“Don’t feel bad. C’mon, let’s go upstairs and look at my room.”
I follow him up the wide wood staircase, where there are four bedrooms and two bathrooms. The house must have been gorgeous in its time, before everyone left. Vaulted ceilings, crown molding, lots of windows, the wood trim and accents and angles known in the Tudor-style homes. I feel sorry for it, being abandoned for so long.
A bedroom door with a skull and crossbones painted on it is closed.
“Guess whose room this is?” he teases.
“I’m not surprised.”
He swings open the door and it looks exactly as I pictured a teenage Evan’s room would look. Rock posters cover almost every inch of the walls and ceiling. A small mattress is on the floor with an old black blanket thrown over it. There’s only one dresser, and its drawers aren’t closed all the way. Clothes stick out of them. An old radio and cassette player sits on top of the dresser, surrounded by candles dripping long-hardened wax. Empty cigarette cartons are thrown all over the place. Next to the bed is a stack of rock and guitar magazines and more notebooks.
Not surprising.
“No naked girl posters?” I tease, peering around.
He laughs and opens the closet door. “Nah. I was never into ogling women.”
After digging around in the closet, he comes out with a guitar case.
“Look what’s still here.” He lays the old dusty case on the bed.
“What’s that?”
“My first acoustic guitar.”
“Oh. I thought the one you always have with you was your first.”
“That was my second, actually.”
I’m shocked, and confused, when he opens the case and the guitar inside is in absolutely pristine condition.
“It’s pretty,” I say. “It looks brand new.”
Smiling ear to ear, he gently pulls it out of the case and turns it over in his hands.
“Do you know what this is?” he asks, clearly excited. “This is a 1934 Gibson Jumbo.”
I blink at him. “Is that good?”
“Good? It’s fuckin’ amazing, Piper. They’re wicked rare and worth a shit ton of money, not that I’d ever sell it. I just can’t believe it’s still here.” He runs his fingers lightly over the strings before placing it back in the case. “I’m taking it back with us.”
“Why did you leave it?” I ask.
“I only played it a few times. My mother bought it at a garage sale, she had no idea what it was, or what it was worth. Neither did the guy selling it. I knew, though. I was afraid to play it. It’s just too…good. Ya know?” He snaps the case closed. “I bought my other one so I could save this one. Protect it from getting destroyed. I didn’t get a chance to take it with me. I moved in the shed with Acorn, and then we just left. I never came back inside.”
My heart still tugs at the mention of sweet Acorn.
“I’m glad it’s still here. You should put it with your others. It deserves to be out, not shut in an old closet.”
“You’re right. I’m going to put new strings on it. I can’t wait to show Lyric, I think she’ll love it.”
Lyric loves everything he shares with her.
We go back downstairs, and I’m relieved this visit isn’t upsetting him. He looks happy, and excited about the guitar. I wait as he rummages through a kitchen drawer, then turns around and hands me an old photograph.
I take it from him gingerly, and when I hold it up under the light from the window, my heart jumps with joy.
It’s a photo of Evan at about five years old, hair to his shoulders, and a tiny blue bird sitting on his shoulder. He’s smiling like he’s the happiest little boy in the whole world.
“Can I have this? Please?” I ask, meeting his gaze.
“Of course.”
“You look so adorable. And happy.”
He winks at me. “Told ya.”
I step forward and wrap my arms around his waist, leaning my head against his chest.
“I love you,” I say softly.
He holds me with his free arm. “I love you too, baby. Thank you for doing this with me. I wasn’t planning on coming here, but I’m glad we did.”
On our way back to the hotel we stop for ice cream cones in the park and sit at our usual table. Our little traditions mean the world to me and one of the things I love most about him is how he never forgets about them.
He’s quiet for the rest of the afternoon, and I start to worry that visiting the house wasn’t a good idea, after all. Perhaps it held too many bad memories that are now gnawing away at him. Later, over dinner in the hotel restaurant, we talk mostly about Lyric and things going on in my life, but he still seems a bit more distracted and subdued than he did earlier. I wonder if it’s an effect of the medication.
“Are you okay?” I finally ask him when we’re back in our room. “You seem quiet.”
Sitting on the bed, he bends down and pulls off his work boots while I step out of my black heels.
“Yeah… I’m just thinking about something.”
Worried, I move to stand in front of him and gently run my fingers through his hair.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask softly.
Wrapping his hands around my waist, he leans forward to kiss the spot between my breasts.
“I’m thinking about the house.”
“Maybe we shouldn’t have gone in there. Did it bother you?”
“I wasn’t sure how I’d feel, but actually it didn’t bother me. I just feel bad the place has gone to hell, just sitting like that. It belonged to my grandparents, did I tell you that?”
“No, I didn’t know that.”
“They died before I was born, but my mother told me she grew up there. My grandfather had it built for my grandmother as a wedding gift.”
“Wow. That’s quite a gift. It’s a beautiful house.”
“It could be,” he says. “When I left the hospital, my doctor told me to ‘go home and start your new life’ and I realized I didn’t even have a home.” He pulls me down as he talks, until I’m sitting on his lap. “Reece moved out of the house in Seattle, and we were never there enough for it to feel like home, anyway. It was basically just a hub. And your place is nice but it’s kind of a reminder that I was a fuckup for so long that you and my kid had to buy a house alone. It’s weird. For the first time I want a real home.”
It’s funny that I wondered the very same thing about where he would want to go when he left the band, and then, where he would go when he left the facility. It’s something we never talked about, even when we were discussing wedding plans.
“I think I want to completely remodel the house and live there,” he says. “But I want you and Lyric and Mickey and Archie there, too. I don’t want to live there alone. I think that house has had too much loneliness.” When I don’t say something right away, he continues to talk nervously. “It’ll be like a brand-new house when it’s done, not like it is now. We could pick out everything we wanted and make it ours.”
My brain starts to twirl like a whirlwind with the unexpectedness of this conversation. I assumed he might want to keep some distance between us for a while to give himself time to think since he just got out of the hospital. I wasn’t looking forward to that, but I was prepared for it.
I definitely wasn’t prepared for him to be talking about moving in together.
“Evan….” I’m overwhelmed with all the things I want to say.
“Shit. It’s too soon, right?” He plops me down on the bed next to him before he stands and crosses the room to stare out the window. “I fucked it all up again. Us. Our trust. Everyfuckingthing. You need time to figure it all out.”
I walk over to him and hug him from behind, and he covers my hands with his over his chest.
“All those years you were waiting for me?” His voice is so low I can barely hear him. “I was waiting, too. I always wanted everything with you, I just kept tripping over myself and fucking it all up. But I want it all. I want to marry you and have another baby.”