Relevance

For the past half hour, I’ve been trying to come up with new ideas. Between my second glass of scotch and the fifth time I wrote a question mark on my notebook, I was nearly giving up. All I could think about was the same old things: one-night stands, wishful love, and the star of the show—loneliness.

At 27, you surely shouldn’t feel as though your best memories are behind you and never returning. Yet that’s exactly how I felt.

Whenever touring was done, that meant that a new record needed to get written, recorded and ready to go as quickly as possible. Given my lack of inspiration, I’m glad this album around we decided to set more time aside for it in order to construct a different style to our music. Or, as I’d call it: serve as an excuse for me to get my act together and have more time to start writing.

Sure, the fans loved the lonely kind of vibe. It’s something everybody can relate to at various times in their lives. But when you feel loneliness when sober, spending time writing and singing about it for months to come doesn’t make you desensitised to the feeling. On the contrary, it only makes you feel more of it. Eventually, you’re drunk thanks to it. And that’s how drinking habits start.

My thoughts were interrupted when a woman stopped on the plane’s corridor next to my window seat, checking her ticket’s seat number. She had ivory, golden skin that complemented her dusty brown hair. Thanks to her bangs, once you looked at her, her eyes hooked you in. I tried to figure out whether she had the exact shade of green eyes as mine, but she caught me staring.

We shared eye contact and ended it with a courteous smile as an introduction on both parts. She threw her bag over her head and onto her lap as she took a seat, and I returned my attention to the pages filled with question marks.

I took the last sip of my scotch, enjoying the taste and the burning it left behind. After the wedding, we’d each go our own separate ways to enjoy a two-week break. Jared was planning to stick around in Seattle, where we currently were; Pat and Kennedy were heading back home to spend some quality time with their respective families. And me? All I knew was that this weekend was going to be spent in Rhode Island. The rest? Future John will have to worry about that one. Preferably in a bar with a drink in hand.

The woman mumbled something under her breath, making me lose my train of thought. “What was that?”

She stopped fiddling with the bottle of water she had in hand and kept on shaking her leg in a nervous tick. “Oh,” she directed her wide-eye gaze towards me, “Nothing.” She pressed her lips together in an embarrassed smile.

I apprehensively smiled. She seemed like some kind of drug addict with that agitated leg of hers. I kept observing her and she kept observing whatever was happening a few seats further. I followed the direction of her gaze and saw a woman kissing the neck of some guy in 17A.

“Ex?”

She looked at me as though I had asked her if she was a member of the mile-high club. Her cheeks instantly turned crimson. It seemed as though her eyes only knew how to be wide, much like some animated character. The girl from Tangled, maybe? Well, only with darker hair. God, I need another drink.

“No way,” she nervously chuckled.

I rose my empty plastic cup to the nearby flight attendant, “Refill,” I mouthed. She took the cup into her hands and nodded politely. “If it matters, he’s not into her, “I said.

She frowned with a slight smile, “Do you know them?”

“Far from it,” I smirked. I knew nobody, and I still can’t believe Kennedy convinced all of us to say yes to playing at a wedding. We’ve never done that before and I never considered our songs wedding worthy—that’s why we’re singing covers instead of originals.

“It’s hard to believe that when he brings someone he met last night to his sister’s wedding.”

“Oh, now that’s fucked up!” I laughed through words. “He’s got guts, that's for sure. It’s either that,” I received my filled cup and instantly took a sip, “or the bride is the most calm person in the whole wide world.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, c’mon. Nobody in their right mind brings a casual date to a wedding. Nevertheless your sister’s. She’ll show up on all the pictures.”

She bit her lip, chewing on the thought. “That’s a pretty good analysis.”

“Yeah.” When you make a few mistakes down the line, it sure does become easier to spot them on others. She ran a hand through her eyes, shaking off how much the scene upset her. “What happened there?” She looked at me as if considering whether it’d be worth the story. “Look, I’m never seeing you again after this weekend.”

She gave me a half smile that met her eyes. “Well played…” she trailed off, missing a word to complete her sentence.

“John,” I said, offering a handshake.

“Georgia,” she returned the courtesy. “And to answer your question, nothing’s happened. I was hoping I could turn things around between us this weekend. He literally just got out of a long-term relationship and look at him now,” she pointed in his direction. “Watching from this angle, I feel like I don’t even know him.”

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath in. When she opened them, the disappointment that had been there before hand’t washed up like she wanted to.

I picked up my pen and finally gave life to the blank page that had been staring at me for far too long. Don't blink because you will. And when you open up your eyes again, you may not recognise a friend.

I re-read the words, incredulous at how I had come up with that just from watching her expression.

And then it hit me.

“I think I can help you with that turning-things-around bit."