The Music We Make

I almost yelled out in joy when I walked through the door, but I contained myself, not wanted to freak out any neighbors. I was finally home!

I dropped my bags right in front of the closed door and skipped into the kitchen, running my fingers across the cool granite. I walked through it to the living room, immediately opening my blinds to let in the California sun. I fell onto my couch, squealing in delight. It felt so good to be in such a wide, open space. And to be alone for once!

We had gotten home only thirty minutes earlier and everyone was desperate to go back to their homes and into their own showers or beds or to see their families. I was so grateful to have a moment of peace, where no one else was in the room to bother me or be in my business. Brian had offered to come home with me, but I knew he was longing for a moment of peace himself, so we went to our own apartments.

I had fallen asleep almost instantly after falling into the couch, having weird dreams, but luckily none relating to the wedding. I hadn’t had a nightmare since we had visited my mother, as if hearing her blessing had calmed my mind. I knew deep down she was worried about me, but she told me she was okay with us getting married, and I believed it.

What I couldn’t believe was that our wedding was only a month away. I was so ready to plan the final details, but I had priorities: sleep, shower, eat, and sleep with Brian, in that order.

Once I had completed the first three items on my list, I called Brian to ask him if he wanted to come over or have me stay with him. He didn’t answer, so I assumed he was sleeping, and I packed a bag. I left my apartment only hours after coming back to it and headed towards Brian’s, not caring if I woke him up.

A few minutes later I was standing awkwardly at the door, waiting for someone to answer after I had rung the bell. I tried calling Brian again, but he did not answer. It was weird standing on his porch, and I desperately wished I had a key. I berated myself for coming over before I knew if he was even there or not. Sitting down on the porch swing, I called Matt to see if he knew where Brian was.

“We dropped him off at home. I’m not sure where he’d be, sorry,” he told me. The conversation ended shortly after, as I knew he was busy with family.

I frowned and stared at my phone screen, confused. I was surprised he wasn’t answering; he wasn’t a heavy sleeper and would’ve awaken from my phone calls or the bell ringing. I had to assume he wasn’t home, but why wasn’t he answering my calls? I hated to be the crazy girlfriend, but I tried one more time.

He finally picked up this time. “Rosie, I’m sorry. I meant to text back.”

“Where are you?” I asked, a little harsher than necessary.

“I’m at the beach. I needed some time to sit and be alone to be honest. I had some things on my mind and wanted somewhere relaxing to think about it.”

“I get that,” I said softly, cursing myself for not being more understanding. “But I’m actually at your house.”

“Oh,” he said. He sounded disappointed, making my stomach drop. “It might be awhile before I’m home, Rosie.”

“Do you have a key somewhere? I could always just drive home but I’m already here…”

“Yeah, in the back on the porch there’s a birdhouse. Take off the lid and it’s in there.”

“Oh, that’s a good one. Definitely sneakier than under the mat!” I joked. He didn’t laugh.

“Yeah, I’ll be home later. See you,” he said, hanging up. I frowned, sad that he did not say he loved me or let me say goodbye in return.

I walked around back then, thinking of how I probably shouldn’t have come over at all. What was going on with him? I hoped it was merely fatigue and that he was reflecting on how the tour went, or thinking of what’s next. I didn’t want him to be so upset.

I got into the house with ease once I had the key and locked up behind me before moving into the living room. I was almost attacked by the dog, but it was so small that it was just nipping at my ankles. I bent down to greet Pinkly, scratching behind the ears to calm it down. Pinkly barked quietly, sitting and panting near my felt, finally calmed. Satisfied, I moved to the couch, plopping down amongst the plush pillows. Turning on the TV, I zoned out, having nothing to do until Brian arrived.

When the sun had set and he still wasn’t home I began to worry. What was he even doing? How long can you sit at the beach and think? Maybe I was too antsy of a person; I liked keeping busy as much as possible. Perhaps that was why I was becoming agitated; sitting here and watching TV for this long was starting to get to me.

I got up from the couch and decided to wander around through the home, looking at old pictures and things Brian had hung on the wall. I had never really paid them any attention before, and out of sheer boredom, I examined each photo. I loved seeing the old pictures of the guys from high school; their hair styles alone made me laugh. I was lost in thought looking at a really old photo from when Brian was a little boy with his father playing guitar and I didn’t hear the door. Pinkly’s barking is what signaled Brian’s presence.

“Who’s a good puppy?” he was asking the dog, letting Pinkly kiss his face and jump on him. It was cute and made me smile as I greeted him in the hall.

“Can I do that?” I teased, making him chuckle slightly.

“Sorry I took so long,” he said quietly, throwing his keys in the bowl by the door. “I lost track of time.”

“It’s okay,” I said, moving over to him. He pulled me into an embrace, taking a deep breath. “Are you okay, though?”

“Just tired still. I have a lot on my mind,” with this he pulled away, not making eye contact. I could fill the nerves in my stomach again.

“Are you unhappy with how the tour went?” I pried as he started walking to the kitchen. I followed, not wanting to give up on this.

“No, I think it went really well. The kids seemed to really like it and I think we’ve really started making a name for ourselves,” he said, clearly satisfied.

“Okay, then are you worried about making a new album?” I asked him, still wanting an answer.

He sighed, “We already have some songs written and have discussed the direction we want to take. You heard most of those conversations on the bus, Rosie.”

“Then what has you in such a funk?” I finally asked. I didn’t want to have to beg, but it was bothering me!

He sighed again and ran his hand through his hair, “Nothing, Rosie. I’m just tired.”

I frowned. He went to the fridge and got himself a beer then slowly walked to the back porch, closing the door behind him when he exited the house. Instantly I knew it had to do with me. What else could it even be at this point? I debated leaving, just going home instead of dealing with his broodiness, but I knew that wouldn’t solve anything. So, I got my own beer and followed him outside.

When he saw me I saw his jaw set, clearly annoyed. I bit my tongue, trying to damn hard not to snap at him. Instead I said, “Do you want me to leave?”

He bit his lip. “No, you don’t have to leave. I just thought I’d have one night alone.”

His tone bothered me. He was annoyed and passive agressive, not something I was used to him being. I furrowed my brows and crossed my arms, not sitting next to him on the swing. I tried to think of how to respond to his sour words without making this into a bigger fight.

“You proposed to me,” I started, trying to speak as sweetly as a I could.

“Yes,” he said shortly.

I spoke slowly, “Meaning we are getting married.”

“Yes,” he said again, more annoyed. He took a long chung of beer.

I sighed, “Meaning I will be here with you every single day for the rest of your life. I might not be on tour with you every time, but I’ll certainly be home waiting for you.”

He closed his eyes and didn’t respond at first. I waited for him, hoping he understood the point I was making. I understood that we all needed alone time, but he was being rude and shitty to me for no reason.

“I know that,” he said eventually. He opened his eyes and motioned for me to sit with him. I did, leaning against the armrest of the swing so I could face him. He did not continue and begin picking at the label on his beer bottle, clearly not knowing what to say.

“I understand we all need alone time,” I said to him, “but you were alone all afternoon. If you wanted to be alone tonight, you should have told me. I would’ve been bummed, but I would have understood. I am an independent person who needs my space, too. You know that I would understand. Why won’t you talk to me?”

“I don’t know if I can do this,” he said abruptly, his voice more shrill than before. He stood, moving over to the railing of the porch, looking out into the yard instead of at me. I bit my lip and tried not to panic, telling myself that he was just having cold feet.

“Why?” I asked eventually, my voice cracking.

He took a moment to answer, but eventually said, “I don’t know if I’m ready for this. It will be so hard going on the road without you.”

“We’ve had this conversation before,” I practically groaned, instantly annoyed. “Haven’t we come past this?”

“It’s different now,” he said, turning around to face me. He crossed his arms and looked me in the eye. “We will be married next time I leave.”

“I know that,” I said. “I know that.”

“And you’ll probably be here. Unless you come with us every time. Do you really want that.”

“I don’t know. I hadn’t thought of it, really. It will probably depend on work. But you’re right, it is different now because we will be married. There won’t be so much worry about us staying together, or if we can handle the distance. We are as committed as can possibly be and we will make those things work.”

“What about kids? We’ve never even talked about it. There’s so much we haven’t figured out,” he said quietly, looking away from me.

“Do you want kids?” I asked.

“Yes. Do you?”

“Yes. There, problem solved,” I said, shrugging and taking another sip of beer.

“Not really, Rosie. You’ll have to stay home with them, you know. While I’m away on tour.”

“For the most part, yes. I can bring them to some gigs and we can see each other when you have breaks. We can make it work, Bri. We don’t have to rush to have kids either, you know. We’re still young.”

He nodded, agreeing with me words and was seeming to calm down. His arms were no longer crossed on his chest and now grasped the porch rail. His muscles flexed, making me swoon a bit, but I couldn’t let myself get distracted by how good he looked, even when tired and upset.

“I am just worried,” he said after we were silent for awhile. “I don’t want to make a mistake.”

“You think marrying me would be a mistake?” I asked, frog forming in my throat. Ouch.

“That’s not what I mean,” he sighed, looking at me finally. “I just don’t want to miss you. I don’t want our relationship to struggle because we will constantly be apart. But at the same time when I come home from tour I want my space. I need time to be by myself instead of around people all of the time like I am on tour. And when we are going to be apart like that, I’m sure that will make you and our kids upset. I don’t know if the band is going to get any bigger than we are now. Even though I think we will, I cannot say for sure. So what if I can’t provide for you any my family?”

“Slow down,” I said, standing up. I wrapped my arms around his waist. “I feel like we’re switching rolls. Usually I’m the worrier.”

He laughed, resting his head on my shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled into my neck.

“Don’t be,” I said. “We cannot predict the future, you’re right. But no one can, Bri. All we can know is that we will try our best to be together, to support each other, and to love each other. It’s not going to be easy always. It hasn’t been so far, and marriage won’t fix that. You can’t let yourself worry about things you cannot control.”

“I feel like I’ve told you that before,” he said, still mumbling, his breath warm on my skin.

I laughed, “Probably. And I’m sure we’ll say it to each other again. It will be hard, but I will give you space when you need it. You just have to communicate with me, none of this passive aggressive shit you did earlier. I get it, trust me.”

“I know, I just don’t want to hurt your feelings,” he said as he lifted his head to look at me. He cupped my face and gently kissed me. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I said, meaning it. I kissed him again before saying, “You want me to go home?”

“Not now,” he said. “You’re too cute.”

He was kissing me immediately after, gently at first, but I wasn’t having it. This is what I had wanted all along; intimacy in our own private space! No longer having to worry if anyone heard, I let myself moan as he moved his lips to my neck, kissing softly. He put his hands on my hips, putting his fingers underneath the hem.

“I love you,” he said in my ear.

“I love you too. Now take me to your bed.”

Notes

Comments are appreciated :)

xoxo JJ