We’ve peppered every vertical surface down Acapulco’s coast with flyers looking for our bandmates, but no one worth noting has popped up yet. So, we decided to play just us two to get going and get used to the eyeballs.
Fernanda’s English carries a strong accent, but surprisingly, she sings it very clearly. We’re sticking to performing covers tonight, not yet confident in the original songs we’ve come up with together.
Fernanda is a surprisingly skilled lyricist, but we still only have drafts.
“Hey,” I whisper. “Be cool, but check out the guy at the end of the bar.”
Fernanda spins around, not at all chill, and I have to laugh. “Way to look under the radar.”
The guy smiles at her. “He’s been checking you out this whole time,” I tell her.
“Really?” she asks. “He’s kind of cute, isn’t he?”
“He sure is. But come on, I need you to focus. After our set, you can go chat with him.”
“Yeah, that doesn’t at all make me feel nervous,” she says dryly, and we both bust out laughing.
She sings a cover of “Broken Heart of Gold” byOne okay Rockin that deep and husky voice that is so seductive, it still sends shivers down my arms. If we can find the right band, Fernanda and I could go places. I just know it.
The small size of the crowd eases my nerves, and I don’t have the stage fright I imagined I would have. As for Fernanda, she is a natural on stage. Even with so few people, she has captivated her audience, taking them with her into the spell of her song.
As I strum the last chord of the song, I think about Karl. Wondering if he’d think I’m as ready as I think I am to take my playing public. Wondering if he’d be proud tonight.
Since we didn’t get a prime spot, it’s still early and I can still catch the sunset at the beach.
I ask Fernanda to join me, but she ditches me for the guy at the bar.
Figures.
I set my guitar case on the sand next to me, not daring to part with it enough to dip my feet in the ocean.
Karl is in my thoughts a lot tonight. I imagined him in the crowd as I played for the first time in front of people, imagining how wide he’d be grinning, how proud he’d be, how he’d call me Iggy all night. I let myself feel the nostalgia and feel sad at the memories.
It’s something I’m working on with my therapist. He’s helping me understand that it’s okay to be sad sometimes, to feel hurt, and that, in fact, I need to let those feelings out instead of bottling them in. What’s not okay is packing my bags and staying there.
So, I feel the pain of missing him, letting myself remember our date night when he took me to theAmpersandandPaco’s Tacos. How he paid for Lucinda’s treatment, and to this day, no one knows he did that except for him, Carolina, and me. I think fondly of Pixel too, missing her just as much as Karl and how she guarded and protected me.
Unsure why, I scan the beach on either side of me. I smile when I see a blond man walking toward me, and yet again, I imagine it’s him, like I have so many times since I got home.
This man’s hair is short. Buzz-cut at the sides, with longish waves mussed at the top. He’s wearing jean shorts, a white t-shirt, and his sneakers dangle from his neck where he has tied the laces to walk barefoot. But his gait is familiar, somehow, just like Karl’s. But it’s not him. He wouldn’t be here.
I look back out into the rolling waves, wishing I could dip my feet in when I see from my peripheral vision the figure standing over me. He sits next to me, and I don’t have to see his face up close to know itishim after all. It’s the smell of him—of his aftershave mixed with his pheromones—that gives him away.
ItisKarl. In the flesh—not my imagination.
Karl with shorter hair, but still Karl. He sets his shoes down on the other side of him. My heart hammers straight out of my chest.
Wordlessly, I let my head drop to his shoulder, and our hands lace together.
I’d say it’s a dream, but it isn’t. He’s here. Here with me.
I smile, letting myself enjoy this small moment.
“I’ve missed you,” he whispers.
“You’re here.” I choke on my voice and can’t keep the tears from springing up.
“I didn’t see your note, Lo, I—I would have come sooner.”