Memories Of Long Ago
Without You
Nothing about you was predictable. You were special. To me. Brendon never understood why. And to be honest, I didn’t understand either, but I wasn’t even always sure that you knew.
The first time I saw you was at Brendon’s house over six years ago. You dressed differently from other girls and you weren’t very self conscious. When Brendon introduced us, you looked up at me, your brown eyes lighting up, then told him that your name was Batman (in a cute southern accent) before you went to help his mom in the kitchen.
Sometimes you would show up to band practice with Brendon; when practice was over, you would disappear faster than everyone else. I found out after two weeks that you were singing Fall Out Boy songs to yourself outside while you waited for Brendon.
The next time I saw you, your long black hair was gone; you had no explanation. Brendon laughed and pointed out that your hair was barely longer than his. You smiled in amusement. You didn’t say anything, but later you explained to me that you were picturing Brendon wearing a tutu.
After a month and a half, you had to go home. I knew that you didn’t live anywhere near us; you were a southern girl and always had been. You were wearing skinny jeans and a grey shirt that hung off your shoulders along with a pair of combat boots. Brent didn’t show up to say goodbye, but Spencer and I did. I fought off the overwhelming urge to kiss you in front of Brendon when you hugged me and whispered goodbye. It took me a whole week to realize that you stuck a piece of paper in my pocket with your number.
I may or may not have written a song about you; I’ll never really say. Brendon was convinced that I did. I finally got the nerve to call you the day that we got signed. You were half asleep; you mumbled something about killing zombies to save me so I told you I could call you another time.
When we started touring, I looked for you in every crowd. I finally spotted you in Tennessee. Brendon had security pull you out of the crowd and let you backstage. And when we got off stage, instead of hugging Brendon first, you threw your arms around me and told me how much you missed me. I could’ve sworn Brendon rolled his eyes when you kissed me.
I never told Brendon that I slept with you that night. He probably suspected something when you showed up to at least three other shows on that tour, but he never said anything.
Then you just stopped. You stopped calling and coming to shows. You stopped answering my calls. Brendon said you went to college and that you were just busy; I knew that was a lie because you had told me how much you hated school.
You finally called after six months. You said things could never work between us. Then you told me that you got a dog and moved to Chicago (I didn’t understand that because you hated being cold.)
Coincidentally, we had a day off in Chicago, so I snuck off to see you. It had been so long since I had you; I needed it. You had bruises covering your pale skin; after we had sex, you explained that you had an abusive ex and that had been why you moved. You started crying (and you were never the type to cry,) so I held you and told you that it would be fine. Then, you told me you loved me; I didn’t say it back but you knew I loved you, too. I didn’t get back to the hotel till after midnight. Spencer knew I got laid; he didn’t tell Brendon though.
We didn’t talk much after that for a while. Before I knew it, the band was taking time off to record another CD. You flew out and stayed in a hotel when you found out that we would be home for a few days before leaving.
When I got there, you opened the door and kissed me hard on the lips before pulling me into the room. I’ll never forget that night; you whispered Make love to me, Ry.
I suppose we were never really together, so I didn’t have any right to be mad when Brendon told me you got a boyfriend. He told me that your boyfriend, whatever his name was, would bring you your favorite foods in bed and that he would sing songs to you and about you. I didn’t want to hear it; I stormed out and didn’t come back till I had to.
Not much changed over the next year. You and I still weren’t talking, but Jon and I left the band. I heard you were still with him—I think his name was Sam—but I pretended not to care and I tried to move on.
I was sure I saw you at one of the shows; I was disappointed when it turned out to be some sixteen year old girl. She pointed out that I looked sad; I shrugged it off.
You called me the next day though; you were crying. Sam broke up with you. It wasn’t really my problem, but I told you anything that would make you feel better. Then you told me (after you had finally stopped crying) that you would be at the next show.
Your hair had gotten long again and you had lost weight; you were so skinny now. But still just as beautiful as you’d always been.
After the show, when all the kids left, you finally came up to me. You told me you still loved me. I should have said it back. Maybe you wouldn’t have been hit by a drunk driver that night. Maybe you would still be with me.
The first time I saw you was at Brendon’s house over six years ago. You dressed differently from other girls and you weren’t very self conscious. When Brendon introduced us, you looked up at me, your brown eyes lighting up, then told him that your name was Batman (in a cute southern accent) before you went to help his mom in the kitchen.
Sometimes you would show up to band practice with Brendon; when practice was over, you would disappear faster than everyone else. I found out after two weeks that you were singing Fall Out Boy songs to yourself outside while you waited for Brendon.
The next time I saw you, your long black hair was gone; you had no explanation. Brendon laughed and pointed out that your hair was barely longer than his. You smiled in amusement. You didn’t say anything, but later you explained to me that you were picturing Brendon wearing a tutu.
After a month and a half, you had to go home. I knew that you didn’t live anywhere near us; you were a southern girl and always had been. You were wearing skinny jeans and a grey shirt that hung off your shoulders along with a pair of combat boots. Brent didn’t show up to say goodbye, but Spencer and I did. I fought off the overwhelming urge to kiss you in front of Brendon when you hugged me and whispered goodbye. It took me a whole week to realize that you stuck a piece of paper in my pocket with your number.
I may or may not have written a song about you; I’ll never really say. Brendon was convinced that I did. I finally got the nerve to call you the day that we got signed. You were half asleep; you mumbled something about killing zombies to save me so I told you I could call you another time.
When we started touring, I looked for you in every crowd. I finally spotted you in Tennessee. Brendon had security pull you out of the crowd and let you backstage. And when we got off stage, instead of hugging Brendon first, you threw your arms around me and told me how much you missed me. I could’ve sworn Brendon rolled his eyes when you kissed me.
I never told Brendon that I slept with you that night. He probably suspected something when you showed up to at least three other shows on that tour, but he never said anything.
Then you just stopped. You stopped calling and coming to shows. You stopped answering my calls. Brendon said you went to college and that you were just busy; I knew that was a lie because you had told me how much you hated school.
You finally called after six months. You said things could never work between us. Then you told me that you got a dog and moved to Chicago (I didn’t understand that because you hated being cold.)
Coincidentally, we had a day off in Chicago, so I snuck off to see you. It had been so long since I had you; I needed it. You had bruises covering your pale skin; after we had sex, you explained that you had an abusive ex and that had been why you moved. You started crying (and you were never the type to cry,) so I held you and told you that it would be fine. Then, you told me you loved me; I didn’t say it back but you knew I loved you, too. I didn’t get back to the hotel till after midnight. Spencer knew I got laid; he didn’t tell Brendon though.
We didn’t talk much after that for a while. Before I knew it, the band was taking time off to record another CD. You flew out and stayed in a hotel when you found out that we would be home for a few days before leaving.
When I got there, you opened the door and kissed me hard on the lips before pulling me into the room. I’ll never forget that night; you whispered Make love to me, Ry.
I suppose we were never really together, so I didn’t have any right to be mad when Brendon told me you got a boyfriend. He told me that your boyfriend, whatever his name was, would bring you your favorite foods in bed and that he would sing songs to you and about you. I didn’t want to hear it; I stormed out and didn’t come back till I had to.
Not much changed over the next year. You and I still weren’t talking, but Jon and I left the band. I heard you were still with him—I think his name was Sam—but I pretended not to care and I tried to move on.
I was sure I saw you at one of the shows; I was disappointed when it turned out to be some sixteen year old girl. She pointed out that I looked sad; I shrugged it off.
You called me the next day though; you were crying. Sam broke up with you. It wasn’t really my problem, but I told you anything that would make you feel better. Then you told me (after you had finally stopped crying) that you would be at the next show.
Your hair had gotten long again and you had lost weight; you were so skinny now. But still just as beautiful as you’d always been.
After the show, when all the kids left, you finally came up to me. You told me you still loved me. I should have said it back. Maybe you wouldn’t have been hit by a drunk driver that night. Maybe you would still be with me.