Her guitar pick ran easily over the strings. The thick chords reverberated in the room and as her fingers flew over the strings, her thoughts turned to him.
Again.
His smile was like a candle in the dark. Every time she saw it, she couldn't help but feel warm and cozy inside, as if she'd just sipped hot chocolate, with steam still rising off its frothy top.
All she ever wanted was the old feeling to come back they'd had when they were teenagers. So much had changed since then.
They'd grown up . . . but she still loved him.
She loved him the same way she had when they'd been branch leaders together. She loved him with the same love she'd loved him with when she first saw him, broken and hurting, hiding behind a false front of pride and wealth. Except now her love was more intense.
She stopped playing and tossed her pick aside. Her callused fingers easily plucked the strings but her thoughts were not with the instrument she cradled in her lap.
Her left hand pressed and released the strings, her eyes shut, creating a medley in her mind. Of him.
Of every memory she possesed, she found a chord that fit the scene.
Her cell phone rang. She dropped the guitar and lunged for it.
With disappointment she saw the Caller ID, cursed and threw her phone aside.
It was only Jonah Wizard.
Only Jonah Wizard. She laughed to think she would have such a thought.
She leaped for the phone again and picked it up on the last ring. "Hello?"
"Darling, it took you long enough to answer."
She sighed. "What do you want, Jonah?"
"You."
His answer sucked the breath out of her. "What?"
Jonah was quickly rephrasing his sentence. "I didn't mean it like that, yo! I meant that I needed your help."
Amy laughed. "Let's hope none of your fans were listening."
Jonah laughed. "Or Nellie. She'd have my backside bruised and bloody for a month straight."
They both erupted into laughter so joyous it filled the room's atmosphere and seemed to bring the sun back into the room.
Amy stood up and opened the curtains, letting the sun in. It lifted her spirits and she couldn't help but wonder why she hadn't done it earlier? Her melancholy mood was quickly evaporating, a puddle in the intense rays of sunlight.
"So what do you need help with?" She asked.
Jonah paused for a second. When he spoke, it was with great hesitancy. "Its . . . its Ian."
Without meaning to, she smiled. The smile was sweet, so she let it remain on her lips. Leaning against the wall she asked, "With what?"
"It's him. He's withdrawn into himself. No one can reach him. Not even Cara."
Cara. The smile evaporated from her face at the thought of the blonde dimwit who had stolen Ian from her so many years agao. If Cara couldn't there get to him, was no way Amy could.
Unless . . . unless he still harbored the same feelings she did. Her heart skipped a beat at the thought. There was nothing wrong with trying.
"I can come." She said. "When do you need me?" She crossed her fingers, hoping beyond hope that the answer was "Right now."
Her crossed fingers were unnecessary. Jonah answered quickly, going 70 on a road that was only meant to be traveled 25. "Get on the earliest flight you can." He paused. "No, actually, I'll send my jet to get you."
She smiled. "I'll start packing. Text me when my ride arrives."
Amy clicked her phone off and smiled.
She had packing to do.
Amy stood nervously in front of her mirror. Her long auburn hair was curled in soft waves that framed her face. Her eyes were rimmed with eyeliner. She wore an olive green Gucci dress that complemented her skin and hair . Several braided bracelets adorned her slender wrist.
But it wasn't right. She wanted to be the Amy that Ian remembered. She wanted to be the same girl he'd fallen in love with years before.
She went to wash her face, and do something different with her hair.
The old Amy had never worn eyeliner, and the old Amy never curled her hair.
She pulled out a brush and a hair tie and went to look in her closet for those old jeans she used to wear.
It was better, but she still wasn't the same.
Her hair was up in a loose ponytail, the hair tie barely grasping the thick tresses. Her eyes were natural, her face held a small amount of blush and foundation.
She still wore the same bracelets, but the jeans had been too tight.
She'd tried on several different outfits, and finally turned to the dress she had been wearing before. Maybe Ian would appreciate a little sophistication.
Grabbing her phone and her duffel bag she stepped outside, locking the door behind. She tossed her bag in the backseat of her car.
Then she frowned and turned back towards the house.
On an impulse that she couldn't describe, she turned on one heeled foot and walked back towards the door. Unlocking it, she stepped inside and grabbed her guitar.
Maybe a little music would liven Ian up.
When she was safely on the road, her hands gripping the steering wheel, all she could think of was Ian.
Missing him had become part of her daily routine. Every time she heard his name she couldn't help but smile. Any news of him at all brightened her day, no, her week.
Every time her phone rang, she would jump for it, a starving dog lunging for a scrap of meat. And every time she saw it wasn't him, her spirits would sink, a stone dropping to the bottom of the ocean.
Missing him was her life.
And if nothing changed, Amy knew it would still continue in the same way.
He couldn't take it.
The heat was too intense. The sun of pain beat down on him, the sands and rock of the desert he was crossing alone reflected the heat upon him, until he was scorching with the intense fire that was heat.
Standing on his own feet was too hard, only because he was standing alone. If he had someone with him, supporting him, it would be easier. Much easier.
All he ever wanted was someone "to have and to hold", he wanted to be able to cry with that person, to laugh, to have a companion who would stand by him at all times.
But instead he was tired. So tired.
Stitching up broken dreams, shattered on the concrete of life, with nothing more than the thread of hope and a needle of memory was exhausting.
He knew that life was rugged. He knew it was twisting mountain path, littered with jagged rocks, with rattlesnakes waiting, ready to pounce.
All he ever wanted . . . ever needed . . . was the feeling he'd gotten when he was with her.
When he'd made it to the other side of this gully of depression he'd find her, but not until then, because, while he wanted someone to cry with him, it wasn't right for him to drag her down with him.