After his meteoric rise to superstardom, Jim O'Brien is no longer a small-town boy who plays in bars and dreams of success. His handsome face is plastered on the covers of celebrity gossip magazines, and his voice alone is enough to make girls swoon...
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There were a few things I never failed to do before a show. Rehearsing as if my life depended on it, making sure everything ran smoothly, and getting enough sleep were the usual items on my pre-concert checklist.
This time, getting enough rest proved to be a daunting task. It was four a.m. when I finished writing the lyrics of a song I wasn't planning on including in our setlist.
I rubbed my eyes and stared at the scribbled lines before opening the laptop and typing the lyrics. I wanted to run the song by Cay, but there was another person whose opinion mattered to me even more.
A substantial amount of caffeine I consumed woke me up some. With my hand on the steering wheel and my thoughts at the arena, I drove down the familiar tree-lined driveway.
As soon as I'd parked, I grabbed the page with the lyrics and got out of the car.
Quiet greeted me when I entered the nursing home reception. The sound of my footsteps echoed in the building. I glanced at the empty chair Cora usually sat on and stilled, debating my next step.
"Jim."
I swiveled my head at the sound of Cora's voice. The smile I was going to greet her with died on my lips.
Cora's red-rimmed eyes paused on the crumpled white page in my hands before landing on my face.
"I'm sorry, Jim. Alfie passed away last night."
"What?" I choked out, unwilling to let the meaning of the words sink in.
"I'm sorry. I was going to call you."
I leaned against the wall by the entrance and pinched the bridge of my nose, swallowing the tears that threatened to escape.
A warm hand landed on my bicep, squeezing gently. "You need to know that you made a difference in his life. You made him happy, and he looked forward to your visits."
I nodded. "When's the funeral?"
Cora gave me another sympathetic look. "Tomorrow."
"Text me where, okay?" I managed to say before leaving the building, keeping my eyes off the garden and the familiar bench under the trees. If I looked at it, I would hear the sound of Alfie's accordion and his words about me getting married and having a big, happy family.
I visited him, but it wasn't enough. I could have, should have done so much more.
I put the key in the ignition with one hand and wiped the wetness off my cheeks with the other. The shock wore off eventually, but it didn't make me feel better.
I saw him a couple of days ago, and I counted on many more days. I wanted him to read the lyrics of my new song, introduce Ava to him, and ask Alfie what he wanted me to do to the house.
Memories filled the ride to the city. I tried to keep them at bay at first and gave up eventually.
I wanted to remember. Alfie didn't deserve to be forgotten. If only remembering were easier.
