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If she wanted space, it looked like maybe she didn’t want him to win her back. But he didn’t know how he couldn’t at least try.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Sterling kept the guitar over his shoulder as he walked to the front of the stage, waving and smiling to his fans. He spent a little more time tonight and even bent down where he could reach to touch a young girl’s hand. Her father had braved the area closest to the stage just to get her near. Sterling’s sound wasn’t hard enough for a really wild mosh pit or anything, but still. The girl had brown hair, but big blue eyes that shone when he squeezed her hand. She made him think of May and a smile lit his face.
Since this was his last show, he could fly back out to L.A. soon to see her. They were driving back to Nashville tomorrow and he would fly back to California in two days. He didn’t want to think back to the very first time he visited, where May was still in withdrawal. But her weak smile and careful way she had carried herself were gone at his last visit, replaced by a huge grin and a bounce in her step. Her eyes had been bright and clearer, and she laughed long and loud with him.
May was changing. And she wasn’t the only one.
“Good night, Charlotte!” Sterling shouted. “Thank you for coming out and for supporting my music. You guys know how to close out a tour!”
More screams. People held up phones with the lit screens shining toward him and his bandmates joined him out front for one last bow. At one time, this had been the high point of his life: performing a great show. But almost immediately after, a crash had followed, every single time. As soon as the adrenaline left his body, Sterling would go back to a tour bus or an empty hotel room and remember that the joy was short-lived. He would have to do it all again. Crowds were fickle. They could turn on him at any time. Then what would he have?
The post-performance depression he sometimes had was just one of the things he had talked about with his therapist. Because of his schedule, they had sessions over the phone, not in-person. Sterling thought that might be weird, but he was much more open to sharing this way. He found it easier to be honest. Morgan had recommended the service when he mentioned wanting to get counseling.
“I’m proud of you, big guy,” she had said when he enlisted her help. They had finally gotten back to normal, the weirdness of their fake dating gone. Morgan had met someone as well while on the road—a guitarist for another band they played with at a show in Seattle. That took away some of the tension as well, letting them fall back into their easy friendship. Sterling was glad. Between Moby, his therapist, and Morgan, he had a lot of listening ears.
Sterling wouldn’t say that he had fully dealt with his anger toward his father. But he had made strides. He was still working. He would say the same thing about his faith. It wasn’t the childlike wonder he’d had when he was young, before his father left. He asked a lot more questions and challenged more things but was open and could sense God working in him. The fact that he believed in God again would have shocked him a few months ago. Coming to this point made him realize that he had been fighting for years. He didn’t realize how exhausting it had been until he let go.
Moby surprised Sterling by telling him that he grew up in the church. He had fallen away a bit as well and Staci had challenged him to reconnect with God. In the back lounge of the tour bus, Sterling and Moby had long and sometimes impassioned debates about the Bible. These discussions had really helped bring the words to life for Sterling. Faith was not weak, as he had thought to himself for years. For him, faith was engaging daily with his doubts and fears and his shortcomings. Sterling felt like he was really living for the first time he could really remember.
He wouldn’t say he was fixed. But would he ever be? He just hoped the changes in him were enough. As alive as he felt, there was still one very big missing piece in his life.
Moby put his arm around Sterling and they waved one last time. The roar of the crowd surged up around them, filling their ears and even vibrating a little in Sterling’s chest. With a smile, they exited the stage.
“You ready for this to end?” Moby asked, having to almost shout in Sterling’s ear.
He passed off his guitar to one of the crew members. “Yes and no. You?”
“This was your best tour ever, man. You better keep me on the shortlist for your next one.”
Because Sterling was a solo artist, his band could trade out. Chuck and David had already said that they were going to stop touring and find more nine-to-five jobs. Sterling had signed with a new label and they probably would recommend people. But Sterling had gotten a great contract and loved his new label. They would listen if he wanted specific people. He definitely wanted Moby.
“You know I will,” Sterling said. “I don’t think I could go on tour without you now. Was that your master plan? To make it so I had to keep you around?”
“A magician never reveals his secrets,” Moby said with a smile.
They moved down the halls, people giving high fives and slaps on the back for a great show. After Reese left, Sterling thought that he might lose the energy that had marked the start of the tour. But she was never far from his mind on stage. Somehow the heartache he felt at losing her colored his performance as much as his excitement when she had been there. He had written a few slower ballads that were gut-wrenching to perform, but somehow cathartic as well.
His favorite new song, though, was one called “Spin.” The melody had come from that night in Santa Monica with Reese. He sang it for the first time tonight in the encore, dedicating it to his girlfriend, feeling his heart clench as he thought of Reese and said that word. Girlfriend.
Did she watch any of the videos fans took of his shows? Would she see this song and wonder who his girlfriend was?
Or had she moved on?
One of the agreements Moby and Staci had come to was that they wouldn’t share much personal information back and forth to Reese and Sterling. It was too slippery of a slope and painful to them both. Though Moby and Staci both thought Reese and Sterling should talk, they hadn’t since that last morning in Santa Monica.
Sterling did send Reese a letter. Since he couldn’t apologize in person, he found her address in the paperwork she had filled out for Morgan. It took him a few days to get the guts to write it and another week to send it.
Reese,
I wanted to say this in person, but I don’t know when or if I’ll have the chance. Text and email seemed too small to say these words.
I AM SO SORRY.
Even on paper, they seem too small. There is no excuse for the way I snapped at you or for the hurtful things I said. My anger towards my father has been a poison. I hadn’t realized how much until I let it poison you too.
I am working through this. I’m also working on how being angry with my dad turned into anger toward God. Though I don’t deserve them, I covet your prayers.
