“Not at all since you left?”
“Nope.” Glancing over at Segan, he’s looking out into the backyard. Huffing out a laugh through his nose, he adds, “I talked to them one last time before I moved to Nashville. It was part of therapy, to tell them about my diagnosis and make an attempt to mend the relationship.”
That surprises me, but I make sure to keep my face void of that. “How’d that go?”
“Awful,” he replies with a laugh that’s lacking any humor. “I wouldn’t wish the level of disgust in their tones when they chastised me about being queer on my worst enemy. Despite me getting it from Lana, they were still somehow able to blame it on my sexuality, because in their screwed-up minds, HIV is still very much a disease between gay men.”
A burning type of anger rises inside of me, thinking about Segan having to deal with that. “Wow. I wish I could say I’m surprised.”
“Me too,” he admits. “Going into the conversation, I knew and fully expected my father to be a dick. It’s who he is. He’s never showered me with love or adoration. But some pathetic part of myself, I think, had hoped my mom would be there for me. That she’d, for once, be the mother I needed her to be.” Segan turns his head, meeting my gaze, sadness in his eyes. “She wasn’t.”
Reaching over, I don’t let myself overthink anything as I slip my hand into his. “I’m so sorry, Segan. You deserved so much better than that.”
He squeezes my hand before giving me a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “It’s fine, really. It’s been years, and I’m over it. Do you need a ride to the airport? I can ask Adam to take you.”
“Sure, if it’s no trouble, that would be really helpful.”
He’s taking this better than I expected. I worked this up so much in my head, and all for nothing. Maybe leaving will be okay after all.
Segan doesn’t withdraw his hand from mine, even as we continue eating. There’s something so domestic about it that warms my chest. I already can’t wait to get back so we can continue exploring this new version of us together.
36
SEGAN
Sitting in my love seat a few feet away from me is a petite woman named Sophie with black hair pinned on top of her head in one of those neat looking ballerina buns, a jumper covered in a sunflower print, and a pair of cream colored strappy sandals. She’s got a rose gold MacBook on her lap, a half drank iced coffee sitting on a coaster on my coffee table, and she’s watching me with bright eyes and a kind smile.
“So, Segan, you caught your big break in Nashville at a dive bar during an open mic night. What was that like for you?”
“It was a surreal experience,” I admit, trying not to shift uncomfortably on the couch. These types of interviews are always so awkward for me, but they’re a requirement from the label, and with us about to wrap up on the new album, some publicity like this is exactly what they’re looking for. “Neon Dreams Saloon is, and always has been, such a special place in my heart. It was not only my first job when I moved here, but also the first place I felt completely accepted and free to be who I was. It felt full circle to also become the place I was discovered by NCMS.”
Sophie nods and smiles, typing away on her laptop. “And you’ve mentioned before in previous interviews that it wasn’t until you moved to Nashville a handful of years ago that you performed in front of an audience. Is that correct?”
“Yes, ma’am, that is correct. Chesney, the owner of Neon Dreams, helped me master the guitar, and encouraged me to write more shortly after I started working there. It was a healthy outlet for the shit—sorry, I mean,stuff—I was going through. It was also Chesney who pushed for me to start performing on stage. He’s always felt like family to me.”
I can tell by the curiosity in her eye that she wants to ask me more about that, but she’s already been prepped by the label not to ask anything too personal about my life prior to Nashville. It’s always been that way. It’s one of my hard limits, one of the few things I refuse to divulge in interviews.
“I know that you write most of your own songs. Have you always written music?”
“Not very well,” I reply with a laugh. “I wrote off and on throughout my childhood and adolescent years. Poetry and songs here and there. Mostly an outlet, similar to how playing the guitar was. I hardly ever kept any of it, but getting it out always helped, and I enjoyed it. It was something I mostly kept to myself, though.”
“Your most recent hit single,Left Unsaid, is beautiful and raw. I have to ask…” She wears a small smile before continuing. “What inspired that song?”
My mind immediately drifts to Josiah. To a week ago when he told me he was leaving back to Nevada to deal with his shop. To the steamy memory of me taking him on his dining room table before he left for the airport. And to the way I’ve felt so uneasy since he left.
“Left Unsaid, like a lot of my songs, is one that I started writing years ago. It’s one I started, and then scrapped because I hated it, only to pick it back up weeks or months later because I couldn’t get its message out of my head.” I swallow thickly, not expecting the emotion to be as large as it is. “It’s a song about finding somebody during your darkest times, and then losing them, and realizing all of the things that were left unsaid. It’s about guilt and grief, and all the scenarios of should’ve, would’ve, could’ve.”
What I don’t add is that it’s a song about Josiah, because almost every song I write is about him. But more than that, it’s a song about discovering who I really wasbecauseof my feelings for Josiah. It’s about everything we shared in the dark during the short time we spent together, and how, after he left, there were dozens of things I wish I had told him.
“The song is written from personal experience then?” she asks cautiously.
“Aren’t they all?” I retort with a grin.
Sophie chuckles. “Fair enough. You’ve always been pretty private when it comes to your romantic life, but as you just mentioned, all of your songs are usually written from personal experience. What’s it like performing songs with such intimate meanings?”
“It feels similar to what I would imagine it would be like to slice your chest open and have a crowd full of strangers inspect your organs with a fine-tooth comb.” We both laugh. “But it’s honestly nerve wracking. It’s a level of vulnerability that never seems to go away, no matter how many times I perform. It’s giving the world a glimpse into this ultra-personal part of my life that I’ve never let anyone in on—because, like you said, Iamsuch a private person outside of songwriting.”
“Do you think the person who influencedLeft Unsaidhas heard it, and if so, do you think they know it’s about them?”
