In eighth grade she had a boyfriend named Bruce and she remembered talking to him for what seemed like hours. Sometimes they just found recorded songs to play to each other because they had nothing more to say. Sometimes they just listened to each other breathe. They weren’t nearly as exciting face-to-face.

Matt was so protective. Are you okay? Surrounded by wedding plans and pregnant women? What a darling.

Her cell chimed and she smiled. She clicked on. “Forget something?” she asked.

“Yeah. I forgot to tell you how awesome it was that you came to my gig.”

Mick! Holy crap!

“You looked so awesome. More beautiful than ever. It made me remember how much you inspire me. I’m never better than when you’re in the house. Oh, babe.”

“What do you want?” she asked.

“I’m going to be in the area for a few weeks and I thought we should get together. You can come to a couple of shows. We have a lot of history, good history. Might be time to have another look at that. It’s good for me so it’s gotta be good for you. Right?”

She started to laugh. She couldn’t help it—it was so Mick. If it was good for him it must be good for everyone else. Right?

“I was there to meet a guy. We didn’t know you were the show or we would’ve picked another bar.”

“What? A guy? Since when?”

“Since a very long time ago. I don’t live in Portland anymore. And the last thing I’m ever going to do is get together with you to talk about our history. Lose my number!”

“What? Where do you live?” he asked.

“Houston!” she yelled, hitting the end icon. She turned the phone to vibrate and turned off the light.

It vibrated at once. A text was coming in. Why hadn’t she changed her number? Because she hadn’t needed to! Mick never called.

Baby, what’s wrong? Wasn’t that the right song for you? For us? I thought it was just right! I thought about At This Moment. What’s wrong?

She couldn’t resist. She knew it was futile, that he’d never get it, that he was a self-absorbed cretin, but she just couldn’t resist.

What’s wrong? Gosh, let’s see. You divorced me when I was pregnant with your child, you brought me flowers at the hospital and I didn’t hear from you again until you sent a card a month after his funeral! And it wasn’t even in your own handwriting! What could possibly be wrong, you stupid, arrogant asshole!

Hey, I paid tribute to him in the next four concerts! I played Tears In Heaven!

I must have had a mental break, she thought. Brain damage, that’s what it was. How in the world did I ever think this idiot was a real man?

Go away. Never contact me again. My boyfriend will kill you. Then my brothers will chop you into little pieces.

Whoa, baby, you got some hostility.

It was hard to sleep after a phone call like that. Then when Ginger did finally nod off, she was restless with anxiety dreams, the one that finally shook her awake being the worst. It was so vivid, so colorful. And shamefully real. Their house and the freestanding garage where Mick liked to jam with his friends were both full of people, spilling out into the yard. A lot of people gathered around to listen to him play, sing, talk about the business, gossip about artists he knew. Yeah, that’s when I met The Boss...he really liked a few of my songs...wouldn’t be surprised if he wanted to buy a few.

It was getting a little loud. Mick was playing some rock, the speakers making the walls shake. She was getting nervous. They were supposed to keep the weed outside and the noise down. They were going to wake the baby! And the windows were open! These fumes—could hurt the baby! The noise wasn’t good for him! She went to Mick and appealed to him to clear the place out if he couldn’t manage them, the people who gathered around. But he didn’t acknowledge her. Her ears were ringing and she decided it would be best if she gathered up the baby and went to her mother’s house, but she couldn’t find the baby. She should call the police or run to the house next door—but the neighbors were also in her yard, enjoying the music.

She was trying to get to her car but her legs wouldn’t carry her and her car wasn’t where it was supposed to be and she had no baby. She wanted to call for help but she just cried like a little fool. Mick was telling her to settle down, she wanted this. This is what you signed on for, he reminded her, frowning at her, going back to his guitar and singing. Then he was kissing someone, some woman she’d never seen before.

Her stomach was in a knot and she was gasping for breath. Her head hurt. In the way dreams can be wild, she was pregnant, then she was searching for the baby and couldn’t find him.

Her eyes flew open. She was trying to catch her breath, as if she’d been running. Her heart was pounding relentlessly and it took her a second to realize it was all a dream.

Instinctively, she rolled over, looked at her phone, saw Matt’s number and hit the redial. His groggy voice answered instantly. “What?” he said. “What’s the matter!”

“Oh, God,” she said, suddenly aware she was calling him in the middle of the night. “I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. It’s nothing.”

“It’s something,” he said. “What is it?”

“It’s nothing,” she said, willing herself to be calmer. She tried to slow her breathing. “I had a bad dream. I just reached for the phone. And woke you. Jeez—they’re going to lock me up. I’m crackers.” She ran a hand through her hair. “My God, I’m just plain nuts.”

“It’s okay,” he said more calmly. “It’s okay. Just tell me what’s wrong and we’ll talk it through.”

She looked at the clock. “Never mind. You have to wake up in two hours and I’m fine.”

“I can sleep in. Till, like, four thirty.”

She laughed in spite of herself, wiping her cheeks. “I bet you wish anyone but me had knocked you out at your sister’s wedding.”

“That is a privilege I would grant only you,” he said. “What did you dream? Was it about the baby?”

“Yes and no. It was about my early years with Mick, back when we moved in together. Our house was a party house. It was my house. I rented it. When he was around, every night was spent rehearsing. There were always people around—sometimes a few, sometimes a crowd—groupies, musicians, you know. Music, noise, smoke, drugs. I wasn’t into drugs, by the way. I tried some pot once, drank a little too much a few times, years before starting a family, but...”

“I was in a fraternity,” he said. “You don’t have to explain.”

“Sounds like a never-ending college party, right? I thought it would change when we got married, but it didn’t. Why did I think it would change? He never said it would. In my dream, I was concerned about the baby, about the noise and the smoke and the baby and he was telling me to chill. And then I couldn’t find the baby,” she finished in a weak whisper.

“Matt, I never had the baby in that house with the parties. I left when I was barely pregnant. I told Mick I was going to stay with my parents until he could wrap his head around the fact that we were having a family and the lifestyle wasn’t healthy. I couldn’t be around all that second-hand smoke and I needed to sleep! That’s when he told me it wouldn’t work for him. He was sorry I didn’t get it, but that whole family and baby thing just wasn’t for him.”