gig at a small theater called Lyric.
My parents had an old friend that ran a record label in town and I’d sent him a few songs that year. He’d been impressed and had booked us to play a couple of songs opening for one of his new artists. It was an awesome opportunity for us, but we were both more excited about a weekend away together.
We had a great time exploring the city, enjoying the freedom and new adventure. In the morning, we had a sound check in a nearly empty theater. Emma grabbed one of the setup men and handed him a camera. Guitars in hand, we grinned happily from the stage. We had a few hours before the actual show and we spent it eating a lot of food and shopped for cowboy boots. By the time we were due at the theater, I’d almost forgot that we would actually be performing.
Emma and I had only ever played for each other. While my shyness had faded over the years, it had never disappeared completely. The thought of performing in front of a roomful of people twisted my stomach into knots. But I loved music, and I think part of me knew even then that I wanted to make a career out of it. So I stood at the side of the stage, willing myself to step forward. No amount of internal coaxing worked and my feet remained glued in place.
I felt Emma sidle next to me, her hand slipping into mine.
“You can do this,” she said, knowing exactly how petrified I was. “I’ll be right beside you.”
It was ridiculous that such a simple assurance could persuade me to put aside my fear, but that’s exactly what happened. With Emma by my side, I felt like I could do anything. The crowd was kind- applauding wildly when we finished.
Later, we lay next to each other on dumpy motel bed, staring at the cracks on the ceiling while we planned our future. We would go to college, get traditional careers, but still play our music at night and on the weekends. We would move to Nashville where music seemed to be everywhere. Emma wanted to be a lawyer and she joked about becoming my agent and helping me find a record deal. Even though she had been mostly kidding, dreaming out loud, her words sent wheels spinning in my head. That was the first moment I ever considered the possibility of making a living with my music. It could even be said that that night with Emma was my first small step away from her.
“Tyler?”
Staring at the picture, lost in the past, I had forgotten that T.J. was seated next to me. “Yeah?”
“Did you and my Mom used to date?”
My first instinct was to lie, though I wasn’t sure why. It just seemed like we were treading on sensitive territory, but I decided to stick with the truth as long as possible. “Yeah, we did. When we were younger.”
“Did you love her?” T.J. took back the photo and studied it closely.
“I did.”
“Why did you guys break up?”
“I moved out of town,” I said, which was mostly true.
“But now you’re back?”
“Yeah.”
T.J. looked at me with those green eyes, Emma’s eyes, and said knowingly, “And now you love her again, don’t you?”
“What makes you say that?”
Had I really been so obvious?
“Because she’s amazing. You’d be crazy not to love her.” T.J. shrugged and grinned.
My son was a smart kid.
“You’re right. I do love her.”
“Good.” T.J. put the picture back in the drawer. “Now we just have to get her to love you back.”
It turned out that T.J. wasn’t just being philosophical- he actually had a plan. By the time Emma got home from work, we had her favorite flowers in a vase on the table, her favorite meal- baked salmon and vegetables- ready to eat, and one of Wanda’s pies warming in the oven.
“What in the world is going on?” she asked, jaw open as she took in everything.
“Tyler made dinner!” T.J. pulled out a chair for her. “Sit, Mom.”
She sat, looking around nervously. “Why?”
“Do I need a reason?” I pretended to be offended. “Maybe I just really like to cook.”
“Ha.” Emma reached for
My parents had an old friend that ran a record label in town and I’d sent him a few songs that year. He’d been impressed and had booked us to play a couple of songs opening for one of his new artists. It was an awesome opportunity for us, but we were both more excited about a weekend away together.
We had a great time exploring the city, enjoying the freedom and new adventure. In the morning, we had a sound check in a nearly empty theater. Emma grabbed one of the setup men and handed him a camera. Guitars in hand, we grinned happily from the stage. We had a few hours before the actual show and we spent it eating a lot of food and shopped for cowboy boots. By the time we were due at the theater, I’d almost forgot that we would actually be performing.
Emma and I had only ever played for each other. While my shyness had faded over the years, it had never disappeared completely. The thought of performing in front of a roomful of people twisted my stomach into knots. But I loved music, and I think part of me knew even then that I wanted to make a career out of it. So I stood at the side of the stage, willing myself to step forward. No amount of internal coaxing worked and my feet remained glued in place.
I felt Emma sidle next to me, her hand slipping into mine.
“You can do this,” she said, knowing exactly how petrified I was. “I’ll be right beside you.”
It was ridiculous that such a simple assurance could persuade me to put aside my fear, but that’s exactly what happened. With Emma by my side, I felt like I could do anything. The crowd was kind- applauding wildly when we finished.
Later, we lay next to each other on dumpy motel bed, staring at the cracks on the ceiling while we planned our future. We would go to college, get traditional careers, but still play our music at night and on the weekends. We would move to Nashville where music seemed to be everywhere. Emma wanted to be a lawyer and she joked about becoming my agent and helping me find a record deal. Even though she had been mostly kidding, dreaming out loud, her words sent wheels spinning in my head. That was the first moment I ever considered the possibility of making a living with my music. It could even be said that that night with Emma was my first small step away from her.
“Tyler?”
Staring at the picture, lost in the past, I had forgotten that T.J. was seated next to me. “Yeah?”
“Did you and my Mom used to date?”
My first instinct was to lie, though I wasn’t sure why. It just seemed like we were treading on sensitive territory, but I decided to stick with the truth as long as possible. “Yeah, we did. When we were younger.”
“Did you love her?” T.J. took back the photo and studied it closely.
“I did.”
“Why did you guys break up?”
“I moved out of town,” I said, which was mostly true.
“But now you’re back?”
“Yeah.”
T.J. looked at me with those green eyes, Emma’s eyes, and said knowingly, “And now you love her again, don’t you?”
“What makes you say that?”
Had I really been so obvious?
“Because she’s amazing. You’d be crazy not to love her.” T.J. shrugged and grinned.
My son was a smart kid.
“You’re right. I do love her.”
“Good.” T.J. put the picture back in the drawer. “Now we just have to get her to love you back.”
It turned out that T.J. wasn’t just being philosophical- he actually had a plan. By the time Emma got home from work, we had her favorite flowers in a vase on the table, her favorite meal- baked salmon and vegetables- ready to eat, and one of Wanda’s pies warming in the oven.
“What in the world is going on?” she asked, jaw open as she took in everything.
“Tyler made dinner!” T.J. pulled out a chair for her. “Sit, Mom.”
She sat, looking around nervously. “Why?”
“Do I need a reason?” I pretended to be offended. “Maybe I just really like to cook.”
“Ha.” Emma reached for
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