Maybe that’s the real reason I decided to return to Maui. No denying how badly I want to be with him. I’m still afraid that I’ll surrender myself and he’ll break my heart once more. But my future isn’t in Phoenix…and the romantic in me can’t stop wanting Maxon to love me enough to put me first.
Yes, I know expecting him to change is unrealistic, which is why I’m as confused and conflicted as I was three days ago when I boarded the plane back to Maui. Since landing, I’ve picked up my phone a million times to call Maxon. And I’ve put it down again every time. I don’t want to be wrong about him. I don’t want to be hurt by him. I don’t want to know that the magical connection we once shared is gone for good.
I’m not ready to face that.
I glance around the little sports bar, relieved to see the surprisingly thick crowd just before I take the stage. I spot Griff in front. As I peek out from behind the curtain shielding the employees’ area, he waves. I wave back. He’s sitting alone. I try not to let disappointment overwhelm me.
I guess that means Maxon either can’t forgive me for my well-intended lies to reconcile him and his brother or he got over me quickly.
I should stop what-iffing because I can’t live in the past. It isn’t moving forward. Isn’t healthy.
And trying to do it now is killing me.
I don’t know what I expected from Maxon. More, I guess. But we were only together twenty-two days. Maybe it didn’t mean that much to him after all.
I thought he was the love of my life. My soul mate. Actually, I have a feeling he still is—and always will be.
It’s not his fault he didn’t feel the same.
I meant well when I came into his life. Yes, I lied to him. I simply wanted to figure out how he felt about his brother and if he might have any forgiveness in his heart. When I got to know Maxon, I liked him. A lot. Of course, he was hot. And cocky. He was also different from anyone I’d ever dated. He made me laugh—usually with him, but sometimes at him. When he propositioned me about coming on to Griff, I realized it was the perfect way to achieve my end. Yes, I was insulted and annoyed at first. But then I saw the beautiful irony of his plan.
Unfortunately, nothing turned out the way I thought it would.
“Aloha, Lahaina. I’m Keeley Sunshine. I’m going to sing you some of my favorite songs, and since I’m a single girl who recently broke up with the man she loves, they’ll probably all be about heartache.”
After a smattering of applause, the little band behind me starts, and I launch into one of the saddest songs I can think of in this moment, Bonnie Raitt’s “I Can’t Make You Love Me.”
The ballad’s melancholy melody fills the space between my ears and hits me right in the heart. Every word is enveloped in a grieving note and seems to tell my story. It’s a fight to sing without tears compromising my voice.
I’m not even sure how I’ll make it through the end of the song. I try to focus on the subtle intricacies of the tune, my appreciation for the keyboard player Gus brought in to better fill the audial space of tonight’s set list—anything but Maxon Reed and his absence.
The applause is somehow subdued and hearty at once. It preserves the moment. I’m weirdly grateful that the people in the bar seem to understand my mood.
Right now, I have to revel in these small victories until I’m over Maxon and am able to appreciate the bigger ones again.
“This is a song that I’ve been listening to a lot over the past week. I remember it from high school and didn’t quite understand it then. Now I completely comprehend the addiction Michelle Featherstone sang about.”
The naked piano provides the sole melody for “Coffee and Cigarettes.” The bittersweet notes rake across my senses as I close my eyes and sink into the ballad that totally describes my mood in this moment, where I feel as if I’ve given up the vices I hoped would make my problems dissipate, but my pain hasn’t moved into yesterday, as the lyrics suggest it should.
The second verse is a blur. I know it’s something about pouring booze down the kitchen drain. I’m not much of a drinker, much less a smoker, but I feel what she’s saying about the loss of something you love…and equating it to someone you miss more than anything, even if they’re bad for you. Often, the metaphor is more powerful than the straightforward explanation, so I’m grateful to music for helping me through this difficult spot in my life.
But now we come to the part of the song where I can’t avoid admitting that I’m still blue, but I’ve finally figured out what I must quit.
“You.”
Some form of this sentiment repeats two times over, then I’m done with the song. It’s already hard to breathe, and holding my emotions back is getting so damn near impossible. Why didn’t I sing upbeat stuff? “Walking on Sunshine” or “I Got A Feelin’” or “Happy”?
Probably because I would have cried through those, too. Despite what Maxon may think about my “deception,” I’m not a good liar. I only wanted the best for him and Griff. I try to be a good person and help others.
I never imagined in a million years how badly it would mess me up.
The small band begins the intro to the next song. I close my eyes and groan. Why did I ever imagine this was a good idea? Yes, I rasped out in the last song that I was going to quit him. It’s logical. But, for better or for worse, I’m a girl who thinks with her heart, and Plumb’s “I Want You Here” is a much closer representation of how I really feel.
This is another sad tune with a simple piano melody. Is the keyboard the new plucker of heartstrings?
I already know the song rolls and builds to a wrenching chorus. I doubt I’m going to make it out unscathed.
When the lyrics start, I’m thankful the song isn’t really about romantic love. But too much of it echoes the sentiment in my heart, the fact that I can barely breathe because my ache is so deep. I’ve asked myself if it will ever heal.
In truth, I’ve spent days pondering that question.
I grip the mic desperately and try to hold on. I already know I have to change the whole next set. Everything I have planned is just sad and sadder. I’m a happy person by nature. I need to realize that this experience with Maxon was still valuable, even if we weren’t meant to be. He’s not my happily ever after, simply a lesson I needed to learn. I’m not sure what knowledge I was supposed to glean yet, but everything happens for a reason. I’ll figure it out someday.