I TAKE MY seat next to Willow, unsure how I’m going to muster the energy to perform. Two hours ago, I was crying with Kyle’s mother in my arms. Now I’m expected to play music.
But all eyes stare at us eagerly. My good friend Freddy Hernandez, who I went to high school with and who has since helped me break more than a few cases as a top-notch medical examiner, stands in the corner with Darren Hagar, another high school buddy, who owns the bar where Willow used to sing. Jake perches on the arm of the couch, next to my parents. Chris sits on the carpet with my three-year-old nephew, Beau, in his lap, who is sucking his thumb and looking like he’s about to fall asleep. Megan sits down next to them and looks up at me with a bright smile. She looks good in an old sweatshirt with half-wet hair, and I can picture her like this with the two of us settled in for a chill night of watching Netflix on the couch.
I realize I’m getting ahead of myself, but in this moment, I am at least hoping that she gets the job at Baylor so I can see more of her.
Without even discussing it, Willow and I start with “Mammas Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Cowboys.” It’s the first song we ever sang together, and it’s also the last song we played the night we broke up. Singing it now feels like we’ve turned another page in our relationship. We started with the spark of attraction, which turned into love, which led to heartbreak.
Now we’ve become friends.
After concluding the song, we play a mix, ranging from Miranda Lambert and the Zac Brown Band to Garth Brooks and the Chicks. My nephew—half asleep a minute ago—is up and dancing.
Willow suggests we try Kenny Rogers and Dolly Parton’s duet “Islands in the Stream.” The song is going well, but I catch a glimpse of Megan in the audience and can see that she feels uncomfortable watching me share a love song with my ex. Up until then, she seemed to be enjoying the show.
I say I’ve got time for one more, and a couple of people from the crowd jokingly call out that we should play “Don’t Date a Texas Ranger.” Laughing, Willow says she’s been working on a new song and wants to know if she can try it out.
“You just try to keep up, Rory,” she says with a smile.
She strums the strings with an upbeat tempo and starts singing lyrics about Texas, belting the words out in quick succession.
Bluebonnet flowers and pickup trucks
Boca Chica and barbecue at Chuck’s
Hook ’em Horns, Enchanted Rock
Strolling the San Antonio River Walk
Dr Pepper, pecan pie
The Rio Grande and the big blue sky
From here, she jumps into the chorus:
I hang my hat in Nashville these days
But my heart belongs in the Lone Star State
I love it—the place, the people, everything together
What can I say, y’all? Texas forever!
The small audience is into the song, laughing and grooving along. But Willow kills the momentum by strumming the guitar a final time and saying, “Sorry, that’s all I have so far.”
Everyone seems to want more, so I start playing the same tune and I add my own lyrics.
Working in the fields, plowing the hay
Floating the Colorado River on a sunny day
Willow beams at me and joins back in. She sings,
The Dallas Cheerleaders’ kick line
Unsure for a moment what to say, I add,
Drinking Shiner Bock and feelin’ fine
As the audience erupts with laughter, I sing,
Armadillos and rattlesnakes, coyotes and hawks
Grinning, Willow sings,
Sixth Street in Austin really rocks
At this point, the whole room is laughing, waiting to see what we can come up with on the fly. After a pause, Willow sings,
Country music on the radio
Leaving me to conclude,
Let’s not forget the Alamo!
Everyone is in stitches, Willow and I included. We do another roll through the chorus to finish the song, and this time everyone in the room shouts “Texas forever!” along with us. Willow and I rise and take a quick bow, hugging each other and laughing.
Megan is giggling along with everyone else, but I can’t help but sense some reservations from her expression—she didn’t entirely like what she saw.
I want to go talk to her, but I’m approached by my friends Freddy and Darren.
“Willow broke up with her boyfriend in Nashville, you know?” Darren says conspiratorially.
“I heard,” I say.
“She won’t be single long,” Freddy adds.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of Megan by the door, saying goodbye to my parents.
“Excuse me,” I say, and squeeze my way through the crowded house.
I catch up with her outside as she’s about to climb into her pickup.
“Leaving without saying goodbye?”
“Sorry,” she says. “I didn’t want to interrupt you.”
She looks luminous in the moonlight.
She says she needs to get up early tomorrow and head back to El Paso. She has a long drive, followed by a shift at the bar. She tells me she had a great time and loved seeing me perform with Willow.
“You two really are good together,” Megan says.
“Willow’s the good one,” I say. “She makes me look better than I am.”
“I’m not talking about the music,” Megan says.
“Oh,” I say, shrugging. “Well, it wasn’t meant to be.”
“You sure?” she says, giving me a serious stare. “You’re really over her?”
“Cross my heart.”
Neither of us is really sure what to say next. We’ve both felt the same spark, I’m certain, but we also don’t know if anything will come of meeting tonight.
We might have a future.
We might never see each other again.
“Goodbye, Rory,” she says, giving me a hug.
We hold our embrace longer than we need to, and then I watch her drive away.