Filthy Mistake by Annie J. Rose

Author:Annie J. Rose [Rose, Annie J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-08-01T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

Emma

The rhythm of this life was so different from my old routine. I didn’t miss my old life at all. I sort of felt bad about that, like I should have been more attached to my job, the house I leased, and my friends who were married and busy most of the time. At Easter, I would’ve said I loved my job, loved my whole life. But I had been on the road with Jax for a few months, and anyplace we went felt like home to me.

I got to discover a new city with him every week. I was sleeping half the day, then getting up to have coffee and explore whichever country we’d landed in for the next show. We had ridden bikes all over Copenhagen and had our picture taken when we stood by the rocky base of the bronze statue of Hans Christian Anderson’s Little Mermaid. We rode the carousel in the Tivoli Gardens, visited Rosenborg Castle, and ate porridge from a street vendor. The porridge was amazing. It tasted of chestnuts and apple and caramel. It would’ve been amazing in winter, but even in summer it was delicious. We had shared a dish, sitting close on a bench.

When we rolled in to Stockholm, I was already used to the momentum of the tour. Trunks and equipment were offloaded by the crew, and we were conducted to our hotel. It wasn’t as secluded or as special as our place in Prague had been—truthfully that city would always hold a special place in my heart. But it was lovely, and our room was, as always, spacious and comfortable.

I was getting better at sleeping on the plane, so I sat down in my room with my notebook and made list after list of words and phrases I wanted to use in the song. I had really gotten back in touch with who I was before, with the person who channeled all her emotions into creating music, not just teaching people to play the music composed by others. I wrote poems and lyrics and tried composing the melody to go with them. What amazed me wasn’t the songs I came up with, but the release of tension, the sense of well-being I got from it. It made me feel healthy and strong, less lonely, less uncertain. I channeled the fear that I’d been irresponsible in developing the longing I felt towards Jax. Everything became both more real and more manageable when I made it into music.

There was a single song I’d worked on for two weeks already by humming, whispering snatches of it, and trying to get the lines perfect, to make the words say what I wanted them to communicate. I rearranged lines. I rewrote the chorus. It was a puzzle I wanted to solve, a challenge I knew was made for me.

An hour slipped by, then two. I stopped to stretch and check my phone. There was a knock at my bedroom door.

“Yeah?” I said.

“It’s me.”

“Well,

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