//Don't Let The Sun Go Down On Me// Song and lyrics belong to Elton John ~I can't light no more of your darkness All my pictures seem to fade to black and white I'm growing tired and time stands still before me Frozen here on the ladder of my life~ You waited for that phone call. For Lance to call you back. Nothing was quite the same after you saw him two rows away. The shock you felt rock your soul when his green eyes glimmered in the stage lights during Gone ripped you in half. You froze inside. Right on that stage. A flood of emotions poured over you and your brain blipped pictures you had tucked away. Handing off your guitar, you instructed the stagehand to find him. To send someone to get hunt him down. Your instructions were barked out of desperation, out of a newfound flutter that made no sense. But seeing him again made you feel complete--something you’d been searching for. How you managed to finish the show was beyond comprehension. It was a mad blur of lyrics and noise with your eyes skimming the crowd in hopes of seeing him again. That instant joy you felt--that warmth you missed. The love you hated living without. You fully expected he would be backstage when the show was done. You counted on it, begged for it. But your face dropped when you pulled out the in-ear monitors only to have the stagehand whisper that he wasn’t coming. That he’d refused without so much as an explanation. You didn’t think your heart could break again--but it did. A frantic state folded over you as you rushed to find his number--unlisted of course--but through Chris you found Joey, and through Joey--Lance. Making that call was the toughest thing you had done in four years. You shook and trembled, nausea rolled around in your gut. You dialed four times before you got enough nerve to let the call connect. You hoped his voice would warm you, but it was a generic message, clipped and to the point. A strange voice that sounded computerized. The debate was on--to speak or simply hang up. In the end, you stumbled over words, and managed to let him know where your next show was. You left your cell number too. In case. Three weeks and he hadn’t called. It was like the break up all over again. Apologies you felt needed to be said. Guilt that pummeled you. Dreams you wanted to live--dreams he already had. He wanted to live with you, you remember, buy a house and settle down. You were too excited to work though. So many opportunities lay ahead of you. You wanted to fly. You tried to tell him performing was in your blood--that it was your true happiness. But he had looked at you with a desolate expression, and toyed with the cross around his neck. “I’m not your true happiness?” he asked. Thinking back, you wish he would have just slapped you because it would have hurt less. All the “I’m sorries” in the world didn’t erase the memory of that look. So he set you free. The most miserable day of your life. ~Too late to save myself from falling I took a chance and changed your way of life But you misread my meaning when I met you Closed the door and left me blinded by the light ~ You sent him letters after the break up--long drawn out, hand written letter that were smudged where your tears smeared the ink. He replied one time via email. A short email wishing you well, telling you that while he would always love you, it was time to move on. Time for you to fly. People pitied you after the breakup, rubbed your back and crushed you in hugs you didn’t really want. You only wanted Lance back but he was gone. “Out of the country,” his assistant said. His cell number was changed and soon you stopped trying. It was hard to move on, but you did. You came out of seclusion and began to record again. Soon, he seemed to fade into your past. He became a memory just like No Strings Attached, the Superbowl and cramped tour busses you shared with JC and Chris. Soon, he was a vague impression in your rejuvenated life. But you could never quite deny the pain that plagued you every day. A pain that stemmed from lost love and all the stuff you thought would never happen. Explaining it to people who knew you was the worst. ~Don't let the sun go down on me Although I search myself, it's always someone else I see I'd just allow a fragment of your life to wander free But losing everything is like the sun going down on me ~ Now you sat alone in a huge tour bus surrounded by no one. The queen sized bed you loved so much seemed shallow after seeing him. Hadn’t you always dreamed that Lance would be by your side? Forever? You had hoped he would come to Dallas. Or San Antonio. Maybe Austin. But he didn’t. You left explicit word with everyone to let him up if they saw him--give him full clearance. You lay awake at night and tried not to cry. The anguish was happening all over again and you didn’t think you strong enough to fight it. Now it’s on to Nevada and you’re harboring secret hope because he always loved Vegas. The excitement and the fun. How the city never slept. He used to wake you in the  middle of the night, from the dead of sleep, just to run down the strip and get some cotton candy from a street vendor. Back then you battled it, dragging and complaining the entire way. Now, after seeing him, you think you’d give up singing forever if only you could be woken with those kisses and caresses--just once more. The city is alive, as usual, and the bus rumbles in. You pass a vendor peddling the sticky pink and blue concoction and almost fall to your knees. You think maybe if you can just find him, talk to him, maybe then it would be okay. Maybe you could apologize, again, and have this mind blowing discussion about how love is the most important thing--and how he was the most important thing. How you never meant to cause those big eyes to flash pain or hurt. Yeah, you want to hug him. Tightly and never let go. Four years hasn’t changed that. Not at all. ~Don't let the sun go down on me Although I search myself, it's always someone else I see I'd just allow a fragment of your life to wander free But losing everything is like the sun going down on me ~ Flashes of light blind you when you step off the bus. Fans who stand by your side no matter what surge forward. You blink into the crowd and look for him--for those eyes that have been haunting you since Jackson. Nothing but screaming people stare back at you, clawing and thrusting pens into your hand.  You want him to be there, in the throng of those people, waiting for you. You reach out blindly and touch hands. From behind your sunglasses your eyes dart around frantically. Just in case he’s there. You’re ushered inside within minutes and from inside the lobby, you gaze out the window. You would paint “I’m sorry” a million times if it would bring him back. Because you were sorry that you didn’t cherish him more--make him feel like he was the most important thing. If you could take it back, and redo it, you would break his door down and refuse to let him break up with you. You would stomp and kick, bite if you had to, but you would never let him go--not again. “Mr. Timberlake, you’re room is ready.” “Thank you,” you whisper, tucking the room card into your jeans. Bittersweet memories bother you--images of spending night after night tucked in his arms. City after city you shared a room, a bed, a life. You shared dreams and thoughts, and thinking back, you knew that they were always different. He went left, you went right. He wanted to stay on the ground, you longed to fly. No one said life was fair. And that was a life lesson you learned. The first person you ever loved--ever kissed--had flitted back in your life for the briefest of moments. You couldn’t guess why. But as you flop down on the California King, you wish he hadn’t. All the sorries in the world can’t take back the pain of seeing him again. ~I can't find the right romantic line But see me once and see the way I feel Don't discard me just because you think I mean you harm But these cuts I have they need love to help them heal~ You were battered with phone calls, mostly from management, some from stray fans who seemed to find you. But every ring sent your throat constricting too tightly for air. You had a pulse that refused to slow. A heart that beat double time. A spirit that begged God to make him come to you. Shards of anguish emerged from four years earlier, tearing at you with no mercy. There were no words to describe the pain of seeing him so you curled under the sheets and snapped your eyes shut--and prayed that it would disappear. That when you opened your eyes, it would be morning, and all hope of Lance would be erased. Even though you had a feeling he could help you. * The One * * Sleeping With The Past *