Sometimes you could just look at a person and feel right at home. Days, weeks, months, years, they all just smash together and make no sense. That’s what it was like with Rose. Always had been, always would be. I knew what I had done to her, and she never completely understood why.

But standing there, looking at her cheeks blush a little, it made me feel right at home. I started to slide my hand across the table, actually considering touching her hand, but I hesitated. I tried to figure out when the last time I saw her was. Maybe about a year ago, a little less. In passing, I think. She was coming here to handle the arrangements with her coffee business and with Stephanie.

“What are you doing later?” I asked her.

“What?”

“I’m playing a small set. You should stop by.”

“Stop by. Here. Watch you play guitar?”

“And hear me sing,” I said. “Yeah. Why not?”

“I… uh…”

“Invite some friends if you want. Your boyfriend. Fiancé. Husband. Girlfriend…”

“Funny,” she said. “Perv.”

“What?”

“I don’t have any of those.”

“No friends, huh? That doesn’t shock me.”

Rose curled her lip. “What? No. I have friends. I meant the boyfriend stuff. And what the hell? That doesn’t shock you that I might not have friends?”

I laughed so hard that I won the attention of everyone else in the place.

“I’m just messing with you, Slug,” I said with a wink.

“When are you going to stop calling me that?”

“When it stops making you mad.”

When we were younger, people called her flower and other stupid nicknames. So I decided to come up with my own name for her. One day, I don’t remember when, someone told me that there were bugs called rose slugs that would eat roses. The second I heard that, I started calling her Slug. It pissed her off… but it also got her attention every single time I said it.

“It doesn’t make me mad, Foster,” Rose said. “It’s childish.”

“I know,” I said. “I’m a kid at heart.”

I stared at her features. I’d watched them change throughout the years, but when I closed my eyes, I still saw her sitting on the top wooden step of her back porch in a light blue dress, her blonde hair wrapping around the front of her face in a losing battle with a comfortable summer breeze.

Now her hair looked a little darker, probably dyed four hundred and twenty five times. Her face was the same though. A permanent little dimple on her right cheek. A freckle on the left side of her neck.

How many times did the tip of my tongue flick at that freckle and make her jump…?

I turned my head and cleared my throat.

“You okay?” Rose asked.

“Yeah, sorry. Frog in my throat.”

“Hey. You know why a frog is always happy?”

“No, why?”

“Because it eats whatever bugs it.”

“Really?” I asked. “Too bad this isn’t a comedy place. You’d kill it here.”

Rose shrugged her shoulders. “That’s all I’ve got. I wouldn’t be able to cut it in the joke world.”

“Just the coffee world, huh?”

“You know it.”

I smiled. It was nice to talk to her again. Casual. Comfortable. Like coming back home after being away for months.

“So, how is the coffee world?”

“Great. People can’t get enough.”

“Well, it tastes good,” I said. “And your job is to get people to drink it?”

“Yes,” she said. “I set up ad campaigns and hope for the best. I assist the sales team with their presentations. I help with the financials, even though I’m not supposed to.”

“Why not?”

“Well, it’s not my job. But I don’t mind. Could be worse.”

I held up the coffee cup and twisted it back and forth in my hand. “I always knew you’d do something great.”

“Great? Helping run a coffee company isn’t exactly great, Foster.”

I put the coffee down and walked along the small table and leaned against it. “Slug, you run a business. That’s great. You could be doing anything for anyone else for an hourly wage and be unhappy. Are you kidding me right now? You don’t realize this is great?”

“My father wanted me to be a doctor.”

“And my father wanted me to be behind bars,” I said.

Rose looked down. “You know what I mean.”

I touched her arm. “Your father never wanted you to be a doctor, Rose. You know that. He just said that because to him, that was a good job with lots of money. To make up for the money he couldn’t give you and Vivian.”

“Foster, I get that.”

“But behind that was nothing but love. He’s proud of you. I’m sure of it.”

“I think he understood the doctor dream ended when I failed algebra.”

“To be fair, Rose, I think I had something to do with that,” I said with a wink.

She laughed.

God, I miss her laugh. I miss hearing it all the time. In public, like this. In bed, curled up under the covers, whispering forever secrets to each other, sharing moments that nobody else would ever have.

When she laughed, she always threw her head back and opened her mouth really wide. She shut her eyes, put her hands together, her little dimples becoming really big. It was quite honestly an annoying laugh, one you wouldn’t think would come from someone shy like Rose, but it was a laugh that just stuck with you.

Fuck, I know it stuck with me.

I couldn’t stand when a woman wanted to laugh but held back. When she closed her mouth and lowered her eyes, covering her mouth, offering a little giggle.

Not that I would ever compare another woman’s laugh to Rose’s…

“Probably not a good question to ask, Foster,” Rose said, “but… your father…”

I shook my head. “Not around.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m not,” I said. “You know when he comes around things get messy.”

“Yeah,” she said.

There was a moment when our eyes locked. A teetering moment when our hearts needed to make a snap decision. Go to the left as friends or go to the right as something else.

Rose made the decision as she quickly stood up. She opened her mouth to say something and her phone started to beep. You would have sworn her phone was a bomb with a two second timer the way she threw her bag on the chair and turned, her hands diving into it.

“Ah, shoot,” she whispered.

“Everything okay?”

“What? Yeah.” She looked over her shoulder at me. “Just work stuff. I have to get back to my office. Finish this marketing thing I’m working on.”

“Of course,” I said.

She faced forward again. I helped myself to the view, bouncing my tongue between my teeth as I thought about all the times I’d touched those hips of hers. Those little curves that had been there since day one. The only difference now was the way she filled them out. Her hair, even a mostly fake color by now, still had the same thick curls at the ends. My fingers rubbed together, remembering the times I’d play with her hair until she’d fall asleep.

It was all my fault. It was always all my fault.

“You should stop by later,” I said. “Just throwing it out there again.”

Rose turned and threw her bag over her shoulder. “Right. Let me see how the rest of my day goes. Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Ask away,” I said.

“Look at these two pictures.” She reached into her bag. “Tell me which one makes you want to drink coffee.”

“What?” I asked with a laugh.

Rose handed me two pictures. Two different women. Two different places. Two different poses. One looked happy in thought, one looked deep in thought.

I held the pictures up and put one on either side of Rose’s face. I got close to her, maybe too close.

“Foster…?”

My eyes scanned left to right, then back again.

Then I handed the pictures back to Rose.

“Well?” she asked.

I touched her chin, softly. “I’d rather watch you drink coffee.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Is that supposed to be cute? It sounds stalkerish.”

“Fine,” I said. “The one with the woman in the window. Deep in thought. Caring for her heart. Her soul. Exactly what coffee is supposed to do. Much like music.”

We stared at each other again.

Seconds ticked by.

Rose whispered, “Thanks. I’ll, uh, remember that.”

She slipped away and said goodbye to Stephanie as she opened the door. I stood there and watched her get into a newer looking SUV and drive away.

I rubbed my chin.

I told myself after the last time with Rose that I should have left town. Just gotten away from it all for good. But I stayed, a cheap excuse in my heart.

Then again, even if I was away, I wouldn’t be gone.

I snapped my fingers.

There it was.

My missing lyric.

Even if I’m away, I won’t be gone.

* * *

A packed house consisted of the tables being full, people sitting on the super narrow ledge of the window, and a handful of people outside as they took and made phone calls, sent texts, and smoked cigarettes. I couldn’t exactly play all that loud because people needed to be able to order drinks and snacks at the counter. That also meant no full band.

Which left me on stage all alone.

A black barstool. A black acoustic guitar. A mic. My old, beat up amplifier. And a single white light that felt like the sun’s fingertip pressing against the middle of my forehead.

The best part of the little gigs were when I could silence the people. Take them away from their conversations, and more importantly, take them away from their phones. Even if it was for a three minute song, it was well worth it. I had a catalog of songs that I’d written throughout the years. My time of becoming rich and famous had long since passed. Broken bands, failed demos, dive bar shows, roads that all looked the same hardened my skin, and eventually had me settle into what I truly enjoyed. Which was just the art of the song. If one person connected, it was a great show.

Of course, this gig involved zero money. I had a deal worked out with Stephanie. She didn’t charge me rent to use the basement for lessons as long as I played a show a week. It brought people in, they spent money, and everyone was happy. She even let me take tips, which meant I took my favorite baseball cap and flipped it over and balanced it on the edge of the stage. I never once mentioned the hat or money while playing. That’s not why I was doing it.

I had been working on a new song for a little while and my meeting with Rose gave me the final line I needed.

Even if I’m away, I won’t be gone.

I finished the second of ten songs and was surprised to see everyone applauding. Not the pity applause either, but people actually looking at me.

I gave a wave with my guitar pick between my fingers.

“Thanks,” I said. I reached down for a bottle of water. I took a drink. “You know, to make me look cooler up here, I’m going to tell you this is vodka.”

A few people laughed.

Okay, comedy wasn’t my thing. Hey… why is a frog always happy…

I smiled.

Before I could even think her name again, the door to the coffeehouse opened and in walked Rose.

I froze for a few seconds, waiting to see if anyone was with her.

Someone was with her.

Another woman.

Not a guy.

I smirked.

“Okay,” I said. “You don’t want to hear me ramble. Any requests?”

It was crickets.

I laughed. “I’m kidding. Why would you know who I am, right?”

“We love you, Foster!” someone yelled out.

I pointed. “Okay, someone cut her off. Too much caffeine.”

Now that got a little laugh.

I strummed a few stray chords and eyed Rose as she stood near the counter.

“You might not guess by the tore up jeans and cheap looking flannel here,” I said as I strummed the same chords, “but, uh, I like flowers. I mean, I don’t have any in my apartment. They would be dead in twenty minutes.” A few more laughs. “But I like flowers. I can appreciate them. So this song is about my favorite flower. This is called Hey, Rose…”

I strummed the chords and started to play the song.

Now I played that song probably five times a week on a bad week. Just for fun or during my shows. It was my secret song, or at least the meaning, since I played it for so many people already. With Rose in attendance, it now had a new feel to it. I wrote the song outside, after a gig one night with one of the failed bands. The guys had already taken off, and by taken off, I mean everyone went in a different direction. The club owner decided not to pay us for the show either. So I sat on a stack of milk crates, balancing myself, with a pen and paper, staring out to what three in the morning looked like.

And I wrote a letter. Just a guy trying to find his way through the world, writing a letter to someone he had to leave behind because she’d already found her way. Even though she didn’t realize it. It wasn’t exactly a sad song either. Just a song about the shit I’ve seen and done, and even a road at the end of the world still felt like the road back home when I thought about her.

It was probably my worst song. The song that had everyone looking down at their phones. But I enjoyed playing it. And it was my stage for a little while.

After that song, I ran through the rest of what I had planned, including a new song at the very end. I was able to sing that last lingering lyric and the night was complete.

When I was done, the crowd gave me a decent applause and with a wave, I made the awkward walk off the stage. It was awkward because I didn’t get to go backstage and catch my breath. I literally just walked off the stage and joined the crowd. I asked Stephanie for a bottle of water and she jokingly told me it was a buck fifty. I told her to put it on my tab.

I had a one track mind, getting to Rose.

When I got close enough, she applauded me as she held a coffee cup with one hand and tapped the side of it with the other.

“Nice job,” she said.

“That was great,” her friend said.

“This is Molly,” Rose said. “She owns the coffee company.”

“Oh, that shitty coffee they sell here?” I asked.

“What?” Molly asked.

I winked. “I’m joking. I drink enough of it to know it’s good. Really good.”

“Hey, maybe we should get you a t-shirt to wear up on stage,” Molly said. “Sponsor your gigs.”

“Yeah?” I asked.

Molly swatted at Rose. “Why didn’t you think of that, huh? You’re the marketing person.”

“True,” I said. “Where’s your head at, Rose?”

“Really?” Rose asked. She looked at Molly. “Really?”

“I’m serious,” Molly said.

“I don’t sell my soul that cheaply,” I said. “Coffee is good, but not that good. Now, if it was beer…”

“Tomorrow we expand into beer,” Molly said. “Get on it, Rose.”

“You two are idiots,” Rose said.

Molly laughed. She slowly inched away. “I’m going to go talk to Stephanie. Give you two some space.”

“Wow, she’s fast,” I whispered to Rose.

“It’s all she knows,” Rose said. “If it wasn’t for me reeling her in, she’d be bankrupt.”

“Want to go outside and get some air?” I asked.

“Yes.”

I opened the door for Rose as a few people came up to tell me they enjoyed my set. I thanked them. Weirdly enough, one person wanted a selfie with me. I raised an eyebrow, figuring it was a joke. But it wasn’t. What the hell would this selfie prove? I took the picture and went outside.

“Famous,” Rose said as we walked along the front of the building, away from a small group of people smoking.

“You know it,” I said.

“That was really good, Foster. Seriously. I mean, I knew you were good. Haven’t seen you play in a while though.”

“It’s fun now.”

“It wasn’t fun before?”

“Not like this,” I said. “I just get up there and don’t give a shit. There’s a lot of freedom in life when you just don’t give a shit. When you just let it all go.”

“Right. Let it all go.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah.”

“Rose,” I said.

She turned and walked around the side of the building. I went after her and gently caught hold of her arm. “Hey. What’s up?”

“Nothing. It’s just what you said. It’s so true. It’s so you, Foster.”

“What did I say?”

“That you don’t give a shit. That you just let it all go.”

“Ah, fuck, Rose…”

“No, I get it. And then that song you played. Nobody was listening, but I was. You’ve never played that song before. I’ve never heard it.”

“I play that song all the time,” I said. “You just haven’t been around.”

“You didn’t want me around, remember?”

“Whoa. Don’t say that, Slug…”

“Don’t call me that right now.” Rose looked away. “I shouldn’t have come here tonight. I knew this was going to happen.”

“What? What is happening?”

“This. Us. We can’t be near each other, Foster. We try to talk, joke, but it always goes back to the same thing. We talk about my father, my sister, your father, and next thing I know I’m standing there and you’re singing a song called Hey, Rose and I have Molly whispering into my ear, wanting to know if the song is about me.”

I ran a hand through my hair. “What do you want then, Rose? We can’t erase the past, right? Your father was and still is the most important figure in my life.”

“Yeah? When was the last time you saw him?”

I curled my lip. “I’m not doing this.”

“Oh, you don’t like being told when you’re wrong. Typical.”

“Typical,” I said. “You trying to point out everyone’s flaws, Rose. Instead of just taking this as is.”

“As is… what? What is this?”

“Jesus,” I whispered. “I thought it would be nice for you to come here and hang. Watch me play a set. Have a conversation. I don’t know. I don’t have every second planned out. I’m not you.”

“Me? You think I have everything planned out?” She laughed. “You don’t know me as well as you think then.”

She tried to move and I grabbed her wrist. “Then let’s fix that. I didn’t mean to bring you here and get you upset. You want me to apologize for the past? I will. But I don’t want to bring up the past.”

“You know what, it doesn’t even matter, Foster,” Rose said. She pulled her hand away. “This is my fault. I came here. I knew what could happen. Being near you is instantly dangerous. And not just because of the past.”

“Then why?”

“Because it’s you, Foster,” she said. “It’s you. You’re dangerous. To me. My mind. My heart. Everything.”

I nodded. “Right. Yet we live in the same town and we’ve seen each other how many times? Now all of a sudden it’s an issue.”

“I didn’t say it’s an issue. I just said…”

“Said what?” I asked. “You’re crossing the lines, Rose. Not me. Look, I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry I invited you to come here tonight. I didn’t mean to play a song that would get you this upset…”

“You don’t get it,” she said.

“Get what?”

“A stupid song does this to me,” she whispered. “What do you think that means, Foster?”

We were lit up by a streetlight buzzing high above us. At the side of the coffeehouse, near the corner where there was little traffic. It was a cool night but I was seconds away from breaking out in a sweat being so close to Rose. Her brown eyes shined like polished wood. I couldn’t tell if she was getting emotional or what.

“What do I think that means,” I whispered.

I stepped toward her.

I curled my lip. Rose was the only woman who could ever bring out the emotions that I worked so hard to hide. I already knew who I was to her. First love. First heartache. But I’d always assumed that anything that looked like forever was just a dumb fairy tale. Shit, she had lived through enough with what happened to her mother. I had lived through enough with my parents too. Although they were two very different worlds.

“I think it means what it’s not supposed to mean,” I whispered. “And that’s the worst part, isn’t it?”

“Probably.”

“Which means you should go.”

“Probably.”

“Which means we should try harder to avoid each other.”

“Probably,” Rose whispered.

“I’ll leave,” I said. “You stay with Molly. Go let some guy buy you a coffee and talk about his new tech startup company. Or maybe he’ll brag about his fancy cell phone and all the cool stuff he and his friends learned while backpacking through Europe so they could find themselves. And then you could talk about you marketing for a cool coffee company.”

She slowly nodded. “Yeah. That’s a good idea.”

I dared myself to reach for her, but at this point in my life, I actually tried to do this thing… you know, where you do the right thing.

I inched away. “I didn't want you to be here and get upset. I didn’t trick you into hearing a song. I had no intention of messing with my own heart. Just for the record.”

“Foster,” Rose called out.

“Yeah?”

“What kind of shoes do frogs wear?”

I raised an eyebrow. “What’s with you and jokes?”

“A defense thing,” she said.

“You’re scared of me, Rose?”

“I’m scared of us.”

“You know, someone once told me you have to face your fears.”

“That’s true.”

Ah, fuck this…

I walked toward her and she managed one step before my hands found and settled right against those precious curves of her.

Our lips touched and it was just like home. The kiss I could never forget. The kiss I would crave. The kiss I could never replicate with anyone else, no matter how hard I tried, and no matter how many hearts I broke.

It was a quick kiss.

I broke it and asked, “So tell me… what kind of shoes do frogs wear?”

“Open toad,” Rose whispered.

“That’s stupid.”

“I know.”

I kissed her again.

A lyric I took out of a song tonight popped into my head.

Hey, Rose, I still love you - today and probably tomorrow.