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"You wanted to see me, Ella?" Marcie glances at her over the top of her glasses. "Yes," Ella says. "I know it's short notice, but I was wondering if I could take you up on that offer you made the other day about taking some time off." Ella can read nothing from Marcie's expression. "When did you have in mind?" she asks. Ella is embarrassed to say it. "Next week, if that's okay. If it isn't, I completely understand." Marcie has a calendar with everyone's scheduled vacation days marked. She looks at this before responding. "I suppose you could take off all of next week and it wouldn't be a problem," Marcie says. "Is everything okay?" "Yes," Ella says, perhaps too quickly. "My family just decided to take a trip. It's kind of sudden, that's why I'd understand if you need me here." "No, by all means, you have the time coming to you, take it whenever you want." "Thank you," Ella says. She turns to leave, but Marcie stops her. "Ella? I thought you'd want to know that your friend, Mr. Kelley, has been moved up to oncology. They aren't letting him have visitors right now, but I'm sure you could go see him." Ella just stares at her for a moment. Then she says, "Yes, thank you." Walking away, Ella thinks about going up there, but she isn't sure she's ready to see him in the cancer ward. Then she reminds herself that she may not have time to be unready. She is unsteady and nervous about it, but she goes. Marcie is right and Ella has no trouble getting in to see him. But he is sleeping. Ella can't help but notice that he's lost weight. She sits down by his bedside and watches him breathe. A nurse steps in and makes a note of something on the clipboard in her hand. "How long has he been sleeping?" Ella asks her. "Quite a while," she says. "He's on a lot of meds. For the pain." Ella grimaces. Her teeth are clenched so tightly that she begins to get a headache. Seeing him like this is enough to make her forget completely about her own problems. Saturday morning, Ella wakes up feeling more rested than she has in a while. She has made up her mind and come to peace with her decision about the Bahamas vacation. She is breathing easy. It is early, too early to start the pancakes, so she checks for a message from Jonathan. Her heart races when she sees that it is there, waiting for her. Dear A.W.,
Ella is elated, much the same way she is every time she reads one of his letters. She's not sure that it is late enough in the morning to start breakfast, not sure that her brothers are close enough to waking up, but she figures she might as well do something. She'll wake them up when the pancakes are ready if she has to. She moves around the kitchen with the smallest amount of noise possible, but she still manages to wake Jacob up. He comes in with sleepy eyes and sits down. Then, as if there is a script for Saturday morning conversation, he asks his usual question. "Is Mom going to be here for Pancake Saturday?" Ella, as usual, has no answer. She shrugs her shoulders and looks at him. "I don't know," she says. "Why don't you go watch cartoons?" The subject change is so obvious that Ella is afraid Jacob will call her on it, but he doesn't press her. He gets up and goes into the living room. Ella hears the television come on and then she begins to hear the sound effects that typify cartoon shows. When the pancakes are ready, she goes to tell Jacob and finds him laying on the couch. Tyler is stretched out on the floor in front of him. "Hey," Ella says. "I didn't even hear you come in." Tyler gets up and comes to her for a hug. She lifts him up for a long embrace and says, "Good morning, Ty." They are so quiet during breakfast that Ella regrets starting so early. She regrets waking them up. She is wondering if there is some way to make up for doing this when her mother walks in. The smiles on Jacob and Tyler's faces show Ella that there is nothing she needs to do for them. Their happiness is complete. "Good morning," their mother says. "Did you save any for me?" "We always save some for you," Jacob says. He gets up and goes to her. "Let me help you," he says. He then takes a plate and fixes it for her. He is very careful because he knows she is watching and he wants to impress her. "Thank you very much," she says, taking the plate from him once it is full. She joins her children at the table and takes in their expressions. Jacob and Tyler are adoring, watching her every move. Ella, on the other hand, is guarded in her expression. It is as though she is keeping something. "How come you're home?" Jacob asks. Ella snickers, but his intent is innocent. Their mother takes a deep breath and tries to ignore the fact that her daughter clearly doesn't want her here. "We have a vacation to pack for," she says. "Our flight is tomorrow night and I thought it'd be fun if we spent the afternoon getting ready." "Yeah," Tyler says. He is still not quite awake, but his enthusiasm is beginning to pick up. "What do you think, Ella?" their mother asks. She seems to be trying to draw Ella out. Jacob answers for her. "Ella isn't going, are you?" He looks back and forth between his sister and his mother. He can sense that something isn't right between them, but he can't even begin to understand it. "She said we'd have fun anyway." "Yes," Ella says too loudly, as if trying to boost her own confidence. "I'm sure you guys will have so much fun that you won't be able to remember all the cool things you did once you get back." "You really aren't going?" their mother asks. She wonders if it is some kind of joke. "No," Ella says, "I think it's best if I skip this time. You know, give you a chance to bond with the boys. I'm sure you understand." "I'm not sure I do," her mother says. She sighs so heavily that her sons worry, but she says, "If you don't want to go, though, I guess that's your decision. "Indeed," Ella says. She is relieved that there will be no argument, but at the same time, she's strangely disappointed. She is ready for one. It's better, she realizes, not to have it in front of Jacob and Tyler. "Well," their mother says. She is getting her bearings back, but it is a slow process. "Why don't we finish up here and go get started?" Tyler is in full force. "Yeah!" he says. "Ooh, Ella, did you get the pool stuff?" Ella hits her forehead overdramatically. "Doh, it slipped my mind. How 'bout if I go do that while you guys pack?" "Okay," Tyler says. "Can you get me a green float?" Jacob asks. "I want blue," Tyler says. Ella makes a mental note, goes to find their list, and then gets ready to leave. She feels such relief in just leaving. She feels like she is escaping. The house isn't big enough anymore for both her mother and her. # There are not many people at the store at nine o'clock on Saturday morning, but Ella knows that soon the place will be packed. Every person who is too busy to shop during the week crowds the stores on the weekends. Ella hates crowded buildings. She heads to the aisle with pool accessories and takes out the list. In Jacob's too neat writing, the list says:
Ella takes these things to the cash register. She can already sense an influx of people and is anxious to get out. The lines, thankfully, are still short enough to make her checkout fairly quick. Outside, it is a warm day, and the sun's rays feel good on her face. She finds a bench, just outside the store, and sits down. It is not something she had planned on doing, but she takes her phone out and dials the only number she has that can connect her with Jonathan. After seven or eight rings, Ella is ready to give up, but then she hears Phillip's groggy voice. "Yeah?" he asks. Ella suddenly realizes that it may be too early to call. "Sorry if I woke you," she says. "It's Ella." "Hold on," he says. He doesn't sound bothered. Ella can picture him handing off the phone and then going directly back to sleep. "Hello?" The voice, though distorted by distance and an unclear throat, is distinctly Jonathan's. "Hey," Ella says. She is instantly happy. "What are you doing?" "Sleeping, actually. Is everything okay?" He equates being woken up to bad things having happened. "Yeah, everything's fine. I just had to hear your voice," she says. "Is that so?" he asks, playfully. There are only a handful of things that he considers worth losing sleep over and this is one of them. "Yeah, it's been so long." "Forever," he says. "This was a great idea, the best wakeup call ever." He pauses and his smile is audible. "Did you get my letter?" "Yeah, I think I'm going to have to send you a case of root beer now." He laughs a little, softly. "Where are you?" he asks. "Outside your favorite store. I had to get some things for my brothers' big vacation. And I had to get out of the house." She lets that hang in the air for a moment before asking, "Where are you?" "I don't know," he says. "That's a very good question. I went to sleep somewhere outside of Kansas City. I guess we're in or around Tulsa by now." "Does that ever bother you? Waking up and not knowing exactly where you are?" He considers this briefly before answering. "I guess it probably would, but I don't let it. I think I might go crazy if I thought about that too much. So, you know, I block that out." There is quiet for several seconds. "You do what you have to, you know, to guard your sanity." Ella understands this, in her own way. "Yeah, like I'm doing by skipping the Bahamas." "Exactly. That's what it's like. You know how heavy it could be if you were to let it, so you don't let it. It's the smart thing to do, really." Ella feels roughly a million times better about her decision. "Thank you," she says. It is barely louder than a whisper. He hears her and asks, "For what?" "You just made me feel better." "Then, thank you," he says. Ella is amused. "For what?" "For letting me make you feel better. That makes me feel better." "We're just a bunch of feel-good folks, then, aren't we?" Ella looks around at her surroundings, at the mothers ushering their children into the store, the normal Saturday morning bustle of activity, and tries to imagine what Jonathan can see, what is going on around him. His laughter is warm. "We are," he says. "So, can you tell me your secret now?" she asks. "Soon," he says, "soon." Ella is so curious now that she could burst. But she doesn't. Instead, she says, "You could make me crazy with curiousity and then I will have missed going to a tropical island for nothing since I'll be crazy anyway." "I promise to tell you soon," he says. "But I've got to get some things in order first." "So mysterious," Ella says. "I'm going to be wondering about this. It's going to keep me up at night." "I'll try to make it worth losing sleep over, then," he says. Ella thinks that this probably wouldn't be very difficult, but she doesn't say anything. She instead changes the subject. "Did you decide what to do tonight? For the Tulsans?" "Hmm, Tulsans? I never thought about what a person from Tulsa might be called. Is it really Tulsan?" He catches himself being distracted. "Sorry, but no, I haven't decided. I guess I'll just feel them out a little, see what I can get away with." "Promise you'll call and tell me how it goes?" "Promise." "Talk to you later then." "Definitely." # "Oh, Ella, this is so cool! You got the best ones!" Tyler is more than satisfied with Ella's purchases. "You really won't come?" Jacob asks. He and Tyler are examining their new pool toys. "No, Jake," she says. She can tell he is saddened by this. "Maybe next time, okay?" "Okay," he agrees. "And hey, look," she says, pulling another bag from her purse. "I got you guys a disposable camera each. That's like twenty-five pictures you can take. When you get back we'll go get them developed and you can tell me all about your trip." "Cool!" they both say. "Ella, you're the best," Tyler says. She can't help but smile. "The very best," Jacob says. Ella only wishes she could believe this. She doesn't doubt that they think that she is the best. Any child in their position would love her, if only for her generosity with toys. Her doubt is, rather, with herself. She doubts that she is the best. Ella expects an update after the Tulsa show. She expects to hear about his choices after they have already happened. What she gets, though, is a concert call. "Hello? Ella?" It takes her a minute to recognize the voice. There is a lot of noise in the background, a lot of screaming and loud music. For a second she expects it to be Ambrey, but it isn't. "Phillip? Is that you?" "Yeah," he says, yelling over the noise. "I'm standing just off stage. Nate said something about calling you after the concert to let you know what cover he played. I thought you'd like to hear for yourself." He stops for a second and Ella wonders what is happening. Then he says, "Okay, here it is. I'm going to hold out the phone now." Ella is grinning like a fool. She sits down on her bed and pulls her legs to her chest. She closes her eyes and tries to imagine that she, too, is standing just off stage. She laughs out loud when she hears the beginning notes of "Ms. Jackson." It sounds different though, a fact she very quickly catches on to. It is slower than normal and he is doing it with an acoustic guitar and a strong country twang in his voice. He crossed the two choices and ended up with something funnier than either would have been alone. It may be the funniest thing Ella has ever heard, hearing Jonathan Lewis sing, "I'm sorry Ms. Jackson. Oooh. I am for real. Never meant to make your daughter cry. I apologize a trillion times." When it is over, Phillip comes back on the line. "How's that?" he asks. "Hilarious. Thank you so much," she says. "My pleasure," he says. "I guess Nate'll call you later." "I guess," she says. "Thanks again." "You're welcome. Bye." Their guess is correct. It is over an hour later when he calls, but Ella is waiting by the phone. "So, how'd it go?" she asks. "Great. Phillip said he called you so you could hear it yourself." "He did. It was pretty cool. I'm glad he did." "Yeah, I wish I would have thought of it. See why we call him 'Tour Daddy'? He thinks of the things the rest of us don't." Jonathan is still going on the excitement of the show and he talks so fast Ella has to think about what he says before she can understand. "So, it was only pretty cool?" he asks. "Okay," she says, "it was beyond pretty cool. It was great. You should do that at every show." "I don't know," he says. "It seemed like most people got it, but some of the fans maybe don't listen to a whole lot of Outkast." "You can't please everybody." "Too true," he says, "too true." "Where are you heading after Tulsa?" she asks. "Texas," he says. "Uhh, I think it's Houston. Yeah, I'm pretty sure it's Houston. Then, we're going to New Orleans. Isn't that cool?" "Very." "I love New Orleans. We actually get to spend our day off there, so that makes it even cooler." Ella starts to say something. "I th--" He cuts her off. "Hey, I have to go." He pauses, realizing he interrupted her. "I'm sorry about this," he says. "Promise you'll write to me tonight." "I promise," she says. She does write. Dear Jail,
There is something that has just occured to her, something that has her heart racing with excitement. She will hardly get any sleep this Saturday night. # The next morning, Ella is slow getting out of bed. She knows that her mother is buzzing around the house, trying to get everything in order for the trip. Their plane leaves at five o'clock, so they must have it all together so they can leave for the airport at around three. Ella wonders if she can hide out until then. Her mother, though, won't have that. She ducks her head inside Ella's door. "Can you do me a favor and call the airline, just to confirm everything?" Ella is surprisingly agreeable. "Sure," she says. Her mother gives her the number and she speaks to a pleasant woman who confirms that everything about the flight is going as planned. Ella thanks her and then says, "Can you check something else for me?" "Of course I can," the woman says. "What do you need?" "I need to know if there are any flights going out to New Orleans tomorrow, and if so, can I be on one?" # The next morning is Monday morning and Ella feels so strange to not be going to work. She feels so strange to wake up in an empty house. She feels so strange to be doing what she is about to do. She wonders, only somewhat jokingly, if this makes her a groupie. Her flight isn't until late in the afternoon, so she relaxes and thinks about what kind of things she'll be able to do in New Orleans. She has never been there before, and has only vague ideas about what the city is like. But she has a hotel room in the French Quarter and an adventurous spirit. She is ready to go. It strikes her that she is more excited about this than she was about going to the concert that started this whole thing. She packs only a small bag and feels so free that it would scare her if she weren't having so much fun. She feels like a different person, like someone she has never met. She is not a neonatal nurse with two young boys to look after, a description that makes her feel old. She is young and beautiful and about to jet off to a strange, new city where she can be whatever she wants to be. She feels almost glamorous as she steps onto the plane late Monday afternoon. Her flight seems to be short and she steps off the plane with wide eyes full of wonder. It is not very long before she is standing by a window in a hotel room that overlooks one of the most famous neighborhoods in the country. She takes a hot shower and orders room service. She sits on the bed in a plush robe and eats her overpriced dinner while she watches a movie that she could just as easily be watching on television at home. She thinks about being in the same city as Jonathan without him knowing it and savors the anticipation of running into him the next day at the concert. Her ticket sits on the top of the dresser beside her phone and her purse. After a long, dreamless sleep, she wakes up slowly, and as she remembers where she is and what she'll be doing later, she smiles. She decides to spend the day exploring the city and is only vaguely frightened by this. On any other day, walking the streets of a fairly dangerous city would be enough to make her tremble, but on this particular day she is infused with a kind of excitement that overrides any and all logic. She dresses quickly and wonders what Jonathan is doing. He is somewhere very close to her and she suddenly has to talk to him. She dials his number and looks out the window wondering just how far away he is. "Hello?" It is Phillip. It is always Phillip. "Hey." "Ella. We're going to have to get you Nate's number. Not that I mind talking to you at all. I just imagine that you'd rather by-pass me." "It's all good, Phil," she says. Nothing could annoy her right now, least of all talking to him. He hears her, but doesn't answer. He hands the phone off to Jonathan. "I'm starting to get the feeling," Ella tells him, "that I should be calling you Nate. Should I? Can I do that?" "You could call me Rufus and I doubt I'd mind too much," he says. "How are you?" "Absolutely wonderful," she says. She figures it's okay to be elated as long as he doesn't know why. "It's all that freedom," he says. "It's already making you feel like a new person." You have no idea, she thinks. She says, "So, where are you right now?" "Ah," he says, "we have arrived in what the locals call Nawlins." He tries to make it sound authentic, but it is still a bit forced. "Really?" Ella says. She is trying to force herself to remain calm. "Staying at the Marriott again?" "No," he says. "It's something called The Farmington Inn. It's pretty small, but it's really nice. You should stay here some day." Ella thinks about how funny that would have been, for her to have chosen that hotel. She remembers it from the list of options she looked at. "Maybe I will," she says. "So, how about that French Quarter? I hear that's a pretty happening place." "Well," he says, "I'm looking out my window at it right now and nothing too exciting seems to be going on. I don't think it really comes alive until nighttime." "Are you going to explore it?" "I wish," he says. "We have some radio thing to do and then we're going over to the venue for soundcheck and all that. I did get to do some exploring yesterday, but not as much as I would have liked." He sighs and says, "Maybe next time." "What kind of radio thing?" Ella asks. She is hoping that maybe he'll tell her what radio station it is. She thinks that, although he has no idea where she is, it would be too obvious to ask. "You know, interview and a song, if there's time. Same as always. There'll be some contest winners there, probably, for a little meet and greet." "Really? I met a pretty cool guy at one of those things one time." "Is that so? Seems like I remember meeting a nice girl at one once." Ella laughs and thinks that if she doesn't get off the phone, she'll end up telling him everything. He speaks to someone in the room with him and then comes back to her to say, "Hey, I have to head on over to the station. I'll call you tonight after the show, okay?" "Sure," Ella says. She hangs up the phone and laughs until her sides hurt. She is full of nervous, excited energy and the laughing helps use some of it. In spite of this, she still feels like she could explode. # Walking into the venue that night, Ella feels like she is some kind of fugitive, but rather than trying to elude law officers, she is trying to avoid running into someone who might recognize her. She doesn't think anyone other than Jonathan himself would remember what she looks like, but she is being cautious. Her seat is terrible. She goes there just to see how bad it is and she can hardly see the stage. It's a good thing, she thinks, that she won't be spending much time there. As the concert starts, she heads toward the front row. There is a hush as the music that was playing over the sound system stops and the band takes their places on the stage. Ella's stomach is in knots and she hopes that no one will ask her to move back to her seat. She hopes that Jonathan will recognize her. She hopes that this will live up to what she has pictured in her head. Then, it is as if time stops. He comes on from the left side and Ella watches him closely. He comes to the microphone and says, "Hello, New Orleans. How are y'all doin' tonight?" If Ella could breathe, she'd probably laugh, but she is too anxious. She watches as he puts on his guitar and steps up to start the show. Then, he stops. His mouth is halfway open over the microphone. He was about to say something, about to introduce himself or the band or the song, but he doesn't. He has seen Ella. His eyes try to jump out of their sockets and he wastes no time in calling Phillip over from where he stands off stage. Ella can see him gesturing as he speaks and he points at her. All the people around her watch her with only slight interest. They don't know who she is, so she must not be too important. Phillip motions for her to come toward the side of the stage and he meets her there in that area that is off-limits to most fans. She follows him as he leads her back to where he had been standing before. "Ella?" he says as they walk. "It's nice to put a face with the name and voice." "We met before," she says. Then she realizes how impossible it would be for him to remember. "Of course, you meet people like me every night." Jonathan has started the show and from where they stand, Ella and Phillip can see almost exactly what he sees, including thousands of screaming fans. "They aren't like you," Phillip says. "You think he stays in contact with all of them?" Ella remembers again how unusual their relationship is. "I don't guess so." "He might not want me to tell you this, but he talks about you all the time. You're a special girl." For the rest of the show, Ella hears those words in her head. He talks about you all the time. You're a special girl. When the show ends for the first time, before the inevitable encore, Jonathan runs to Ella. He is dripping with sweat and the noise of the crowd is louder than ever before. He is beaming. "Why didn't you tell me?" he asks. Ella doesn't have a chance to answer. Jonathan gives her a peck on the cheek and then goes back out for another two or three songs. Ella touches her cheek and watches him return to his element. When it's over, really over, he comes to her again and this time takes her into his arms. Their embrace is like a release for both of them. Ella feels like she has been holding her breath since the last time they were together and now she can exhale. A long time passes before they can leave, but to Ella it feels like mere seconds, and then they are walking, hand in hand, on the streets of New Orleans. "That was a good show," she says. "Especially getting to see it from a different perspective." He is quiet, thoughtful, before speaking. "I don't know if you being there made it better or worse." He watches her reaction, hoping to not offend her. "On the one hand, I was more excited than I probably am at most shows. But, on the other hand, I was a lot more distracted. Sometimes, it's hard for me to stay there, in that moment mentally and not let my mind wander to stuff like what am I going to do after the show. It was impossible for me not to do that tonight." "Let's just say it made you more excited. I'd hate to think I deprived those people of a good concert-going experience." Jonathan smiles. "Okay, then, we'll say you made it better. You did for me anyway." They walk in silence for several steps, each taking in the old buildings in their late night glory. "What do you say we find somewhere and have some coffee?" he asks. "Okay," she says. She picks up on his attempt to recreate their first night almost immediately. They walk several blocks before they find a small cafe that, despite the late hour, is still quite busy. Inside, they get at the end of the line. Ella hears them before she sees them. "Hey, you guys, is that him?" "Jonathan Lewis? No way." "It is him. It totally is." She turns around to find them, still clutching Jonathan's hand tightly, but they are in her face before she gets a chance to look. It amazes her how brazen they are. They come right up and start talking to him as if they are his oldest friends and not total strangers. "Hi, how'd you like the show?" Jonathan says. He is annoyed, but tries not to show it. Ella's hand slips from his and she steps back. The girls are talking and he is trying to listen, trying not to be rude, but his head turns as his eyes search for Ella. He doesn't want her to be out of his reach. "I'm sorry?" he says. He has missed what the girl was saying and needs her to repeat it. "I said, 'Could you sign my t-shirt?'" She holds out a pen. "Uh, yeah. Sure. What's your name?" he asks, distractedly. She tells him and he signs something that comes so automatically that he doesn't have to think about it. The girl whose shirt he signed gushes some more, but he is again looking for Ella and doesn't hear her. She looks a little disturbed as she walks away, but Jonathan doesn't notice. He is scanning the cafe for Ella and can't find her. Then he sees her, sitting down at a table near the wall. He goes to her with an apology written all over his face. "That was weird," she says before he can verbalize his regrets over what has just happened. "I'm sorry. I should have warned you," he says. "No, I should have expected it. I guess I did, in a way, but I didn't know how weird that would feel." She stands up and they go back to their abandoned place at the end of the line. "Let's just get our coffee and get out of here," he says. "What?" she asks playfully. "No hot milk?" She is showing that she is over what has just happened. She thinks she'll have to get used to that if she wants to be around someone like him. "Hmm, now that you mention it, that does sound good." He smiles, and is glad that the encounter hadn't scared Ella away. It is one of his greatest fears, that his celebrity will prevent him from ever having a normal relationship. Ella, in keeping with their slight recreation of that first night, orders the same drink she had then and she can't help but smile at the clerk's reaction to Jonathan's order. They leave the cafe with steaming hot beverages in their hands. "Hey, let's go back to The Farmington. I have something for you there," Jonathan says. "Really?" Ella wonders if it has anything to do with his big secret. "How far is it?" "Oh, it can't be too far," he says, with a slight smile. It is quite a distance to walk, but Ella could hardly care. He was right in saying that the Inn is small. She thinks she would never have noticed it on her own. Inside, though, Ella feels like she has stepped out of the city and into a country farmhouse. "What a fitting name?" she says, more to herself than anyone else. Jonathan hears her though. "I know, isn't it great? I think I could honeymoon here." He blushes and tries to cover over it. "Well, you know what I mean, it's cozy and comfortable and all." Ella laughs. "Yeah, I know." His room is one of only ten or fifteen. It's small, like he said, but it's nice. "Come in," he says. Ella steps in a sees the guitar immediately. It's laying on the bed as though he put it down in the middle of a musical thought and let it there. She goes to it right away and runs her fingers along the neck. "Nice, huh?" he asks. In fact, there is nothing special about the guitar. It is actually quite old and a bit worn. It's value is mostly sentimental. "Yes," she says. She has always admired the instrument. "It's yours," he says. Ella pulls her hand back quickly and looks at him. "What?" He steps closer and picks the guitar up. As he hands it to her, he says again, "It's yours." "What for?" she asks. She holds it away from her body as if she's afraid of it. "Why?" she asks. She sounds so nervous or anxious about it that Jonathan laughs. "I want you to have it. You can hold it; it won't bite. I promise." Ella sits down on the edge of the bed and holds it as close to the proper way as she knows how. "Thank you," she says. Jonathan takes a chair by the window and sits in it, only a few feet from her. "You remember at your house when you gave me that scarf?" Ella is examining the instrument, but nods. "Yeah." "You said it was one of the first things you ever made." "Yeah." "This guitar is one of the first ones I ever played." Ella stops looking at it and looks up at him. "Jonathan, you can't--" He holds up his hand to stop her. "It's yours." He grins and repeats her words back to her. "As a token of my appreciation." "Thank you," she breathes. "I was going to bring it to you," he says. "After our next show in Birmingham. I was going to go see you and take this with me. I had my mom send it from home." "You went to too much trouble," she says. "There's no such thing," he says. He watches her as she looks at it some more. "The only reason it's here and not on the bus, is because I was working on some new rhymes." He remembers that Ella can't rhyme and smiles. "I was trying to anyway. I just kept playing all the old songs over and over again." "Maybe it's broken," she says. It's a joke. "Maybe I'm broken," he says. It's a joke too, but there is something serious in it. "No," she says. "That's not--" "I'm sorry," he says at the same time. He sighs. "Ever since I met you, and I know it hasn't been all that long, but ever since then I haven't been able to think about anything else, much less work on songs that I started before I knew you." Ella doesn't know what to say, so she doesn't say anything. "Say something," he says. He feels like he has just shared a private part of himself with her and her lack of response worries him. "Is this what your secret was?" she asks. She doesn't think about it before she says it and so the words are a surprise to even her as she says them. Jonathan looks a little surprised as well, but tells the truth. "Yeah." "You said you knew what it was like to feel something and not understand why you feel it," she says. She is trying to put the facts together into something she can grasp onto. "Yeah, I was..." He swallows hard and runs a hand through his hair. "I was talking about my feelings for you." Ella has never been in a situation like this before. She has never had someone confess their feelings about her so openly. She is unsure of how to act. Jonathan, fortunately, elaborates. "I mean, I hardly know you. Even now, we've only known each other for a few weeks, if that long." He takes a deep breath, and seems to be gathering courage. "And yet I think about you all the time. It's like... It's like I want to be with you so much more than I can and that drives me crazy." Ella thinks that she should tell him how much time she spends thinking about him, that he is usually the last thing she thinks about at night and the first thing she thinks about in the morning, that she practically lives for his letters and phone calls. All of things come into her mind, but she doesn't have time to say any of them. "Just tell me," he says. "Tell me that you feel that way too, even just a little bit, and I'll be okay. I just need to know that I'm not imagining something that's not there." "Jonathan, listen to yourself for a second, would you? Do you think, for even a split second, that I would be sitting here right now if I wasn't so hopelessly--" She stops and starts again. "I mean, why else would I be here? What else could possibly make me get on a plane and fly to a city where I don't know a single person, just to see the look on your face when you saw me?" She watches him after she says this, watches the happiness spread across his face. She thinks that she could stare at him this way until every line that appears on his face when he smiles is ingrained into her memory. "I love you," he says finally. "I really do. I can honestly say that I have never felt quite like this before in my life. I love you." He goes to her in two steps and kisses her forehead. She doesn't have to say anything now, her adoration is written on her face. He gets onto the bed and moves into a cross-legged position behind where she is sitting. She leans back against him, stretching out. His hands are pressed flat against the bed, holding both of their bodies up and hers find these hands for a brief moment. Then, she pushes herself upright and takes the guitar into her lap. She knows how to hold it, but barely. He sits up straighter and leans in behind her. His arms are wrapped around her and his hands guide hers on the instrument. He can see over her shoulder and stares at her fingers with intense concentration as he helps them find the right strings. With their combined effort, they make very soft, very beautiful sounds. "I think I could stay here," she says. "Forever." "That sounds great," he says. "Where do I sign up?" He teaches her a few chords, but she will not remember them. She will remember only the way she feels, in this moment. It is more love than she has ever felt from any one person before. It is something that her heart will remember for the rest of her life. She wonders if this is not all part of some long, elaborate dream, some figment of her imagination. She blinks hard and thinks that were her hands not occupied, she might pinch herself. "What's so funny?" he asks. Even from his position looking over her shoulder, he can see the sides of her mouth draw up into a small smile. "I was just wondering," she says, "if you were real or if I'm just imagining this." "Funny," he says. "I was beginning to wonder the same thing. I think they say that things like this are too good to be true." "I, for one, hope that whoever they are, they're wrong." He pulls his arms back and listens as she makes the sounds without him. "I think you'll be a better guitar player than me before long," he says. "Right..." she says, drawing the word out to show her disbelief. He maneuvers himself off of the bed and, suddenly, as if it has just occurred to him, he says, "Come with me to Birmingham." Normally, she would have to think about this, weighing the circumstances and possible consequences carefully. So, it is almost a shock to hear herself say, without hesitation, "Okay." "Okay? Really? You don't have to go home?" "No," she says. "I took the whole week off. I can go to Alabama with you. When are you leaving?" "Soon, probably. Let me call Phillip and see." Jonathan's excitement is evident in his voice. Ella loves to hear him this happy. He wonders if the night can possibly get any better. She wonders the same thing. Jonathan calls Phillip and Ella wonders just where he is and what he's doing. She is unclear on his exact job description. After a short exchange, Jonathan announces, "We leave in T minus two hours." "Interesting," Ella says. She also wonders exactly how they decide these things. It all seems to be so disorganized and almost random. "I know," Jonathan says, raising one finger to indicate that he has an idea. "Let's go out and see more of the city while we still have a chance." Ella is willing and eager. "Okay," she says, mimicking that same enthusiasm. They are just outside the inn. There are people all around and Jonathan's arm slips around Ella's shoulder as a reflex. It is as though he would protect her from the unpredictable crowd of people that are around them. He likes the way this feels, being her protector. He is smiling when he says, "You should just quit your job and travel everywhere with us." He says this in an off-handed way. He doesn't mean anything by it, not really, although it does seem like a great idea to him. Ella freezes. Her heart seems to stop when she hears his words. She sinks to the curb and holds her head in her hands. Jonathan is instantly worried. He feels like he has already failed at protecting her. "Ella?" he asks. "Ella, what's wrong?" She is having trouble breathing and wonders if this is what hyperventilation feels like. "Ella?" he asks again, with increased volume. He crouches down in front of her and instinctively cups her face with one palm while his other hand smoothes her hair. "Are you all right? What's the matter?" "I..." She chokes on what she is about to say. "I don't think I can go." "What? Go where?" He is innocently clueless. He is trying to figure out if she's sick or hurt or what. He wonders if she means she can't go out on the town. Maybe she's agoraphobic. "Um, B-- Birmingham. I can't go." She swallows hard. She can't make eye contact with him. "I can't go." "What? But you just said... Why?" He is puzzled and wonders if he has done something wrong. "Ella, what's going on?" He sits down and pulls her close to him. Her head is resting on his chest as she begins to work her feelings out. They come with tears and sniffles. "I am not this girl," she says. She says it so softly that he can barely hear her over the sounds of people passing by. "What do you mean?" he asks. He is gentle, trying to draw her feelings out. She sits up straight and looks at him, eye to eye. "It's like I just stepped outside of myself and looked at who I'm being. I don't know this girl and it scares me. I was scared of what I saw." "What girl, Ella?" he asks. "What are you talking about?" "I am a nurse. And a big sister. I'm a best friend. And maybe, if I haven't freaked you out too much, I can be a girlfriend." She stops and touches his face with her fingertips. "I am not this person, though. This person who just flew to a distant city to see a rock star, that's not me. This person who is about to get on a bus with a band and drive to another strange city, I don't know her. And I don't want to know her, Jonathan. I can't pretend to be this person. I just can't." She rests her head against his chest again and her tears run onto his shirt. They are silent for a long moment and then he says, "What do we do now?" Ella pulls back and gets up on her feet. He imitates her. "I think," she says, taking one of his hands, "that I should maybe..." She takes a deep breath. Tears are still forming in her eyes, but they come much more slowly. "Um, maybe I should go back to my hotel room and get some sleep." He is watching her with furrowed eyebrows. "I have a plane to catch tomorrow," she says. "So, that's it?" he asks. "Just like that." "Just like what?" she wants to know. "Do you think this is easy for me?" "It appears to be," he says. "I mean, talk about a mood swing. Ten minutes ago you were saying you love me and want to stay in the moment forever. Ella, I'm giving you a chance to elongate that moment by another day or two." She realizes that she's hurt him and it pains her, literally. Her hand goes to her chest. "Do you think I want to leave you? Do you think I made that up about loving you?" "No, I don't--" "This is the hardest thing I've ever had to do. I don't even have to think about it. It is." She looks around and sighs. "Would you want me to be someone I'm not? I can't keep that up forever, you know. And then what? We have this same problem, only magnified." He sighs too. Her argument is flawless and yet that doesn't make him feel any better. He knows she's right, but he wants so desperately to prove her wrong so that she'll change her mind. He just doesn't want her to leave. "You're right," he says. He opens his arms, inviting her into them. His jaw is clenched tightly, though, betraying his anger at the situation. She hesitates, but steps into his embrace. "I do love you," she says, into his neck. "I think it's only fair that I let you love me. The real me." Jonathan is not happy. Ella can't help but feel that she has caused a wall to go up between them. She squeezes him, but he doesn't respond. When she pulls back, his face hasn't changed. "See you later, then." What is normally more of a question become a flat statement and Ella walks away. Jonathan watches her go and waits until she is out of sight before he goes back to his room, back to his transient life. He wonders if any of it has ever been worth this. # The next morning, Ella checks her voice mail. It has twelve messages, but she doesn't listen to any of them. Her goal is to get through the day without crying, and hearing Jonathan's voice would definitely ruin that. She has to find a way to fill the hours until her flight, so she turns on the television and flips through the channels. She stops on a channel showing local news. They air a short clip of children running around in a park and it catches her attention. Anything with children catches her attention. The anchorman says, "Evangeline Street Elementary School invades Rosewood Park, but first pop-rock sensation Jonathan Lewis came to town yesterday as part of his current world tour." Ella wants so badly to change the channel. She even raises the remote control up and points it, but she can't do it. They show a clip of Jonathan at what Ella gathers is the radio station thing he spoke about. She does not hear what else the new anchor has to say, she is too busy watching him. This is from before the concert and he is wearing the scarf. Once she sees this, Ella can stand no more. She turns the television off and can't even look at it as she leaves her room. She is so tired that her body is ready to collapse, but even on the flight home, Ella can't sleep. She arrives to an empty house and thinks that she might be able to find some rest, but it still eludes her. She thinks that maybe, just maybe, if she listens to her voice mail messages, she'll feel better, at least enough to get some sleep. There are now fifteen messages and all but two of them are from Jonathan. He never says much, just a quick, "Hello," and a plea for her to call him back when she gets it. One of them, the next to the last, crackles very badly and Ella is about to just delete it when she hears Tyler's voice. "Hey, Ella! Mom said we could call you! We are having so much fun, this place is so great. I swam in the pool all day yesterday. All day! Can you believe it?" There is a pause as the phone is handed off and Jacob says, "We miss you, Ella. Try not to be sad without us." Ella laughs out loud, but then he continues, "Mom said to stay out of trouble. But she was kidding, I think, because you never get in trouble. You're a grown up." Ella feels like throwing the phone across the room. If anything or anyone could make her feel worse right now, it's her mother. She hears her brothers say, in unison, "We love you!" and then it goes to the next message. Ella is surprised to hear his voice, although she shouldn't be. "Ella, it's Phillip. I'm sorry to be calling like this, but Nate asked me to, and I couldn't really say no to him. I'm not sure what went on between you two, but he's taking it pretty bad. Please, just call me. I think he's worried about you being all right. Well, I'm worried anyway, about you and him both. So, please, even if it's just for a second. Thank you. Bye." She thinks about this and although she doesn't want to, she decides to call. She knows what it is to worry about people. She spends every day of her life worrying about people. She could never inflict that on anyone else. Phillip answers almost immediately. "Ella?" "Yeah," she whispers. Her voice is so weak. "Just tell me you're okay. He's making me crazy wondering if you're okay." "I'm fine," she says. "I'm home and I'm safe and I'm just... Fine." "Okay," he says. "That is a huge relief. Now, could you tell me what's going on?" "I don't know if I feel--" "Ella, Jonathan is nothing if not my best friend. We may not give that impression, but it's true. Really, he's kind of like a little brother. You have a little brother, right?" "Two," she says. "So, you know how upset you'd be if there was something wrong with one of them and you didn't know what it was." "Yes." "He's moved passed the whole sad, depressed phase where he was talking about cancelling Birmingham and the rest of the tour and going home. Now, he's in full-fledged denial. You know that's worse?" "It is?" "Yes," he stresses. "Because now, instead of expressing his feelings, he's holding them in and pretending they don't exist. Maybe if you give me some clue about what is happening, I can prevent an explosion." This whole line of reasoning has Ella in tears again and she says, "I'm sorry. Just tell him I'm sorry." He begins to protest, but Ella hangs up. There is something about crying that makes Ella so tired. She falls asleep before the tears on her cheeks have a chance to dry. # The next day is Friday and when Ella wakes up, she is shocked to see that the time reads 12:54. She has not slept past noon in years, probably since she was a teenager. Her head feels heavy and she has to drag herself up. Then, she realizes what it was that woke her. There is a loud, heavy knocking on the front door, but it stops as soon as she notices it. She wonders if she was hearing things or if it was actually real. She walks to the front door, still in what she slept in, with messy hair and morning, or afternoon, breath. She doesn't think to care though. She pulls open the door and sees nothing at first. Then she glances down and sees it. A guitar shaped case on her doorstep. Her eyes get wide and she steps over it. She runs out into the yard, looking around frantically for a sign of who brought it. He is sitting at the end of the driveway, his back to her. A phone is in his hand and she approaches as stealthily as she can. She can hear him speaking. He is calling for a cab. She bends over and slips her hands over his eyes. "Guess who?" "Never mind," he says into the phone and he turns it off and lays it on the ground. "Ella," he says, turning to look at her. There is wonder, amazement, love, and tears in his voice. She wraps her arms around him and thinks that if she could, she'd never let him go. "Oh, I missed you," he says. "I missed you so much." They are crying and holding each other and it feels like it has been years since they've seen each other and not just a day. "I'm so sorry," she says. "I'm so, so sorry. I handled everything all wrong. I never wanted to hurt you." "Shh," he says, soothing her, and himself at the same time. "I know, I know you didn't. I shouldn't have pushed you. I should've known that that wasn't you." "Come inside," she says. He does, picking up the guitar on the way. "I wanted you to have this even if... Well, even if things weren't working out with us." "Thank you," she says. They are in the living room and he takes the guitar from its case. "I saw you on TV yesterday and it about killed me. You were wearing the scarf and I thought, 'Stupid, stupid, stupid,' for not taking the guitar. Is that horrible?" "Maybe," he says. "But only if it's horrible that I was already planning to pretend I lost the scarf if you were to ever, you know, want it back." They both laugh and he strums on his guitar, playing some song Ella doesn't recognize. "I could give it all up, Ella," he says. "I could never ask you to do that," she says. "I know," he says. "But I would do it. I would do it for you even if you didn't ask me to." "Jonathan..." "I mean it," he says. She knows he does, but she would hate herself for making him give up something he loves. For now, though, no decision has to be made. No one's life has to change. She is just a girl and he is just a boy and they are just enjoying the quiet sounds of his guitar on a Friday afternoon. |