Maybe Now
Page 3
“What are you thinking?” he asks, brushing my hair back.
I shake my head. “Nothing. Just…” I don’t know how to sign what I want to say, so I grab my phone again.
Sydney: This all feels surreal. I’m still trying to soak it all in. Last night was completely unexpected. I was starting to convince myself that you were getting to a point where you didn’t think we could be together.
Ridge’s eyes shoot to mine and he laughs a little, like my text was completely absurd. Then he leans forward and gives me the softest, sweetest kiss before replying.
Ridge: I haven’t been able to sleep for three months. Warren forced me to eat because I was anxious all the time. I’ve thought about you every minute of every day, but I kept my distance because you said we needed time apart. And even though it killed me, I knew you were right. Since I couldn’t be with you, I forced myself to write music about you.
Sydney: Are there any songs I haven’t heard yet?
Ridge: I played all my new songs for you last night. But I’ve been working on one. I’ve been stuck because the lyrics didn’t feel quite right. But last night after you fell asleep, the lyrics started flowing like water. I wrote them down and sent them to Brennan as soon as I got them down on paper.
He wrote an entire song after I fell asleep last night? I narrow my eyes at him and then reply.
Sydney: Have you even slept yet?
He shrugs. “I’ll nap later,” he says, brushing his thumb over my bottom lip. “Keep an eye on your email today,” he says as he leans in for another kiss.
I love it when Brennan makes rough cuts of the songs Ridge writes. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of dating a musician.
Ridge rolls off the couch and then pulls me up with him. “I’ll leave so you can get ready for work.”
I nod and kiss him goodbye, but when I try to walk to my bedroom, he doesn’t release his grip on my hand. I turn around and he’s looking at me expectantly.
“What?”
He points to the shirt I have on. His shirt. “I need that.”
I look at his T-shirt and laugh. Then I pull the shirt off—slowly—and hand it to him. He’s eyeing me up and down as he takes his shirt and pulls it over his head. “What time did you say you’re coming over tonight?” He’s still staring at my chest when he asks this question, completely unable to look me in the eyes.
I laugh and push him toward the door. He opens it and slips out of my apartment, but not before stealing another quick kiss. I close the door behind him and realize for the first time since the day I moved out of my old apartment, I finally feel like I’m no longer resentful for the turmoil Hunter and Tori caused.
I am absolutely, without a doubt, so grateful for Hunter and Tori. I would live through the Tori/Hunter heartache a million times over if Ridge was always my final result.
•••
A few hours later, I get an email from Brennan. I duck into a bathroom stall at work with my headphones and click on the email with the subject line, “Set Me Free.” I lean against the wall, press play on my phone, and close my eyes.
“Set Me Free”
I’ve been running ‘round
I’ve been laying down
I’ve been underground with the devil
You’ve been saving me like a ship at sea
Saying follow me to the light now
So here we go
A little more
Something I’ve been waiting for
Here we go
A little more
You set me free
Shook the dust right off me
Locked up tight you found the key
And now I see
Ain’t no place I’d rather be
I got you and you got me
You set me free
Hard to know the cost of it
But when you’ve lost something
Then you know there’s a price tag
Think you might have been born to
Be my come through when
I can’t keep it all together
So here we go
A little more
Something I’ve been waiting for
Here we go
A little more
You set me free
Shook the dust right off me
Locked up tight you found the key
And now I see
Ain’t no place I’d rather be
I got you and you got me
You set me free
I was sitting low
I didn’t know where I could go
Thought the bottom was the ceiling
No remedy to heal it
A Hail Mary to a sin
A new start to an end
You set me free
Shook the dust right off me
Locked up tight you found the key
And now I see
Ain’t no place I’d rather be
I got you and you got me
You set me free
I stand completely silent after the song ends. There are tears running down my cheeks, and it isn’t even a sad song. But the meaning behind the lyrics Ridge wrote after falling asleep next to me last night mean more to me than any other lyrics he’s ever written. And even though I understood what he was saying this morning when he said he feels free for the first time, I didn’t realize just how much I identified with what he was feeling.
You set me free, too, Ridge.
I pull the headphones out of my ears, even though I want to put the song on repeat and listen to it for the rest of the day. On my way out of the bathroom, I catch myself singing the song out loud in the empty hallway with a ridiculous smile on my face.
“Ain’t no place I’d rather be. I got you and you got me…”
I think about death every minute of every hour of every day of my life. I’m almost positive I think about death more than the average person. It’s hard not to when you know you’ve been given a fraction of the time almost everyone else on earth has been given.
I was twelve when I started to research my diagnosis. No one had ever really sat me down and explained to me that Cystic Fibrosis came with an expiration date. Not an expiration date on the illness, but an expiration date on my life.
Since that day, at only twelve-years-old, I look at life completely differently than I looked at it before. For example, when I’m in the cosmetics section of a store, I look at the age cream and know that I’ll never need it. I’ll be lucky if my skin even starts to wrinkle before I die.
I can be in the grocery section and I’ll look at the expiration dates on food and wonder which one of us will last longer. Me or the mustard?
Sometimes I receive invitations in the mail for a wedding that’s still a year out, and I’ll circle the date on the calendar and wonder if my life will last longer than the couple’s engagement.
I even look at newborn babies and think of death. Knowing that I’ll never live to see a child of my own grow into adulthood has erased any desire to ever have a child.
I’m not a depressed person. I’m not even sad about my fate. I accepted it a long time ago.
Most people live their lives as if they’ll live until they’re one hundred years old. They plan their careers and their families and their vacations and their futures as if they’ll be around for all of it. But my thoughts work differently than most people’s, knowing that I don’t have the option to pretend I’ll live until I’m 100 years old. Because I won’t. Based on the current state of my health, I’ll be lucky to live another ten years. And that’s precisely why I think about death every minute of every hour of every day of my life.
Until today.
Until the moment I jumped out of the plane and I looked down on an Earth that seemed so insignificant that I couldn’t help but laugh. And I couldn’t stop laughing. The entire time we were falling, I laughed hysterically until I started crying because the experience was beautiful and exhilarating and far exceeded my expectations. The entire time I was plummeting toward the earth at over one hundred miles per hour, I didn’t once think about death. I could only think of how lucky I was to be able to feel that alive.
Jake’s words kept repeating in my head as I was pushing against the wind. “This is living!”
He’s right. This is the most I’ve ever lived, and I want to do it again. We’ve only been on the ground for all of a minute. Jake’s landing was impeccable, but I’m still harnessed to him and we’re sitting on the ground, my feet out in front of me as I try to catch my breath. I appreciate that he’s given me a quiet moment to soak it all in.
I shake my head. “Nothing. Just…” I don’t know how to sign what I want to say, so I grab my phone again.
Sydney: This all feels surreal. I’m still trying to soak it all in. Last night was completely unexpected. I was starting to convince myself that you were getting to a point where you didn’t think we could be together.
Ridge’s eyes shoot to mine and he laughs a little, like my text was completely absurd. Then he leans forward and gives me the softest, sweetest kiss before replying.
Ridge: I haven’t been able to sleep for three months. Warren forced me to eat because I was anxious all the time. I’ve thought about you every minute of every day, but I kept my distance because you said we needed time apart. And even though it killed me, I knew you were right. Since I couldn’t be with you, I forced myself to write music about you.
Sydney: Are there any songs I haven’t heard yet?
Ridge: I played all my new songs for you last night. But I’ve been working on one. I’ve been stuck because the lyrics didn’t feel quite right. But last night after you fell asleep, the lyrics started flowing like water. I wrote them down and sent them to Brennan as soon as I got them down on paper.
He wrote an entire song after I fell asleep last night? I narrow my eyes at him and then reply.
Sydney: Have you even slept yet?
He shrugs. “I’ll nap later,” he says, brushing his thumb over my bottom lip. “Keep an eye on your email today,” he says as he leans in for another kiss.
I love it when Brennan makes rough cuts of the songs Ridge writes. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of dating a musician.
Ridge rolls off the couch and then pulls me up with him. “I’ll leave so you can get ready for work.”
I nod and kiss him goodbye, but when I try to walk to my bedroom, he doesn’t release his grip on my hand. I turn around and he’s looking at me expectantly.
“What?”
He points to the shirt I have on. His shirt. “I need that.”
I look at his T-shirt and laugh. Then I pull the shirt off—slowly—and hand it to him. He’s eyeing me up and down as he takes his shirt and pulls it over his head. “What time did you say you’re coming over tonight?” He’s still staring at my chest when he asks this question, completely unable to look me in the eyes.
I laugh and push him toward the door. He opens it and slips out of my apartment, but not before stealing another quick kiss. I close the door behind him and realize for the first time since the day I moved out of my old apartment, I finally feel like I’m no longer resentful for the turmoil Hunter and Tori caused.
I am absolutely, without a doubt, so grateful for Hunter and Tori. I would live through the Tori/Hunter heartache a million times over if Ridge was always my final result.
•••
A few hours later, I get an email from Brennan. I duck into a bathroom stall at work with my headphones and click on the email with the subject line, “Set Me Free.” I lean against the wall, press play on my phone, and close my eyes.
“Set Me Free”
I’ve been running ‘round
I’ve been laying down
I’ve been underground with the devil
You’ve been saving me like a ship at sea
Saying follow me to the light now
So here we go
A little more
Something I’ve been waiting for
Here we go
A little more
You set me free
Shook the dust right off me
Locked up tight you found the key
And now I see
Ain’t no place I’d rather be
I got you and you got me
You set me free
Hard to know the cost of it
But when you’ve lost something
Then you know there’s a price tag
Think you might have been born to
Be my come through when
I can’t keep it all together
So here we go
A little more
Something I’ve been waiting for
Here we go
A little more
You set me free
Shook the dust right off me
Locked up tight you found the key
And now I see
Ain’t no place I’d rather be
I got you and you got me
You set me free
I was sitting low
I didn’t know where I could go
Thought the bottom was the ceiling
No remedy to heal it
A Hail Mary to a sin
A new start to an end
You set me free
Shook the dust right off me
Locked up tight you found the key
And now I see
Ain’t no place I’d rather be
I got you and you got me
You set me free
I stand completely silent after the song ends. There are tears running down my cheeks, and it isn’t even a sad song. But the meaning behind the lyrics Ridge wrote after falling asleep next to me last night mean more to me than any other lyrics he’s ever written. And even though I understood what he was saying this morning when he said he feels free for the first time, I didn’t realize just how much I identified with what he was feeling.
You set me free, too, Ridge.
I pull the headphones out of my ears, even though I want to put the song on repeat and listen to it for the rest of the day. On my way out of the bathroom, I catch myself singing the song out loud in the empty hallway with a ridiculous smile on my face.
“Ain’t no place I’d rather be. I got you and you got me…”
I think about death every minute of every hour of every day of my life. I’m almost positive I think about death more than the average person. It’s hard not to when you know you’ve been given a fraction of the time almost everyone else on earth has been given.
I was twelve when I started to research my diagnosis. No one had ever really sat me down and explained to me that Cystic Fibrosis came with an expiration date. Not an expiration date on the illness, but an expiration date on my life.
Since that day, at only twelve-years-old, I look at life completely differently than I looked at it before. For example, when I’m in the cosmetics section of a store, I look at the age cream and know that I’ll never need it. I’ll be lucky if my skin even starts to wrinkle before I die.
I can be in the grocery section and I’ll look at the expiration dates on food and wonder which one of us will last longer. Me or the mustard?
Sometimes I receive invitations in the mail for a wedding that’s still a year out, and I’ll circle the date on the calendar and wonder if my life will last longer than the couple’s engagement.
I even look at newborn babies and think of death. Knowing that I’ll never live to see a child of my own grow into adulthood has erased any desire to ever have a child.
I’m not a depressed person. I’m not even sad about my fate. I accepted it a long time ago.
Most people live their lives as if they’ll live until they’re one hundred years old. They plan their careers and their families and their vacations and their futures as if they’ll be around for all of it. But my thoughts work differently than most people’s, knowing that I don’t have the option to pretend I’ll live until I’m 100 years old. Because I won’t. Based on the current state of my health, I’ll be lucky to live another ten years. And that’s precisely why I think about death every minute of every hour of every day of my life.
Until today.
Until the moment I jumped out of the plane and I looked down on an Earth that seemed so insignificant that I couldn’t help but laugh. And I couldn’t stop laughing. The entire time we were falling, I laughed hysterically until I started crying because the experience was beautiful and exhilarating and far exceeded my expectations. The entire time I was plummeting toward the earth at over one hundred miles per hour, I didn’t once think about death. I could only think of how lucky I was to be able to feel that alive.
Jake’s words kept repeating in my head as I was pushing against the wind. “This is living!”
He’s right. This is the most I’ve ever lived, and I want to do it again. We’ve only been on the ground for all of a minute. Jake’s landing was impeccable, but I’m still harnessed to him and we’re sitting on the ground, my feet out in front of me as I try to catch my breath. I appreciate that he’s given me a quiet moment to soak it all in.
