“I’m not sure. All I know for sure is I don’t want to regret the time I’ve spent playing.”
We walked along the bank of the river. It was running high, probably rain swollen from recent storms, and looked cold as hell. But it was beautiful and being here with Devon filled a part of me I never knew I needed. “I don’t want to regret it either.”
“You don’t have to give up anything. That’s not what I’m saying.” Devon stopped and took my face in his cold hands. “I would never want you to give up your dream.”
“Remember before we went on stage at Rocktoberfest and I told you there was something I needed to tell you?”
“Yeah,” he said, and his brow creased with worry. “I thought you were nervous.”
“I was, but I also realized that isn’t all I want in life.” Pushing those words out was hard. Admitting my dream wasn’t all it was cracked up to be, was even harder.
“It’s not?”
“Devon, I’ve been doing this for so long. It’s all I’ve known for most of my life and even if I love parts of it, I’m tired of chasing something that will never be enough. I’m so fucking tired.” If twenty-year-old me heard what I’d just said, he’d tell me I was stupid. That I was finally getting what I wanted. But what twenty-year-old me wanted was a distant memory that didn’t mean as much to me now. I wanted a life. Not a career that consumed my life and, in the end, left me alone.
“What are you saying?” Devon asked.
“I don’t know if I want to continue.” The words were out and there was no way to suck them back out of the atmosphere. Now he knew what I’d been hiding for months. “I know you’re tired of the grind, but it’s so much more for me.”
“Tell me,” he said.
“We need to talk about where the band goes from here, and wherewego. Because I don’t want to lose you,” I said and hoped this was the right thing to do. “Losing you would be worse than anything else I can imagine.”
Nine
Devon
Iled him to a big rock and the two of us sat down, and for the next hour he talked about how much had changed since he started playing and how much he hated. “I didn’t know you hated any part of it,” I said.
“Playing the shitty clubs and hoping we don’t get something thrown at us, I hate that. And honestly, I could live without playing at another strip club. I know it turned out good, but that’s not what I want the band to be about. It just feels like we had to give up everything important to get anywhere and I don’t know if it’s worth it.”
“What do you like about it?” I asked, hoping to remind him again of what he had once loved.
“I like it when we’re all in the same space and vibing to our music. There’s something so pure and creative about it. I always thought playing in front of a big audience would be the ultimate high. But playing with the three of you and just enjoying the music means more.”
“How long have you felt like this?” I asked. We hadn’t known each other that long, and as far as I knew his goal was to be in a successful band and tour.
“Right after we played in Vegas.” We’d been there for more than a week and played a few different clubs, but all of them had been crazy, and we were more than ready to leave when that part of the tour was done.
“The last gig?”
“Yeah,” he said, and I knew what he meant. It was a bar that was far away from the strip but busy. Lots of rock bands played there but it wasn’t our crowd. Something they reminded us of through the whole show. The entire place shouted us down and we had tododge a few beer bottles. But the best part was that we had to call the cops to escort us out of the place.
“But you know shit like that isn’t normal. I’ve never played anywhere else that’s happened.”
“I know. But it started me thinking,” he said and had a faraway look in his eye. “How long is it still going to be fun.”
“When we play together, I love it, but the rest of it I can do without. How about we don’t worry about it for a few days. Just enjoy the time here, and maybe write a song or two,” I said and took both his hands in mine. His fingers were long and more delicate than mine but just as strong. The calluses on the tips of the fingers on his right hand were as familiar as those on my own.
“I like that idea a lot. Just you and me,” he said and ran his fingers through the hair above my ear.
“What do you know about fishing?” I asked suddenly, making him laugh.
“Not much, I mean I fished when I was a kid but that was a lifetime ago,” he finally said.
“Me either, but they said we can fish in the river and I’m curious.”
“Sounds like we’re fishing then,” he said and stood. “Let’s see what we’ve got to work with.”
