Wicked

Chapter 4

Tim POV: 

Grant colors on the floor while I look through the lyrics for a demo I have playing over the speakers. I glance down at him, watching him meticulously switch through crayons, as if his scribbled lines were a masterpiece that Picasso would dream of replicating. He narrows his eye at it, before grabbing another crayon and taking it to the paper. I smile, loving his little quirks. 

The clock above the bar is telling me it's 12:15. It's not such a gentle reminder that I'm where I shouldn't be. I just keep waiting for something to happen, waitin' for somebody to come walkin' in... somebody as perfect as you were so I can try it again. Chances are so hard to come by and the second one is impossible to find. The clock keeps runnin' and the odds keep getting higher, that it's all just a fantasy of mine...

The lyrics are poetry, as I listen to the songwriters voice on the demo tape. I could hear myself singing this. I mean, it sounds like something I would've written. 

I suppose I should cut all my losses, go home with a six-pack of beer. There ain't nobody in the world like you, baby, and if there was, she wouldn't be coming in here.

The doorbell rings, causing Grant to pop up. He looks my way, watching me walk toward the door, before standing up and running after me. He hides behind my legs as I open the door, making me laugh. 

"Hel–"I start, before feeling my throat close. Faith stands on my front porch, somehow looking like a supermodel while wearing a t-shirt and jeans. "Hey..." I croak out, the first word I have spoken to her in years. She takes a deep breath, hugging herself, which she only does when she's anxious. 

"Hey... I um... I wanted to talk to you." She says, her voice making my heart stutter, as if it had no clue how to react to it anymore. "Could I come in?" She asks, while I stare, feeling speechless at her sudden appearance on my doorstep. 

"Yeah... Yeah, sure... Um, come on in." I stumble through, opening up the door for her. Grant looks up at her, studying her carefully. He tugs on my leg, which he does when he's curious about something. "Bud, why don't you go downstairs and play?" I say quietly to Grant. He grabs his crayons and scurries downstairs, taking one more glance at Faith. She spares his a smile, watching him disappear downstairs. "Do you want something to drink, or..." I try to offer, my head pounding as my body enters a complete state of panic. She pushes her hair behind her ears before shaking her head. 

"I'm fine, thank you." She says, as I sit down on the living room sofa. She sits down on the couch beside me, offering one full cushion of space between us. "I wanted to talk to you after the show, but things got a little crazy, so..." She lets out, before taking a deep breath once more, like she's incredibly anxious. "We are both extremely successful musicians in the same genre, so we are bound to be in the same room more than a few times. I just want to address the elephant in the room, so it doesn't impact our lives professionally." She words carefully, as I nod slowly, trying to process every word. It sounds like she's reading off a notecard written by a lawyer, or maybe even Scott. I turn toward her, feeling my mind race with all the possibilities of this conversation. Not a single possibility turns out well... "How are things?" She asks, I guess trying to start the conversation on a lighthearted note. 

"Things are good. Grant just started preschool, and I just finished my new album, so..." I let out, watching her spare me a sad smile. "What about you?" I ask, as she seems to blank completely. She shrugs, before looking down at Grant's drawing on the floor. Her expression grows sadder the longer she looks at it. She forces her eyes away, before looking at me once more. 

"I'm good, um... Breathe is doing really well, so I can't complain." She says, not mentioning Scott. I wonder if that's why she's here... Maybe things between them aren't that great, since that's truly the only reason I could see her coming over here, unless he forced her to come. "I guess I'll just get right down into the thick of it." She says under her breath before biting her lip. "Tim, I didn't mean to hurt you." She releases, as I nod slowly, trying to ignore the pit in my stomach. "I know you probably don't believe that, but it's true. The way we ended things was not... good... I wasn't proud of the way I handled it, and I'm sorry about that." She admits, as I unintentionally cringe. "I should've been honest with you, and I know that doesn't mean much now, but..." She stops herself, rubbing her forehead as she squeezes her eyes shut, seeming to be deep into thought. 

"Faith, you don't need to sit here and apologize." I reply, finally having the nerve to speak up. She looks my way, a frown on her lips. "I drank too much and I was acting like an asshole. You had every right to react the way you did." I confess, as she looks down at her lap. A moment of painful silence hits, before she laughs to herself. 

"I'm sorry, this seemed like a better idea in my head." She admits, as I spare her a smile. She stands up, like she's preparing to leave, before pausing. "You know, I think about what you said a lot..." She says, looking back at me.