me pressing two fingers into my eye. “Guess I did. But when I was twenty-four and fucking up our marriage, I wasn’t thinking about what thirty-five would look like.”
Michaela and I had been divorced for a long time, and it was all due to me. I’d cheated, lied, and neglected her. Once upon a time, we’d been best friends. Grew up on the same block. Did everything together. I regretted the way our marriage ended, but more than anything, I regretted losing her friendship. When I thought of my childhood, Michela touched every memory. But it’s pretty hard to come back from your wife walking in on you fucking a groupie while high out of your mind. I was lucky she even spoke to me at all.
She sighed. “It’s about time you did some self-reflection. Where are you, by the way?”
“California.”
“LA?”
“Nah, a little town called Sunnyville, way up north.”
“How did you wind up there?” I could picture her face, nose scrunched as she tried to figure me out.
“I’ve been driving for weeks, traveling light and low budget, looking for inspiration on the road,” I said.
“Did you find it?”
My scoff was full of scorn. “Not yet. But I happened to read an article about Dylan McCoy...you heard of her?”
She scoffed, and I could picture her rolling her eyes at me. “Dev, I work in the music industry. Of course I’ve heard of Dylan McCoy.”
“Well, she moved to Sunnyville a couple years ago to write songs for Jett—”
“That dick.”
I laughed. Michaela had managed one of Jett’s tours early in her career, forever cementing him in her mind as the absolute worst. That was a pretty big deal, seeing as I’d been crowned the absolute worst before that.
“Well, she stayed, married a firefighter, does all her writing here. So, I got in my car and drove to Sunnyville.”
She was quiet for a moment, then asked, “And how’s that going?”
“Ah…” I scrubbed my face with my hand, “I wrote four fairly decent lines yesterday.”
“That’s…”
“It’s shit, Mickey, but it’s not your problem.”
A guffaw burst out of her. “And since when did that ever stop you from laying your shit on me?”
“New leaf, Mick. I’ve turned it over, trying to be responsible for my actions these days. Which is why I called. I need your expert fashion advice.”
This time, her laugh sounded more like a snort. “Did you call the right number? You used to get on me for never wearing makeup or dresses.”
A vein throbbed in my temple. A lot of the crap I’d done over the years had been lost in a haze of booze and coke, but that didn’t mean it was lost to the people I’d trod on.
“I’m sorry. I’m calling you now because I like your lowkey, chill style. I’m wondering if you know where I could get a cool-looking fanny pack. Something small, but big enough to hold an Epi-pen.”
More silence, followed by an inhale. “Really?” she asked.
“Yeah. It’s a long story, but I need to right a wrong and I thought this would be a place to start.”
“I’ll have to get back to you, Dev. Is it cool if I email you?”
“That’s fine. The sooner, the better.”
“All right.”
Before she hung up, I asked, “How’s the baby?”
“Beautiful. Sometimes I can tell she thinks Mo and I are whack-ass parents. She tells us that by screaming in our faces for a while, but for the most part, she’s a six-month-old ball of squishy love.” I heard the smile in her voice and wondered if it was a whole new smile reserved solely for her new husband and new baby—one I’d never seen before. It made me homesick, not for our long-ended marriage, but the friendship I’d blown to bits.
“Does she look like me?” I deadpanned.
Michaela barely muffled a laugh. “You asshole. Of course not. I said she was beautiful, didn’t I? No resemblance to a swine.”
Chuckling, despite the insult, I said goodbye, and she promised to be in touch. Once we hung up, I had some thoughts I needed to write down and a melody in my head I had to record.
Picking up some new wounds
Taking care of you
Is this the start of something big?
Or the beginning of the end?
With the sun on my shoulders
I begin to wonder
If I was always coming here
When my wandering days were over
It took two days to get my hands on my peace offering, then another two before I caught sight of Ellie. I was sitting on my front porch, working on the tune, when Leroy