Daron's Guitar Chronicles: Vol 4

314 NEVER LET ME DOWN AGAIN

NEVER LET ME DOWN AGAIN

I caught Jonathan by the rest room in the Denny's before we got back in the bus. "So, how long are you along for the ride?"

He gave a regretful shrug. "I have to catch a plane from Charlotte back."

"So you'll see the Durham show?"

"Yeah. And then I'll get out of your hair." He pushed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "I, um, I didn't really mean to invite myself along, but Carynne kind of made the assumption, and... yeah."

He got a spot of color on his cheeks.

I thought: And you figured since you'd showed up unannounced already, sticking around for another day or two wasn't much worse. Right?

I very nearly called him out about it right then and there. I could have at least made him admit he'd flipped the apple cart. I could've brought up the whole thing about how we once talked about how I wasn't comfortable with public displays of affection. But then I realized getting an apology or an admission or whatever wasn't really that important to me. There was something I would like better and that I wanted more, and that was to make everything okay. I could make him feel okay. I felt like it wasn't every day I could clearly see a way to make another person happy.

"It's really, really good to see you," I said, then, because that was how I really felt. And because I knew it would make him feel better.

His smile was a beacon of relief. "Likewise," he said, very softly.

If either of us had anything more to say, we didn't get the chance. Digger came out of the bathroom and Jonathan went in.

Digger fixed me with a look. It looked like a judgmental look. But what he said was, "You doing okay? How's the eye?"

"I'll put the drops in when we get back on the road," I said. "Seems okay."

"Good." That was all he said and then he walked away.

The bus ride from there to Durham was six hours and I spent all of them waiting for the other shoe to drop, i.e. for Digger to say something more about Jonathan. But he didn't.

Courtney and Jonathan spent one of those hours sitting in the front lounge talking about I don't know what, but she laughed a lot. Then while Ziggy was asleep and Bart started teaching Courtney to play cribbage and Carynne and Digger sat bent over the day book, I sat in the back lounge with Jonathan.

"So you haven't told me a thing about what you've been doing since I saw you," I said. "Your turn."

"A writer's life isn't that exciting."

"Bullshit."

He chuckled. "Well, I did have some fun doing a feature on the political side of rap. So I got to talk apartheid with Chuck D. and censorship with Run D.M.C."

"See, that's exactly what that Brown degree is for," I joked. "Whereas the guy who went to USC probably did a feature on how shallow rap is and it's all about partying and booty, and got to have a threeway with two Playboy bunnies poolside at an L.A. mansion."

"You know, that's dangerously close to reality." He shook his head like he didn't want to think about it.

"How's the novel? How far did you get?"

He shook his head again, self-deprecatingly this time. Or maybe condescendingly. "Oh, D. Writing a novel isn't like knitting a sweater. I've worked on it a lot but I haven't gotten very far."

Huh. "Isn't it?"

"Isn't what?"

"Writing a novel like writing a sweater? I mean, knitting a sweater?"