Love Resolution

On the drive over, oblivious to the hilly topography or tropical greenery, they talked about their favorite bands. Bryan was a big Guns ‘N Roses fan and liked a lot of the metal stuff from the late nineties. He wrinkled his nose when Avery mentioned her love of classic rock.

“Van Halen. You’ve got to be kidding me? David Lee Roth. That dude is such a side show!”

“And Axl Rose is not?”

“Good point.”

“Speaking of show boating,” Avery mused, “what song do you want to perform?”

“How about ‘You and Me’? That will probably sound real good unplugged, and I think it’s popular enough that they will connect with it.”

“Lifehouse?” Her lips curved up.

“Yeah, why are you staring at me like that? What’s wrong with Lifehouse?”

“I just hadn’t pictured you as a ballad guy.”

“Don’t judge a book by its cover, Red.”

“I never do that.” She smiled. “Ok. Lifehouse it is. But you know every girl in that auditorium is gonna fall for you if you sing that one.”

He stared at her a long moment. “I’d settle for just one.”

“Oh, please,” she said, rolling her eyes.

He opened his mouth to say something but then looked out the window instead. The driver was pulling the SUV into the front circle of a two story red brick school, its decorative planting beds filled with kangaroo palms. “What are your plans for tomorrow?”

“I don’t have any,” she answered, twisting her hands. Her meeting with Marcus was foremost in her mind. Anything beyond that seemed immaterial to her.

“I was thinking of going out to Coronado Island for the day. Eating lunch at the Del. Would you like to come with me?”

“I haven’t been to the beach since I was a kid.” She sighed longingly.

“I love the ocean, the smell of the salt spray, the sound of the waves. When I wanna get away that’s where I go. There’s a real nice stretch in front of the Del. More shells than people this time of the year. A great place to put things in perspective.”

“It would be good to get away from all the stress.” She was quiet for a moment, auburn brows coming together. “But I don’t think I should. I really can’t make any firm plans for tomorrow. But thanks for inviting me.”

At a formal ceremony in the school’s gym, Avery presented the superintendent of the district with a check from the foundation. Then she and Bryan sat at a folding table while the students lined up and filed past to get autographs.

A group of girls were still giggling at something Bryan had said as they moved to her. While Avery signed Brutal Strength CD’s for them she tuned into Bryan’s conversation with the next teen.

“Hang in there, man. It’ll get better.” Bryan was leaning forward, elbows on the table. “I know it feels as if high school’s the center of the universe right now, but it’s not.”

“Dude, if it wasn’t for my mom, I’d quit school. Get the hell out of here. Start over somewhere else.”

“I know. I felt the same way when I was your age. But my mom, my sisters, and I stuck it out together and found ways to make ends meet. Life wasn’t easy. It kept knocking us down, but we never stayed there. My mom went to school at nights and got her nursing degree.”

“Doesn’t that take four years?”

“It does if you don’t have to work days. It took her seven, but she did it. Don’t give up is what I’m trying to say.”

“I won’t.” He bumped knuckles with Bryan. “Thanks.”

“Take it easy, man.”

“Ok. Time’s up at the signing table,” the principal informed everyone, checking his watch. “Mr. Jackson and Miss Jones are going to perform a song for us before they leave.”

Avery and Bryan picked up their cases and moved to the folding chairs that were set up in the center of the gym.

Avery managed to smile at Bryan. Just like in LA, he’d been a big hit with the kids. He was confident, yet approachable, with an appealing hint of sensitivity beneath the swagger.

He rolled up the sleeves on his shirt. “You ready?” he asked, pick poised over the strings of his guitar.

Avery nodded and kept her head down, trying not to look up into the cameras flashing all around them.

Bryan bowed his head and strummed the opening chords, taking the lead on vocal and guitar. He rocked back and forth in his chair, his tatted arm draped over the instrument while his twinkling eyes remained on her face. She almost missed her cue to join him on the chorus. At the bridge, he changed the words “she does” to “you do,” personalizing the song. Her finger slipped and her string squeaked. She closed her eyes, trying to block out the image of those grey green eyes so focused on her face, to no avail.

And as cheers and whistles rained down on them, something inside of her responded.