Love Will by Lori L. Otto

doesn’t ask. Damon doesn’t push the issue. I don’t pursue.
    After every show, Peron and I grab a bite to eat, and then we write. Damon and Tavo normally stay at the venue, either in the green room, if they have one, or at the bar. By about three in the morning, I’m at least trying to sleep soundly. Peron has me listening to different new age music mixes in an attempt to shut down my overactive brain, but nothing has worked quite yet. Once I doze off, there’s no rest. I wake up feeling drained. Often out of breath. Thinking about something. I keep a notepad next to my pillow and write down whatever it was I had on my mind. It’s normally related to space or stars or black holes or quasars or dark matter or something mysterious that we just haven’t figured out yet . I can leave the job behind, but it’ll never leave me. Sometimes it’s just math. Normally a problem I can’t solve in my dream, but when I wake up, it’s something easy. Over the past few weeks, I’ve been dreaming more about melodies and harmonies and hooks and solos. Now I have to keep staff paper near me, too.
    Caffeine is a must for survival, but I also started taking some energy supplements, too. And I try to run every morning. That helps. It’d be great if I could get someone to run with me, but Damon’s the only other athletic type on this bus, and he won’t get up before noon most days.
    After my shower, I decide to get out and explore Athens a little. The birthplace of R.E.M. Just a twenty-minute walk from our stop is the site of the famous steeple from the church where they played their first show. It’s not on a church anymore, but at a place that supports musicians. The steeple itself was renovated, and is supposed to be surrounded by a garden and reflection area now, so it sounds like a pretty cool place to go.
    After following the directions on my phone, I easily find the landmark and take a few pictures before sitting down on a bench and enjoying the silence. I’m the only one here on a Monday morning. Probably too early for most musicians after a long weekend. It’s Labor Day.
    Labor Day. Which means Jon’s not working today. The thought of him makes me angry all over again. I pull out my phone and dial his cell. My legs bounce as I wait for him to answer.
    I start in as soon as he picks up. “Jon, it’s Will, and I–”
    “No, it’s Livvy.” The tension leaves my body immediately. “Jon’s rocking Edie to sleep right now, but I didn’t want him to miss your call because I know it’s important.”
    “Did Jon tell you to answer, or did you just answer?” I ask her.
    “He didn’t know the phone rang. He would have told me to, though, Will. He knows it’s important. He wants to talk to you.”
    “If he did, he would have called me,” I argue with her.
    “He was giving you time,” she explains.
    “He should have called me that night ,” I say to her. “The night I left.”
    “I don’t disagree… but I’d told him you were busy writing when I left you on the bus, Will. You were… plus,” she says, then hesitates, “he was kind of preoccupied, and you can take that however you want.” She says the last part hurriedly, as if she really didn’t want me to understand her, but I did. I understood her words and her meaning. They were fooling around at the McNare mansion.
    “Oh, really? Hmmm…” I say, teasing her.
    “Oh, stop it, Will. I thought you didn’t think of me like that anymore since we got married.”
    My heart stops. “He told you about that?” I knew that conversation would come back to haunt me.
    A few weeks ago, Jon had taken me, Max and Livvy’s brother, Trey, out for ‘brother’s night.’ Somehow we got on the topic of seeing Livvy naked. Years ago, Max and Trey had accidentally walked in on her when she was getting dressed. She and my brother were newly engaged at the time–they were engaged for eight years . When Max came home, he wouldn’t stop giggling about something. I