Present Day 

The butterflies wildly flap their wings in his stomach as he savors the last few moments before the curtain rises. There are so many people in the backstage corridors, surely getting the last few details worked out before the show’s headliner climbs onto the stage. Voices are a dull hum in his ears, being drowned out by the clapping thunder of his heart beating in his chest. He is sure if he looks down, he will see his heart trying to desperately beat out of his chest. The adrenaline speeds through his veins like fighter jet cutting across the skies, and there is anticipation tingling at the tips of his fingers and toes. Tonight is the night that he has been dreaming about for a few years now – his return to the stage, his homecoming. 

But it is a dream that had become a nightmare only eighteen days ago. One accidental revelation had nearly killed him, threatening to end this tour before it ever took off. He still felt the pain in every part of his body. It was a pain that consumed him wholly, gut-wrenching and heart-squeezing. It took every piece of him to get up every morning, run through rehearsals and sit through interviews with a smile on his face. 

Silent killer. His pain was silently killing him, and no one knew it but him. 

“Big crowd out there,” his mother says softly, breaking through his solitary thoughts, “You nervous?” 

And there it is. Despite the nerves and fears taking hold of his gut and throat, there was energy, anticipation, and adrenaline rushing through his body. Tonight was a culmination of months of endless nights in a darkened studio, alien chords overtaking his every thought and gut-exposing words pouring from his mouth. Days when he didn’t know if he would ever have the right song or the right medley, and days when he couldn’t see himself make it through to the end. Of all his music, this was his most personal. Walking into the studio, his canvas had been stark white, his palette of colors undecided, and his inspiration unfound. But life, life always chose. 

“I’ve never been this nervous,” he says softly, but his mother hears him. Like always. She’s been the one person that he’s had beside him that hasn’t failed him. 

“Go out there baby, and leave your heart out there. They’ll take care of it for you,” she whispered, her arms wrapped tightly around him. There was a wave of calm that rushed over him feeling his mother’s embrace filled with warmth and security. He never needed to tell her what bothered him; she simply always knew. 

Maybe one day he’d be able to share with her his pain. 

The buzz of thousands of voices began intensifying through the arena’s concrete walls.  The opening acts had gone out there and gotten the crowd riled up for him. It was his turn now. Stepping up the few steps that led to the main platform, he felt the electricity in his fingertips. The house lights went down and the screams were deafening. With a heart jackhammering his chest, he breathed deeply and took a step forward. The microphone slipped in his sweaty hands, and his grip tightened. 

The stage was small in comparison to his former stages, but it still dwarfed regular sized stages. From his spot, the crowd was nothing but shadows of smiles and silhouettes of craze. His new music was such a departure from his norm, but his life in itself was no longer his norm. Gone were the screaming guitars and thumping drums. Every song reworked to mesh with his new music. Familiar yet tweaked opening chords fill the arena, and he knew that they’ll stand by him – no matter what. 

The first song is a blur. He’s gone through the motions that he’s over rehearsed, and in the blink of an eye, he is standing in the center of the stage staring into bright lights and over glowing faces. He says nothing, hoping the love and adoration heals the cracks in his soul. Closing his eyes, he’s transported back to that moment in time at the end of his Madison Square Garden show when his throat choked and his eyes watered. The feeling of invincibility and vulnerability, love and cared. With a steady breath, his ocean blues open and he allows a genuine smile to finally caress his lips. 

“How’s everybody doing tonight?” he hears his voice boom and bounce from the speakers. “Before this show goes on, I need to thank everybody for coming out tonight, and buying the album. This moment right here has been a long time coming, and I thank you for sharing it with me. As we get older, we learn to appreciate the small things in life. And this moment, seeing your smiles and hearing your screams are what s the most and what heals the best. I hope you enjoy the show.” 

And, he was off. He didn’t need the elaborate stage shows of his twenties or the intricate choreography of his teens. Now, in his thirties, he’d evolved. His passion was fed through the simpler beats, the simpler shows, and the rawest emotions. Life had flipped the script on him. So many years he’d heard from fans tell him of how his music had rescued them, healed them, and brought them peace. And now, he was in their shoes. Music rescued him from a void abyss of pain, guilt, and loneliness. 

The electricity invaded his toes and climbed his calves. The adrenaline rushed from his temple down his arms, a dull throb at the tips of his fingers. And the fire burned from the bottom of his stomach. The trinity culminated and bubbled over, his voice pulsing into the microphone and out of the massive speakers that surrounded the arena. Too much time had elapsed since it had been just him and the music, and he truly had missed it. Yes, his time away from it had given him the opportunity to cultivate his talents in other areas and to build his empire, but music was his lifeline. 

And now, when pain, confusion, and solitude had taken over his being, music was fueling his healing. Music was keeping him alive. It was the padding on the wall as his heart was thrown against it. It was the landing pad as his soul was thrown from a high-rise building. And it was the breathing machine that kept the breath of life in his lungs. 

A lull. A pause. A breath.

The show itself is halfway through, and numbness sets in. The house lights are down, and only the shining lights of phone screens and distant camera flashes meagerly light up the arena. He is sure if he were up in the rafters, he would hear the spotlights cackle – scorching to the touch. The spotlights are off, giving them time to cool off and for him to run offstage for a breather. But, his feet do not move. Instead, he stands onstage, unseen by the crowd. 

His eyes scan the crowd, searching for the face of someone he doesn’t know. And will never get to know. Behind the railing, he searches unknown faces for the slightest trace of what he is looking for. Maybe he seeks a combination of classic blue eyes, and classic blonde ringlets. Or possibly a reflection of his awkward nose and her pouty, perfectly and naturally lined lips. Instead, there’s a girl in the front, her hands clasped to her chest and her eyes wide and compassionate. Everyone around her is screaming, frantic for his return to the microphone. But, she is alone, calm, and patient.

Rising from his side, his hand brought the microphone to his lips, “I’m not some great poet, and I’m certainly no philosopher. But, I am human. And I feel a sense of duty to each of you, so I will share this with you.  There’ll come a time in life when we lose ourselves, and we’ve got to fill in the map. Along the way, there are choices we’re all forced to make – a left or a right, an up or a down. This album turned out to be my map, my road, and my never-ending search for something I did not know I sought.” 

One, two steps forward and the spotlight finds him, standing beside his faithful companion – the piano. 

“No matter your journey’s length, hardship, or final destination – always make your own choices. Because in the end, all we have are choices to make.” 

And broken from his rambling, the screams become deafening and the emotions become overwhelming. He feels his heart begin to overflow with a fusion of pain, sorrow, despair, and above all courage. His eyes follow the gentle sway of the thousands of moving bodies, and his ears pick up their chant of his name. They can sense his sorrow. They are not blind. His fans know him. They’ve known him better than anyone for a long time. They can see his heart dragging behind him as he moves about the stage. He allows himself to become consumed with the emotion tightening in his chest. There is so much that he wants to say, but words fail him.

There is so much that he wants to feel, but his senses are burned. The roar of the crowd has pressed against his eardrums. Their love washed over him like a tidal wave, dismantling his reserves.

With the microphone to his lips, his mouth opens but silence reigns. His voice cracks, and he can’t help but hide his shame behind his microphone. There was a time when he carried all the confidence in the world on his shoulders and at the corners of his cocky smirk. His eyes held a devilish twinkle, and his body fluidly moved with a confident sway. But, tonight as he finds himself voiceless and defenseless, he doesn’t recognize himself.  

And, he knows when and where he lost himself. 

Eighteen days, ten hours, and forty-three minutes ago to be exact. In the cold embrace of three short lines on a piece of paper in the office of her house. At the mercy of her frigid honey-hued eyes and in the vice grip of her disdain and indifference. 

He hadn’t had a choice. 

But opportunities in life are doors waiting to open. And choices, well, choices are the hinges of destiny. 

Tonight was his opportunity.

32 days ago

“This, this, and this…” Jerald, Nyla’s boss, pointed down at the colorful array of designs fanned out atop his cherry wood. “And the meeting with Redbook on Monday morning, you’ve set yourself for greatness, Nyla. There is no reason that after this campaign, you get that promotion. Sechs loves you, and this is just another medal on your wall.”

Modestly, her head bowed slightly but there was pride in the angle of her chin. This is all she had ever longed for – success.

“I try my best, Jerald,” she remarked, her eyes taking inventory of her campaign designs on the desk.

“Ten o’clock sharp, you’ve got nothing scheduled right?” 

“I took personal time this weekend, but I’ll be here bright and early Monday.” She gushed.

“Well, on that note, I think we got everything. Get out of here… go enjoy your weekend with your superstar.” He paused at her office door, “You’re the one to watch Nyla. Dedicate yourself to this job til the end of the year and you will get everything you’ve ever wanted. I promise you that.”

Nyla smiled, feeling the butterflies build in her stomach. She finally released a deep breath once the door was shut behind him. A smirk crept on her face. Finally she was going to have her dreams come true. Nothing was going to get in her way; nothing was going to stop her from living her dream.

In the five short years she had been with this agency, she’d quickly built her name in the game. Any account she could help on, she did. And time after time she proved to everyone that she could not only do the job, but she could do it well.

Gathering up her things, her butterflies evolved into anxiousness. It had been two solid weeks since she had seen her superstar. Justin’s schedule had been crazy with promoting a new album and putting together a stage show for his upcoming tour. With her constantly busy schedule and his always-on-the-go schedule, it was not an easy feat to meet up. They literally had to pencil each other in at some times.

Their relationship, as difficult and challenging as it was, somehow overcame anything in their path. No amount of distance could break the bond between them. For three years now, they’d become a team. For them, it was a love that neither knew they would find, but it happened in the blink of an eye and in the most unlikely place.

“Jackie, I really have to pee,” an unsteady Nyla pleaded her coworker. Earlier in the day, at work, she had received her biggest project to date. She wasn’t the head project chief, but she was Executive Creative Aid to him. After only a year at the firm, she was definitely digging her heels in prospect territory.

“I know hun, but the ladies room is occupied. You’re going to have to hold it somehow,” Jackie tried to soothe Nyla as she did the potty dance in the lobby outside the restrooms.

“Can’t I just go in there?” Nyla pleaded, her lithe finger pointing towards the gentlemen’s restroom. They’d seen a guy leave earlier, and no one go in afterwards. So, technically, the coast was clear. Jackie was hesitant, but she also knew that Nyla may not make it if she had to wait much longer. One too many drinks would do that to a girl’s bladder.

Turning to look around, she saw no one heading their way so she reluctantly waved her along.

“Just hurry up, I’ll keep a lookout,” Jackie hurried her along, watching Nyla sway into the restroom on four-inch heels. Not a moment after the door swung shut, the women’s restroom door opened and a redhead patron stepped out. Rolling her eyes, Jackie pleasantly smiled at her. Feeling the urgency in her own bladder now, Jackie sighed before rushing into the ladies’ restroom.

“Poor thing, I’ll be done before her,” she laughed to herself, latching the door closed behind her.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the thin wall, Nyla hovered over the toilet relishing in the sweet relief of her bladder. She wasn’t such a frequent drinker, but the events of today merit a few toss-backs.

“Yo, I’ll be right out!” she heard from the outside and she frantically tried to finish her business. In her gut, she knew there was someone heading into the restroom. Had she locked the door?

“Just hold your damn horses!” the voice was closer, and as she rushed to pull up her panties, she felt the draft of the door opening. Caught with the straps of her panties around her thumbs, she looked up at her intruder.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” the frazzled man stumbled through his words and back out the door. Her head dropped in shame. She knew she looked like a fool – hovering over the toilet with her panties halfway up her legs.

“Just my fucking luck…” she grumbled, shaking her head and pulling up her panties. After straightening her dress, flushing the toilet, and washing her hands, she took a deep breath preparing to face her handsome intruder.

“I didn’t mean to walk in on you, but the door was unlocked. I’m really sorry. I’m not like a pervert or anything like that,” she hadn’t made it out the door and he was already frantically rambling, his arms gesturing wildly.

“Yo! Calm door, it was my fault. I’m the girl in the guy’s restroom,” she nervously laughed, tucking her hair behind her ear feeling warmth creep up her skin.

“My coworker was supposed to keeping a lookout, but that did me no good, huh?” he was standing directly in front of the door and she was trapped in the open doorway. Despite her heels, he stood a few inches above her and she was forced to shift her gaze upwards.

“I still should’ve knocked, I’m sorry,” his voice raised bumps on her arms, and she nervously looked for an escape. There wasn’t anything else to be said, but he neither moved nor spoke. His eyes, blue as the ocean, held her blue-green eyes.

“Oh no, Nyla!” Jackie’s voice interrupted the staring contest between the two as she stepped out of the women’s restroom.

“Oh yes, Jackie! Thanks for looking out!” Nyla breathed in relief, having the stranger quickly step back from her. She took the opportunity to step out of the open doorway and over towards Jackie. The stranger put out an arm and held the door open, but his eyes stayed with her.

“Once again, I’m sorry about that,” she blushed, and discreetly shoved Jackie towards the hallway that would take them back towards the bar.

“I didn’t see anything, if that makes you feel better!” he tried to ease the tension, but the pleasant smile on her face faltered.

“It really doesn’t, but thanks for the effort. Have a good night,” she lamented, urging Jackie a little more forceful this time. Smiling back, she gave a quick nod before stumbling out of sight. He stood motionless, the door still ajar behind him. He tried shaking his head clear of her face, but he couldn’t. Forgetting his need to use the restroom, he broke out into a sprint down the back hallway and out into the main bar. Looking around he didn’t see her, but he did catch sight of his friend waving to him from the exit.

It was time to head home.

Claiming defeat, he made his way around tables and waitresses to the exit. And as he joined his party, his eyes caught sight of her crossing the parking lot with a small group of people. Everyone in the group was dressed to the nines; drinks after work maybe. In the blink of an eye, he grabbed a pen from the passing waitress’ apron and ran outside, ignoring the confused looks of his friends.

“Wait up!” his voice rang out across the empty lot. She heard him. She stopped and turned.

“Can I help you?” she questioned as he ran to a stop directly in front of her. He didn’t say anything, only took her arm.

“I may be stupid, but I’ll feel more stupid if I don’t do this. Ball is your hands. Goodnight.”

And he was gone. But, his phone number and name were on her arm.

Justin 310-435-7781

****

That day changed their lives. She had called him. And they went on a date. Then a second date. And a third date. And surprisingly, three years later there were still as in love as ever. Distance, despite the loneliness, had served them well. It had taught them patience, appreciation, and strength.

Her life, her career was set firm in San Francisco. She loved the Bay, she loved the city. And she had no intentions on ever leaving, not even for Justin. This was her world that she’d built from the ground up. She could never bring herself to leave all her hard work behind like that.

Many times he’d asked her if she’d ever consider relocating to Los Angeles, and she always said no. Never had he asked to do it, but she knew that he wanted her to. But, the thought of living in such a cutthroat and invasive city repulsed her.

Justin spent a lot of his time in New York and Memphis but his job required him to be in Los Angeles for the most part. With time, he had learned how he could keep his privacy and still live in the paparazzi filled city. He loved his home that he spent years perfecting. He was happy with Los Angeles.

****

Justin entered her condo, dropping his bag the moment he entered, rushing through the apartment to find her. He stopped when she finally came into view. Her office attire had long been stripped off and she stood before him in her lounge clothes. He loved this side of her. To him, she was at her best when she was relaxed without a care in the world. Her usually perfectly-coifed long blonde locks were now pulled back into a messy ponytail, her long lean legs in shorts, and her shoulders exposed by the racer-back tank.

His stomach filled with fury as he finished his stretch across the room. He couldn’t get to her fast enough. He stepped up behind her, his hands snaking around her waist as his chin came to a rest on her bare shoulder, and he whispered, “I’ve missed you.”

It was his scent that wrapped her body with warmth before his arms could. Hearing his declaration, Nyla turned in his arms and smile, “Finally, you make it back to me!”

His eyes danced happily as they try to take in her appearance all at once. It’d been too long, and he just wanted to stand there and relearn her every detail. She watches him, or rather his eyes as they skim over her every part. His bottom lip tucked safely into the confines of his teeth, and his lashes tickling his own skin with every blink. She wants to kiss him, but she doesn’t want to interrupt this moment.

Simply by looking at her, he lets her know that she is beautiful.

Amazing.

Finally, his forehead comes to rest on her forehead, and she can’t help the smile that tugs at her lips. With the touch of a feather, his lips softly and briefly meet her lips. When his eyes fluttered shut, she felt the tickle of his lashes on her skin. Pulling back, they stand there with eyes shut listening to each other’s heartbeats and feeling each other’s every exhale.

“If I could come home to this every day, I couldn’t be luckier,” his voice gently covered her like a silk sheet on her skin. She felt her body relax against him, feeling the truth of his words settle in her heart. “Move in with me.”

And like a glass vase shattering, the moment is over. His words had been so soft that she had almost missed them.

She pulled away from him, “Don’t be ridiculous Justin. You now that’s not an option.”

Disappointment and pain reigned over his face, but this wasn’t up for debate. “Why? We have been together a long time, I think it’s time we have this discussion.”

“You mean this argument?” She popped her hand on her waist before tossing them in the air, “We’ve had this argument before, many times.”

“No, we’ve never discussed this before. But anytime I mention LA, you blow your top. I don’t understand why you don’t want to move to Los Angeles.”

“I hate Los Angeles.” She admitted.

He swallowed hard. “But I’m there.”

“And I’m here.” She coldly delivered. “Justin, my job is here, my career is here, my life is here…”

“You would have better opportunities in Los Angeles… you could work for me…” He pulled her into him, “I would give you a promotion! The same one you’ve been waiting on for years!”

“The one that is within my reach! Jesus, Justin, why the sudden need to settle down? We are happy like this, let’s leave it at that.”

“I have been wanting you to move in with me for the last two years… now more than ever I just wanna spend time with you.”

She pulled away from him, “You know I love you and you know I would love to spend more time with you but I can’t do it. I don’t want a career because of my superstar boyfriend handed it to me.”

Justin felt the twinge in his throat. He felt he was never going to win this battle, ever. He didn’t know how it was ever going to work out if they always lived apart.

“Let’s not fight please. I want to spend the time we do have together before you leave again.”

Her words made Justin feel as if it was his fault for always leaving. There did seem to be a pattern, he was the one always visiting her, and leaving her but it’s not what he wanted.

“Plus, baby, think about it. You’re leaving for tour in a month…” She continued, “I would be in Los Angeles, and you wouldn’t be there anyways so let’s just talk about this after that.”

Disappointed, and unsatisfied, he agreed that it was the best decision, even though he really wanted to ask her to forget everything and join him on tour. And above all, in the pit of his stomach, he knew it would be hell convincing her otherwise. No sooner would he make the move to San Francisco than she would to Los Angeles.

See you in L.A. next week... I love you.

She ran her fingers over the grooves of his perfectly printed words on the post-it that he’d left next to her coffee cup that morning, headed back to the dreadful Los Angeles. She left it on the counter as a reminder of his love for her. It was a nice way to enjoy the first cup of coffee in the morning while he was away.

She glanced up at the clock on the wall. The airport was at least a twenty minute drive for her with no traffic and she was already running late. With one last sip of coffee and a glance at the bright piece of paper, she rushed out of the apartment. Thankfully, she made it to the airport only a few minutes behind.

Walking through the crowds, there was a feeling of regret and emptiness. There should’ve been luggage bags in her hand, instead only her purse hung from her shoulder. A boarding pass to direct her to the appropriate gate, but she bypassed the ticket counter. In her head, last night’s phone calls echo. They taunt her.

“I’m sorry Justin, but Sechs wants these changes done immediately. I have to be in the office,” she pled, nervously chewing on her lip hoping that he wouldn’t ask too many questions.

“I just don’t fucking understand why he needs those changes when the damn cards don’t go out til November. Are you going to just come up afterwards?” he furiously rubbed his forehead in frustration on his end of the telephone. This was not what he needed to hear the night before his girlfriend was supposed to visit. It was the opportunity he’d been waiting for to convince her to move.

“I think I should stick around the office. Knowing Sechs, he’ll have a thousand more revisions to make,” she fumbled through her explanations. She could feel the sweat breaking out on her forehead, and her voice was beginning to crack. Her throat quickly going dry.

“Whatever, Ny. I guess I’ll see at the kickoff, goodnight,” he knew it was childish but he didn’t her the chance to reply before he ended the call.

Coming to a stop at the arrival gate, a mixture of excitement and nerves set in. On the tip of her toes, she strained watching the faces pass her by. One by one, the passengers spilled into the terminal. Finally, the crowd parted and revealed the face she was waiting on.

“Nola!!” Nyla beamed. Her better half, Nola dropped her bags, embracing her sister. “It’s been too long.”

“Finally, my twin returns to me!” Nyla pulled away. “I can’t wait to catch up. Those few lines in an email do nothing for me. How’s Bryce?”

“He’s great, he says ‘hello’. Oh Ny, I would say we have a lot to catch up on.” She smirked at Nyla. “Let’s go… show me what this town has to offer.”

Nyla grasped her twin sister’s hand and for first time she felt, in a long time, that everything was right in the world. And if it weren’t right, it would be. Ever since they were little girls running around with matching pigtails and polka dot dresses, Nola was her peace. Nola was her protector, and Nola was her rock. It never matter what decisions Nyla made, right or wrong,

Once they left the airport, the twins hit the ground running. Nola expected a mini-tour of San Francisco, but Nyla had other thoughts. Together, they scoped out every nook of the city, and as time passed, Nola became more concerned and confused. Nyla wouldn’t touch the topic of Nola’s visit; maybe she had changed her mind. Nola could only hope so. But, there was a part of her deep down that knew that Nyla’s mind was set.

She wanted to make sure there wasn’t a different choice to be made. But each time she asked, Nyla seemed to not care about what she was going to do, it meant nothing to her. To her, she wasn’t throwing a piece of herself away. She wasn’t giving something a chance to begin before she was ending it. She wasn’t allowing herself to feel.

As they both sat on the patio at Nyla’s favorite French bistro-style restaurant, Passion Café, they sat in silence. Anytime Nyla had come to this restaurant with Justin, they had to sit inside, along the back wall, never out front where everyone could see them. She was happy he wasn’t here and she was able to enjoy the scenery with her sister.

Nyla ordered her normal Napoleon Lasagna, and the waitress chuckled when her sister ordered Justin’s normal Le Filet De Boeuf, but with a salad and not the fries. “Your guest changes, but not the order!” The waitress joked before leaving to place their order.

“Where is Justin?” Nola asked, breaking the silence between them.

“Los Angeles, I think.”

“What do you mean, I think?  Shouldn’t he be here?” Nola questioned.

“No. He is busy with his album and setting up the tour.” She dazed herself off, attempting to avoid her sister’s questions.

“Is he going to be here when I leave?”

Nyla nodded her head with a no.

Questioning Nyla’s motives, Nola asks “You don’t think he should be here, Ny? How are you guys doing?”

“We’re fine. He is just super busy right now.” She nearly snapped back in response. “Can we talk about something else?”

Nyla and Nola were alike in so many ways, they shared a womb together after all, but there are times like these when Nola wondered where Nyla had picked her morality. They’d been raised in a Catholic home, going to Catholic all-girl school, and being raised in the church. Where had things changed?

After attending and graduating from the same college, with the same degree, Nyla took a marketing job in San Francisco. Working under Andrew Sechs, Nyla’s job was about creating promotional campaigns that encouraged and supported the importance of family and life. It was a job that Nyla had never thought existed, but when she had gone in for her interview and had seen the sample pro-life material all over the hallway walls, she’d fallen in love with the idea. And so, she pled her case to her interviewer. She no longer wanted the executive assistant job, she wanted the pro-life account. It was something she believed in, and she knew she could be great. There was a great deal of stress that went along with the job, but she was reasonably happy there.

Whereas Nyla’s life had become a fairytale, Nola’s hadn’t been as simple. Nola decided to move to New York City, and work for Sacs Fifth Ave. Marrying Bryce, a stock broker and the love her of life just shy of two years, was the best decision she had made in her life. She was content in her simple life. Gradually, she was making her way up the marketing department at Saks. Together with Bryce, they’ve had to overcome heartbreaking events that have only made their love stronger. And now, after seven years married, they were learning to be content with their dealt cards. They’ve had to learn to count their blessings, instead of their pain.

Nola and Nyla hadn’t seen one another in almost two years, not since Nyla had rushed to New York City when Bryce had called her. It had been the absolute most terrifying experience that Nyla had ever gone through – sitting in an airplane for hours not knowing if her sister would be alive when she stepped onto the tarmac.

“Ny, it’s Bryce. I tried calling your office, but they told me you left early. I hate to do this over voicemail, but hun, you need to get to New York immediately. I’m at the hospital, with Nola. I came home, and she was bleeding everywhere and she had passed out. She’s in surgery now, but Ny, she needs you here. I need you here,” and the message ended. She never bothered calling him back, instead she did a U-turn in the busy San Francisco streets and headed straight for the airport.

“Ny, he won’t love me anymore! I’m empty, and I’ll never give him what he has wanted for so long!” Nola cried into her sister’s shoulder. Nyla shared the hospital bed with her, holding her tightly and soothing her pain away.

“Nola, if you really believe that, then you don’t know Bryce! You know he will always love you, and if anything, he will love you more now. He almost lost you, sweetie. I doubt he cares if you never give him that. He’s been given a second chance to love you. We all have,” Nyla spoke softly, silent tears running down her own face. She knew how much both Bryce and Nola had been planning recently, wanting the time to be perfect. They were ready to be parents, and they’d been trying. But now, well now, they would never have that. Unless, they adopted. But, it just isn’t the same.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Nola asked one last time, nervously tapping her foot on the chair. The cold plastic seats did nothing to soothe the chills that the ridiculously cold air conditioning had given her. There was no one else in the lobby.

“This isn’t up for discussion, Nola. There is no other option.” Nyla said firmly closing the magazine. She’d flipped through it looking for her work; it was a habit she’d picked up over time. Seeing one of her ads always gave her chills.

Nola shook her head not knowing what to say to someone she spent her entire life knowing, but in this moment, she didn’t recognize.

“Don’t judge me Nola,” Nyla rolled her eyes, having seen Nola’s silent head shake.

“I’ll never have this, Ny” She mumbled. “So, it’s hard to not judge.”

Nyla looked away from her sister, her words weighing on her heart. Staring off into the distance, neither spoke until Nyla’s name was called. One glance at each other and they stood from their seats, holding hands down the long, white, cold hallway.

18 days ago 

Justin ran down the crowded terminal. He seemed to always be in an airport, going somewhere. An appearance, an interview, a shoot, or a meeting – they all kept him from home. But this time he was running to the gate because he made a last minute decision. Love was keeping him from home tonight. 

Against everyone’s wishes he didn’t show up for his day of tour rehearsals. Kick off was in eighteen days. For a day, the dancers and the band could all rehearse without him. 

There used to be a time when he was always this spontaneous. But over time, he developed certain needs. Like, he planned out a schedule, down to the last minute of each day for the next eighteen days. He was a perfectionist and it was his nature to schedule everyone’s time, down to the breaks. He wanted his return to the stage to be perfect, and in order for it to be at his level, he needed to rehearse until perfection is reached. 

When he had gotten in his car this morning and entered the freeway, he’d driven with a purpose – passing exit by exit, including the one he was supposed to take. Instead, he found himself taking the exit to the Los Angeles International Airport.  He doesn’t know where his head was, but he took it as a sign, left a message for the individuals that needed to know, and he purchased a ticket, heading to see Nyla. He knew he couldn’t stay for an extended time but he just needed to see her. The pressures of the album, the tour, the music, the world, they were overwhelming. He needed to feel her in his arms. He needed her before he took on his challenge. He needed her to save him. 

So there he was, running, full on sprinting down the terminal, weaving through the throngs of people with their luggage, seeing his gate in the distance. 

“Final boarding call for Flight 1776 to San Francisco…” 

He heard the announcement, he could see the gate but he wasn’t close enough. His pace began to quicken and finally he arrived, out of breath and nearly tossing the boarding pass to the attendant. He was really doing this. He knew he was taking a chance at screwing everything up in his path, but something told him in the depths of his being he needed to go see her. 

His excitement didn’t settle as the plane touched down, and he found himself in the car rental counter. And it tripled as his rental cruised down Beale Street towards her high rise.  

I need to go visit home, he made a mental note, seeing the street sign as he turned the corner. Finally, he pulled into her parking garage, and found the guest spot beside her designated spot. 

Her spot was empty, which he expected would be. She was never home before 5 o’clock. 

Entering the condo, he knew he wanted to surprise her. Spend one last night with her before all the craziness began. Taking his place behind her cherry wood desk, he knew her routine. The first thing she would do is check her e-mail. Even though she just left the office, her OCD with success made her check just to make sure she hadn’t missed anything in the drive home. 

Two photographs lined the desk, housed in simple and elegant frames. First, a photo of Nyla and Nola on their celebratory vacation to Cabo San Lucas after graduation. Drink in hand, their faces youthful and joyful, and their smiles radiant. He loved Nyla’s relationship with her twin. They really seemed one and the same. 

The second photo a photo of himself and Nyla. It wasn’t a professional photo shot, it wasn’t even a photo taken with a camera. It was those film strip photos from a mall photo booth. Two crazy photos, one super sweet shot of him kissing her forehead, and the last photo, of the two of them, just staring into each other’s eyes.  

They had one copy of that film strip and it rest upon her desk. 

The photo sent butterflies through his stomach, instantly causing him to want to write down words, phrases, lines that were running through his head. 

I hope I’m on your mind. 

A simple line illustrated his every sentiment when he was away. She held his trust and his loyalty, so he could only hope that he stayed at the forefront of her world. 

He always left her silly post-its around the condo whenever he came to visit. And, his favorite part was when she called to tell him that she found his note. Sometimes it would take her days, sometimes only a few hours. He opened the drawer on the left side of the desk, no paper.  

He check drawer after drawer, no luck. 

“Ny, how is this an office with no paper?” he chuckled, talking aloud and continuing his search. He’d settle for a piece of scratch paper, a napkin even. Anything. 

His hand reached for the center drawer, finally revealing a single white sheet of paper.Victory. With a smile on his face, he reached for her favorite purple pen to write down that simple line he couldn’t get out of his head. 

As he pen wrote down the words, he realized it wasn’t a blank sheet of paper. Worried he wrote on something he shouldn’t have, he turned the paper over. It wasn’t something he shouldn’t have written on. Instead, he was something he shouldn’t have found. The purple letter head taunted him. 

He lost feeling in his fingers, and his mouth went dry.  There was thunder in his ears, but he knew his heart had stopped beating. There was no air left in his lungs. There was a slow burn that had begun in his chest. It was consuming him. At a slow crawl, he felt the burn behind his eyes. The words were a blur. Reality was a blur. But, the cracks in his heart were clear. 

**** 

Nyla strolled through her door, kicking off her heels at the door, dropping her bag onto the table. She was stretching her neck, trying to release the stress of her workday when his scent tickled her nose. It was that overwhelming blow-me-away scent of the man she loved.  

She stood in the moment, letting the moment consume her. It’d been almost two weeks and his scent still lingered. Like last week, she’d found his shirt in her closet and she’d fallen asleep wrapped in the memory of his warmth. 

She missed him. She really missed him. 

Shaking her head clear, she made her way further inside the condo. A shiver ran down her spine, and her eyes instantly sought for the temperature reading on the wall. With lithe fingers, Nyla adjusted the thermostat; it was freezing. The way it always felt when Justin was there. He loved it cold. Countless times he would make a statement saying there was always a reason to cuddle if the air-conditioning was just right.  

They never needed a reason, but it was his story and she let him tell it as big or as great as he wanted. 

Her smile radiated at just the thought of him, and she aimlessly slid open the door of her office. 

As the door opened fully, the owner of her thoughts was revealed, the man she wanted to see so badly. Her smile widened seeing him sitting at her desk, light very low, radiating the glow of the cherry wood. His face wasn’t happy. But, it wasn’t sad either. It was unreadable. It was blank. Not a trace of emotion in his eyes, in his brow, or his lips. 

In the alternate universe of his wild imagination, Justin though he would’ve been smooth when she walked in the door. She would be ecstatic, and he would play cool. But, in inside, his heart would leap into his throat and his arms would scoop her up. Or maybe she would rush to him and climb atop him on the plush office chair, but instead it was dead silent. Everything was different. 

Nothing would ever be the same – again. 

She took a step forward, her excitement quickly burning out. If only he would look her in the eye, then she would know what was going on. And, she could make it all better. Right? 

He must’ve heard her silent thoughts because in that instant, his eyes found hers. And she knew. She knew what was killing him from the inside out. She knew what lain in front of him in his shaky hands. 

“Just-” Nyla’s voice broke. 

But she didn’t have to finish anything because Justin’s subtle head shake silenced her. His eyes shut, and his brow furrowed. He didn’t want to hear her. Not just yet.

“I was looking for something to write on, for one of those silly notes I leave you, you know? And I was thinking, how can this possibly be an office if you have no paper around? You should really work on that, you know. So, being the snoopy snoop that I am, I was digging around, and I found this. Thought it was blank, and then I saw it wasn’t.” 

He paused, swallowing the thick knot lodged in his throat. He could be a grown-up about this. He was sure there was a very good reason for this. “Shit, I hope I hadn’t written on your work. But, this isn’t your work. I mean, this is against all your work. So, please, I beg you, please, tell me what this is?” 

His hand rose to silence her when her lips parted, “I mean I am pretty sure I know what it is, what it says, and what this means you have done or planned on doing… but tell me, please tell me you haven’t done this?” 

“Justin… I…” 

“Nyla.” His palms slammed the top of the cherry wood, a loud crack bouncing off. “Tell me you didn’t...” 

“We didn’t want this… this would have ruined our plans… you didn’t want…” she rambled, her fingers reaching out for him as her legs stiffly moved towards him. But, he took two steps back increasing the space between him and the desk and her. 

“I didn’t want what?” Justin painfully spoke, his lips white with anger. “This is something we decide together, Nyla. I get a choice.” He pounded his fingers on his chest, feeling his legs beneath him begin to weaken. 

“No, Justin, this was my choice.” She declared, her hands grasping her chest. “There is no decision to make.” 

“No, Nyla! I had a choice! I had a fucking choice! And you didn’t give me a chance! You didn’t give it a chance! Damn you, Nyla! I had a choice!” 

And, just like that, standing in front of her, the man that she loved, shattered. If this were a movie, he would be crumbling like a sand castle in a storm. She watched his heart fall from his chest, roll on the floor, and bleed at her feet. She lost count of the tears spilling from his eyes, and she wished she could have blocked the sound of his sobs choking him. His lips trembled, and his chest boomed as his hand repeatedly pounded it. 

“This was my…” His voice broke, feeling the pain of the words. He couldn’t say it. 

Nyla reached out to take his hand, only for him to pull back quickly. “Don’t touch me.” he barked. “Don’t fucking touch me.” His hands went up stopping her, back away even further. 

“Don’t ever fucking touch me!”

Present Day 

One last song in his set, and his first show in years would be wrapped. He wanted to remember this moment for the rest of his life. Looking out into the crowd, his eyes scan the family section. His mother and father sitting side-by-side. His best friend holding hands with his pregnant girlfriend. A smile tugs at his lips before he feels a lump crawl into his throat. His best friend was having a baby. History could’ve replayed itself. Best friends could’ve been born together, again. 

“According to the set list, I should be ending this show with a song off the album. But, since I run this show, I’m going to do something a little different. No band, no dancers, just you, me, and my guitar,” his voice was distant and soft as he moved around the stage, getting everything set up. His guitar hung from his shoulders and a stool dangled from his fingers. 

“I don’t want tonight to end, so I’m gonna talk for a little. Tell you a little secret,” he cleared his throat, “Getting to this age, I thought I knew all the things life had to offer. And, maybe I do, because I know I’ve been given so much and I am extremely fortunate. But, life doesn’t just offer you joys and crowns. It also hands out sorrows and daggers. People come and people go, and it is the taste they leave behind that we remember the most. Sometimes, though, you don’t have the option to meet this person. You just know they were there, and you missed them. So, this song is about realizing the missing piece in your life, and never giving up on finding it. And one day, I’ll be with that piece again. This is, ‘Never Over You’,” his voice cracked, and his fingers strummed. 

On the jumbo screens, his face is magnified. His eyes closed with lush lashes sprawled across the tops of his cheeks, and there is a crease between his brows. Low and gritty, smooth and sultry, his voice washes over the air.  His piano is off to the side, and he is seated at the front center of the stage with his white guitar in his lap. 

Pain is already painted across his features; his lips tensed and his forehead furrowed. His lyrics haven’t revealed anything, but he can’t disguise the feelings that rush through his body. He knows what this song means. It is his desperate plea, and it is his fleeting peace.  

It’s been 18 days without you

And everything is wrong

I’ve been alone since i found you

I’m never where i belong

Now 

He can’t help his mind running away to that day. 

Tour started in a little over two weeks, and here he was. Once again in San Francisco, he was here hoping that this time he would be able to convince Nyla. She’d missed her trip to LA because of work, so he reworked his schedule. 

Trying to be sweet, and sickeningly corny, he checked drawer after drawer, no luck. He just wanted to write a little note. If Trace were here, he was sure to be calling him a pansy or calling him out on his ‘pussy-whipped-ness’. 

“Ny, how is this an office with no paper?” he chuckled, talking aloud and continuing his search. He’d settle for a piece of scratch paper, a napkin even. Anything. 

His hand reached for the center drawer, finally revealing a single white sheet of paper.Victory. With a smile on his face, he reached for her favorite purple pen to write down that simple line he couldn’t get out of his head. 

As he pen wrote down the words, he realized it wasn’t a blank sheet of paper. Worried he wrote on something he shouldn’t have, he turned the paper over. It wasn’t something he shouldn’t have written on. Instead, he was something he shouldn’t have found. The purple letter head taunted him. 

If we ever meet again

Do you think

Do you think we could try 

“Lynn…” a meek voice broke her intense concentration. Lynn sat high in the stands of the arena, her body tense and on edge, afraid that her son would fall apart at any moment during the show. In the past two weeks, she’d lost him. He had shut down, and no one knew why. 

“Nyla, sweetheart, where have you been?” she reached for young woman that she’d come to love and adore. There wasn’t a shadow of the tall, beautiful, and always poised woman that Lynn always remembered. In her place, there was a broken, saddened, and hurting girl. 

“Can I have a hug?” her voice trembled, and Lynn did not waste another second wrapping her arms around Nyla. She found solace in Lynn’s embrace, reminiscent of her son’s embrace. A fleeting memory that she would have to fight to keep for the rest of her life. 

“What happened, Nyla?” her words carried so much weight, and she felt Nyla’s knees buckled. Looking back onto the stage, Justin was silently strumming his guitar. It was a new song. 

“I know he’ll never forgive me, and I’ll never forgive myself. And I’m so sorry for any pain that I caused, I wish I could take it back, but I can’t. Please forgive me,” she pleads, there is no turning back. What is done is done. She made the choice. She made it for him. 

When you wake up in the night

I hope I’m

I hope I’m on your mind  

Meadowcreek Women’s Clinic – Post-Procedure Care 

He was confused, and he didn’t know whether to continue reading or put it away. This was a women’s clinic, and he didn’t want Nyla to feel like he was invading her privacy. Maybe, this was just research for work. But, wait, there was a date in the top right corner. 

Twelve days ago, Los Angeles, work. 

I hope I’m on your mind

Cause I’m

Never over you

Never over you

"To make sure that the abortion was complete, we recommend that you do a urine pregnancy test in 4 weeks. You will receive a pregnancy test kit in the recovery room. If the result is positive 4 weeks after the abortion, call our office to make an appointment, or see your own doctor to follow-up.” 

Wait. He reread the first three sentences. Once. Twice. They still said the same thing. 

His brain quit functioning. He couldn’t focus on anything other than that word – abortion. 

Gone. He (or maybe she) was gone. Never had a chance. Never had a choice. 

Justin never had a choice. 

I’ve seen a million faces

Since I’ve been back in town

But I’ve been lost since i found you

Always searching for you in the crowd

Now 

If we ever meet again

Do you think

Do you think we could try

When you wake up in the night

I hope I’m

I hope I’m on your mind

I hope I’m on your mind

Cause I’m

Never over you

Never over you 

“Oh son, what did she do to you?” Lynn questions under her breath, her eyes bouncing from her son on stage to the fleeing woman exiting the arena, and their lives. 

I’m holding out for you

I’m holding onto you

I’m holding onto you

To pull me through

To pull me through

To you

To you

Cause I’m

Never over you

Never over you 

His last strum has faded, and yet he sings the final line over and over, slower and slower each time. There is a silence that fell over everyone when he first began singing. They didn’t know the meaning behind his words, but a blind man could see that this was his moment. His opportunity to save himself. His choice to share his pain in order to heal. He'd never met his son or his daughter, and he never would. So, how could he ever be over this?

Finally, with a long and sad note that hung in the air like a teetering dagger, his final song ended. No applause and no screams – the crowd sits breathless. His chest rises frantically as he awaits a reaction, but his eyes remain shut. A collective breath is heard before eardrum-rupturing cheering erupts. A smile tugs at his lips, and his trembling fingers wipe his moist cheeks. Never opening his eyes, his head falls forward, coming to a rest on the microphone stand. 

Maybe tonight he would talk – find healing. It was his choice.  

And the lights go out.