Page 65 of The River in Spring
“It’s a probability if things go our way.”
I huff a response, not certain why I factor so little into the story she’s telling.
“What about us?” I lay it all on the line.
“What about us? There are choices to make. You can come with me. We’re in love, Nobel. I can’t bear to think of you being here, and me being in Tennessee alone.”
“Obviously you can.”
I hurt her with that sharp response. But it was accurate. I got used to making my point in law school. Identify the hole in the argument if it can be found. Tears fill her eyes and at first I do nothing to stop them. I’m hurt too. Just because I’m not crying is no indication of the depth of the wound. The silence is thick, and it sits between us. I reach for her hand, and she gives it to me without hesitation.
Our eyes are almost begging to see hope in the face of the person across the table. Some crack in the wall that would say there is room for compromise.
“I understand what you are feeling. It’s a lot,” she says in low tones.
I play with her delicate fingers, so soft against my hand. “I’d love to be like you, Dove. But I’m set in my ways. And I never fool myself that I’m anything different. It sucks because I actually wish I could be.”
She leans in. “But what about how we all morph into something new, whether it’s on purpose or not. Life changes us all the time.”
“I wish it would change me now.”
Her hand raises to my cheek and it’s so tender a gesture.
“I don’t want you to change. I think you’re perfect. But what I do want is for you to be the man who, in spite of being uncomfortable, offers up his discomfort to be with the woman he loves.”
I don’t know what to say. There is a logic to that, and it feels uncomfortable knowing I may not be capable.
Her hand drops, and she continues. “And in return, I promise you the same. There will come a day when you need me to stand by you. And I will. It would be a given.”
I let her words settle in my mind, where I pick them apart. My heart already knows the truth. But my mind. That fucker fights till the end.
“Your career demands so much of you, Dove. I understand that. But it would demand things of me too. That’s something that seems unscalable.”
She sighs before presenting her final argument.
“Great things seldom come from comfort zones, Nobel. It’s all just words before you are asked to do it. The proof is in the doing. Ihavestood with those I love and been happy with the choice. With me, love wins out. Over music and career. Over every fucking thing. It’s you who doesn’t see it in yourself, and I’m not sure I see it in you either.”
“That’s harsh,” I say, feeling the sting.
“Yeah, it is.”
We finish breakfast, passing the time trying to ignore where we find ourselves. Small talk seems odd. One click off the norm. All of a sudden, it doesn’t flow at the same pace. But we keep at it because the sound of silence is heartbreaking. Our deepest selves are exposed. The chink in my armor, her sense of self.
I have five days to figure out how to bend. And if I don’t, I will find out what it feels like to break.Asshole, I say to myself.
On the way out of the diner, our better angels reach for each other’s hand.
The days pass with a quickness I anticipated. Time runs out, as it always does. No matter how much we want to hold on to a day or a moment, it dissolves and reappears as the past. Day by day you think nothing has changed. Then you look back and see it all has. I feel nearly dead. It’s all about her leaving now.
It has become increasingly clear that this is no false start to Montana’s real rise. The phone calls and Zoom meetings have increased with each day. Jimmy and Dove are writing furiously. At least I was able to contribute some general legal advice on a few points when they asked for my input. It was a short high though. A shallow contribution.
The producer is interested beyond what he is saying. Just his mention of contracts and timelines tells me he has already made up his mind. He’s a bit too obvious to hide the fact. Think he’s afraid someone else will scoop them up. And it hasn’t escaped Dove or her bandmates. Rightfully so, they each are charged with the reality of the situation. This is the end of their long beginning.
It becomes clearer with every day that passes. I am about to lose my mountain girl to the world. I hate that she tries to hide her excitement. But she does. The natural joy has been tapped down for my fucking benefit. That truth can’t be ignored. Am I becoming the one thing in Dove’s life that tries to hold her back? It would be fucked up to quiet the nightingale’s song. That is a horrible thought about myself.
Now it’s our last night together before the flight to Nashville in the morning. I don’t want to see a clock or have any idea of the time. All I know is that this could be, and probably is, the last of us as we were. After tomorrow she becomes something new. Damn. I love the old us. Why can’t things ever stop evolving when you get it right?
We’ve been laying in each other’s arms for an hour, watching the light from the full moon. It’s visible through the open window. There is a sadness to the image and scene. Maybe everything from here on will have that melancholy feel. I know it’s my mindset, but I don’t see it changing. Despite efforts to be a better man, I know myself. Dove said it early on as a compliment. Now it has become my undoing.
