Page 99 of Down Beat
“Ugh. Diva.”
“It was worse than that, hon. He seemed like he doesn’t even want to be here. Totally different from how he was at our place, that’s for sure.” The people and cars on the street below are merely ants from this height.
Kendall sighs down the line. “He did warn you that he was difficult.”
“I know.”
“And I did tell you that he’s asking too much of you. He needs a shrink, not a bed buddy.”
I frown at her comment, annoyed that she doesn’t think I could do anything worthwhile for him. “I think I might use the time to work on some music for myself. Not every day you get some swanky hotel room to yourself, right?”
“Send me pictures. I want to see what lavishness I’m missing out on.”
“Deal.” I cast my eye around the place, at the things the guys have left lying around, at the strange homeliness of it. “I might have to tidy up a bit, first.”
“Men are such pigs.”
“Sometimes.” I chuckle. “Talk later, hon.”
“Miss you.”
“I’ll be back before you know it.”
I disconnect, feeling a little better after hearing a friendly voice. Fuck knows the way Rey spoke to me cut me down, as much as I tried not to show it.
I get as far as tidying away the rubbish, and then condensing the guys’ clothes to one of the sofas, before my phone chimes with a new message.
R: I’m sorry, kitty.
Sure. It’s nice that he’s apologized, and maybe I’m being petty, but I would have loved to hear that face-to-face.
I stare at the notification, unsure how to respond. As it stands, he doesn’t know I’ve received it. I haven’t actually opened the thread, so for all he knows I haven’t seen it.
I choose ignorance until my head’s in better order, and leave my phone on the table while I set up to play.
I saw this with my parents: my father would blow up and my mother would spend all her time reassuring him everything was okay. But he never apologized. He never looked my mother in the eye and told her how much he appreciated her support. Instead he searched for what he’d never find somewhere else.
Will that be me here? Am I walking down the same path; stroking the ego of a man who doesn’t care, or see, what I give up to be his reassurance? Will he end up holding these arguments against me and move on to the next shiny thing?
The real question is, why after only a couple of weeks knowing each other would I care so much if he did?
I forgo using the time to compose; my head in too much of a jumbled mess to be able to focus. Instead, I take my violin to the balcony to let the mood guide me. My bow pulls across the strings, the notes lost on the breeze, yet the familiar movements, the positions that are second nature, allow me to take the concerns I have and set them into a rational order.
He needs to be clear on what he expects from this.
He needs to respect the fact that I have no obligation to be here.
And he needs to let me in.
Not simply tell me intimacies about his past. Not just explain the issues behind the outbursts.
But to take me on that journey with him.
If Rey wants me here to help him, he has to believe that he has it in him to help himself.
Until he does, there isn’t a damn thing I can do that will make an ounce of change.
Not a damn thing.