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.