I pound a fist on my notebook. “I’ve written several. This morning at Bria’s place, we wrote one about when we sing together.”
“That’s not what I meant. You need to write a song for Abby. You need to let her go.”
I close my eyes. “I’ve tried a hundred times.”
“So maybe the hundred and first time will be the one.”
I hear the door open and Gary appears. “Hey there, Chris. Nice to see you coming around again.”
“Hi, Gary.”
I like my stepdad, maybe even more than I like my biological dad. I’m not sure if Dad got used to seeing me less and less, and out of sight was out of mind, but Gary has always made me feel like I’m one of his kids. He has three with his ex-wife. He’s a cool dude.
“When are we going to hear a Reckless Alibi song on the radio?” he asks.
“Soon, I hope. We’re meeting with our rep next week.”
“Looking forward to it. Stay for dinner?”
I shake my head. “No. I have an apology to make.”
Mom stands and kisses me on the cheek. “Now that’s the boy I raised.”
I pick up my notebook and go to the door. “See you guys later.”
On the subway ride back to Bria’s, I see a mother with her toddler. She’s trying to entertain her son by playing peek-a-boo. “I see you,” she says. Then she covers and uncovers her ears. “I hear you.”
Inspiration strikes, and I open the notebook and scribble a few words.
Can you see me, can you hear me
From wherever you are now
The toddler giggles and my attention is drawn back to them. I watch closely, getting lost in their game. Before I know it, I’m at Bria’s stop.
I stand in front of her building, wondering what I should say to her. It starts to come to me in a song, but I shake it off. This is one time I have to man up and not hide behind my lyrics.
I call her from the street. “Hey, it’s me. Can I come up?”
There’s a long pause. I’ve taken her by surprise. “Okay. Be right there.”
It takes her much longer to come down than it took this morning. Clearly, she’s not in any hurry to see me. God, I’m such a dick.
The door opens. “Hey,” she says.
“Hey.”
She goes up the stairs and I follow. She left her apartment door open again. “Did we not talk about this six hours ago?” I’m reading her the riot act as we go inside. There’s a man on her couch—a big fucking guy—and I shut up mid-sentence.
My spine stiffens and my gut twists. Then I realize she wouldn’t have invited me up if she was getting it on with someone else. There’s an FDNY emblem on the breast pocket of his T-shirt.
He stands and offers me his hand. “Brett Cash. It’s nice to know there’s someone else looking out for my sister.”
“I, uh, … Chris Rewey. Call me Crew. Nice to meet you.” I shake his hand. “I shouldn’t have yelled at her.”
He laughs. “You have my permission as the overbearing older brother to yell at her anytime her safety is involved.”
I don’t miss Bria’s eye roll.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt. I can come back another time.”
“No need,” he says. “I was just leaving.” He goes to the door. “I’m a big fan of your music, by the way, and not just because you hired Bria. It’s good. I think you really have something.”
“Thanks. That means a lot.”
He hugs Bria. “We all should go to dinner sometime.”
I lift my chin at him as he closes the door. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to run him off.”
“He was on his way out anyway.”
“Yeah, I can see that by the way he was relaxing on your couch.”
She doesn’t laugh. “Why are you here, Crew? I’m not sure I’m up for working on another song today. Can’t we pick it up tomorrow?”
“I came to apologize.”
She stares at me, waiting.
“I shouldn’t have run out like that.” I motion between us. “This scares me for reasons I can’t talk about. But I like you, and I shouldn’t have left with zero explanation. The thing is, though, I can’t tell you for sure it won’t happen again. I’m … I’m kind of a fucked-up mess, in case you haven’t figured it out by now. I’m not sure if that was a real apology or not. I suck at this. I’m sorry, that’s all.”