come get her?”
“From where?”
After a few minutes on the phone, the guy gave Jeremy the address to a bar downtown. He explained that Carol had come in a little after seven. It was just shy of nine o’clock and she was completely wasted. She had spilled her last two drinks and thrown up into a trash can.
“So, are you coming to get her, or should I call somebody else—what’s the deal here?” the guy asked.
“Yeah, I’ll be there in a few minutes. Just try to give her some water in the meantime.” He hung up and sent a brief text to Alex, letting her know he had to leave early for an emergency. This wasn’t going to help his case any.
