Try and Love Again

*Author's note: I haven't written an older man/younger woman story in quite some time, and that's mostly because I find it difficult not to make the woman look like a gold digger or desperate. But every now and then I get an idea that appeals to me, and this is one of those times.

I was watching and listening to music videos on YouTube several months ago and saw a cover band called 'Foxes and Fossils'. The older men are the 'fossils' and the younger women are the 'foxes'. They can all sing and play instruments incredibly well. After listening to about a dozen of their songs (all of which I really enjoyed) the idea for a story hit me.

I almost called it Foxes and Old Farts, but Try and Love Again seemed more appropriate.

I hope you enjoy it.

*****

It was dark, cold, and rainy outside in his hometown of Lancaster, Ohio, which was located about 32 miles southeast of Columbus, and inside, it felt just as cold.

He had no idea how many times he'd opened her closet as a way to feel close to her or maybe to just get a faint whiff of her scent, but this time he wasn't there to reminisce. For the first time in many years he had the urge to play the guitar again. She'd put it in the back of her closet at least a decade ago when they moved to their dream home, and it had been nearly twice that long since he'd played it.

He'd been listening to music as he often did, and when he heard Sheryl Crow singing "The First Cut is the Deepest", it made him think of her the way it did every single time.

Music had been his life until reality forced him to abandon it in favor of making a living. And since the death of his wife, Kellie, almost three years ago, sad music had been his choice of poisons. He rarely ever drank and never did drugs, but the music he now loved was poisonous to him in the sense that it tore his heart out. It hurt like hell, but it was the only thing that still made him feel alive, and for him, feeling pain was preferable to feeling nothing at all.

As he carefully slid the blouses on the left end of the closet to the side, he saw it right where she'd put it. It was only the guitar's case, but he smiled because he knew what was inside it. He slowly lifted it then turned around and gently laid it on the bed as though it might break were he to be less careful with it.

He stood there looking at it for a few seconds before bending over and opening the case. His pulse quickened when he saw the Fender Stratocaster for the first time since he was in college all those many year ago. As he stood back up, just the sight of it made him smile. He looked at it for several seconds then slowly reached down to pick it up, and as he did, a thousand memories flooded his mind.

The first was the day he bought it. He'd scrimped and saved and worked an extra job in high school to pay for it, and the day he took it home with him was, in a way, a life-changing event. He'd been playing the guitar since he was twelve and by then he was good at it. Really good.

From there he saw a series of images flash through his mind that reminded him of the rehearsals held in his parents' garage, all the times he played alone in some dive bar for $20 plus tips, then the band, and as always, she was there sitting in the front row smiling and cheering him on.

He was unaware he was still smiling as he carefully lifted it out of the case and held it in his hands. But he was smiling, and the reason wasn't just the guitar. It was Kellie. Beautiful, sexy Kellie Burns who came to listen to the band the very first time they played. He was 21 years old, had long hair, and wore a black t-shirt and ripped, acid-washed jeans thinking it made him look cool.

The irony was that he was studying to became a Certified Public Accountant, and after graduating from college a year later, he cut his hair and started wearing a suit. But she'd stayed with him through the changes and gave up her peasant blouses and cut-off jeans for dresses and heels and entertaining clients after he landed his first real job.

With a dependable source of income now assured, he asked her to marry him one weekend, and he was so nervous he dropped the ring while getting down on one knee. She smiled but never laughed as he picked it up and cleared his throat before telling her how much he loved her. The only other thing he remember was her nearly hollering, "YES!" when he said those four words filled with so much meaning.

Now, 20 years later, he and his older brother were partners in a very successful accounting firm of their own doing things he once loved. But since Kellie's passing, every day at work seemed like a prison sentence. He could do the job with his eyes closed, and the money was still pouring in. But he hadn't had one single day that made him happy since they day they found out about the tumor in her right breast and how serious it was.

"What do you mean...inoperable?" he'd asked the oncologist as though he hadn't heard a word the man said.

But that was the truth. He had no idea what the doctor said after, "I'm sorry. There's nothing we can do surgically," as he explained in some detail why surgery wasn't an option. He also told them that chemo and radiation could buy her some time, but it was only a matter of months at best.

So for the next four months, Kellie endured chemo and radiation, but the tumor had spread too far, and once she realized there was no more hope, she stopped it all. He never bothered trying to convince her not to give up, because he too, knew it was over.

Kirk Nelson still loved his wife of almost 17 years, and he still loved music. He no longer played and no longer cared for the hard stuff he'd loved so much back then and now preferred something his brother Judd called 'age-appropriate music'. Sad, gut-wrenching music that he'd needed to make it through each long day and lonely night.

He stopped holding the instrument as though it might break and actually held it with his left hand on the neck and his right hand ready to strum. It wasn't quite like riding a bike, but the skills were definitely still there. He knew all the chords and didn't need to look more than a time or two as he strummed a familiar melody and smiled again.

Kirk carried the beautiful Fender back to the living room and set his iPod to the song that inspired him then waited for the music.

As the music played, Kirk played, too, and sang along in that soothing-but-slightly-raspy baritone voice Kellie had loved so much.

"The first cut is the deepest, baby, I know, the first cut is the deepest."

Somehow he managed not to tear up when he got to the part that always tore his heart out. In fact, it did something so unexpected it scared him.

"And I'm sure gonna give you a try. If you want, I'll try to love again, try baby, I'll try to love again, but I know..."

It hit him so hard he stopped playing and just sat and listened. When the song ended he was still sitting there when he realized he was finally ready to try; to try and love again. It wasn't just playing music, although that was the main thing on his mind. Something else hit him just as hard as the need to play, and that was the need to love again. This realization took some time to set in, but by Monday morning, he knew.

"Judd? We need to talk," he told his brother as soon as he walked in.

"Don't tell me it's about those jerks and the apartment complex. I'm about ready to tell them where they can stick it."

When he saw Kirk laugh for the first time in years, Judd sat down and said, "What's wrong?"

"Wrong?"

"You just laughed."

"Oh. Yeah, I guess I did, huh?"

"You did, and I can't remember the last time that happened."

"Well, that's a part of what I want to discuss with you."

"Uh-oh. This sounds serious."

"It is. But...I think it's gonna be really good for me."

"Okay. Then shoot. I'm all ears."

Kirk didn't need long to sum things up. It took him maybe a minute to explain how he felt and another to tell his brother what he wanted to do.

"As a partner, you'll still receive your percentage of the what the firm makes. You just won't be earning anything else," Judd said, even though he knew his brother was aware of that.

"Money doesn't matter anymore, Judd. I've got a sea of it and a huge home and two new cars," Kirk replied, saying things he wouldn't say to anyone else on earth like how one of them had been Kellie's or how she'd barely driven it before falling ill.

"But?"

"But I'd trade it all to have her back."

"Kirk. Come on. We both know that's not possible," Judd said as politely as he could.

"No. No, it isn't, but we also know that it is possible to find that kind of love again. And, I don't know. Up until the last few days I haven't had any interest in even trying. I've spent every day since Kellie died trying to fill the hole in my life or somehow...make it go away."

"I know. I know. Well, okay, I don't really know. What I mean is that I think I understand as much as anyone who hasn't lost his wife can understand."

"I appreciate that, Judd. But it really did just...hit me. I mean, I'm sitting there feeling all melancholy, and bam! Suddenly it's not enough to just cover up the..hole in my soul...anymore. I need..."

Kirk thought for a second then said, "I need to move on."

"I get that. But why quit? Why not...reduce your hours? Maybe work two or three days a week instead of six or seven."

Kirk shook his head then said, "Sorry, bro. My mind's made up."

"So you're gonna...what? Play music? Join a band? Help me out here, little brother."

"I'm not sure about the details. But yes, I want to play again. I don't really care if it's solo or in another band. I don't even care if it's for free. I just want to play."

"Wow. Okay, well, I gotta say you do have the voice for it. If I'd been able to sing like that, who knows?" Judd said as he thought back to his own college days and the carefree life of a 20-something year old musician. Judd had been their band's drummer for two years, and he'd been better than average at it. He just couldn't sing a lick and knew it.

"I'll finish up everything in my inbox, and that should take the better part of the week. I know you'll need to pass off my workload, but we've got several really good people here to choose from."

They discussed the three best candidates for a little while and both agreed on which one to promote.

"It's not gonna be the same around here without you."

"True. But life's about change, Judd."

"Ha! You're not fooling me. That line's from a country song. A sad country song."

Kirk laughed then said that was true.

"Okay. Then it's settled. You're leaving, and from here on out you're gonna..."

Judd did his best to sing on key, but it still made his younger brother cringe when he sang, "Try and love again."

"Yeah. I have no idea how, when, or where I'll meet this woman, I just have this feeling I will. And until I do, I want to play again. And who knows? Maybe I'll keep playing even after I meet her."

Knowing he'd lost the battle, Judd stood up. Kirk did, too, and for a moment it was awkwardly silent.

"Come here!" Judd said as he and his brother hugged. It wasn't a quick 'bro hug', it was a genuine 'I'm gonna miss you' hug between two brothers who were very close.

"Good luck, Kirk," his brother said as he fought off the feeling of tearing up. "And who knows? You're only 42, so maybe you'll have groupies following you around in no time. Hell, you might even have a kid or two one of these days."

"Groupies. Yeah, right. I'm 42, and no 18-year old girl is gonna be after this old bod of mine. But kids? Wow. That hadn't even crossed my mind after trying so hard with Kellie. It seems like a long shot, but, yeah, who knows?"

"I'm not talking about getting married again right away, Kirk. I'm talking about, you know, havin' some fun, and you're still young enough to have groupies. And uh, all that goes with it."

His brother paused for a moment then smiled.

"Okay. They might be...28 or even 38 instead of 18, but, hey... and as far as kids, most women our age already have them, and I don't really see you taking on someone else's children, but life has a strange way of unfolding sometimes."

"I'll take your word for it where the 'groupies' are concerned, but I agree on raising someone else's kids. Especially if they're teenagers," Kirk replied, smiling in a way his brother hadn't seen since his wife was alive.

"If that smile I just saw is any indication, this might just be a really good thing for you."

"I hope so," Kirk said.

"If not, you know this office will always be yours."

"Yeah. I do know that, and that's a good thing. But I just don't ever see myself in here again. Well, unless I need some financial advice after my first album goes platinum."

Judd laughed loudly then said he needed to get back to work.

"Because some of us can't afford to f...screw around the rest of our lives."

Kirk laughed, too, and realized how much he'd miss his brother. Then again, it wasn't likely he'd be going out on tour anytime soon, so they'd still see each other several times a week.

When he sat down behind his desk a few minutes later and looked at the folders in his inbox, a feeling of relief washed over him that he wouldn't have to pretend he was doing something he still enjoyed but hated once this final bit of paperwork was done.

It took him until Friday to finish everything and brief his replacement. Judd had secretly put together a farewell for his younger brother that evening, so it ended up being a full week at the office. But late that night when Kirk was alone at home, he felt even more certain that this decision was the right one for him, and having made it, he felt...hopeful...for the first time in years.

*****

To his surprise, Kirk's love of his former music returned, and he spent the next week playing the kind of songs he'd played back in college, and was amazed at how quickly he was able to get back into the swing of things. The only negative thing he could find was that his fingertips hurt a little from doing something they hadn't done in the last two decades.

But other than that, he loved everything about it, with the freedom from the tyranny of the daily grind being its own best reward. No one had ever called him lazy, but being a CPA had become a very unpleasant chore while playing music was the opposite in every way.

The second week he bought some time in a recording studio just to see how he sounded playing and singing solo. His voice had deepened a little over the years, and if anything, it had a richer quality to it now than he remembered in college. He'd recorded a couple of songs with the group back in the day, and although he no longer had them, he could clearly hear the difference in his voice.

The rest of that week and most of the next were dedicated to learning a play list, so he could perform three sets once he got his first gig. He had no doubt he could get one, because unlike most starving artists, he was in a position where he'd gladly play for free.

He initially wanted to play the kinds of songs he'd played with the band like "Magic Carpet Ride" and "Smoke on the Water", but he couldn't completely get away from the sad songs that had dominated his life for the last few years. In the end, he settled on one 'oldie' in each set with the others being 'tear your heart out' selections like "Reflections of my Life" by Marmalade and "He Stopped Loving Her Today" by George Jones.

Country music had been taboo when he was a young man. In fact, he used to joke that country music was an oxymoron like 'jumbo shrimp'. But after losing his wife, he found himself gravitating to it, and fell in love with songs like "Living for the Night" by George Straight and "The Dance" by Garth Brooks, a song that had reduced him to tears the first time he heard it.

But now he could not only listen to them without getting overly sad, he could even sing them with the kind of deep feelings that no one who hadn't lost the love of their life ever could. It wasn't much of a tradeoff, but it was just about the best he could hope for, and at this particular time in his life, it was enough.

That Tuesday, he drove up to Columbus where he'd gone to college at Ohio State, or as many alumni said, THE Ohio State. He'd always thought that sounded ridiculous, but he occasionally said it himself in certain circumstances.

As he looked around he was well aware that things had changed, but then again, not all that much. He'd been to the 'big city' many dozens of times since then, so the changes had been gradual, and even now, it didn't look all that different to him from his days as an undergrad. Many of the bars he'd played in were still there while a few had closed and others had sprung up in their place.

For sentimental reasons, he chose one of the first he'd ever played at to start the inquiry process, and as he walked inside, another flood of memories hit him.

Bramble House hadn't changed all that much, either, since he played there, at least not in terms of the layout. But it had changed ownership, and as he later learned, it had changed four times in the last 20 years. Or so said the general manager with whom he spoke.

"We're always looking for new talent," the younger man whose name was Mark told him.

"I brought a demo with me in case you're interested," Kirk said after they talked for a minute or so.

"Yeah. Definitely. Unless you want to do it live, that's the best way to go."

"I'm okay with either. I just thought this would be easier."

"What's your style?" Mark asked.

Kirk laughed a little then said, "Well, when I was going to school here, it was all classic rock. Rolling Stones, Steppenwolf, ACDC, that kind of thing. But uh, but since my wife passed away, I've gravitated toward softer stuff."

Mark smiled but didn't laugh as he told Kirk he was sorry for his loss.

"Thanks. It was really tough, but I'm at a point where I feel like playing again, and I guess I'd call my new brand of music...sad. Maybe even...sappy."

Mark raised an eyebrow then said, "Yeah. That's not gonna work. We get young folks in here and they want to hear something upbeat. And loud."

"I get it. That makes perfect sense."

"Sorry, man. I wish I could help you out, but if you're not rocking out these days, it'd be a tough slog for you. And me."

Kirk shook the man's hand, thanked him for his time, then got up to leave.

"Hey. There's a country bar on the west side of town called Patsy's. You know where that is?"

"Patsy's? No. Haven't heard of it."

"It's only been open a few months. They have live music, and while most of it is country, you might be able to get a gig with your new brand."

"I'll definitely check it out," Kirk told him as they walked out together.

"I wish I could help you out, but sad songs just won't work here," Mark told him again at the front door.

Kirk also told him again he understood and thanked him for his time before going outside and using his phone to find out where this new honky tonk was located. It was only about three miles away, and Kirk had been to that part of town many times.

Once he drove up, he knew exactly where it was because he'd once played there when it was called The Shamrock. When he went inside it looked nothing at all like he'd remembered with the exception that there was a bar, a seating area, and a stage.

He was lucky enough to find the GM there, too, and this time, he got a much warmer reception.

"Let me take a listen," the man about his age said.

Kirk handed over the CD and the manager took a look at it then asked which song was his best.

Kirk laughed then said, "I can't really say, but I think my best chance of impressing you would be track # 5."

"Okay. Number 5 it is," the man said as he dropped it in a player then advanced it to the 5th track and hit 'play'.