Loved - A Novel (3 page)

              The last corner of sky had turned black and the crickets sang as if their day had just begun.  I was holding one of my kittens and Crystal was
texting
some guys from her cell phone. She wanted Trey to come over. He was one of the popular guys in her class and a year older than me. I thought he had a girlfriend but he had been hanging out with Crystal lately. I noticed that most of the guys who hung out with Crystal acted like they didn’t know her when they saw her elsewhere. Trey answered Crystal’s text, letting her know that
he would be over soon. Crystal’s eyes began to gleam that satisfied sparkle I was getting to know so well. She smiled mischievously, the dimple in her chin deepened and then she spat on the grass. She had taught me how to spit when we cleaned the barns.

              “God, he’s so hot,” she said, clearly gearing up for an evening with Trey. “Don’t you think so? I would have him bring a friend but…”

              “No, that’s ok,” I interrupted, waving her off. I didn’t need some random guy to keep me company. The last time she did that it was a guy from Ohio named Rooster who tried to kiss me in the barn. “I’ll be fine on my own.”

              I thought about how very early in our friendship my parents had decided that Crystal made them uncomfortable. I knew why but I also thought that if she was nice enough to me, what did it matter what she did when I wasn’t around? She didn’t make me steal or drink so who cared? Perhaps, I explained to them, I might even be a positive influence on her. I even took her to youth group with me a couple times. Though, if I was honest with myself, she did make me uncomfortable sometimes too.

              Trey pulled up in his red low rider truck. We all stood outside the tent and talked for a few minutes before going inside and zipping the doors shut. The ground was hard under my sleeping bag so I tossed around a few times trying to get comfortable while Crystal and Trey whispered. I wondered to myself if I should just go ahead and walk up the driveway and
get a good night’s sleep in my bed. Crystal giggled.

              I tried to explain that I was going to head home but they both insisted I stay. I knew I would only make it worse if I argued. It would make me seem more childish. Instead, I put the pillow over my head and pretended I was somewhere else while they had sex in her sleeping bag next to me.

I believed that sex was special and here it was in front of me with no love story in sight. I knew that Crystal would pay no penance for her sins. She was doing what she wanted to do
and she would get away with it. Then she’d do it again.  I fell asleep feeling sad and confused; my own values suddenly were worth so much less in this strange new light.

              For the rest of the summer, our days were spent singing or hanging out with guys at the park while our nights served as my introduction to a life of teenage rebellion; though I still felt more like a fly on the wall than a participant. Sure, I made out with a couple of guys who paid me a little bit of attention but I never let it go farther than kissing.  I was worried about being thought of as a tease but I didn’t see the point of going further with any of these boys. None of them seemed like boyfriend material to me and that was what I was after. What I had been through with my first boyfriend caused my hope in Westville guys to wane. Plus, I was setting my sights on a life in the music industry. Everything else was just temporary.

             
August, 1999.

              My parents, Crystal and I drove about two hours south to see our new friends in the band of brothers play at the West Virginia State Fair.  It was a much smaller production than the country festival so it was easy for us to find the guys before the show, no passes needed.  We stood around the back of the stage where some of the brothers and their crewmembers, many of whom we’d met at the last show, were loading in their gear.  We hadn’t met their tour manager, Paul, a very tall guy with an oval face and wavy blonde hair covered with a black ball cap that read, “CAA.” 

              I watched him as he messed with cords and instruments and instructed the others on what needed to be done next.  He had a kind but authoritative tone, not bossy or cold, but definitely serious and responsible.  Suddenly, he looked up at me from across the stage, straight into my eyes and grinned. The moment lasted long enough that I blushed.  When he turned away, I said to Crystal in a low voice, “That’s the guy I’ve been looking for. I’m going to marry him.”

              “I’m never getting married,” she said, “but good for you.”

              We sat in the grass in front of the stage and watched the band play. I studied their reactions to each other and the comfort they had
with their instruments. They’d been playing their whole lives and it showed. I lay back in the grass and listened as small clouds moved slowly across the sky. I could feel the warmth of the sun on my face despite the cool late-summer northern air. The music floated around me, through me; it was part of me. Crystal, my parents and everyone around me was enjoying the show, sure, but I thought I was experiencing the music in a very different way. This was my destiny, unfolding itself across the West Virginia grass and into my soul.

              After the show, I talked with Paul outside the bus for a while about how he had come to work with the brothers and
what Nashville was like. He asked about my ambitions and my hometown. We exchanged phone numbers and promised to stay in touch.

              Just before school started Crystal showed her horses at our county fair, the social event of the summer. It was the first chance for everyone to see friends who’d scattered for the summer and a chance for me to run into Jeff Meyers. My crush on him was two years old, sparked when
I sat behind him in freshman Algebra. I would detail for Meredith, my best friend in that class, every word he ever said to me. We would dissect his tone and vocabulary for any shred of interest on his part, but we knew that asking a girl if you can borrow her pencil is in no way a romantic gesture. Still, I hoped I would see him at the fair and that suddenly he would notice me and we could leave Westville together.

              I stayed in the trailer with Crystal at the horse camp so that I could be at the fair every night. I met up with Meredith most of the time because Crystal hung out with the carnies and the cowboys and they made me nervous. Her school friends made me uncomfortable but I flat out didn’t belong with her fair friends. Plus, I wanted to see some of the girls who I had been neglecting over the summer.

              As I walked the midway with some friends from my class, I remembered my first concert, which was at this very fair. I was thirteen and so was LeAnn Rimes. In awe, I watched her and I knew that if she could be in the music business so could I.

              I wandered the dusty paths between the throw-a-dart-at-the-balloon game and the squirt-the-water-in-the-hole game, ignoring the sounds. 

“Hey there beautiful, does the pretty girl want to play?  I’ll give you three throws for a dollar. C’mon!” 

I rolled my eyes.  I knew better than to be flattered; they were supposed to say stuff like that.  These guys were selling something. They weren’t really seeing me, wanting to talk to me or calling me pretty.

              And what would I win anyway? A plastic frog? A stuffed teddy bear? That frog won’t turn into a prince and I want something better than a teddy bear hugging me at night. No, my mind was far away, scanning the crowds of couples with stuffed tigers and kids with cotton candy, waiting for Jeff Meyers to appear and tell me he’d missed me all summer. Maybe I would give him that special look I was starting to learn. Meredith snapped me out of my daze and told me it was time we go home; summer was over for us this year.

             
September, 1999.

              School started in the fall and I became increasingly eager to get out of Westville and start on the path to my future. I talked with Paul, the tour manager, on the phone most nights. It wasn’t all business. In fact, it wasn’t much business.  He definitely flirted with me. My own phone line would ring right about the time I should have been going to bed and it was Paul calling from whatever town they were in that night.  I would hide under the covers and talk quietly so my parents wouldn’t know I was up so late, just like when I was a kid and would read books under the covers with a flashlight.

              Our conversation spanned from talking about our church backgrounds to what I was sleeping in (boxers and a T-shirt), to what city they’d just played and where they were headed next (Indianapolis or maybe Wichita). He told me all about the people he had met on the road and about the unreleased albums he’d heard that he thought I might like. I told him about my theatre class and the bonfire parties we had at our house over the fall. When he was flirting, he spoke in a soft voice, like we were telling secrets. He would ask if I was dating anyone at school. I told him these guys didn’t understand me. We both kept saying we looked forward to seeing each other again.

              In one of our conversations, Paul told me about a school in Nashville called Belmont University where “Music Business” was one of the majors. I didn’t even know such a thing existed. 

              “It’s really well known and the program is great,” he told me. “The students all do internships on Music Row,” he added as if he even needed to sell it to me.

              “That’s amazing!” I whispered with excitement. “I have to go there!” 

              “You absolutely should and I wouldn’t mind having you in Nashville,” he said and I could hear the smile in his voice.

That is how I can make this happen!
  I didn’t just have to dream it anymore.
I knew the next step: College in Nashville, specifically to be an artist manager. I was starting to see a path for my future that began with escaping Westville.  How soon can I go?

              The thought of two more years in Westville made me want to die so I went to my guidance counselor and asked him if there was any way I could graduate early. He discovered a program called Early Admission, where I could attend Belmont as a full time freshman the following year and count any classes needed for high school towards my graduation at Westville. I would then
graduate high school after my first year of college. It sounded too good to be true. If this was real, I could be at college orientation in a less than a year.

              I went home and told my parents about it.  Their first reaction was that I could go if it was only a semester early but not for the entire year. I argued. I pleaded. We met with the counselor and eventually they agreed that I could apply and if I got in, I could go.

             
December, 1999.

              We flew to Nashville over Christmas break to visit Belmont University. My parents agreed that
Crystal could tag along if she was responsible for herself and got her own hotel room. I barely even looked at the school. We saw the outside of the library and a few other buildings. We noticed the campus’ proximity to Music Row. My feet hit the soil and I knew that it was where I belonged. Every brick was calling my name. I didn’t care if it was early or not, it was the only place for me. 

              Paul drove Crystal and I around town. He took us to the brothers’ apartment and a couple of the guys came with us to get coffee at a place called Café Coco. I liked Café Coco right away. There were a lot of young artistic-looking people hanging out there. I ordered something called a Café Loco, an iced coffee drink with banana flavor and it was delicious.

              The sparks Paul and I had over the phone were definitely there in person. He always looked me in the eyes when he was talking to me
and even when he wasn’t. He hugged me a bit longer than if he was saying
hello
to an acquaintance. He spoke very highly of me and of my ambitious nature when he introduced me to his many friends.  After coffee, he drove me back to my hotel then took Crystal to hers.

              The next day, my family and Crystal went to see Tim McGraw and Faith Hill in concert to ring in the New Year, all breathing a sigh of relief when Y2K didn’t cause the world to end. We also stopped at the Country Music Hall of Fame, where we admired old Dolly Parton costumes and took pictures on a pretend Opry stage, pretending to be singing into a pretend microphone.

              But soon, it would all be real to me, all of my dreams!  I was moving to Nashville, heading toward a career on Music Row. I was excited about the prospect of spending more time with Paul.  He was a good friend to have or maybe more than a friend, I didn’t know yet. Regardless, being around him made me happy and that was something to be excited about.  Everything in my life
seemed to be falling right into place.

              Back in Westville, it was school, snow and boredom as usual. Crystal and I went out for pizza. She was talking about a rodeo that she was going to in Ohio the following weekend.  I was only half-listening, thinking about my upcoming SAT’s and trying to estimate the number of days before August. I took a bite of my cheese pizza, thinking it had to be something like 200 days, maybe 230, when she broke me out of my daydreaming.

              “I have to tell you something,” she giggled and bit her lower lip, the dimple in her chin deepened.             

              I was beginning to hate
the moments when she was so pleased with herself for doing something I most likely didn’t agree with and making light of things I took seriously. I was starting to resent how she would do anything to be the center of attention. I was becoming aware of how she would put me on the back burner when sex or alcohol was available to her. I knew I wasn’t going to like what she was about to tell me.             

              “I slept with Paul.” 

              She smiled proudly, her eyes gleamed but her words sank into my stomach like stones. That was the moment!  That was the glass breaking. That was the beginning of the end. I blinked a few times at her and felt my chin begin to quiver and then my eyes spilled over with tears. I wanted out of there. I didn’t want my pizza anymore; I wanted to throw it at her.