I Can Still Be Your Superman

Listen While You Read: Poison and Wine - The Civil Wars

“Hey Uncle John, I’m really sorry that I never made it home last night. I’m fine; I just fell asleep at the guys’ hotel room while we were hanging out. I’ll be at the studio in a half hour. I’m really sorry, bye.” I said into Uncle John’s answering machine.

“So how dead are you?” Nathan asked as he watched me pace around the room.

“Majorly,” I said shaking. “I’ll be lucky if I’ll ever see the light of day ever again.”

“Maybe he’ll understand.” Cameron said, trying to make me feel better. I sent him a glare. “Or maybe he won’t.” He mended, sinking back.

I sighed, “I’m sorry, thanks for trying. But I spent the night with guys, you do the math.”

“Oh, I see your dilemma.” Zach said.

“But how are you going to get home, change, and get to the studio in a half hour?” Michael asked.
“Shit, I didn’t think of that.” I said and collapsed on the bed next to Cameron. “I’m so screwed.”

“Can’t you just wear what you have on?” Zach asked.

“No bro, it’s totally the ‘walk of shame’ outfit and that’s what she’s trying to avoid.” Nathan said.

“What he said,” I agreed.

“Then why don’t you just borrow some of our clothes. I have an extra shirt and I think Zach has some sweats that you can borrow.” Cameron said, rolling to his suitcase next to the bed.

“Really?” I asked, perking up. Cameron tossed a plain black v-neck t-shirt over his shoulder. “Thank you so much.” I said, jumping off the bed, grabbing the sweats Zach was holding as I ran into the bathroom. Quickly, I threw on Zach’s and Cameron’s clothes, rolling up the pants by the waist so they fit. I ran my fingers through my hair to get some of the knots out before pulling it into a messy bun. I used one of the hotel plastic wrapped toothbrushes and the boys’ toothpaste to brush my teeth. I wiped the excess make-up off my face and peeled my contacts off my eyes (sleeping in them overnight is never a good idea) before emerging out of the bathroom, partially refreshed.

I grabbed my glasses out of my bag and slid them on. “Well thanks for the hospitality and the great concert last night, but I really have to go.” I said as I tied my Converse.

Michael and Nathan piled on top of me, “We’ll see you when we come back.” They said in unison.

“That was creepy.” I said laughing as they pulled away. “Thanks for the pants Zach.” I said, giving him a hug.

“Don’t mention it, as long as I get them back.” He said as he squeezed my waist. “See you in a few weeks.”

“I’ll walk you down.” Cameron said before I could hug him good-bye.

Nodding, I gave Nathan, Michael, and Zach a final good-bye before following Cameron out the door.

“Are you sure you can’t come to tonight’s concert? It’s only an hour away.” Cameron asked once we were in the elevator.

“Yeah, I really am in the studio all day today. I could only get last night off.” I said, a small smile on my face.

“Fine, you’ll just have to make it up to me.”

“How am I going to do that?”

A smirk appeared on his face, “I’ll figure something out.”

The elevator dinged, signaling that we were on the lobby’s floor. “Are you trying to be smooth Cameron Quiseng?” I asked, walking out into the lobby.

“Maybe,” He said, as he followed me. “What are you going to do about it?”

“Nothing, I kind of like it.” I admitted.

“Duly noted,” He said, smiling as we walked out into the parking lot. Luckily for me, my car was in the first row, but that only made the good-bye quicker. As soon as we stopped by my car, Cameron engulfed me in a hug. “I’m going to miss you.”

I wrapped my arms around his neck and burrowed my head into his shoulder. “Me too; it’s only a few more weeks.”

I felt him smile against my shoulder. He pulled back, but kept his hands on my waist. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you smell.”

My eyes widened and I turned my head to smell myself. Immediately, my nose was filled with the scent of Cameron’s cologne. “Jerk,” I said, pushing his chest playfully. “I smell like you. Thanks for getting me worried over nothing.”

“Hey!” He said, putting his hands up in defense. “I said not to take it the wrong way.”

Before I could say anything else, our eyes locked. All of the laughs faded away and the heat between us grew. I found myself becoming lost in his eyes. They were filled to the brim – nervousness, happiness, lust, care – they were all there. I had the biggest urge to just lean forward and kiss him, but something stopped me.

“I should go,” I found myself saying, tearing my gaze away.

Cameron took a step back and cleared his throat, “Yeah, I’ll see you later.”

I nodded and got into my car. “See you Cameron.” I said to him before backing out of the space and driving away. The only thing that ran through my head was the hope that I just didn’t make a mistake.

***

As soon as I parked my car in the studio’s parking lot, I raced into the lobby towards the elevators. Once the doors opened to my floor, I weaved through the hallways to the studio door. “Uncle John, I’m so sorry.” I said as I pushed open the door, but he wasn’t there. All I saw was Nick’s head above the piano in the band booth. That’s when I heard his soft playing fill the room.

I shut the door behind my quietly and walked up the glass divide, waiting for him to look up. He never did, but when I noticed that he was playing the same three bars over and over, I tapped on the glass to get his attention. He looking up but continued to play, “Come in here.” He ordered.

I walked around to the booth doors, confused. Why was he so off putting? I thought to myself. “Where’s Uncle John?”

“In a meeting,” He answered simply.

I took a seat next to him on the piano bench and watched his fingers move smoothly across the polished keys. “What are you playing?”

“You smell.” He said, ignoring my question completely. “You smell like cologne.”

I turned my head away. “Yeah, um… I’m wearing Cameron’s shirt.”

His hands abruptly stopped playing, “Why are you wearing his shirt?”

“Because I needed a new shirt; I couldn’t wear what I wore yesterday again.”

“Why –” He paused before springing up from his seat. “YOU SLEPT WITH HIM!?” He roared.

My eyes shot wide and I spun to look at him, “What!? No, I did not sleep with Cameron. I fell asleep at the guys’ hotel room after the concert last night. I needed some different clothes so Zach and Cameron let me borrow some of theirs.”

“You slept with them! Morgan, do you know what could have happened!?”

“Yes, if they were those kinds of people. Why are you getting all upset? I did sleep in your bed and we’ve shared a hotel room and a tour bus together.” I pointed out as I stood, crossing my arms.

“Yeah, but…” He said, trailing off.

“But what Nick, hm?” I pushed, getting aggravated. “But they’re not you?”

He stopped dead in his tracks. “No.”

I rolled my eyes, “You’re such a horrible liar. We’re not dating anymore. You walked out of my life. You don’t have any say in what I do.”

“You walked out of my life, remember? You chose not to be in a relationship with me.”

“But you were the one who didn’t walk back in.”

“Oh right, it’s all my fault. I’m the one who made you walk away. I wanted you to break my heart. You’re right, my bad.”

“What do you want from me Nick? What!?” I yelled, throwing my hands up in the air.

The mood around us shifted; the anger subsided and a more serious, softness rose. Nick took a few steps toward me so he was only a foot or two away. “I want you to feel again. I want you to be happy again.”

“But I am happy Nick.”

“No you’re not.” He said, shaking his head. “I see you smile and laugh when you hang out with them, but it’s not the same. It’s like the smile and laughter from when I first met you.”

“No Nick, it’s not the same like when I first met you. It’s real. You’re just upset that you’re not the one who’s making me happy.” I said and pushed passed him.

“Oh really?” He said, grabbing my wrist. “Then what’s this?” He asked, turning my hand palm up.

I tried to pull away from his grasp. “Those are old.” I said shrinking away, not looking directly at him. I knew that if I looked up, it would all be over.

He pulled me closer, “Then why does it hurt when I squeeze?” He asked, softly squeezing my wrist.

I tried to keep the pain that surged through my body off my face. “Scars take time to heal.” I said shakily.

“Heal, yes, but if it were old it wouldn’t hurt.” Using his other hand, he grabbed my chin between his fingers. Carefully, he tilted my head upwards towards his. “Hurting yourself doesn’t solve anything.”

I tried to blink my tears back, “I know, I know. But they’re old, I swear.”

Slowly, he let go of my chin and wrist. “Why’d you do it?”

“I reverted back.” I said. Ignoring the puzzling look that formed on Nick’s face, I grabbed my jacket off of the amp where I left it, sliding it on. “Can you not tell anyone?”

He sighed, “I don’t know. Cu-”

“Please Nick,” I begged, looking him straight in the eye.

“Fine,” He replied, breaking. “Just swear to me that you’ll never do it again.”

“I swear.” I said and wrapped my arms around him. “Thank you.” I whispered into his ear.

“Can I ask you a favor?”

I pulled away, “Of course, anything.”

“Sing with me.” He said.

“Now?”

“No, all the time.”

My eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. “What?”

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, “Sing with me – on the album, in concerts – I’m asking you to join Nick Jonas and the Administration.”

My eyes widened. “That is no way just a favor.”

“Come on Morgan, I know somewhere in you there’s a desire to be a performer.”

“No there isn’t.” I said, hesitating slightly. “I’m only a songwriter.”

“No you’re not.” He pushed and followed me as I walked around the booth. “There’s a performer in you Morgan, I saw that in Boston. You’re an amazing musician and I think people should hear your words in your voice, not someone else’s.”

“Nick, I don’t sing in front of crowds of ten people, let alone ten thousand. There’s no way that’s going to happen.”

“We can work on that and we usually don’t play in front of large crowds like when the Jonas Brothers go on tour. There aren’t as many people.” He paused and stood right in front of me. “Morgan, I never would have asked you if I knew you couldn’t do it.”

I stood there, staring blankly at his face as hundreds of thoughts ran through my head. I knew that deep inside I really did want to say yes; it’s been my dream since I was a little girl to be a musician, a performing musician. But that one memory from when I was eleven crawled to the front of my mind. “I- I don’t know.” I said shakily. “I’ve never had a good relationship with audiences.”

“Just promise me you’ll think about it. I know everyone will love you.” Nick said, wide eyed.

Sighing, I said, “Fine. I’ll think about it.”

“Yes!” Nick exclaimed, a rare large smile on his face. “Just think, you can be the First Lady.” He paused. “Or maybe the Secretary of State.” He amended after realizing what he said.

“Political puns, funny.” I said, rolling my eyes, but cracked a smile. “Are we going to get any work done today or what?”

“Yes actually, I have something to work on.” He said and walked out of the booth. He continued to move his mouth, but I couldn’t hear a word.

I used my knuckles to tap on the glass; Nick turned around and a smile formed on his face when he saw my hands covering my ears. He ran over to the control panel. “Sorry,” He said into the microphone protruding out of the board, his voice filling the booth. “I thought you followed me. Come out here and bring a guitar.”

Laughing, I nodded and walked out of the booth with one of the acoustic guitars that were leaning against the wall. “What made you think I followed you?” I asked, sitting in one of the seats by the table.

Nick shrugged, “I thought it was implied.” I just rolled my eyes as he spread out several sheets of paper on the table in front of me. “I started this last night. I have all of the music, but I’m a little stuck on the lyrics.”

“Alright,” I said, looking at the sheets. “Let’s do this.”

We sat in that room for hours. We made changes, added words and bars. Uncle John came in at one point, saw us working, and left. He brought us lunch and dinner that we barely touched. But at eight thirty, we finished; happy and content with the result.

“Wanna play it completely through once and then go?” Nick asked glancing up from the sheets of music.

“With the track?” I asked, reopening the file on Uncle John’s Mac.

“Yeah, it’ll give the full effect.”

I handed Nick the guitar, “Whenever you’re ready.”

He pulled the strap over his head and settled the guitar on his lap. “Alright, one, two, -” He said and began to strum as I simultaneously plated the back track.

(Morgan, Nick, Both)

You only know what I want you to
I know everything you don’t want me to
Oh your mouth is poison, your mouth is wine
You think your dreams are the same as mine

Oh I don’t love you, but I always will
Oh I don’t love you, but I always will
Oh I don’t love you, but I always will
I always will

I wish you’d hold me when I turn my back
The less I give the more I get back
Oh your hands can heal, your hands can bruise
I don’t have a choice but I’d still choose you

Oh I don’t love you but I always will
Oh I don’t love you but I always will
Oh I don’t love you but I always will
Oh I don’t love you but I always will
Oh I don’t love you but I always will
Oh I don’t love you but I always will
Oh I don’t love you but I always will

I always will
I always will
I always will
I always will
I always will

Nick finished strumming and our voices faded; neither of us saying a word.

I glanced over at him. “Do you want me to sing with you?” I asked softly.

Nick looked up and locked eyes with me. “Everyday.”