*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."
