A song for him

Chapter 10

Dillon's PoV

“When do we leave for Illinois?”  I ask Reese.  He’s leaning against my dressing room in the Mellon Hall in Kentucky.  I have just come off stage after opening for Jesse.  My performance was lacking in so many ways and I fear that is the reason I am being graced with my manager’s presence.

“Tonight.”  He says flatly.  “We don’t have much time there.  Its rehearsal tomorrow and then the performance the following night.  Then, we’re off to Michigan.”

I spin to face him, “Michigan?”

“Yeah.  That’s where you’re from, right?”

“No, my boyfriend is, sorry, was from there.”

Michigan wasn’t on the list.  Jesse was prone to changing her mind, so I wasn’t too shocked, just taken aback.  Not a day has gone by that I haven’t thought about Roan and how stupid I was.

I’ve thought of messaging him, but its clearly too late.  He must think I’m the worst person on earth.   Have tried to preoccupy myself with things other than thoughts of him, but try as I might, all I see are his beautiful eyes and I imagine them looking into mine.

“Where in Michigan are we playing?”

“Grand Rapids.  Well, its just you.  Jesse is taking a well-deserved break.  Its some awards night for the city.  Garrett thinks its great exposure for you.  Young Entrepreneurial Awards, I think.”

I nod wearily, “Sure.”

Grand Rapids, not somewhere I would rush off to, but its so close to Benton, its almost enough to make it feel as if I’m close to him.

Illinois is amazing and because I am from Wells, the crowd is especially welcoming.  Mom and Dad have showed up and its extra special as I haven’t seen them since Christmas the previous year.

My Dad is attempting a selfie with the three of us to show everyone at work.  It means so much that he’s proud of me.  Mom looks more concerned than anything else.  She hugs me a second time.

“Mom, what is it?”

“Nothing.”  And she shakes her head.

“Mom!”

She sits me down on the couch in my dressing room, “You’d let us know if you were in trouble or anything, right?”

I know what my mother means when she says ‘in trouble’.  “No Mother, I am not in trouble.”

“Then why the heck are you so sad?”

“Mom.”  I say quietly, slightly embarrassed at her outburst, but more taken with her honesty.

“Honey, what’s going on?”  at this point, my Dad makes an excuse to leave.

“I met someone, but I messed up so bad.  He probably hates me by now.”  I surprise myself as I burst into sobs.  Proper, choking sobs and my mom wraps her arms around me.  Its so comforting.  Every memory I have of Roan comes flooding back.  All of them I’ve tried to repress comes flooding through and it hurts, like a genuine ache.

“Oh honey, I’m so sorry.  Do you think you could talk to him again and tell him how you feel?”

“I don’t think he’d listen.  He’s amazing, but not an idiot.”

“Remember what you do best when you’re feeling something you can’t say out loud?”

“Write it down.”

She nods her head, “Yes.  Now, do that and either send it to him or just put it away somewhere, but don’t bottle it up.”

I feel a smidgen of hope and as soon as my folks head home, I plan on emptying my feelings onto paper.

We arrive in Grand Rapids at three the next morning.  I’m exhausted and can’t wait to rest.  I’m not looking forward to singing the same two songs I have been doing since three months ago.

I have my notebook clutched under my arm, having fallen asleep with it on the bus, trying to write a new song.  I’ve taken the words of the letter to Roan and used it with a tune I’ve been playing around with.

Sleep overcomes me the minute I lay my head down.  My dreams are like harsh realities with images of roan, moved on and happy.

I have been given a stylist for the evening and its insane the amount of clothes she’s brought along.

She looks me up and down, “You’ve got a great body, but you’re sloppy.”

“What?”  I ask, disbelieving.

“Your posture is terrible and you could polish it up a bit.”  Oh God, not more bling and gloss, please!

She notes the worry on my face, “Don’t worry.  I’ve seen your photos from the tour.  This isn’t a country event.  This is Michigan.  I’m thinking all black, edgy.”

Thank God!

“You’re amazing, thank you!”

By the time she leaves, I’m polished and preened, but in the way I like.  Understated, but with enough showing to warrant it sexy and not 'tartish'.

I’m being accompanied to the event by Garrett, who is my least favourite person.  He meets me downstairs in the lobby and we’re whisked off by a town car to the JW Marriott Hotel at the riverfront.

The Awards are more than just your average, ‘Hey thanks for doing good business, here’s a trophy.’  Its got press coverage and a carpet.  I walk with Garrett, who has me by the elbow and frankly, its enough to make me gag.

When we’re asked to stop for a photo by the local press, he stands next to me and poses with his arm around my shoulders and I politely shift so I manage to move out of his grasp.

He points at me and yells to the photographers, “Dillon Tate.  She’s about to blow up.  Get your pictures now.”  God, he’s awful!

I manage to distance myself for most of the evening, until we’re seated for dinner.  We’re sitting with a few of the nominees and I try not to sound like an i***t when I speak with them.  One is a publisher and has just launched his own company.  The other owns a chain of florists.

God, they’re my age and already successful.  I suddenly feel really small, but the girl who owns the florists, she’s so sweet and tells me how she actually wanted to be an artist and didn’t have the guts to try and sell her paintings.  She commends me for carrying on following my dream.  Somehow, this doesn’t feel like the dream it once was.  Its empty, cold and lonely.  I don’t voice it, but I feel it.

They’ve begun the ceremony and I try to look interested as I’ve been warned that this is a brand I am representing.  Garrett manages to touch my elbow when the MC, a local radio presenter, who happens to be very attractive, gets up on stage and winks at me.  “Man, that’s a pretty one, eh?”

“Ew.”  I mouth at him.  He is not impressed with me and that’s when I can’t wait to just get out of this place.

The awards are split into categories and the guy that’s in publishing wins in the media section.

The next category is Best Branding for a new product and when the nominees are read out, my heart almost stops.

“Jim Holland for Holland’s Hair Care, Liz Perth for Glow Glassware and Roan Sandusky for Sandusky Breweries.”

What.  The.  f**k.

I look around the room frantically and nearly fall off my chair to see if he’s there.  My heart is pounding and my mouth goes dry.

Dear God, I was far from over this man.  He is sitting with a girl who looks a lot like Jill.  Jill, god, she looks amazing.  Then I see Mike and Jordan too.  Oh my God.  Its like looking in on what could’ve been my life, my people and now I was a stranger.  He looks happy.  Good, no, he looks great.  Yeas, great.  God, he’s still beautiful.  He gets up.  What?  He won.  Wow!

He struts effortlessly to the stage and is given an appreciative glance by the MC.  She kisses him on the cheek as a form of congratulations.

“Hey.  Isn’t that your boyfriend?”  Garrett opens his pie hole again.

“Ex.”

“Ha!  Kid’s doing well, huh?”

“He is.”  I say, my mind overrun by how amazing he looks.  He looks like he’s happy.  I decide not to try and speak to him.

‘You were such a b***h, Dillon.’  I think to myself.  I never deserved him.  I realise it when I look at him leave the stage.  Oh God, he’s coming straight towards my table.  I think he doesn’t see me, but as he passes and my eyes follow him, he turns around and looks positively confused when he locks eyes with me.

What is that?  Anger?  He looks pissed.  I suddenly begin to feel nervous about performing.  Oh s**t!  My song I am performing.  Its about Roan.  Its for Roan.

“And that concludes the awards for tonight.”  The MC announces.  She adds in some other bits about the event sponsors and then mentions I’ll be performing and gives mention of that now annoying song I have had to perform and promote, as Jesse Lee’s discovery.

“Dillon Tate, everyone!”

I amble almost awkwardly onto stage, my guitar at my side.  IT almost feels like I’m holding a friend’s guiding hand.

I stand at the microphone and look out onto the crowd, my hand against my forehead, trying to block the harsh lighting.  I can’t see anyone but a few faces in the front.  The applause dies down and I find my voice as the background music begins.  Garrett and Reese have advised me not to say much and let my music do the talking.  I didn’t like not engaging with the audience.  It felt empty.  Everything about my life these last few months was hollow and empty.

I sing the song that once held some meaning, especially when noted by Roan, but now it meant nothing to me.  I go through the motions of the notes and I feel almost teary, but I hold it together.  There is applause when I finish.  I do the next one that’s also been written by Jesse and its more upbeat, but nothing I’m proud of.  I lend my voice to it and can’t wait for it to end.  I put my best foot forward, but it doesn’t reach my soul.

Before my third song, Roan’s song, I think I might burst into tears, but I manage to compose myself with a laugh, “You know,” I say into the microphone, “I was just going to do those two songs tonight, but I wrote this on my way back to Michigan last night.”  I strum my guitar, finding the chords, “I hope you enjoy it.  Its called His song.”  God, this was nerve wracking!

“I hope you remember the first time you saw me,

I do.

I remember it all like it was yesterday.

I want to live like I’m still loving you.

I remember the first time you touched me,

I do.

It made me smile all through the night

I want to keep smiling with you.

Love hurts and love lies.

Love leaves you empty inside.

This is it, this is your song.

Leaving you was all in knew,

And what I knew was so wrong.

I remember the first time you loved me,

I do.

It makes me happy to know I was your’s.

I wish I could keep being loved by you.

I remember these times and I always will.

I loved you then and I love you still.

Love hurts and love lies.

Love leaves you empty inside.

This is it, this is your song.

Leaving you was all in knew,

And what I knew was so wrong.

I remember these times and I always will.

I loved you then and I love you still.

Love hurts and love lies.

Love leaves you empty inside.

This is it, this is your song.

Leaving you was all in knew,

And what I knew was so wrong.”