She's the Ash
Chapter 3: Realizing
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I sat for a while longer; the early spring sky as barely tinged with sunset orange when I snapped out of my trance. My mom had closed the door to the garage with some force and it had startled me.
"Ashley?" I heard her call up the stairs.
"Yea, Mom?"
"What are you doing?"
Homework, Mom, " I lied through my teeth. I had finished my homework that Sunday; I guess I still had some overachieving tendencies from my class president days.
"Okay. Dinner is in an hour and a half." I heard her footsteps go back to into the living room and the TV turn on. I guess he wouldn't be making dinner, but ordering takeout in about ninety minutes.
I grabbed the remote to my stereo system and turned down the volume before I pressed play. I knew what this song was- this song was the entire reason I had bought the CD.
It was the song about me: "She's the Ash." Ash. Ashley. Me.
The song began very staccato – with short, edged notes – and it had an almost punk-jazz feel to it.
He sang:
She's the kind of girl who burns you up
Her eyes are blazing (blazing)
Can set you on fire
Every day, shooting me higher and higher
But then I crash (crash)
Into the ground
Bursting into flame
Look at what she's done to me (oh)
She's the ash (whoa-oh-oh-oh)
I'm all ablaze, losing control
I don't recognize myself anymore
But when my fire burns out
She still remains
She's the ash.
She's the kind of girl you want so bad
You're soul up in flames (flames)
Moaning and groaning
Wanted her, needing her, she just needs your love
But then I crash (crash)
Into the ground
Exploding in the night
Oh, why doesn't she understand?
She's the ash (whoa-oh-oh-oh)
I'm all ablaze, losing control
I don't recognize myself anymore
But when my fire burns out
She still remains
She's the ash.
She's the ash (whoa-oh-oh-oh)
I'm all ablaze, losing control
I don't recognize myself anymore
But when my fire burns out
She still remains
She's the ash.
She's all I know
She's the only one
She can't know
That I still love her
I've always loved her
No one else came close
She's the ash (whoa-oh-oh-oh)
I'm all ablaze, losing control
I don't recognize myself anymore
But when my fire burns out
She still remains
She's the ash.
She's the Ash.
I couldn't help the grin on my face, or the golden glow in my chest. He said he still loved me. That was all that mattered in that moment; I forgot that this album had debuted months ago, that this song could have been written months before even then.
I just knew that the feelings I had for him had been reciprocated, and that out of the three girls he had written song about on the album, he declared that I was the one for him.
I couldn't help remembering all of the amazing little moments we had shared. I remembered rose petals, a journal, brown-haired wig torn off my head when I finally realized that he was on the same wavelength as I was, and that our brains worked in tandem. I remembered how it felt when he kissed me, when our lips met and connected in a way that was so much more intimate than any other way of communicating.
I remembered our first time together – my first time – and how connected we were. He seemed to remember that in this song; he was reminding himself and me of how much we meant to each other, and revealed the fact that he still wanted to mean that much to each other.
I couldn't stop smiling- not until "My Window" began.
Hearing my music performed by Craig on his break out CD should have been amazing and awe-inspiring. Instead, I hear another girl's reedy, nasally voice singing backup where mine should have been. Instead, I heard Craig's voice singing a song he had chosen to not acknowledge as mine.
He had chosen to forget me.
I grudgingly had to admit that he had performed it well, with all the nuances I had pointed out to him; the son was his – I had written it for him – and it was perfect for him.
All of my elation washed out of me; he might have loved me once, but it was apparent that by the time this CD came out, he no longer did. The other girl's voice behind his own told me that much.
I got up out of bed to take the CD out, stretching my limbs and feeling the joints in my shoulders pop from sitting up against the pillows in the same position for so long. When I reached my stereo, though, I was surprised to find that the disc was still playing. 'My Window" should have been the last song on the track list, and the CD should have automatically stopped.
I was wondering how I could have broken my stereo in only an hour of usage, - and, of course, how I could convince Toby to fix it – when another hidden track clicked on.
There was no music, only talking- Craig's voice.
"Thank you, guys, for listening to this record. It means so much to me that you did. I know I wrote out 'thank yous,' but there one person who I never mentioned, because written words could never, ever thank her enough."
My heart stopped, absurdly hopeful now.
He stuttered on, his voice suddenly thick, "A-Ashley, no words can ever thank you enough for your song, for everything. You have always, always been everything to me. Please, if you heat this call- call me. I love you, still."
The track clicked off and the CD stopped.
I stared, amazed, at my stereo.
He had thanked me. He cared. He did still love me.
I was filled with that warm glow again, stronger now, my heart simultaneously light and full. My head was filled with Craig, his kisses, his smile, and his voice completing me in a way no other boy ever could.
But my smile began to falter a little; he had asked me to call him on a record that had come out months ago that I had stubbornly refused to buy, and when he never got that call, he may have given up on me.
He might have thought I had abandoned him. Again.
Shit. I don't even know his number.
I realized – really realized – then, that I may have opened my heart to him too late. I had realized that I still loved him too late.