Canyon Moon: The Making of the 2019 Album, Fine Line {H.S}

The Night Before

December 12th 2019

{HARRY}

11:23. 

In 37 minutes, she'll know. 

I should be excited. I should be celebrating with everyone else. Everyone in this room has put there blood, sweat, and tears into this album, my album, and yet I can't get my mind off her. 

She won't even listen to it. There's no way. She doesn't want anything to do with me. 

I stare at my phone, counting down the minutes.  I take a sip of my drink. I flip my phone over and then flip it back. 

I can feel the joy coming from everyone else here, it's almost palpable. They're all happy, they should be. It's truly a great album. And they all worked hard on it. So did I; I should be happy, too. Lord knows they're all happy for me. I am happy. I am. But it's clouded by the overwhelming sense that I'm a total fraud. The people that should be here, the ones that started the roots of this album, are about a hundred miles away and would probably be fine if they never saw my face again. And her. Especially her. She should be here. 

What's she even gonna think? She'll be pissed, I know it. This whole thing is because of her and her name isn't even on it. None of theirs is. It's not fair. I tried to fight the label on it, but they didn't care. 

I feel someone pat me on the shoulder, "30 minutes, mate! Get excited!" I don't even look up to see who it was. I just stare at my phone, praying her name will pop up congratulating me, cussing me out, telling me she's going to kick my ass, anything. She won't. We haven't spoken since August. And it's entirely my fault. 

Her name's not anywhere on the album, but she's all over it. Every song. Every lyric, it's all about her. Her voice is even in it, for christ's sake. 

My mind flashes to the summer. To Solana Beach. I feel her on my chest again, running her fingers along the lines of my tattoos. The light from the moon pours through the slits in the shutters, illuminating her face in just the right way.

"Harry?" she says, almost in a whisper. I love the way she says my name. 

"Yeah?"

"I don't want to move."

"What do you mean?" I laugh.

"I mean this moment, like right now. I don't want it to end."

"That's very cliche of you."

She giggles. "I mean it, though. This is perfect."

"It doesn't have to end. I don't mind not moving for the rest of our lives."

"What if we get hungry?" She asks.

"Eh, who needs food?"

"What if we get tired?"

"It's a damn good thing we're already in bed then."

"What if we need to pee?"

I pause. "I think you've got me there."

She laughs. She's got the best laugh. It sounds like music. "Just promise me you'll remember this. Like, you'll remember what this feels like being here with me right now."

She tilts her head up at me. Her eyes reminded me of the ocean that she loves so much. I could stare into those eyes forever and I'd be happy. I lean my head down to kiss her forehead, "I promise."

And I meant it. I couldn't forget it even if I wanted to. Staring into those eyes, I know what love feels like.

"You ready, Harry?" The head of my label, Jil's voice pulls me out of my memory, "15 more minutes to go!"

"Yeah. I can't wait." I say, trying my best to sound excited for her. 

Her husband and two kids are here for the launch. He told me earlier that the album release and how proud she was of me is all she's been talking about. I could see how excited her two girls are, too. On a normal day, she'd be able to tell something's up with me, but not today, and I don't blame her. This has taken over her life for the past year and she's finally seeing her hard work pay off. 

She opens her mouth to say something, but is quickly interrupted by some important looking man in an expensive suit. 

Most everyone's left me alone tonight. They probably assume I'm nervous about the album, which I am, but for a different reason than they think.

The selfish side of me wants her to call me. To tell me she forgives me and that everything's gonna be okay. But, the rational side of me knows that's near impossible. Yet, here I am, still staring at my phone hanging onto the slim possibility that she might. 

Maybe she'll call after. After it's been released. After she's heard it. Even if she calls me pissed, livid that I've made an entire album about her for the whole world to hear, it's still better than nothing. 

I just want to hear her voice. The girl that rose me from the dead. Who dragged me headfirst into a life I'll forever wish I had. The girl that gave me 3 months and 10 days that I'll never regret.

Annie.