Total pages in book: 45
Estimated words: 43920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 220(@200wpm)___ 176(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 220(@200wpm)___ 176(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)
All during that time, a year in all, and despite making peace with his leaving, with him going off to seek fame and fortune, I’d missed him far more than I ever thought possible. He stayed in constant communication with me, but the ache only got worse. Even with the visits, a night here, a day there, it left me feeling more miserable than loved. When I’d called and put a stop to them, he had not been happy.
“You need to concentrate on what you’re doing,” I told him over the phone at two in the morning my time, me in New Orleans, him in Los Angeles. It was the only time I could get him, right after a show, so I’d stayed up to talk.
“I know what I need to do,” he replied irritably. “You don’t need to tell me.”
Shit. No one liked other people thinking for them, and that was my default with everyone. It was a terrible quality, but it had served me well in business and relationships over the years. I always knew when to cut my losses. “Yeah, I know, but—”
“I’m working as hard as I can, all the time. You get that, don’t you?”
“Of course, but—”
“I need you at the end of the tunnel, yeah?” There was an unmistakable strain in his voice. “Please don’t try and do what you think I want. Listen to what I’m telling you instead.”
But that was so hard. “I’m not, I’m really not, I swear, but, Dawson, you don’t have time to try and—”
“We talked about this, remember? Before I left, we went through everything.”
And we had, he was right, and it wasn’t fair of me to want more just because I’d thought I was made of stronger stuff. But the fact of the matter was, our connection was suffering no matter what either of us wanted.
“You can’t be on the road with me,” he said, reiterating our conversation from a year prior. “You have a business to run, you have people to take care of, and I get all that, I do, but I need you too. Do you understand?”
I did, because the longing in me was just as desperate. I’d never had anyone in my life who just looked at me and knew, without a word passing between us, how I was, how I felt, what I needed.
“And just because we started fast,” he went on, “doesn’t mean this isn’t real, so don’t try and end us over the goddamn phone just because this is harder than you thought it was gonna be!” He got loud, probably more so than he meant to, but it made sense. If my heart was breaking over the thought of letting him go, his heart had to be doing the same. I didn’t doubt either his love or commitment, but the distance was doing damage I hadn’t thought it would.
“No,” I husked, brushing away the tears he couldn’t see. “I don’t want to end anything. It’s just the visits, me flying there, you flying here… It’s not working. It’s not helping anything.”
He was quiet for a moment.
“Am I wrong?”
Quick clearing of his throat. “No, you’re—it’s hard when I have to go, but what then? I won’t see you until God knows when?”
“There has to be a break in your schedule. There must be.”
His breath was halting, choppy. “So we’ll wait for then.”
“Yeah,” I murmured. “Because I want to stay with you when I’m there, and you want to visit. It’s not a question of desire, it’s just a question of timing.”
“But you understand, don’t you? That this is my shot?”
“Of course I do.”
“And that being away has nothing to do with—”
“Yes,” I promised him. “And you know that not joining you on the road has nothing to do with not loving you. That’s not even a—”
“I know,” he rushed out. “So never call me again with parting in your head or on your lips. That won’t work.”
“Parting on your lips,” I repeated. “What’re you, a songwriter or something?”
He scoffed. “I’m just a man who will not be broken up with, and especially not over the goddamn phone. You get that, don’t you? If you want to be done, you’ll have to fly out to wherever I am and tell me to my face.”
I chuckled. “Yessir, I understand.”
He was quiet for a moment.
“Dawson?”
“I am alone in the world but for you and my band. I’m not losing anyone.”
“No,” I agreed.
Deep breath then. “Okay. So what’re you wearing?”
“Oh dear God.”
“What?” he grumbled. “Maybe FaceTime me and show me the goods.”
By then I was laughing.
“No?” he whined playfully. “What if I beg?”
He didn’t have to beg.
Six months later, still promoting the first album, the crowds huge, filling arenas…through no fault of his, or mine, it became harder and harder to connect. Because not only were we apart, but we were also two very different people. We had clicked seamlessly when we occupied the same space, but now it took work. Being on opposite ends of the country, we couldn’t put in the time needed.