October 2019
“You want to go where?”
“Bowery Ballroom,” Adam replied.
Jane shot him a horrified look.
“Oh c’mon,” he said. “There’s an act I want to check out.”
“No,” she replied, turning her back on him to face the mirror where she was getting ready for their night out. They were in New York City for a weekend charity event, but they had one night free to go out on the town tonight. “Absolutely not,” she said into the mirror, shaking her head.
“What’s the big deal?” He rolled his eyes from the bed where he was lounging, half-dressed in his boxer briefs and an unbuttoned dress shirt. He couldn’t help but admire his wife’s easy, graceful motions as he watched her shimmy into a pair of custom-tailored skinny jeans and then place her emerald-studded earrings into her ears. He’d given them to her a few months ago – a gift to mark her 40th birthday, but also a nod to her full recovery. When she’d first come out of the coma two years ago, her hands hadn’t been steady enough to put in her earrings herself, but now she did it without a second thought.
“I just don’t want to go back there,” she said to him over her shoulder. “Negative associations.”
“Why does it bother you so much?”
“Because that’s where – watching you play that show there, that night – that’s where I made the decision to break up with you.” She turned around and looked at him.
He shrugged. “So?”
“Oh, so, no biggie.” She mimicked his shrug back to him. “Just the worst mistake I ever made. In my life. That’s all.”
“Nah.” He shot her a mischievous grin. “I wouldn’t say the worst mistake.”
She smiled in spite of herself. “Oh no?” she rolled her eyes at him as she wound her hair on top of her head and threaded in bobby pins to hold it in place. “What then? What’s the worst mistake I ever made?”
“Oh, I think you know.” He had one eyebrow raised as he smirked at her from the bed.
She giggled as she came across the room toward him. “What?”
“The worst mistake, Mrs. Levine, was coming up to my suite at the Soho Grand,” he said. “That time after I spotted you in the crowd at the Today Show.” He grabbed her arm and pulled her down onto the bed with him. “You almost escaped, but I reeled you back in.”
Adam rolled his weight on top of her and began nibbling one of her earlobes, and Jane let out a yelp of mock-annoyance as she felt her hair come loose and tumble down again. She pushed him off of her and stood up, forcing her face back into a serious expression as she resumed her position in front of the mirror. “How can you make jokes about this?”
“It was a lifetime ago!” he groaned. Adam came up behind her and took the bobby pins out of her hands, pushing them back in place for her as she held the coil of hair on top of her head with her hands. “Anyway, if anyone should have negative associations, it’s me, right? I’m the one who got my heart stomped all over that night.”
She met his eyes in the mirror. “It really doesn’t bother you?”
He slipped his arms around her waist now and pulled her back against his front, shaking his head slowly. “It wasn’t a mistake,” he said to her in the mirror. She opened her mouth to protest, but he continued before she could speak. “It had to happen. We weren’t ready for each other yet.”
She pressed her lips together. “We wasted so many years, Adam.”
“And what would’ve happened if we’d stayed together?” he was grinning at her again. “I couldn’t write a decent song to save my life before you broke up with me.”
She turned in his arms to face him, putting her hands around his neck and raising her eyebrows at him. “Who says the ones you wrote afterward were so great?”
“Hey now,” he shot her a warning look. “Three Grammy’s. That’s not too bad.”
“No, that’s not too bad,” she conceded as she pulled his head down for a kiss.
He let his lips linger on hers for a moment and then cupped her face with his hands, resting his forehead against hers. “Come on, little girl,” he said. “You and me at the Bowery Ballroom. We’ll make a new memory.”
She smiled softly. “Fine,” she sighed, knowing she had no chance of winning an argument when he looked at her that way. “What is this band you’re so hell-bent on seeing, anyway?”
“Not a band,” he corrected as he released her and started buttoning up his shirt. “Solo act. She’s the opener. Jesse saw her play last month and won’t shut up about her.”
“What’s her name?”
He had moved to the bathroom, and she watched him through the doorway as he spiked his hair up with his fingers. “Huh?” he called to her as he studied the top of his head in the mirror.
“I said what’s her name?”
He scrunched up his forehead to think for a moment and then turned to reply over his shoulder. “Annie something. No, wait—“ He shook his head. “No, it’s Amy,” he corrected himself. “Her name is Amy Winehouse.”
***
Amy was just taking up position on stage to begin her set when she caught sight of a man in the audience out of the corner of her eye. It had been happening to her a lot lately, since she’d started playing the larger clubs. She’d be in the middle of a set and swear she saw Adam’s face in the crowd. It was never him of course – just someone who looked like him. Just another tatted up pretty boy who hadn’t bothered to shave for three days.
Now she scanned the audience again, looking for the face that had caught her attention. She pulled the mike out of the stand and walked downstage to get a better look.
“Hello New York,” she said into the mike. The spotlights were shining in her eyes and she brought one hand up to shield them. There. In the reserved VIP section. It was him. It was Adam.
He wasn’t alone. His wife was sitting there next to him, smiling and clapping with the rest of the crowd, but he was sitting stock-still, staring at her with a look of shock on his face. Amy watched them for a moment. Jane must have noticed something amiss because she froze in mid-clap and turned her head to look at her husband. She was saying something into his ear, but he didn’t seem to respond. He had his eyes locked on the stage.
Amy lifted a hand and waved at him. He didn’t wave back.
She brought the microphone back up to her mouth to address the crowd. “Hey, we’ve got some very special people in the audience tonight, everybody,” she said, pointing an arm toward the box seats. “It’s Adam Levine and his lovely wife!”
The crowd burst into excited screams and Amy clapped along with them. Adam was waving now. They both were – Mr. and Mrs. Adam Levine – their Hollywood smiles pasted onto their faces.
“Adam and I go way back,” Amy said into the mike, when the noise had died down enough for her to be heard. “He and I made a deal once. Do you remember, Adam? I was supposed to listen to some music, and you were supposed to read a book.” She laughed. “So how about it, Adam? Did you ever finish that one?”
She had put the mike back in the stand and picked up an electric guitar now, pulling it over her shoulder as she continued talking. “No, pretty sure you didn’t. Maybe you should have. Because I think the guy in that book – the one who lied – he winds up paying a pretty steep price in the end. That’s the way the story goes. Did you get to that part, Adam? And, of course, Jane Eyre gets to live happily ever after. She’s the heroine after all.”
She shielded her eyes again to get a clear view, and she saw him shake his head at her, signaling her to stop before she said too much. “Oh well,” she laughed again. “I guess we made up our own ending. Nothing’s ever original, right Adam?” She had begun to play a guitar riff as she spoke, and she saw Jane give a start of surprise as she recognized it – the opening of one of Adam’s old Maroon 5 songs, Story.
“You taught me that,” Amy continued as she played the riff over and over. “You said that’s what people like to listen to. Something familiar, but changed up just a little.” She paused for a minute, silently running through the song in her head to make sure she remembered the words. “So here’s a cover for you guys,” she said at last. “Here’s my version. This one goes out to America’s favorite couple, Adam and Jane.”
With that, Amy closed her eyes and leaned into the mike as she began to sing.
Do you mean all the things you are?
Are you pleased with the way things are?
Wear this dress to protect this scar,
That only you have seen.
Do you give just to please yourself?
Do you wish you were somewhere else?
Justified all the things you tried,
said that it was all for me.
And be near,
Just for the moment,
Stay here,
Never go home.
Did you know that everything she ever does is for you?
So it goes, the story of a broken heart comes true,
It comes true.
***
Adam reached for his wife’s hand and gave it a squeeze, sneaking a glance at her out of the corner of his eye. He’d felt the way she had stiffened the moment she had recognized the song.
Have you learned all the secrets yet?
Will you burn by the things I've said?
He had realized who Amy Winehouse was the moment the spotlights hit her, but Jane hadn’t understood – not at first. She’d turned and looked at him when she noticed he wasn’t clapping along with the rest of the audience. “Do you know her?” she’d whispered in his ear.
He’d been too shocked to respond. It was her. Jane. The other Jane – but utterly transformed. Almost unrecognizable as the girl he used to know, with her black hair teased up on top of her head in ‘60s beehive, like the Motown girl groups used to wear.
“Adam, who is it?” Jane had watched him in puzzlement as he’d sat there paralyzed, watching the girl on the stage catch sight of him and wave. It wasn’t until Amy started talking to him that Jane had figured it out. “Is it her?” she’d asked out of the corner of her mouth, through the practiced smile she’d plastered onto her face.
He’d nodded slightly in response as he’d waved to crowd, blinded by the flashbulbs going off around them.
“I thought she was a red hea—” Jane had broken off in mid-whisper when she heard the guitar riff Amy had begun to play. It was one of his. An old B-Side that only the really hardcore Maroon 5 fans ever knew – Story. Jane knew it of course. She knew everything he’d ever released by heart. Apparently she wasn’t the only one.
He felt the tension in his wife’s shoulders now, as she sat listening to the song he had written for her being stolen away by someone else – sung nearly word-for-word as he had written it, but its meaning altered now beyond recognition.
Now I'm in love but I don't know how,
And I'm in pain cause I want it now.
As you sit watching her eyes close,
I slowly open mine.
“Do you want to go?” he whispered in his wife’s ear.
“We can’t,” she whispered back, “Everyone’s watching.” He heard her let out a long breath then and force her shoulders to relax. “It’s fine.” She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye now and shrugged helplessly. “It’s fine. She’s good, right?”
I am so confused by this.
I know that life is hit or miss.
Days are stung by too much sun,
I think that you may be the one.
Cover yourself up in me,
Shrouded in what could have been.
I will listen to your pain,
If you listen to me.
Adam nodded. The truth was, she sounded amazing. She had brought the crowd to silence by the time she reached the final chorus. Every eye in the place was locked on her, transfixed by a song that none of them had ever heard before.
Did you know that everything she ever does is for you?
So it goes, as the story of a broken heart comes true.
Did you know that everything she ever does is for you?
And I know, the story of a broken heart comes true.
It comes true.
They stayed for the rest of the set.
“I should go congratulate her,” Adam said afterward. They made their way backstage, but Amy had already left. She was staying at the Soho Grand, someone told him.
“You go,” Jane said to him. “You should go see her.”
He’d studied his wife’s face for a moment before responding. “I just want to talk to her about the music,” he said tentatively.
“I get it,” Jane replied with a reassuring smile. “She was amazing.”
“Are you sure?”
She nodded, reaching up and touching his cheek for a moment. “I trust you,” she said.
***
It was late – well past midnight – by the time Adam dropped his wife off at their Park Avenue pied-a-terre and made his way back downtown to see Amy.
That night in her hotel suite wasn’t the last time he ever saw her, of course. Their paths were bound to cross from time to time as she moved up the ladder of pop music success. But it was the last time he was ever alone with her. That was his chance, that night, to see how the story was playing out for her. That was his chance to anticipate the ending.
It would be burnt into his memory until his dying day – that night, the words they had said to each other. He would never hear the lyrics to Story again without remembering every detail.
Do you mean all the things you are?
Are you pleased with the way things are?
The stale air hit him the moment she opened the door – the stink of alcohol and cigarette smoke. She had a bottle of wine open and offered him a glass.
“You’re drinking?” he said in surprise, accepting the glass she had poured and clinking it with hers.
“Things change.” She smirked at him slightly as she lifted her own glass to her mouth and drained its contents.
“So I see,” he responded. “Nice tats, by the way.”
She laughed. “Do you like them?” she asked. “I learned from the best.”
She extended both of her arms toward him to give him a better look. She was still wearing the sleeveless mini-dress she’d performed in earlier, and the tattoos covering her shoulders and upper arms were on full display. She held her breath as she watched him reach out a hand to take hold of one of her wrists. How many times had she imagined this night, in the years since she’d last seen him? How many times had she watched this little scene play out inside her head? Alone with him at last. Alone in a room with Adam.
Her lungs weren’t quite working properly all of a sudden, as she stood there waiting for his hand to make contact with the sensitive flesh of her forearm. And be near just for the moment. Stay here. Never go home.
There was a shock of static electricity, and she felt the hair rise on the back of her arm as he gasped and jerked his hand away. She turned her back and poured herself another glass of wine.
The truth was, she’d been living in anticipation of this moment from the day she left Idaho. What he would say. What she would say back. But mostly the way he would look at her. How many times had she imagined it? The look of admiration on his face when he saw what a success she’d made of herself. Did you know that everything she ever does is for you? Now the moment was here, but she couldn’t even bear to look at him.
“You sounded amazing tonight,” he said to her back.
“Thanks,” she tossed back at him over her shoulder.
“You should let me produce a record with you.” They both knew it was a lie – not an offer he was in any position to make. Do you give just to please yourself? Do you wish you were somewhere else?
She chuckled and shook her head as she turned back toward him. “I’m not sure your wife would be so thrilled with that idea.”
“She thought you were amazing too,” he replied.
She nodded and took a long swallow of wine. “Well, tell her I said thanks.”
They stared at each other across the room, each waiting for the other to break the silence next. “Why didn’t you tell me you were singing?” he finally asked.
“Oh, I figured you’d find out sooner or later.” She shrugged. “And look at that. Here you are now.”
“Let me help you.” He took a step toward her. “You know what I could do for you – for your career. I could make you huge. I could teach you things.”
She lifted her eyes from the wine glass she was swirling in her hand and met his gaze. “Teach me things,” she said, tilting her head at him. “You know how I like it when you teach me.” Now I'm in love but I don't know how, and I'm in pain ‘cause I want it now.
He shot her a warning look. “Jane,” he said softly. “I love my wife.”
She nodded. “So it was just a way for you to pass the time? You and me?” I am so confused by this. I know that life is hit or miss.
“No,” he shook his head.
“A little something to take the edge off, right?” she said, holding up her glass of wine at him. “I get it now. My bad, thinking it was something else.” Days are stung by too much sun. I think that you may be the one.
“You know it was more than that.”
“I don’t know anything,” she replied, smiling at him crookedly. “I don’t know where the lies ended and the truth began.” Justified all the things you tried. Said that it was all for me.
“I know I handled it badly.” He closed his eyes for a moment as he spoke, searching for the right words. “I had to make a choice. She was my wife. And you were young. You are young. Look at you. You have your whole life ahead of you.”
He saw her smile break for a moment. She looked away from him up at the ceiling and tugged awkwardly at the hem of her dress, but he saw the pain flash across her face. He saw the loneliness and heartbreak she fought so hard to keep hidden from everyone around her. Wear this dress to protect this scar that only you have seen. She was young – it was true – but she’d known more pain in those few years than most people had to bear in a lifetime.
For a moment, Adam’s mind flashed back. He was no longer in a trendy hotel in the city that never sleeps. He was back in Idaho, in a house in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by nothing but rows and rows of overgrown grapevines. He was alone with her in the library, listening to the music, and he was watching her face, waiting to see if the words would penetrate. He knew the way the story went next. He would put his arms around her, and she would cry into his chest. I will listen to your pain if you listen to me. He was back there now, watching her face, knowing that she was standing at the edge of the precipice – knowing that the tears would come pouring out again if he crossed the room and put his arms back around her.
He stayed where he stood, feet firmly planted on the floor. “Listen to me,” he said. “Look at me.” He watched as she pasted the smile back on, the mask now firmly back in place as she met his eyes again. “You’ve got your whole life ahead of you,” he told her. “You’ll fall in love with someone else.”
She raised her eyebrows at him. “Yeah, how did that work out for you?” she asked. “You had your whole life ahead of you too, didn’t you? When your beloved Jane walked out on you?”
“We’re not talking about her.”
“I know the story, Adam. There isn’t anyone in America who doesn’t know the story.”
“That’s my story, not yours.”
“And remind me - how did that one end? Did you fall in love with someone else?”
He stared at her in silence for a long time before he spoke again. “Yes,” he said at last. “I did. I fell in love with you.”
She let out a choked sound. A laugh? A sob? An ugly sound, somewhere in between the two. “What am I supposed to do with that?” she whispered.
Adam felt the conversation getting away from him – veering off down a road he hadn’t meant to travel. He should leave. He’d come here to talk about music. She’d commanded the stage earlier, with that unmistakable voice and the passionate intensity as she’d sung, but she was still missing something. Her best moments had all been during covers. She needed material of her own. She needed to take the pain she was feeling now and put it into words of her own.
He remembered his own breakthrough, his own night as an opening act at The Bowery Ballroom all those years ago – the words that had launched his career and made him into the artist he would become.
Nothing’s ever original, he thought to himself. It’s all just a big circle. So it goes. The story of a broken heart comes true.
“What am I supposed to do with that?” she had asked him.
“I don’t know,” he heard his voice say, before he set down his wine glass and turned his back and left her standing alone in an empty room.
“I don’t know, Jane,” he said. “Maybe you should write a song about it.”