Drive(109)
I’d made the mistake of only looking for the hurt.
Because why do we have to be perfect?
Give me a human with ovaries that makes all the right decisions when it comes to the opposite sex and I’ll give you the most uneventful love story ever. Perfection is boring. It makes life boring, and love even more so. With me, it didn’t end up being only about the destination; it was about my ride. It was always the ride that made it so much sweeter, and at times bittersweet, like on days like yesterday. I grieved like the wound was new, but that’s me being me, Stella doing Stella. That’s how I was built.
My mistakes, my false certainties, all the things that moved me through trial and error kept things exciting, kept me on my toes, kept me growing in the right direction within reach of someone growing the same way. I let my emotions run my life, or in the case of Reid and Nate, overrun my life, and I forgot about the one thing that eased my temperament, the one thing that made me, me.
Music.
I was still in control most of the time, but sometimes I lost it.
And still, I loved the emotional woman I’d become.
And the more I looked in the rearview, the closer I got to the truth. It was okay to love them both, to give my heart a chance to explore, but I had already let go. I was reminiscing about the life I lived, and maybe that was my imperfection. Maybe that’s where I still let my emotions run away and rule at times. It made me imperfect and emotional, but I was good with that and pretty fucking done apologizing for it. And with the man who loved me, I didn’t have to. So, with only a few hundred miles to go, my eyes no longer searched behind but focused forward. It was time to get home.
Wasted Time
Eagles
Three Months Later
“Are you getting it?” Lexi asked as I held my iPhone up on the side of the stage.
“Yep,” I said as I zoomed in on the drummer, the video ticking, my heart hammering with excitement. I was in complete awe.
“God, this is awesome,” Lexi said at my side. “I can’t believe we got back here!”
“I know,” I said, glancing her way. “We’ve come a long way, baby!”
Lexi and I were like pigs in shit as we watched the show from the side of the stage.
I ended the video and sent it to my father, who messaged me back something resembling an impressed text. He was just starting to learn and was getting there. Though I wasn’t sure he knew what LOL meant.
“I fucking love you,” Lexi yelled as she rocked out next to me, full on fangirl. I gave her a lopsided smile.
“Hmm, with all the prejudice you had, you finally giving in?”
“They are awesome!”
“Yeah, well, I’ve always been right about them!” I yelled with an elbow nudge.
“You are,” she said, looking down at her phone with pressed brows. She glanced at me and her shoulders sagged.
“You have to go,” I said as she slowly nodded, her devastation evident on her features. We shared a tear-filled smile.
“Go,” I said, hugging her tight.
“I’ll call you all the time, I promise.”
“You better,” I warned playfully as she picked up her backpack. “How did I get here?” she asked with an incredulous face.
Tears threatening, I faced my best friend, who had been there through damn near every song of my life. She had been my rock, my comfort, and I hoped briefly that I had been half as much to her. “You got here because you are hot shit and the world was smart enough to notice. I love you.”
We hugged again as she looked down at my fresh Converse. “Nice choice.”
Twisting my foot, I displayed my fresh white chucks that I’d scribbled “Don’t Worry Be Happy” on just hours before the concert.
“I think so, too. Fitting, right?”
Tears streamed down her cheeks as she gave me one last hug and whispered, “This isn’t goodbye, you know.”
“I know,” I said, though my heart was already missing her. And though I knew we would always be close, it felt like the end of our independence together. We both were chasing big dreams that were leading us down different roads.
“Proud of you,” we both said at the same time before we shared a watery smile. She broke away from me and readjusted her grip on her backpack, hesitating before she eyed me over her shoulder.
“Go,” I shooed her away. “I don’t want to cry.”
We were crying anyway as she saluted me before she disappeared. I turned my eyes back to the drummer.
My heart stuttered as the opening piano keys filtered through the air and into the screaming crowd. My eyes drifted back to the man behind the drum set, my hero, and my favorite storyteller, Don Henley.
Don opened his mouth and poured out the opening lines to my favorite Eagles’ song, “Wasted Time”. He sang of a broken-hearted woman trying to find her footing, a woman going through the pieces of her love story and wondering where it went wrong.
Oh, the irony.
It was always the music that reminded me where I’d been and where I was going. Aching from the truth of the lyrics, sweet relief came in the form of the beautiful man who appeared on the other side of the stage. He was desperately searching for someone, for me. I stood waiting, as different tears— tears I’d sworn I didn’t have left—swam in my eyes. And his search stopped when he spotted me, his deep blue gaze found mine. I saw him visibly relax and for a minute all was right with the world. I expected him to bridge the gap, to come to me. Instead, he leaned against the side of the stage and slid his hands into his suit pockets, his eyes never leaving mine. No matter how much water was under the bridge beneath us, the man gave me as many of my dreams as he could, even after I broke us with my selfish heart. In the end, he gave the greatest gift he could ever give me. Nate gave me music.