18. Reed

18

REED

“HARVEST MOON” – THE brOTHERS COMATOSE, AJ LEE & BLUE SUMMIT

D unn and I sit outside beside the pool at the afterparty at some Airbnb, which I think belongs to Zach Bryan and his band, but I’m not sure.

We’re surrounded by members of the Red Lemons, and Zach is strumming his guitar for fun in the corner with some of his band, and some members of the Turnpike Troubadours.

It’s unreal. I feel like I’m living a modern-day, midsummer night’s Shakespearian fever dream. Is this real?

The night air is hot and breezy, carrying the scent of fresh food. The Red Lemons’ horn player, Joe “Ruby” Manzo, is flirting with some girls in his trademark red robe—adding a spark of colorful randomness to the evening.

I look over at Dunn, and he’s got a huge grin on his face.

“This is the best night of my life,” Dunn beams. “And you guys are the heroes of it. Still can’t believe you pulled that off. That made my night. Hell, that made my year .”

“Dunn, aren’t you having a kid?”

He waves me off with a grin. “The fun years are when they get to be over five anyway, and you can teach ‘em stuff.”

I raise my glass in a toast and find myself caught up in the moment, swept away by the magic of the music and the company. Time seems to stand still as I savor the flavors of the delicious meal and the warmth and camaraderie surrounding me.

My gaze drifts over to Luna.

She remains a mysterious figure, who’s been a constant source of inspiration and fun during this trip. She sits quietly on a stoop at the edge of the group, her eyes curious as she takes everything in.

On the walk over here, I caught her humming my song ‘Blue Horses.’ When I played for her this morning, her presence seemed to infuse me with some special power, pushing me to pour my heart and soul into each chord and lyric.

As our eyes meet across the space, a silent understanding passes between us. It’s a connection that transcends words, a shared passion for music and a mutual appreciation for the wildness of this weekend. With a subtle nod, I thank her for being my muse today.

She gets up and walks toward me.

“What was that?” she asks.

“I just wanted to thank you.”

“For what?”

“For igniting a creative spark inside me. It’s burning brightly today.”

“Is that the drugs talking, or you?”

“It’s all me,” I assure her. “I feel like you’ve upped my ability to be courageous and take risks with my music. So thank you.”

“You’re amazing. So thank you ,” she says. With a mischievous grin, she claps her hands three times as the next song finishes, which is Turnpike playing with the Red Lemons.

“Hey, everyone! Can Reed here share one of his songs?” she yells, cupping her hands around her mouth to make sure everyone can hear.

My face turns beet red. “No, that’s okay.” I wave her off. In front of some of the best musicians alive? No thanks . “She’s joking.”

“Hell, yeah. Good idea,” Henry Cooney says. “Let’s hear some of your original shit.”

“Nah, nah…”

Violet holds out Johnny Blue again for me to play. “We insist.”

I bite my bottom lip and shoot Luna a look. “I’ll get you for this,” I whisper under my breath.

She smiles.

As I take Johnny Blue from Violet and replace her on the wooden barstool in the song circle, I feel my heart hammering like a bass drum. I look out at the sea of eyes on me, and suddenly it’s so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

“Let’s see what you got, ol’ son,” Zach says, and everyone cracks up.

I’m grateful for the tension breaker. “All right. I wrote this song a while back. It’s called ‘Old Soul From Chicago’. It’s in C sharp minor, in case you want to jam with me.” I nod to their fiddle player, then start the slow, mysterious intro before I sing:

She’s an old soul from Chicago

She likes Sinatra and the opera

Likes wearin’ dresses and going steady

Wishes she lived through the Roaring Twenties

He’s a rambler from New York City

He likes lyin’ and goodbyin’

Likes to swallow ’em up and pretend it’s love

Like the raging seas of Jonah

Ooo, Ooo, she thought it was love

All she got was a broken heart

Ooo, Ooo, she thought it was love

It was Saturday night somewhere swanky

He was tall and handsome and lanky

He walked right up to her just like Gatsby

Asked politely, “Would you dance with me?”

As they danced all night to Bix

He said I’ve never felt something like this

Never knew I could love so quickly

With those blue eyes it just hit me

Ooo, Ooo, she thought it was love

All she got was a broken heart

Ooo, Ooo, she thought it was love

I nod to the violin player, and she jams a beautiful solo, perfectly in line with the feel and melody of the song. My eyes catch Luna, who is staring so intently I feel like she might bore a hole through me.

The first time in her life she came open

He was the one for whom she’d been hopin’

He took her back to his hotel

What they did, she’d never tell…

When morning came round she awakened

To an empty bed, feelin’ taken

The rambler went city to city

She’d been a fool for him just like many

Ooo, Ooo, she thought it was love

All she got was a broken heart

Ooo, Ooo, she thought it was love

She’s an old soul from Chicago

She likes Sinatra and the opera

He’s a rambler from New York City

He likes lyin’ and goodbyin’

When I’m done, cheers of applause erupt.

“You wrote that shit?” Henry says, giving me a slap on the back. “Fuck yeah, man! Where can I listen to it?”

“Nowhere,” I shrug.

“Well, you better get that up on Spotify. Like, right now.”

“I’m not great with recording,” I tell him, rubbing the back of my neck. “More of a live performer.”

“Nah man, you just need a producer. I know a guy in Nashville where we recorded one of our albums—and in Chicago, for that matter.”

“I’d love to get his info.”

He nods. “I’ll shoot it over to it to you.”

The jam session carries on into the wee hours, and it’s legendary. At one point, Dunn comes over and hands me another beer.

“Man, you’ve really come out of your shell this weekend.”

I nod. “Thanks for making me come.”

“I feel bad. You’re not gonna get any shit at work come Monday, are you?”

“I’ll deal with it.”

“Legendary, man! I’m tired, though. Like, I think I might pass out.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, I’m gonna head out. You good?”

“Oh, I’m gonna stay until we’re done playing. I can’t leave this scene.”

“Understood. See you back at the hotel in the morning. We leave at oh-nine hundred hours.”

“Roger that.”

Eventually the night fizzles down, and finally it’s just Violet, Henry, Luna, and me sitting around playing.

“I’ve been telling him he needs to believe in himself,” Luna says, pointing to me.

“Man, the thing is, you have to be able to see the reality before everyone else does,” Henry says. “You’ve got to be a little delusional. Then once it happens? It’s no longer a delusion. Now everyone thinks you’re a genius. Yet really, they’re just part of your shared delusion.”

“That’s hella deep,” Luna chimes in.

“But at the same time?” Henry continues. “Just enjoy the ride. Don’t get caught up too much in future planning. I’ve always had a problem with that. You really can only live your life one day at a time.”

“Yeah. I’ve had to make some tough decisions,” Vi says. “I was engaged to someone else. He was perfect on paper. Sometimes you’ve got to go on instinct, though, and trust it.”

Henry yawns. “Anyways, y’all, I’m dead tired, and we have a gig in Cincinnati tomorrow. Want a lift back?”

“I was kind of hoping Reed would play a couple more songs,” Luna says. “Plus it’s a full-moon night, and I’m not tired.” She glances up at the full, bright yellow moon directly above us.

We bid them adieu as they walk toward the gate, and now it’s just Luna and me. She’s my audience of one, and I’ve got the house guitar.

“One more song. One more song!” she chants, grinning.

“The request line is open.”

“Do you know ‘Harvest Moon’?”

“Sure do.”

“I love that song. Play it for me, please!”

I do as she asks, watching her the whole time. She has a glazed, happy smile on her face.

“Okay, one more,” I tell her when I’ve finished. “I like this one, and it’s actually written by Shel Silverstein.”

“Seriously? The kids’ book author?”

“The one and only.”

“I love Shel Silverstein.” She smiles. “When I was a little kid, I remember we went to the book store, and I started crying because they didn’t have any new Shel Silverstein books for me.”

“That is absolutely adorable.”

“Adorable?” She playfully fakes a frown. “It was tragic.”

I play the classic Silverstein poem made popular by Johnny Cash, “A Boy Named Sue,” and then sit down next to her.

“I love that song. Makes me think of my own daddy situation.” She giggles.

“What daddy situation?”

“So, my parents are divorced. And my mom is now married to my dad’s former best friend.”

“Damn. Okay.”

“And…I think he might be my biological father.”

“Holy shit. What do you mean might be? Seems like a big deal. Did you do ancestry dot com or whatever?”

“Nah. I don’t want to know. My dad raised me, and I’ll consider him my dad no matter what. I love him. I don’t want to think about my stepdad. He’s an asshole. And my relationship with my mother is strained because of that.”

I nod slowly, noting that these are the first facts Luna has ever shared with me about herself beyond the superficial. “Is that why you’re on a whole spiritual rebirth thing, Luna?” I gesture to the moon overhead.

“No. My parents have nothing to do with my current state. I’ve made peace with them.”

“So what was it?’”

“It was a breakup. I was really in love, and then all of a sudden…” She slams her palms together. “Boom. Reality check. He was faking the whole thing. It was kind of like your song, actually. He was a rambler who liked to lie, I guess.”

“How did he fake the whole thing? How’d you find out?”

“I followed him and finally found out the truth.”

“Whoa.” I move a little closer to her. She takes a sip of her drink and looks off into the distance.

“He still calls me. Last time we talked, he asked if I’d do a porno with him. That’s when I cut him off.”

Now my jaw is basically on the floor. She’s opening up about everything. “Why are you telling me this now?”

“Because for some reason, Reed, I trust you.”

“Okay. I won’t tell a soul.”

“Thanks.” A tear rolls down her cheek. “He… I thought we were in love. And then I got pregnant.”

“You have…a kid?”

She shakes her head. “I terminated the pregnancy.”

Not sure what else to say, I take her hand in mine.

“I’m not saying I wouldn’t have chosen that myself, but he convinced me to do it. He flipped out when he found out I was pregnant, told me there was no way I could keep it. Not long after that is when I found out he was sleeping with other women. He had been the whole time we were together.”

“That’s awful!” I rub her hand.

“I know. It’s…I still think about her, about the whole thing, just about every day.”

“Her?” I ask, and then realize the answer to my question before she says it.

“She felt like a girl.”

“Luna.” I tip her chin toward me. I can feel this woman’s grief emanating from her soul. “This isn’t your fault.”

“Thanks.”

“No, really. It’s not your fault. You’re a spectacular woman. ”

“Thank you. I just—it’s a hard thing to process. And this was after I had already done a whole year of healing after something else that happened to me.”

“What happened?”

“So you know how I said I used to be big in the EDM scene?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, long story short, I was at a yacht party after a concert in Florida, and next thing I knew, I woke up in New York City in this guy’s apartment.”

“Like the movie Taken? ”

She nods. “It was insane. I don’t want to go into more detail, but I’ll just say when I woke up in New York City, I prayed to God, even though I wasn’t raised religious. My prayers were answered, and I made it out alive. That’s when I went to live with Aunt Sarah. I got out of the EDM scene, and I converted to Catholicism. That might sound crazy, but I don’t care. It worked for me, and I needed it at the time. I worked really hard to get myself back to a healthy place.”

“Sounds like it.”

She laughs. “I even thought about becoming a nun. I researched it and everything. But I eventually merged back into normal life. Found a cool job as a bartender. Made some new friends in Chicago. And then…I met my ex. I thought we were going to be together forever. We had lots of good times, but…it was all a lie, like I said.”

“Luna, I’m so sorry.” I hold her gaze for what feels like an eternity. I just want to make sure she knows I’m really listening, really absorbing every word. “I’m so glad you’re here. You’ve meant so much to me and Dunn this weekend.”

“You don’t think I’m being dramatic?”

“Heartbreak can break the best of us. I’ve seen it happen.”

“Thanks.” She wipes her face. “I’ve had a difficult time since that breakup. I’ve tried everything, even tried moving away for a few months to L.A. Then I moved back to Chicago because I thought maybe I shouldn’t run away, maybe that was my problem. I stopped drinking. I started drinking again—in moderation—and tried to just enjoy life. I did every kind of therapy you could think of. I still have this nagging feeling that I’m…I don’t know. That I’m inadequate. And that I’ll never truly trust a man again. That there’s this secret code to being happy that I don’t understand, and I’ll never quite make it out of this valley I’m in.”

Our thighs are pressed together now, and she’s running her hand over my wrist.

“Luna, look at me.”

She holds my eyes, and the moonlight beams off hers.

“You’re a really, really special person. And a guy some day is going to realize that. And you’re going to be so happy and appreciative with the perspective you’ve gained.”

“I appreciate that.”

“No. Really. It’s just the truth.”

She nods, but a tear runs down her cheek.

“It’s just that, when something bad happens to me, I try to figure out how it’s actually the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Whoa. That’s deep.”

Our eyes remain locked.

“But with my ex, I don’t know how that could have been the best thing to ever happen to me. I’m trying to find the silver lining, but I haven’t found it yet.”

I run a hand onto her shoulder, and through her hair.

She continues. “I just, I want to get back to having that light in my eyes, you know? I haven’t felt it in so long. I haven’t seen it in myself when I look at pictures any more. I don’t know what to do, Reed.”

Tears prick at her eyes. I feel myself getting a little bleary eyed too, thinking about all she’s been through, and feeling the emotion transfer from her.

“Luna…I have to say something.”

“Okay?”

“Look at me,” I tell her.

She turns her head, a little reluctantly, and brings her dark eyes to mine. I keep my hand on her shoulder.

“I’ve never met anyone with as much light in their eyes as you. You have a great smile. You’re incredible to be around. I feel honored just to have gotten to spend the weekend with you. I’m just soaking up every moment with you on this crazy adventure while I can.”

She sniffles and a tear drop runs down her cheek.

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

“No.” The truth is conveyed in the firmness of my tone of voice. “I’m not. Not by a long shot.”

“Thanks.” Her voice is shaky, but I think she gets my point. “We should probably head back now, don’t you think?” She adds.

“Yeah.” I agree. “I think so.”

I look up and see a few clouds overhead. The night has gotten progressively warmer and more humid.

“My phone’s dead,” she says.

“Mine too. Guess we’ll have to walk back. I know the way, though.”

I take one last look at the place before we exit through the side gate. “What an epic night.”

“You performed in front of the Red freaking Lemons,” she says.

“ We performed,” I correct as we start our walk back to the city center.

“Well, I couldn’t sing along to ‘Old Soul From Chicago’ because I’ve never heard it. It was really good, though.”

“Thanks.”

“How many songs would you say you’ve written?”

“Hmmm... I don’t know, probably over a hundred.”

“Over a hundred?! That’s insane. How’d you do that?”

“Recently, I just write one every day pretty much, when I have a spare moment.”

“You know that’s not normal, right?”

“I’m definitely not normal, so, yeah,” I joke.

“No, Reed.” Pulling my hand, she stops me, and turns to face me. “You’re so interesting to me. Because you’ll get on stage like a crazy person and play with the Red Lemons. But you still think you’re not good enough to play. Like, what’s riskier, if you think about it? Staying in that job you obviously don’t like? Or going after your dreams?”

I find myself staring deep into her eyes, and my heart starts to hammer relentlessly. Luna’s thick, dark hair falls around her shoulders and I feel continuously drawn to her.

“Where do you get off telling me what to do?” I joke, trying to push her off.

“Oh I’m not telling you what to do. I’m just reflecting who I see.”

I don’t know what else to say to this woman. She’s so right, and this entire weekend has felt like she’s been doing a personal excavation of my soul. She sees right through my bullshit, and projects some new, better person I could become onto me.

I see a hell of a lot of potential in her, too.

We both look up, and the full moon is being covered over with hazy clouds. I start down the sidewalk again, and she follows.

We walk a few blocks, and it starts to drizzle. Thunder rolls in the distance.

“Really wish we had our phones,” she says.

“Really, spiritual-rebirth girl? You can’t make it one night with no phone?” I wink, then look up at the sky. “We shall guide ourselves home using the stars!”

A smile spreads across her face. “We can’t see the stars anymore, though.”

“Guess we’ll just have to operate on instinct.”

The rain starts to come down heavier, and as we pass a park, it opens up into a downpour.

“Come on!” I grab her hand and guide her toward a grove of trees. Lightning flashes and I see a sign. Turns out this is an old arboretum.

We find a huge tree in the center of the park—a weeping willow, I think—and gather as close as we can to the trunk so we’re protected from the downpour. The wind picks up, and the deluge continues. Hiding is no use. Our clothes are basically soaked through, our bodies pressed together for extra warmth, when inspiration hits me.

“Come here,” I tell Luna, taking her hand and guiding her away from the trunk.

With her hair matted against her head, and her clothes soaked through, we start to dance, and I sing:

We laughed and we danced

As it started to pour.

You began to run

What you’d do that for?

She immediately smiles and joins in:

We don’t need Tennessee whiskey

And we don’t need California wine

All I need is you in my arms to get high, high, high, high

We’ll dance in the living room till four a.m.

I know you can be my lover, baby

Can you be my best friend?

We twirl and dance and laugh at how soaked through our clothes are. It’s comical trying to stay dry in a rainstorm like this. A part of me is trying to pull away from her, but the joy I feel is overwhelming.

Our lips are like magnets, and our heads move closer, almost imperceptibly. Finally I can’t take it anymore.

I press her body into the weeping willow tree, grab hold of her thigh so she’s standing on one leg, and kiss her in the rain.

It’s a deep, wet, hot kiss.

One hand is on her leg and another roams her hair against me, and I let my hand fall to her hip as our kiss lingers.

When we break, I cock my head slightly and look into her eyes. I don’t even know her name. We kiss again, and it’s hot, rain-soaked, and desperate. We’re like two lovers starved for each other. We pull back and make eye contact before she takes off running.

“Come on, Reed. We have to make it home before sunrise!”

I chase after her, and the thought of what I’ll make of all this tomorrow kicks in.

But I push it away as quickly as I can. Until the sun comes up, she’s still Cinderella at the ball, and well, I feel something like that, too.