Dirty Letters

The light mood of our conversation quickly changed. “I’m sorry I’ve been so distant lately,” she said. “I feel like I’ve taken a few steps back since you left.”

I hated that she felt guilty for anything. “You never have to apologize for how you feel. You know I accept you as you are. You’re not required to act or feel a certain way. But I do need you to respond at some point to my messages so that I know you’re okay.”

“I’m sorry if I worried you at all.”

An inexplicable feeling of dread filled me.

“Luca . . . ,” I said, “tell me what’s on your mind. Please.”

After the longest moment of silence ever, she finally said, “I don’t want to hold you back anymore, Griffin.”

“You’re not holding me back . . . I—”

“You say that because you love me, but the truth is . . . I am and I just . . . I can’t . . .”

She can’t.

My heart began to race. “Can’t what? Say it, Luca. I need to hear it.” My tone was bordering on angry. “You need to be very clear here. Very clear.”

“I can’t be the person you need,” she finally said. “At least not right now. I feel this pressure to get over my fears at a pace that’s just not realistic. I keep feeling like I’m holding up your life . . . and I feel like that pressure is too much to bear. It’s weighing me down and I . . . can’t breathe anymore.”

Fuck. This was really happening.

I was really losing her.

I felt helpless.

How could I even attempt to fight for her if she was telling me that the fight was suffocating her? I always told myself I’d know if I needed to let her go—if it ever got to that point where it felt like being together was doing her more harm than good. Even though ending things didn’t feel natural, it felt like I had no choice but to listen to her.

“You want to break up? Is that what you’re telling me, Luca? I need you to be clear with me.”

Her voice was shaky. “I think that’s for the best right now. I do think we should break up.” She let out a breath that sounded like she’d been holding it in.

Well, it couldn’t get any clearer than that. I heard the words, but I still couldn’t believe them.

“Okay.” I swallowed. “How do we handle things? Does this mean we don’t talk anymore?”

I could hear her crying on the other end, and I suspected that was because the reality of what she’d just done had hit her. Me, on the other hand? I was just numb . . . still not wanting to believe what she was telling me.

“I don’t know,” she answered. “I don’t know what would be best. Because hearing from you would be painful and not hearing from you would be even more painful.”

More anger was slowly creeping in. I was so disappointed at life—at her. At everything.

“Why don’t we just take it one day at a time. I haven’t even begun to process this. But I heard you loud and clear, Luca. Okay? I heard you loud and clear.”

Things went quiet again, and then she muttered, “I’m so sorry, Griffin.”

“I’m sorry, too, love. I really am. More than you could ever know.”

I’d never canceled a show in my entire career. But I just couldn’t perform that night in Minneapolis. I’d faked a flu-like illness and created a shit storm of a logistical nightmare for my tour manager and publicist. But it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. Tomorrow I knew I would somehow pick myself up to perform in the next city, but I needed tonight to mourn. This was my first time playing the sick card; I’d earned this breakdown.

It took everything in me not to call Luca and check on her. Every hour, I found my finger hovering over her name in my text messages. Eventually, I opted to call Doc instead. At least, through him, I could make sure she was okay without upsetting her. I wasn’t even certain she’d told him that she’d broken up with me.

He answered. “Hello?”

“Doc. It’s Griffin.”

“Oh . . . Griffin. Is everything okay?”

The words just wouldn’t come out. For the first time since I could remember, perhaps when Mum died, I felt tears forming in my eyes. It was bound to happen, I supposed. Even though I wasn’t saying anything, he could clearly surmise that something was wrong.

“Tell me what happened, son. Is it Luca?”

“She ended things earlier today.”

His breath hitched.

Wiping my eyes and fighting the damn tears, I continued. “I wanted to let you know in case she hadn’t told you yet, so that you can look out for her and make sure she’s okay. Because I know it wasn’t easy for her.”

“I’m sorry to hear this. I really am. I know how hard you’ve tried to make her happy and to make things work.”

“It wasn’t hard enough, apparently.”

“I’ve never witnessed anyone work harder to save a relationship, Griffin. You did everything you could. Luca is just not ready, as much as she wishes she could be—as much as I know she truly loves you.”

“I know she loves me . . . as much as she could love anyone. That’s why it hurts to have to accept this. I’m hurting not only for myself but because I somehow know she’s hurting even more. I know this wasn’t easy for her . . . to let me go.”

“No, I can only imagine,” he said. “I’m glad you told me, because I hadn’t heard from her all day, and now I know why.”

“I canceled my show tonight, Doc. Thousands of people paid to come see me, and I stood them up because I couldn’t bear to sing when I feel so destroyed inside.” I exhaled. “You know I wrote a song about her, back when I was angry at her before we reunited. Did she ever tell you that?”

“Oh yes. I’ve listened to it several times.”

I don’t know why that made me laugh a little. I couldn’t picture Doc listening to my music for some reason.

“Yeah. That song is always hard to sing, but I don’t think the words would even be able to come out tonight. They’d better somehow find their way out in the next city, because I can’t afford to cancel again.”

“It’s perfectly acceptable to exercise self-care from time to time. Don’t worry about the fans you’re letting down. Allow yourself this time to recuperate.”

“Jesus. Now I’m wondering if I called you for her . . . or for me.”

“Either way is okay by me. You’re a good man, Griffin. There’s no one else I would rather see my Luca with. I’ll let you in on a secret. I may be her doctor . . . but in truth, if I’m being honest . . . she’s really like a daughter to me. Our relationship goes far beyond doctor-patient. I wanted nothing more than to see things work out between the two of you, and my heart is heavy knowing both of you are in pain.”

“You’re a good man, too, Doc. Please take care of her.” I raked my fingers through my hair.

“You can count on that.” He paused. “Griffin?”

“Yeah . . .”

“Maybe you can put some of the feelings you’re experiencing to good use. Perhaps it’s time for a new song. I can imagine expressing yourself through your music would be therapeutic for you. Just a thought.”

Dismissing his suggestion, I said, “I can’t imagine writing music right now. My heart is broken.”

“My gut is telling me that you shouldn’t count Luca out. I have every confidence that someday she will realize her mistake, but that could be a very long time from now. I don’t expect it’s fair to ask you to wait.”

“I’d wait forever for her if I really felt she’d come around. Right now? I’m too shattered to believe that. Because I never thought she’d actually let me go, Doc. If I’m honest . . . I’m fucking floored.”

“Trust in fate, Griffin. Look how far it’s gotten you both thus far. Go on with your life, but trust in the fact that if you and Luca are meant to be . . . then someday the same universe that brought you together will work its magic again.”

“You’ve been a good friend, Doc. Not just to Luca, but to me. If there’s anything I can ever do for you, please let me know.”

My original assumption about not being able to write music was wrong. The following day as we traveled to our next destination—Des Moines—I wrote lyrics and the accompanying music like a madman. It ended up being therapeutic for me, and although much of it was unusable, I had made progress on a song that I planned to perform at our final show if my bandmates could pick it up fast enough.

It was really hard not to call or text Luca, but I just didn’t think opening the lines of communication right now would make this any easier. Honestly, a part of me was just still so damn angry that she’d given up on us. I didn’t want to take that anger out on her. I’d call her eventually to check in, but I needed more time to let this set in. I’d not only lost my lover, but I’d lost my best friend. Again.

After a dinner break, I reentered the tour bus before we were set to hit the road again. To my shock, there was a girl lying in my bunk, dressed in nothing but lacy panties and a bra.

“Uh . . . what are you doing in here?” I asked.

“Buddy said you might want some company tonight?”

Fuck.

Where had she even come from? Had she been on the bus since Minneapolis? Buddy was my guitarist and the only bandmate I typically confided in. He’d confronted me after the show cancellation, and I eventually admitted what happened. He must have thought that fucking Luca out of my system was the way to go tonight. That wasn’t going to be happening. It was way too soon. Maybe there would come a time when it didn’t feel like cheating. But at this point in time, my body still felt like it belonged to Luca. And that was fucked up.

“Well, Buddy was wrong. I’d actually really like to be alone, but thank you for thinking of me.”

She looked disappointed. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

She rolled off the bed and disappeared down into another section of the bus. After she left, we started moving. I shut off the interior light and just crashed.