A Love Ballad: A Fictional Memoir (Song for You Book 3) by Megan Rivers

Author:Megan Rivers [Rivers, Megan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-07-11T16:00:00+00:00

Music had a purpose again, I could feel it healing my soul. On Memorial Day weekend I was listening to the newest playlist Meadow had sent me and Taylor Swift was streaming through my studio apartment. Instead of sitting in front of the TV in my sweatpants capris and t-shirt, I decided to clean. Every time I tried to straighten up a room I would come across an item of Antony's and the memories would crash down around me. For so long I had been afraid of what was around me—afraid of how much pain it would bring me. I let my housekeeping skills slide over the past nine months.

A group called One Direction was playing on the iPod—a song so classically Meadow I couldn't help but smile. I was dusting the bookshelf and entertainment center, singing the five repetitious words in the chorus and pretending I knew the rest, when Galvin walked in. He went to the iPod dock on the kitchen table and turned down the music.

“What is this?” Galvin asked, trying to look on the iPod screen. “This is a Meadow-song, isn't it? I hope you didn't pay money for this song.”

On my knees, reaching for dust bunnies behind the TV, I turned my head to see him in jeans and a gray shirt with indecipherable black writing—or maybe it was a design? I chuckled at his response. “Meadow said you'd say something like that in her letter. She said if that was the case then I should....” I trailed off and got to my knees, searching through the large manilla envelope that arrived that morning with Meadow's thumb drive of music. “Read this,” I finished, pulling out the letter.

Galvin lifted his eyebrows and folded his arms across his chest. I cleared my throat and read her words verbatim, “You, sir, of all people, should not judge this music. Sometimes all a person wants is to flip a switch and be happy, not cry to sappy lyrics, listen to a musician scream over their music, or analyze every lyric for its 'deeper meaning',” I used air quotes with my free hand to illustrate her words. “Shut up, flip the switch, and be happy.” I looked up and then held the note out to him. “Her words, not mine.”

Galvin sighed and rolled his eyes. He didn't press the issue, but changed the subject instead. “What have you been up to? What's in these?” Galvin asked, his shoe nudging the two cardboard boxes on the floor by the door.

Putting the letter down, I bit my lip. “Don't think I'm a horrible person,” I started.

Galvin studied me. He looked so put together at that moment. I was undoubtedly a mess: flushed from the exercise of cleaning, my hair frizzy from not taking a morning shower, and in the grubbiest clothes I owned.

“Some of Antony's stuff,” I offered an explanation. “I'm not trying to get rid of him—it's just some things I think Joe would want. That's not selfish, is it?” I asked.

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