And so, after years of trying to make things work, it got to the point where they began to dread each encounter.
She was ready to just walk away. TO jump in the car and leave him there at the rest stop. She was certain that's what he was going to do with her. But they were only 100 miles from home now, almost at the end. They just had to not kill each other and then it would be over. They couldn't drive any further. The car was low on gas and the rain made everything miserable. They found a motel and were determined to get separate rooms. Such a treat. To splurge on privacy. he considered it an investment. To treat HER nice. as if she'd get the better, bigger room and he's get a cot.
Of course, there was only one room left. 1 bed. There was a time when she'd consider it luck, and a reason to seduce him. Now it made her flesh crawl.
How had it happened? Once, they actually looked at each other with LOVE-right? Or no, maybe it was all just a game and now they had forgotten to play, There was the romantic flirting-no, agina that was just a matter of him making sex type jokes and her responding and rebuffing, and then she took over and he stopped wanting to play. It was less fun for him if there was no cajoling. And he didn't want to be seduced all the time-at least not by her.
And now, it was harder. They were being polite. Which was always the WORST. Laughing, don't look into each others' eyes. Start the mornings with the crayola primary color of the yellow and white eggs, the ketchup. His blue eyes. Her brown hair. Nothing made them smile anymore.
Looking back, maybe she never WAS very happy with him. She was always inches away from what she really wanted. a BIG hug, a big smile, someone to ask about HER. Care about HER and what she wanted. She was tired of the conversation being about HIM 95% of the time. And how jealous he became when anyone praised her voice.
But no, onstage he appreciated her. or seemed to. THAT was where she had felt loved. By him and by all the strangers they had met. Breaking the ice with the first songs, then opening up and cracking jokes, warming up everyone. Even him-bringing out that smile he was famous for-but older, wiser, wizened, more beautiful for all the pain he had gone through.
At least she was still young. 30 WAS young, right? She hadn't been with anyone normal in a while. Hung out with old blues men who were older than her by a good 40 years. This was the kind of gig you should be able to brag about-but none of her friends knew who he was. She didn't impress nobody.
Seemed a waste almost.
Millions of people wanted to be her. And none of them lived inside her body.
God, she wanted to pull the band aid off. Just wait until the morning. The last hundred miles. Maybe she could bum a ride. Or catch a bus.
He went to the hotel bar to chill, he said. She went right to sleep.
When she woke up he was gone. The car keys were where she had left them, but his gear was gone from the trunk.
Disappeared without a trace. And without a goodbye. Such a relief not to have to take care of him any longer. She cried for 2 minutes before she started the car.
Goddamn him. Even when he left, he was there. All the silences came back to haunt her. What if he died this time? Before she could see him again.
Damn, where was he when she needed a songwriter???
Different Drum
Stone Poneys
She was ready to just walk away. TO jump in the car and leave him there at the rest stop. She was certain that's what he was going to do with her. But they were only 100 miles from home now, almost at the end. They just had to not kill each other and then it would be over. They couldn't drive any further. The car was low on gas and the rain made everything miserable. They found a motel and were determined to get separate rooms. Such a treat. To splurge on privacy. he considered it an investment. To treat HER nice. as if she'd get the better, bigger room and he's get a cot.
Of course, there was only one room left. 1 bed. There was a time when she'd consider it luck, and a reason to seduce him. Now it made her flesh crawl.
How had it happened? Once, they actually looked at each other with LOVE-right? Or no, maybe it was all just a game and now they had forgotten to play, There was the romantic flirting-no, agina that was just a matter of him making sex type jokes and her responding and rebuffing, and then she took over and he stopped wanting to play. It was less fun for him if there was no cajoling. And he didn't want to be seduced all the time-at least not by her.
And now, it was harder. They were being polite. Which was always the WORST. Laughing, don't look into each others' eyes. Start the mornings with the crayola primary color of the yellow and white eggs, the ketchup. His blue eyes. Her brown hair. Nothing made them smile anymore.
Looking back, maybe she never WAS very happy with him. She was always inches away from what she really wanted. a BIG hug, a big smile, someone to ask about HER. Care about HER and what she wanted. She was tired of the conversation being about HIM 95% of the time. And how jealous he became when anyone praised her voice.
But no, onstage he appreciated her. or seemed to. THAT was where she had felt loved. By him and by all the strangers they had met. Breaking the ice with the first songs, then opening up and cracking jokes, warming up everyone. Even him-bringing out that smile he was famous for-but older, wiser, wizened, more beautiful for all the pain he had gone through.
At least she was still young. 30 WAS young, right? She hadn't been with anyone normal in a while. Hung out with old blues men who were older than her by a good 40 years. This was the kind of gig you should be able to brag about-but none of her friends knew who he was. She didn't impress nobody.
Seemed a waste almost.
Millions of people wanted to be her. And none of them lived inside her body.
God, she wanted to pull the band aid off. Just wait until the morning. The last hundred miles. Maybe she could bum a ride. Or catch a bus.
He went to the hotel bar to chill, he said. She went right to sleep.
When she woke up he was gone. The car keys were where she had left them, but his gear was gone from the trunk.
Disappeared without a trace. And without a goodbye. Such a relief not to have to take care of him any longer. She cried for 2 minutes before she started the car.
Goddamn him. Even when he left, he was there. All the silences came back to haunt her. What if he died this time? Before she could see him again.
Damn, where was he when she needed a songwriter???
Different Drum
Stone Poneys
