The Conclusion - Chapter 1 - The End That Started The Beginning

It was November 6, 2004. I had a show to do. I was tiring of these regular gigs. Sure, they paid good money and it was exposure and I was supposed to love performing. I was supposed to. The problem is it was taking away from my relationship. My boyfriend was getting tired of me being unavailable every weekend. Or maybe he was getting tired of me and this was just another excuse to get him out of our verbal contract without a hitch.

He had been by my place that afternoon. This was a ritual. We would spend the afternoon before a show together. It always ended at my place. Usually on my couch. I'd be in his arms and the frustration would manifest itself in heavy sighs.

"I can do something after wards", I attempted to console him.

"At what time?" The disgust was evident.

"Honeyyy", I whined playfully. "It's not THAT late. There's stuff we can do...." But I couldn't really think of anything besides sitting on my couch, making out, trying to keep it clean.

There was no reply. And so we sat in silence staring out the window of my condo, the view of the smog-filled sky and thug-riddled apartment building across the street half concealed by an ugly old brick wall. I closed my eyes and nuzzled into his chest a little deeper, imagining we were on an island in paradise, relaxing in the sun. I breathed in a deep, cleansing breath and let my imagination take over. We stayed frozen. Silent. Our rhythmic breathing mingled with cars whizzing by and the occasional honk or shout from beyond the wall.

DING! DONG!

I had never had a problem with the sound of my doorbell...until now. Now its sound was officially categorized as annoying - like the sound of my buzzing alarm clock at a ridiculous hour of the morning just so I could get a head start on the daily transcription load, which I happened to perform approximately 2 feet from my bed. Completely torturous.

I heaved a sigh and pushed my body off the sofa. I straightened out my clothing, fixed my hair in the mirror hanging above my couch, heaved another sigh and looked apologetically into my boyfriend's eyes.

He rolled his and straightened up on the sofa, bending over to rest his elbows on his knees and hold his head in his hands. I bit my lip and tousled his hair. "I'm sorry, baby", I replied.

DINNNNG! DONNNNG!

"Coming!" I shouted. I had completely forgotten already - so easily drawn into the bubble that formed around myself and my significant other every time he came around. I was such a pleaser. So consumed in the relationship.

I dramatically threw the door open. "WHAT!" I shouted playfully. It was Tobey, my lead guitarist. I was expecting him. It was time. Time to load the gear, drive to the gig, unload the gear, set it up, pretend I was a rock star for two hours, then take all of the gear down, reload it, drive home, and unload the gear back at my place. It was exhausting just thinking of it - week after week. But I had formed this band. I had agreed to pursue this dream. And I had people counting on me to follow through on it.

My boyfriend immediately headed for the door, calling out, "Well, have fun" as he brushed by, no eye contact, not even a touch.

"Babe, you don't have to leave right this second," I pleaded.

Tobey caught sight of my pathetic state just then and chimed in, "Yeah, you don't have to go, man."

"Yeah?" My boyfriend stopped dead in his tracks and turned abruptly in his tracks, a glare in his eye. "What am I supposed to do? You're just getting ready to go. It's not like there's anything we can do right now".

"You could help us load", Tobey half chuckled and turned to grab some gear.

I shot Tobey a look of horror and glanced hesitantly toward my boyfriend. He responded to Tobey with a glare at the back of his head and I responded with a sheepish grin. "It's okay. You don't have to", I attempted to blow away the awkward cloud looming overhead.

"I gotta' go", my boyfriend said very coolly.

I contorted my mouth and nodded silently. My boyfriend quickly strode across the room toward me, grabbed me quick in a tense, awkward hug, his face turned away from mine, and then released me just as quickly and turned to leave, calling over his shoulder, "I'd help you, but I've got somewhere I need to be. I'm late. Good luck. Have fun."

And that was it. He was gone. Little did I know that would be the absolute last time I would ever lay eyes on him. Even to this day.