Sound Bites: A Rock & Roll Love Story (26 page)

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw it. A dark hooded figure, pacing in circles in the back corner of the park. I could spot Dylan’s mannerisms from a mile away. The way his bobbed his head up and down like a pigeon when he walked, his lips moving ever so slightly as he carried on a private conversation with himself.

My body felt detached from my head as I found myself floating in his direction, with no idea what I was going to say or how he was going to react. I drifted closer and closer until he finally stopped pacing and looked up.

As soon as our eyes met, his face dropped in shock, and for a split second I almost turned and ran in the other direction. But instead of the hard look I was expecting, the coldness that had replayed itself every time I shut my eyes, he smiled.

I opened my mouth to explain, but instead he pressed his index finger up to my lips and shook his head.

“Not now,” he said, still smiling. And when I felt his lips on mine, all I could remember thinking was that it was the second time that year that New York would save my life.

***

“So, what made you decide to come here?”

Dylan and I had relocated to the soaked bench. Side by side, drenched in rain, the two of us huddled together as if our surroundings were non-existent.

“Justine, actually,” I said.

Dylan cocked an eyebrow at me and the left side of his mouth curled up. “You don’t say.”

Yeah,” I said. “She showed up at Beth’s place, and after we got to talking, she made me realize how easily I had given up.” I let out a light laugh. “Giving up easily, especially when I really want something, isn’t exactly my strong suit. I guess I just needed someone who really knows me to remind me of that.”

“Well it sounds like you guys finally worked things out.” He raised his eyebrows. “So I assume I will be seeing more of her?”

“Just not
too
much, if you know what I mean.”

We both burst out laughing.

“But, in all seriousness, it’s not exactly something that can happen overnight,” I said. “I think trust is an important part of any relationship, but I also think it’s something that can be rebuilt if you’re willing to work at it.”

Dylan nodded, placing my hand in his. “I couldn’t agree more.” He lowered his eyes to meet mine. “Renee, I owe you an apology. I should’ve listened to you instead of walking out like that, and I should’ve trusted you enough to know…”

“Nothing happened with David,” I interjected. I started to reiterate the details of that fateful night but he held up his hand in protest.

“I know that now,” he said. “I just needed some time to really think about things. But being away from you these past few weeks really put things into perspective for me. I realized how much I overreacted, and I was planning on calling you when I got home.”

My eyebrows creased together. “So, who was the
blonde you were with at the show
?”

Dylan’s perplexed look mirrored my own. “Who?”

“I came to the show tonight to talk to you, but I left because I saw some girl hanging on your arm and I thought…” I inhaled deeply. “I thought you had moved on.”

Dylan threw his head back and let out a loud laugh. “I have no idea who she was. She loved our music and her friends asked me to pose in some photos with her. I think she’d had a lot to drink.”

“Oh,” I mumbled, lowering my gaze. Dylan grinned, picking up on my thoughts.

“Renee, you were the one who pushed me into this,” he reminded me. “And you know as well as I do that there’s always going to be girls like that at every show.”

Groupies. I knew all about it. Jus
tine and I could’ve earned a med
al for the number of times we’d weasled our way into tour buses and backstage after-parties.

I had a fleeting image of myself with a toddler on my arm, my rock and roll days long behind me, Dylan’s just beginning. 

“There’s something else I need to talk to you about,” I blurted out.

Dylan slid an arm around my waist. “We have all night to talk about anything you want.” He looked up at the sky as light splotches of rain started to fall. “Why don’t we crash at your hotel tonight?” He motioned towards his hotel building. “I’m bunking with Justin tonight, so I don’t think we’d have much privacy.”

I shook my head. “How could you stay there again? Didn’t it remind you of…” My voice trailed off. That night was hard to cram into just one word.

Dylan nodded. “Yeah, it did. But it’s undoubtedly the most affordable place in this area.” He smirked. “I’m a starving artist now. I’m on a tight budget.”

“Well, then. My hotel it is.”

We stood up and exited the park, walking back towards Tenth Ave. Dylan grabbed my hand and turned to face me.

“So, what was it you wanted to tell me?”

I studied the outline of his jaw, the curve of his lips, the life that had returned to his eyes. The presence that had weighed on my mind for weeks on end. The
person who
was mine again.

“It’s not important,” I said.

Quite possibly the understatement of my life.

Chapter
24

“So you haven’t told him yet?”

I paced around my room in circles, running my fingers through my hair. “Justine, trust me, I’m going to tell him. But when
we
were standing there, talking about everything, it just… didn’t feel right. I didn’t want to ruin the moment.”

“Renee,” she scolded. “You
have
to tell him.”

“I will. I just...”

“Like,
now
. Tonight.”

“I can’t tell him tonight.
He’
s taking me to his favorite restaurant for
dinner. I don’t think that would go over well.”

I could hear laughter echoing on the other end of the phone. “Stop making excuses! It’s not going to ruin your
night
. It’s a good thing. You guys are going to be parents!”

I let out a long, loud sigh. “If this is a good thing, then why the hell doesn’t it feel like it?”

“Because you’re scared,” she replied matter-of-factly. “That’s why.”

I sat upright in my bed and forced a smile because I knew she was right.

I was terrified.

***

Fortunately, the condo that Dylan and I had put a deposit on was still available. Between moving into our new place and piecing our relati
onship back together, the past few
weeks had whizzed by so fast that all the days seemed to blend together.

Electric Wreck had slowly began creating a buzz,
which earned them another opening tour slot
for The Reds, one of Boston’s biggest local acts. Thus, whatever spare time Dylan had was almost always spent at the rehearsal space, concocting as many new songs as possible for the trip.

Thanks to Dylan’s income increase due to
his newfound career success
, and my rental decrease due to our cohabitation, I was finally able to quit my soul-raping job working for Elaine and do some freelance writing instead. I’d accepted a part-time position writing for a music column in
Boston Magazine
, where most of my work consisted of interviewing local bands over the phone and piecing together profile stories on them. It wasn’t quite
Pace Magazine
status, but it was definitely a step in the right direction. Not to mention, it allowed me the freedom to accompa
ny Electric Wreck on their six
-week stint if I so decided.

Dylan was scheduled to leave for tour the week after next, so he offered to take me to his favorite Italian restaurant
for dinner
, even though cliché
dating traditions
were
a little
out of character for him. Bella’s was a small restaurant located on the south side of Boston, with an eloquent interior and antique knick-knacks all around. Ironically, even though every entrée on the menu
was to die for
, Dylan insisted on getting pizza every time we went there. Out of all the fancy, exotic dishes on the menu, the goddamn kid wanted pizza. 

“It’s not just any pizza,” he would say. “It’s the best brick oven pizza in all of Massachusetts.”

He always ordered
it with garlic and replaced the
tomato sauce with sliced tomatoes. I had to admit, it was pretty good, but I felt a little silly going to an expensive restaurant and ordering pizza, so I always opted for a ridiculously expensive entrée instead, even though I never even finished half of it. I just felt like I had to.

My stomach was in knots throughout the entire dinner. I
nstead
of
been
enjoying it like I should have been,
I kept resisting the sudden urge to blurt out, “I’m pregnant!” at random intervals like someone with Tourette’s. And the worst part was trying to think of a gold-medal excuse for
ordering iced tea instead of wine
. Dylan
undoubtedly knew something was up
. I tried to play it off like I wasn’t feeling well, but I could tell he wasn’t buying it.

I kept sneaking glances at him when he wasn’t looking and wondering how he was going to react when I finally grew enough cajones to spill the news. Neither of us had ever discussed children, so for all I knew he could be completely against the idea. And what kind of a father would he be? Would he be on those “I’ll kill your date with my shotgun” dads if we had a daughter? Would he awkwardly attempt to manhandle a football if we had a son?

“Renee, is everything okay?”

That was another thing I hated. He always busted me when he could tell that I was mentally a million miles away.

I forced a smile. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

He looked at me nervously and shrugged. “I don’t know. You just seem like you have something on your mind. You sure there isn’t anything that’s bothering you?”

Along with the punctuality gene, the liar gene had skipped out on me as well. I was officially the world’s worst liar. I could’ve won an award for it. Whenever I tried to mimic a serious expression, I ended up looking like I was half-retarded.

I contemplated whether I should just give in and lay it all out there, but when I looked up at him, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I didn’t want to spoil our dinner, especially since he had tried his hardest to dress up for the occasion. Dylan’s idea of dressing up was wearing any type of shirt that contained a collar and buttons.

I took a giant bite of the lobster ravioli I’d ordered so that I could give myself a minute to collect my thoughts. I reminded myself that I just had to get through dinner with a smile and then, once our romantic evening had come to a halt, I’d break the news to him that the rest of life was about to also.