Maybe Once, Maybe Twice(78)
You shrug as they rip the dream of us apart
Why should our finale have a heart
Go ahead, burn me at the stake
Say words better left unsaid
Until the ashes of our maybes become my bed
I left the sirens behind
Ran past your street without stopping for our goodbye Didn’t slow down until my skin was bathed in bright hues Sandy shores at my feet, feeling golden and blue
I didn’t miss running
I missed having someone to run to
Now I watch you throw hope to the wolves You shrug as they rip the dream of us apart
Why should our finale have a heart
Go ahead, burn me at the stake
Say words better left unsaid
Until the ashes of our maybes become my bed
You blew through my door like I was your partner in crime The Bonnie to your Clyde
I told you I was taking flight
Your lips didn’t seem to mind
But you weren’t the type to let me drive
Don’t save the passenger seat for Clyde
To the moon and back, what a lie
You were never the wind beneath me
You were never my alibi
You were just someone to run to
I built my own wings when I was five
Watch me leave the ashes of our maybes behind
I finished the song and set my eyes on Asher. A million stars floated behind the smirk on his face.
“So, this is supposed to be the moment in the movie where she regrets the way they left things—not where she’s livid at him for letting her go,” he said.
“But she should be livid. She started a new life, he had the balls to show up at her door and sleep with her, and then he decided that he couldn’t be a part of her journey.”
“Sure, but it’s circumstance. Neither are really at fault here, and you’re putting all the blame on his shoulders. And if he’s not likeable, we won’t root for them.”
I scrunched up my face. Asher exhaled and walked behind me, turning my shoulders to another wall. It was a jet-black sky, with the moon slowly coming into focus. He kept his hands on my shoulders.
“Breathe in,” he said.
I inhaled. The room smelled like gunpowder, like moondust. Somehow, they had piped in outer space through the HVAC unit.
“Now, keep your eyes fixed ahead.”
I drew in the blurry moon as it came into focus, dead volcanoes and craters swirling into view. I felt the heat of Asher’s mouth on my ear as his chin rested on my neck, bringing the stars on the wall under my skin. He pointed to the moon, and I knew exactly what would follow. He was going to paint a picture for me. He’d done it so many times before, staring up at the sky with me during those Connecticut summers, making up stories about wild people who lived in the clouds.
“Okay, you’re Yael. Now, the only person who understands you? He can’t join you up here. It’s lonely, dark, new, and getting here was the most important moment of your life—which is complicated, because you can’t enjoy it the way you want to. Yes, he threw hope to the wolves, but maybe you did, too. You chose this life. You could have stayed with two feet planted on earth and had a nice life with that guy, but this is the first time in your existence where you’ve been the wind beneath your own wings, right? And we can keep some of the early verses, but let’s be fair here, and let’s hold on to hope for these two crazy kids. Sometimes circumstances change. Sometimes people make big sacrifices. And sometimes”—he tugged me closer to his chest, the warmth of his heart fluttering against my back—“sometimes, lovers follow through with the promises they made,” he whispered into my ear.
I wanted to turn around and kiss him, and I wanted to hold Garrett at the same time. The last thing this moment needed was my boundless mind floating back and forth between these two men. His words seemed to wrap Garrett inside a blanket of possibilities. I preferred the unrequited what-if to stay safely behind heavy doors—inside the dark, devastating corners of my mind. I needed only Asher to occupy the warm, golden parts inside me. A sparkly swirl of those two men made me feel like I was walking into a sunlit room, where Asher and Garrett were seated at two separate tables, both of them holding a chair out toward me, expectantly.
I had always embraced my emotional state with such vigor that it was absolutely impossible to separate my heartache from my lyrics. My songs were specifically autobiographical, which was never problematic because no one had paid me to write someone else’s story. It wasn’t that I was fighting artistic growth with the stubbornness of a child, it was that I didn’t know how to embrace hope for a hopeless man after Garrett had put his loving you makes me hate myself card on the table. I needed to untangle the corners of my mind so I could dive into the stars with my palms outstretched and my eyes closed. If anyone could get me there, it was the man whose warm arms were wrapped around mine.
Asher tilted his face, just a few inches from me as he watched my expression tighten to concern.
“Mags, think of this as a privilege—a privilege to walk a mile in someone else’s shoes. We’re all built different. We don’t feel the same. I remember the struggle I went through when I started acting, how I was terrified that if I felt loss, I would step out of a role and feel like I was losing my brother all over again. Sometimes it felt that way, but mostly, it felt incredible to have that gift—to be able to step into other shoes. I know you have it. I see the way you look at the world. It’s going to be uncomfortable, but if it isn’t uncomfortable, then you’re not doing it right.”