Ten Years Ago

There were flashes, moments where I should have seen it coming. Just a tiny inkling of the way the day would unravel. I was eighteen, however, and oblivious to foreshadowing, subtlety, and the art of small talk. All three combined disastrously.

“Will you have time to talk after the show?” said Kaycee, her hands held together in her lap like a tidy British grandmother.

I hemmed and hawed a little, accelerating to zip past a light that was turning from yellow to red. We weren’t late, exactly, but we were cutting it close to the setup call time for the concert. One of the downsides to spending the holiday at Beech Lake.

A significant upside was getting Kaycee all to myself when we met up for Thanksgiving. No dorm mates, no new college friends, just Kaycee. That was something Beech Lake had going for it that Minneapolis couldn’t beat.

The worst part, however, was that we were a couple hours away from one of the biggest concerts in my life. Jack and Kyle had driven up the night before, taking my dad with them so that they could revel in the night together before playing our home state.

Stevie had called early in the morning to remind me of when to arrive, and I’d said yeah but had immediately rolled over in bed to kiss Kaycee and forgotten half of what he’d told me.

“Sure,” I said. “You betcha. You can come backstage and party with us. Jack and Kyle said Stevie bought a whack of beer, and he might be able to score some weed too.”

Kaycee didn’t meet my eye when I looked over at her. She was facing the window, where the sleet was spattering the glass in a way that almost looked magical, if you could ignore the fact that it meant winter was here and wouldn’t leave for months.

“Ok,” she said. And then she didn’t turn to me, didn’t say anything else for the rest of the drive to the venue.

Again, I should have seen it coming.

She kissed my cheek and wished me luck before finding her seat, a place I’d asked Stevie to reserve for her near the stage so that she could see everything up close. And I went to the dressing room to find my brothers.

This was going to be the hometown show, another smash hit in a series of concerts we had scheduled across the country to celebrate the release of our album. The Avowed was more than just a series of videos on the Internet now. It was a band, a real band, and we had the van procured by Stevie to prove it.

I almost couldn’t wait to get onstage and play.

Almost being the operative word, seeing as Kaycee wouldn’t be coming with us when we continued West. New York, Boston, Chicago, all the stops along the way here had been filled with the exhilaration of our first tour, and of the promise that I’d see her when we got back to Minnesota.

Now, we’d keep driving on past the state where I’d grown up, where I’d fallen in love, where I hoped to return after the tour ended. But everything had changed.

To say that the tour was successful was a wild understatement. We’d been playing sold out shows, stunned by the thousands of fans that met us each night, thronging the hallways, the sidewalks, everywhere. Before we’d gone on tour it seemed imaginary. It was vividly real now.

We talked about recording more songs when we were done, planning a world tour afterwards. Stevie told us we were making incredible whacks of cash. It was thrilling.

And though I was a little surprised Kaycee didn’t seem excited for the show, my thoughts were soon redirected to the pre-show ritual that Kyle had devised for us. We’d each take a shot of tequila, licking the salt off of our hands in a circle, and then pile into a group hug that entangled all our limbs messily, me, Kyle, Jack, and Stevie almost indistinguishable in the fray.

So I was buzzing when we lined up to go onstage, a combination of the tequila and the anticipation. There was nothing that could compare to being onstage playing for a crowded room of people all beyond pumped to see you do what you loved most. I was exceptionally lucky that I got to play for all those buoyant fans as well as my girlfriend.

Then we went on, triggering a shriek of ecstasy from the crowd, a roar so deafening I thanked myself yet again for putting in earplugs before we went on. Stevie was a key player in getting me to agree to that move. I made a mental note to thank him later.

I spotted Kaycee at the front, her red hair brilliant even at this distance. With a brief wave, I greeted her before I sat at my drum kit. Though she waved back, I wanted more. A kiss, some tongue. Maybe even more than that.

She hadn’t seen us play since we’d gotten big. Definitely hadn’t been to a show we held at this kind of stadium-sized venue before. I was excited. She’d see how real we’d gotten. How successful. I could imagine that she’d be impressed, the size of the crowd being what it was.

A throng of girls was packed at the front, many of whom were clamoring to be noticed. Kyle noodled on the guitar, strutting up to the edge so he could stand just above them, giving them a taste of being closed to an Avowed brother. Fame suited him—almost too well.

Jack glanced at me, ready to start playing. I counted him in and then started an elaborate rhythm that consisted entirely of cymbals, just enough of a shimmering pattern that he and Kyle could overlay music on top to a thrilling effect. It was a song that made the crowd dance, carried by Jack’s bass line and some staccato bursts of Kyle’s guitar, toned with wah pedal.

Throughout it all, though, Kaycee sat watching me. She wasn’t dancing. Truth be told, I hadn’t pictured her dancing when I imagined her here. I’d been too busy assuming she’d be grinning at me, whooping and cheering. It seemed naive in retrospect; she clearly wasn’t happy. Not mad, just…distant.

I tried not to let it shake me, played through the distortion of my feelings as I wondered what was wrong with Kaycee. It was a great show, despite my distraction. I was glad she got to see us at our best, crowd responding to our every note as if it were an elixir of life. But apparently our best wasn’t enough.

We tumbled backstage, Jack and Kyle triumphant with our show’s success. Stevie had readied a bottle of champagne and some cases of beer, and a couple of beautiful girls rounded the corner just as we sat down. Stevie nodded to me and then waved to Kaycee, who was waiting in the wings just behind the girls. She outshone them like a bonfire to a candle, so clearly of a higher caliber that I almost smiled.

Then I saw her expression, a pale, drawn mask of her usual self.

“Can we talk out back?” she said, nodding to the stage door that opened to the alleyway. One of the girls fawning over Kyle giggled and Kaycee stifled a smirk. She didn’t belong here.

Did I?

We moved outside, my hands almost numb as I waited to hear what she wanted to say.

“No one died, right?” I said. I’d meant it as a joke, but once it was out in the open I wanted to take the words back. They landed like a wet sponge.

Kaycee just blinked at me. “Winston,” she said. Then she stopped, as if searching for the perfect word to follow my name.

“I’m sorry, that wasn’t cool,” I said. She nodded vaguely, barely focusing on my comment as she continued to think. I could picture the gears in her head whirring, perfect machinery I could never fully comprehend. Kaycee was so, so much smarter than me.

“I’m not sure I can do this,” she said, finally. And though the tightening in my chest followed shortly afterwards, though I felt a thickness rising in my throat and distant hum echoing in my ears, I didn’t want to believe it.

Not like this.

We were meant to be together, I knew it.

She had to be talking about something else, someone else. We were solid. We were the kind of lovers who met and sparked immediately, who had a friendship as well as a relationship, who talked about the dreams we had like we’d be together for the rest of our lives.

I’d been looking forward to it. Had daydreamed about buying a cabin somewhere near Beech Lake just for us when the tour was over: Kaycee could stay there every few weekends when her college life wasn’t too busy, and I could play drums as loud as I wanted because it would be isolated, rejuvenating.

It would have been our home. The start to a life together that I knew would have all sorts of bumps, twists, and challenges. I’d thought I was ready until here I was, confronted with a completely different twist than I’d planned for.

Kaycee was staring at me, tears welling in her eyes as she waited for me to say something.

But what could I possibly say?

What words could I utter that would convey how wrong this decision was?

It didn’t seem fair to me, that one person could decide something like that all on their own. We were a team, and surely that should have meant we’d choose our future together.

Of course, that wasn’t how it worked. Wasn’t how any breakup went. So few of my teenaged friends were lucky enough to find someone like Kaycee, let alone stick with them. I had no examples to draw upon or ideas to mine just in case I could convince her to stay.

“What?” I said, my voice just a hoarse whisper. If I said anything more, anything louder, I knew I’d break. My facade would crumble and I would melt into tears just like Kaycee was threatening to do.

“Please don’t make me say it again, Win,” she whispered back. The tears that had been ready to fall from her eyes began to stream down her smooth cheeks. I resisted the urge to run my thumb along her skin to catch them.

“Why, K? We’re so good together,” I said. When I reached for her to pull her close, she didn’t back away or stop me. She just moved in, comforted by the contact in the same way I was: it was bittersweet, familiar, everything we’d had and could have. Everything we wouldn’t have anymore.

“I know,” she said, her voice muffled slightly by my shirt. I could feel the warmth of her breath seeping through the fabric and wanted to press her against me so tightly she could never let go. Instead, I pulled back a little to look down at her beautiful, teary face.

“Please don’t do this,” I said. Again, my voice wavered with the emotions I was fighting. My eyes stung and throat felt so constricted I could have sworn I was suffering from a severe allergic attack to the mere notion of breaking up.

“We have to,” she said. “Win, you’re going to be all over the country for weeks. Months. And then who knows what will happen? The band’s gotten so big. You’re…so famous.”

“But that means nothing without you,” I said. “You know that, right? We can fly you out to a few places, meet in the middle. I can come back to visit now and then…”

“You’re not going to stop touring and playing music though?”

“It’s not my decision alone,” I started to say. But Kaycee continued.

“I’m not finished. That’s part of it—who knows what will happen with The Avowed over the next few years. How can we survive that? I want every success in the world for you, but I also know that I need to be here. Studying. Or I won’t get into law school like I planned, and you know how important that is to me.”

“I know,” I said. There was tenderness in my chest that felt like an aching heart wound, or a punch to the solar plexus. On some, horrible level, Kaycee was right.

But she couldn’t be.

“We can figure it out, K,” I said. “Dreams are important, but so are you.”

Something snapped inside Kaycee when I said that and a sob racked her small body. I drew her closer again, trying to hug the pain out of her entirely. I never wanted to see her hurting like that. Not ever.

“You’re more important to me than anyone,” she said. “Winston, you’ve transformed my life.”

“So have you,” I whispered, my words so woefully inadequate in comparison to the way Kaycee had outright exploded my self-conception. There had been Winston before, like a shaky stick drawing, and the Winston after meeting her, a vibrant painting full of life and wonder.

“I love you,” she said. Again her words were muffled by my clothing, which made me smile just a little.

“I love you too.”

I couldn’t believe how much it hurt to say that. Even so, it was true, and always would be.

“Why can’t we stay together?” I said, knowing full well how pathetic that sounded.

Bargaining was one of the stages of loss, right?

“Because I need to focus,” Kaycee said. “Win, I failed one of my midterms.”

“No!” I said. That couldn’t have happened to Kaycee. For a second, my mind simply assumed that the professor had mixed up students and accidentally given her back the exam with harsh grades.

“I took the test the night after your first show,” she said. “And I’d stayed up late to talk to you afterwards. I was so excited for you, I guess I didn’t study properly.”

“I’m so sorry,” I said. There were no words in my mind after that. Only the sadness I felt, knowing that Kaycee pinned so much of her plans on those grades. They were her escape from a town she’d never felt at home in. The key to unlocking a future she’d been chasing for years.

And we’d gotten so focused on my burgeoning success that she’d fallen to the sidelines.

I never wanted her to have to pay any price for my fame, let alone one that jeopardized her academic dreams.

“It’s just too much. The way you guys are going, you’ll be circling the globe on the regular while I’m just sitting here waiting. I can’t lose you, but I can’t lose myself either.”

Kaycee’s voice was unlike her usual self, her typical driven and confident tone completely subsumed by sadness.

“I get that,” I said. No matter what my nerves were screaming, what horrible feelings were roiling in my stomach, I had to be stable. Strong. If Kaycee needed me to accept my fate, I could. It was bigger than just me and my desire to love her, be close to her.

She sniffled and hugged me tighter, as if the moment she let go would be when it became true, when we were no longer together but just a couple of teenagers way out of their depth. I didn’t want her to let go, either, because while her arms were still around me I could still smell her hair, could still feel the beating of her heart thrumming against my chest.

“You’re going to do amazing things, K,” I said, stroking her hair. She probably wouldn’t want me to do that, soon. “Kick all the academic butt for me, ok?”

Though my voice wavered, it was purely a miracle that kept me from falling apart completely. I wasn’t sure who I would be without her. I wasn’t sure I even wanted to find out.

“I’ll try my best,” she said.

“I know you will.”

“And The Avowed’s really good, Win. I couldn’t appreciate it in the same way today because all I could think about was this horrible moment and knowing it had to happen, but you guys rock. The world is lucky you’re in it.”

“Thanks, K. I’m lucky you’re in my life.”

“Me too.”

“Kaycee?”

“Yeah?”

Her face was turned up towards mine, so close I could lean down and kiss her if I wanted to. And believe me, every last cell in my body screamed for me to press my lips against hers, to taste that beautiful strawberry pink mouth one last time. But that would only prolong the agony of our breakup.

I had to be bigger than that need.

“We’ll still be friends, right?”

She smiled, her furrowed brows relaxing as the idea washed over her. A substantial volume of relief was mixed in with it.

“Absolutely,” she said. And judging by the resolute tone of her voice, I’d have a friend in her no matter whether I wanted to or not.

“Good,” I said.

Because I wasn’t sure I could survive without her in my life. It was as harrowing a prospect as any nightmare I’d ever had. And when she turned to go back inside and re-join the post-show revelry, I realized how profoundly my life would change without her as my girlfriend.

Even if we were still friends, there would always be a small part of me that would cling to that memory, to the sensation of her lips on mine, and would remember it as if it were encoded in my genes, an involuntary, absorbing fact of my life.

I drank in the sight of her that night, watched her celebrate our show as if nothing had happened, because she wanted me to be the one to tell Jack and Kyle in private. It took the last willpower I had not to bury myself in alcohol and scream into the sky that night.