A song for him

Chapter 9

October

Roan's PoV

One month to Thanksgiving and I’m forced to hire a trucking company to deliver beers to most of the state.  One order even goes as far as Kentucky.  I can’t believe how the business has grown.  It’s also, as usual, cold as could be.  I enjoy the town more in Fall.  Less tourists.  Business as usual.  I wonder how business will do once winter comes.

I love the view of the lighthouse from my first floor, especially in winter.  It ices over completely and looks like something out of Narnia.

The view this afternoon though, is epic and I wish I weren’t f*****g standing here alone.

The last month has gotten better and no one even mentions Dillon anymore.  Just another holidaymaker that passed through town, I guess.  That was until, her face is splashed across the front page of the Benton Light, the local paper.  She’s on there because she was discovered in The Livery and according to the article, she’s just released her single.

Mother fucker!

Jill convinced Mike not to put it up on the wall of fame.  I tried to tell them it was OK.  It wasn’t.  The last thing I wanted to see was her face on the wall every time I went over there.

Mike understood without me having to say anything.

My hair’s totally unkempt again and I could give a s**t.  I decide to visit Jordan for a weekend.  He’s doing great and has even met someone.  I can’t stand being around them for too long, even if it means he’s happy.  What the hell’s happened to me?

The drive back to Benton is great, except when her f*****g song comes on.  Its perfect, like her.  She was perfect until she took my heart and stepped on it.  s**t, I probably have to talk to someone like Jill.  She’ll know how to get over this s**t.

“You’re kidding.”  She says flatly.  “You want me to tell you what?”

“How to move on from this.  Eurgh!  Its consuming me, Jilly.  I just can’t function.  I’m angry.  So God damn angry!”  I lean my head against my arm, peering out the window, “Do you think she’s just as angry?”

“Honestly.  I don’t know.  Girl’s carrying around a lot of hurt.  I can’t blame her for running off.”

“What do you mean?”

“Roan, what the hell were you thinking letting Tara stay over?”

Dillon’s obviously not told her everything like I thought she would have.  Not what I expected.

“f**k Jill, I don’t know.”

“Did you sleep with her again?  You know that chick is crazy and –“

“No, Jill, I did not sleep with Tara.  She needed a place to stay.  Mike said no, so that should make you happy.”

Jill smiles, “Ah, Mike.  He knows what’s good for him.”

I’m happy for them, but honestly, its so difficult to be around them now.  They’re touchy, feely, kissy and just f*****g annoying.

“So, seriously.  Maybe you should tell her how you feel.  Maybe get it off your chest somehow.”

I shake my head, “No way.  I’m not calling her up.”

“No.  Not what I meant.”

“Then how would I tell her?”

“Write her a letter, but don’t send it.  Just like a journal, except, its named Dillon.”

“Will it work?”  is all I want to know.  Will I stop thinking about her?  Why is it taking so long to get over her?

“That’s up to you essentially, isn’t it?”

“What type of mood are you in?”  Mike asks me as I walk in that Saturday night to help with the dinner rush.

It’s the first time I’m back at the bar in months to help out, “I’m good. I won’t be hosing anyone down with your very expensive beer tonight.”

“Great!  Now, let’s get this party started.  I need the fridges restocked and there is a table of soccer moms that have ordered Cosmo’s.”

I laugh at how he imagines I can just jump right in, but its great.  I’m busy and I like it.

“Come on, man and no smoke breaks until nine tonight!”  he calls from his end of the bar.

Jill rushes up to the bar and hands me an order, “Four Sandusky pale ales, one Guinness and a Bourbon.  Welcome back.”

I still find it weird that people are ordering my beers.  Its surreal.

“You good?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”  I assure her.

The night is a blast.  At closing, we end up sitting at the bar, having a few beers, just the three of us.  Mike and Jill are pleasantly not all over one another.

“What’s the plans for Thanksgiving, guys?”  she asks.  Jill hates going home and being reminded of her failed marriage, while Mike’s Mom is living in Chicago.  So, technically, we’re all orphans at the holidays.

“Jordan’s coming down with his girlfriend, so why don’t you guys join us?” 

“That sounds great!  Mike?”  Jill asks.

“Yeah, I’m in.

“Great.  Done.” I say

“You write that letter yet?”  Jill asks.  I want shut her mouth, but Mike’s already heard.

“What letter?”  he asks, not one to leave things alone.

“I told Roan to write Dillon, telling her how pissed off he is and then not send it.”

“Why would he not send it?”  Mike looks at Jill like she has ‘i***t’ written on her head.

“Because its more therapeutic than anything else.”  She argues.

“Like writing about his feelings?”  he looks utterly disturbed by the idea.

“Just like that .”  Jill says.  Oh God.

“So you’ve got a diary?”  he looks at me, about to burst out laughing.  I swear I am going to kick his ass.

So, before I do, “Guys.  I’m out.  See ya both later this week.”

“Roan!”  Jill moans.

“Jill, I’ll deal with you some other time.”  She looks upset with herself.   I hug her and turn to leave, “Mike, you owe me a night’s pay.  Thank you and good night!”

I get a phone call from a paper in Grand Rapids, someone from the business section.

“Roan Sandusky?”  it’s a guy named Brett Harris and he’s doing a piece on local branding.  He’s heard about me through a friend at the agency I used.  He’s also found the beer ‘delightful’.

“Where do you want to meet?”  I ask.

“I’ll come out to Benton.  Your place?  I also want to get some candids of you for the article.”

“Sure.  Tomorrow good?  I have a meeting at the Callum Hotel the morning.  How about we meet there straight after?”

“Yes, great, thanks.”

“Meeting ends at about twelve.”

“Thank you Mr Sandusky.”

This guy is as gay as a lark and stammers through the interview questions.  I have no idea if I’m saying anything stupid either.

Its mostly questions about how I came up with the name, image, labelling.  Branding in general.

He then manages to sneak in a question of my relationship status, “Is it hard maintaining a balanced home life and also starting up a business?”

I can’t help, but snort at the obvious agenda, “I live alone.”

“Oh, I see.”

“We’re done?”  I ask, annoyed at this point.

“Just a few shots of you outside perhaps?”

We’re done in about ten more minutes and I finally get to go home.  The article will go online into print the next day.

I’m not into this type of thing, but subconsciously I know why I did it. I wouldn’t mind if someone saw it.

“How much hotter are you hoping to be?”  Jill teases when we check out the online article.

“Local Benton Brewer has more than just a good brand.”  Mike reads, “Dude, I think he was talking about more than just your personality.”

“This is seriously a good look for you, by the way.”  Jill muses.

“Jilly, stop.  Its weird.”  I feel my face heat up.

We celebrate the article with some of my pale ale and Mike puts the article up on the wall.

“Proud of you, bro.”  he backslaps me.

“Thanks.”

“Me too!”  Jill gives me a hug.

Would be great if I had someone to share it all with, but not just anyone.  It’s the first time I really think of her in days.  My mood shifts again.  Time to go home and sulk.

Or better yet, go off and write about it.

The journal isn’t where I left it.  Odd.  I search my study drawer one last time.  I look on the desk and there it is.  Must have forgotten to put it away.  Oh well, here goes.

‘Dillon…’