Chapter 25
Darren
I woke up the next morning with Bailey still in my arms from our night of intense passion. Her eyes were closed, her hair draped over her face, and she was nuzzled into me. It was the best way I’d ever started a Saturday. I didn’t want to be anywhere else in the world. I only wanted to be with her.
I got to hold her and stare at her beauty for quite some time. But, all good things come to an end. My end was ushered in by her phone’s alarm going off. She woke up, pushing herself slightly away from me. She rubbed her enchanting eyes, opening them just enough for me to see myself in them.
“Hey,” she whispered.
“Good morning, beautiful.”
“There’s no way I look beautiful right now,” she mumbled. “You’re lying.”
“Never. I wouldn’t change a thing about you.”
“I wish I felt the same way,” she said, patting me on the shoulder. “You’re sweet. How’d you sleep?”
“Wonderfully, thank you.”
She leaned up, kissed my lips, and rolled out of bed. With the sunlight pouring in, I was easily able to see her entire delectable naked body. I immediately wanted to pull her back into bed and start the day the way we’d ended the night before.
Instead of speaking up, I receded back into the covers. She eventually came back in, wearing a sexy black bra and thong that left little to the imagination.
“I guess if you have to put something on, that’s what it should be,” I said.
She giggled. “Shut up. You really like it?”
“You look like a supermodel,” I told her. “Better, really.”
“Okay, now I know you’re full of shit,” she said, crossing her arms. “I don’t even look like Bailey Wright right now. I do like the underwear, though.”
“You look incredible, Bailey,” I said as sincerely as possible. “I can’t get over how rapturously—”
“Okay, it looks good, I believe you! I don’t want to put clothes on. I don’t want to leave this bed.”
“Then, don’t leave this bed,” I said patting the covers beside me.
“I wish I could, but I need to get ready,” she said. “Leah sent me a text asking if we could meet up for a while this morning to talk.”
“Ah, now I feel bad,” I said. “Did she not talk to you yesterday because I was with you? She could’ve trusted me.”
“It’s not like that,” she assured. “I’m not really sure what she wants to talk about. It’s probably more of the usual: record deal, tours, new songs. She didn’t get to talk with me much after she left Rome. We have some catching up to do.”
“I can keep your bed warm, that’s fine,” I said, growing happier with the idea of falling back asleep.
“Or, I can call a cab or an Uber and leave you the car,” she suggested. “You could drive around a bit. Go out into the city and see what you think about it. You can find things that look interesting to you, and then we can go later or tomorrow. Oh! You should go to the Pyramid.”
“Memphis has a pyramid?”
“We have the pyramid,” she continued. “It’s an actual pyramid that was used as an arena for years. It’s one of the biggest pyramids in the world. It’s owned by Bass Pro now, so it has the tacky logo all over parts of it. But if you get past that, it’s really impressive. You can also go toward the top and see all of Memphis from the lookout.”
“I wish I’d brought my good camera,” I said.
“You could bring one of my guitars with you,” she suggested playfully. “You might feel inspired when you get that high.”
I had been contemplating many things frequently by then. I did wonder if living out in a big city like Memphis would be entirely out of the question. I told myself that thoughts like that had to dissipate if they were fueled primarily by sexual flames.
Since I felt confident that the roots of my ideas weren’t planted by sex, it felt healthier to consider them. I felt that it would also be easier and effective if I got out and saw new and different things to help “stir the pot.”
I got out of bed and put my boxers on. By the time I was getting my pants on, Bailey was already dressed and running a brush through her hair.
“What do you say?” she wondered. “Should I leave you the keys?”
“Yes, please.”
She tossed me her keys, and I caught them, putting them in my back pocket. I threw a shirt on from my luggage and hurried out of the bedroom before she could leave.
She looked at her reflection, put on her sunglasses, and blew me a kiss.
“Don’t get into trouble out there,” she said. “Text me!”
“I’ll let you know what I’m up to!”
She left to meet with Leah, and I was left alone with my thoughts. Rather than immerse me entirely, I decided to take Bailey’s advice and explore. I was optimistic that Memphis could win me over.
I spotted her old acoustic guitar in her bedroom closet collecting dust, and I figured she wouldn’t mind if I borrowed it. I grabbed a guitar pick from her “pick basket” that she had by the front door. I brushed my teeth, grabbed a granola bar, and hit the road.
I decided to go first to the Memphis Pyramid to see the view from above. The place was packed with many Bass Pro shoppers, most wearing something in camouflage or an American flag on it. Despite the fact that most of the men in the place were carrying a firearm and looked like they wanted an excuse to use it, I was the one that received the most stares because I was carrying a guitar on my back.
I went up the elevator that took me hundreds of feet up until it reached the lookout. There were some other people scattered about, most of them taking pictures. I didn’t feel like taking the guitar out of its case, but I did want to enjoy the view.
If you walked around the whole pyramid, you could indeed see all of Memphis and more. It was a nice observation deck, and it provided one of my highlights of the city.
Unfortunately, like the elevator I got into, things went down from there.
The people that I encountered during my day were rude, morose, or stoic, or all of the above. There appeared to be some solidarity among the people in terms of how to feel. No one smiled. Everyone over forty looked uncomfortable to be alive, and everyone under forty looked agitated and rushed. The homeless people I saw on the sidewalks seemed happier than the average citizen.
Around places that had a music scene it was better, but not wholly. There were many people playing instruments and singing songs without a care in the world, which was inspiring to see. The only downside is that most people walking past them barely paid any attention to the unique sounds that were being played all around them.
Another dose of reality was that, even though many of the musicians were talented and content to play, they still didn’t seem happy. It wasn’t that drain one can get when “losing the dream.” They seemed exhausted, ready for something new.
Customer service in most of the places I went to was lacking. I figured that southern hospitality would’ve been practiced all over Tennessee, but it wasn’t the case. To top it off, I was even unlucky with the meter readers. I was only two minutes late arriving back to where I’d parked Bailey’s car on the road, and someone was already there finishing up a parking ticket, eager to smack it on the windshield like a jackass.
No matter where I drove or walked to, I could never find a place where I felt inspired enough to take out Bailey’s old guitar and play. Every time I saw a place or spot that looked promising and like something that would stay in my memory forever, I couldn’t get invested. The sounds of the city would get in my head and frustrate my senses. The thousands of cars zipping by in an hour all making loud noises; obnoxious people yelling loud enough for Nashville to hear them; music blaring that couldn’t sound good no matter how close or far you were to it.
When Bailey was first moving to Memphis, she felt sure that it was the right move for her to make. Then, she talked about how much she loved the city and how she knew immediately that it was the right decision for her.
I knew that I would have to accept another hard truth, after coming to grips with another major one. I began to accept that maybe Garrett was right, and I wasn’t going to be comfortable in a place like Memphis. The truth was I knew right away that Memphis was not for me, and I probably wouldn’t be in a rush to come back after I returned home.
It was only mid-afternoon, and I wanted to give more of Memphis a chance, but I was much more willing to accept how I felt about Memphis than I was about anything related to Bailey directly. I decided to go back to her bed, where my happiest Tennessee memories thus far had been made.
I lay back in bed, still dressed, holding Bailey’s old guitar and wondering what to play.
I tried playing a variety of different popular songs, but I couldn’t get into any of them, no matter how much I loved them.
However, I found that as I played around with a few progressions that I made up as I went along, I was finally beginning to have some fun. I wasn’t sure what the music was going to be about, but I knew it was going to feel great to play.