In The End

I fell apart on several people at the end of the night. I've done it on Mitch before; not Ariel, but we're that kind of friend, yknow, and I'd spent the last half hour standing beside her crying, so it probably wasn't that strange.

But James? Poor James. He's someone I know mostly from around, from running into each other in bars, on the street, a smattering of emails. We've had good conversations, whenever. Tonight, as I was snapping my coat shut and torturing myself by watching Mike's nimble fingers over the Rhodes, maybe the same Rhodes he was playing when I fell for him, remembering those fingers inside me, his smell, the way the back of his neck felt under my lips as I spooned him, all the broken promises, James walked by.

"How are you?"

My eyes were red, my face blotchy. I hadn't stopped crying since the Acorn took the stage.

The inflection in James' voice let me know he knew something was wrong.

I just shook my head.

He hugged me. My chest heaved, I buried my face in his shoulder, wrapped my fist in his lapel.

"I haven't seen him play in three years," I said, when I caught my breath.

"You didn't know he was in the Acorn?"

"No."

"He went down while they were touring with Calexico."

"I hadn't heard."

"I'm sorry."

"Me too."

He kissed my cheek, hugged me hard. I said what I'd already said to Mitch one hundred times, what I'd say to Ariel moments later.

"I'm fine, it'll be fine."

And it will.