Page 21 of The Night the Stars Went Dark

“I’ll take that.” I picked at the coaster while she went to pour my drink.

“She’s on break right now.” The bartender grinned. “You’re looking for Aspen, right? I saw you two talking the other night.”

“We used to be friends,” I clarified. I didn’t want to assume we were anything else at the moment.

“Right.” She nodded as she pressed her lips together. “I’m Lisa. Just yell if you need something.” She walked away, and I took a sip of my drink. It was good. Kinda sweet and tart at the same time. I let myself zone out and didn’t really talk to anyone else.

I don’t know if she saw me, and stayed back, or if she just decided to work a different area of the bar, but it must have been an hour before Penny appeared.

“So, you’ve decided to start stalking me at work now, huh?” She wiped the bar beside me and grabbed two empties to toss in the trash.

“This is close to my hotel.” I shrugged. “I thought you’d want me around.” I lowered my voice. “After the other night…” I stopped talking when her eyes darted up and it appeared she was upset with me.

“That was a mistake. I thought we could, but I just…can’t.” She started to step away, but I reached out and grabbed her wrist.

“I need you to talk to me.” I leaned in. I wasn’t really ready to give up on this just yet.

“There’s nothing to talk about.” She pulled at her wrist, and I let go. “You’re music, and I’m not. We won’t work.” She rushed away into the kitchen and stayed out of my sight the rest of the night.

Aspen

I can’t do this, I chanted to myself as I rushed away. I needed to put enough distance between us that he couldn’t convince me to try. Trying meant remembering, and I didn’t want to remember. It hurt too much, and I was tired of hurting.

I stormed into the dish room and let out a scream. Anger at this whole situation was beginning to control me, but it was better than sadness. I paced for a few moments, repeating what I’d just said to him. I needed to remember why I was mad. It helped me stay strong. I worked the back room the rest of the night. Staying away was hard, but I needed my life to go back to the way it was before he came here, back when I could pretend that everything was fine.

“See ya tomorrow.” I waved as I pushed through the door and out onto the sidewalk. It was a warm night, and there wasn’t much of a breeze. I walked briskly until coming to a stumbling stop at my building.

There, sitting on the stoop was Bryson. “Wait!” He stood.

“You don’t give up, do you?” I shook my head.

“I need your help.” He sighed. “I’ve tried everything, but you’re the only one who can help me. Please?” When he stood up, I noticed his guitar sitting behind him.

My shoulders dropped as I swallowed the lump that was forming in my throat. “With what?” It squeaked out of me.

“Words?” His head tipped to the side. “You know I suck with words. If there was anyone else, I’d ask them.” He continued, “Please?”

I shook my head. I knew this was a bad idea. I’d regret it, but a part of me felt bad for him. I punched in the key code to open the door, and he followed me upstairs.

We stopped at my apartment for a moment in order for me to put my things inside, and then I led him to the roof. “I used to come up here all the time when I first moved in. It’s my escape. We won’t bother anyone with the noise up here.” I motioned to the spot where two box-style crates were sitting.

“Used to?” His head tipped. “You don’t anymore?”

“Not like I used to. I always played in the apartment, but my neighbor would beat on the wall over the noise, so I brought my keyboard up here. I stopped after Dad died.” My voice was barely a whisper. I flexed my fingers at my side. It was as if my body was telling me I needed to play, but my heart wouldn’t allow it.

“I can see why you like it up here.” He waved around. You could see the entire city from the top of my building. The cars looked like little ants marching along the streets.

“So what do you have?” I blew out a breath as I sat down on one of the crates.

“A lot of nothing.” He chuckled. I watched as he sat down and opened the guitar case. He rummaged around until he produced a notepad. He handed it over, along with a pen. “I’ve got the chorus, but I need more. I need verses.” He growled in exasperation.

“So, play it for me.” He slipped the strap over his head and positioned the guitar in front of him. He made some adjustments and then strummed a few chords before going into a melody. I watched as he picked along and then came to a stumbling halt.

“That’s what I got. Sucks, doesn’t it?” His lips twisted as his nose scrunched up. “Please help.”

I thought about it for a moment. “I think you need to go up a key here to make this part a little different, and then maybe repeat this part.” I pointed out where I was talking about on the notepad he had handed me. “This sounds good here, but I think we need to move this line here. It just flows better like this.” For a moment I forgot about all the heartache and my reasons for keeping music out of my life and just had fun. It was like our college days all over again. We worked together brainstorming ideas well into the night and for those few hours I was happy.

“What about this part?” He began trying different lines to see what sounded better.

---