The car bumped along down the familiar narrow roadway, racing up the cliff to my home. I was attempting to get back to normal, or at least going through the motions.
My cab driver was making pleasant small talk but I wanted none of that right now. I stared at the scenery traveling by through my large, dark glasses, my mind wandering a bit. The days after Lindsey's departure had been torturous, but as those days turned into weeks the pain became a little less every day. I began to go numb to some extent. I had been grateful that Karen had been called away to New York and hadn't bumped into me during that time, I certainly wasn't ready to explain myself.
I'd be lying if I said I didn't think about what he told me before he left. He had given me the power- and I hadn't contacted him. It had been two months and to be brutally honest, I really thought he'd come back for me, that he would be back on my doorstep one morning when I woke to wrap me in his arms and erase the pain. But he never came.
"We're here, Miss," the driver advised me. I thanked him and paid the fare, casually strolling up the walkway. It had been a long morning and given that I am nothing of a morning person to begin with, I was exhausted.
I unlocked the door and was thrilled to see Karen in my breakfast nook, giving me a friendly smile.
"Karen," I greeted her. "I didn't know you'd be back already."
"Just for a day or two, then I'm off on vacation with my sister." She shuffled through a stack of papers. "Was that a cab you were in," she asked quizzically, knowing that I love to walk to town and that everything is within a close proximity to the house.
"Yeah." I stated shortly. "Just running some
errands and didn't want to walk."
She raised her eyebrows as if to be suspicious, though she had no actual reason to feel that way.
"So," I changed the subject, "what's new with you?"
I poured us both fresh cups of tea as she caught me up on business information from her meetings and we casually chatted about everything else- well, almost everything.
"Stevie?" She asked me, bringing me back to earth with my thoughts. "Is something on your mind? You seem a little bit off today?"
"No," I answered shortly. "I'm fine."
"Well, you didn't answer me- Did you listen to Lindsey's new album," she asked, eyeing me from her peripheral vision as she pretended to look at something in the garden.
I shook my head. "No, I haven't gotten to that yet." I wasn't sure I was ready, but I didn't want to open that can of worms. "But thanks so much for getting me a copy."
We spent most of the afternoon going over some work related details, and Karen eventually left, returning to her flat just down the street.
The vinyl of Lindsey's that she brought me still sat on a console near my turn table. After staring at it for a while I decided to bite the bullet and put it on. The speaker buzzed and I sat myself down casually in an arm chair as the player cracked and his guitar filled the air. His voice came through like he was singing directly to me.
I'd never been able to deny his talent, and I was truly happy that he had achieved the recognition that he so deserved. I let the record play through both sides and then I sat in the silence, contemplating the journey that the album has just taken me on. It would be crazy to think that was about me, I warned myself. I'm sure he has dated, err, whatever'ed, a lot of women since we broke up. I doubt I'm still his muse. I'm sure I'm flattering myself to think any of that is meant for me, I scolded myself internally.
I stood and removed the album from the player, placing it delicately back into its sleeve. Walking over to the bookshelf that housed my record collection, I ran my fingers across the covers to the music that had molded my life. From what I listened to as a child to what's popular now, and finally, the section that i most proud of- my work and the work of people I love. I never listen to my own music, but having it on the shelf was a great sense of pride. It was an accomplishment that had far surpassed my wildest dreams. I stuck the corner of the album into its new home near Fleetwood Mac's work and stood back to look at it when something caught my eye.
A small piece of paper was barely visible inside Tusk. I can't say that I had ever actually listened to this version of the album, I had merely collected it when Lindsey handed it out to all of us after its release, so I was intrigued that something was stuck inside.
I pulled it from the shelf and carefully unfolded the small blue scrap of paper that caught my eye. The note was simple, and appeared to have been written years ago, preserved for deep meaning when I truly needed it most, and the words I read spoke more to me now than anything ever had before.
Save me a place.
-L
