A Crushed Dream

Written 7/29/26

Emile realizes that he's in love in a world that doesn't often go as we plan it to

"Emile! Come on!"

Jo's playful voice called to him from the elbow-high rows of sunflowers and marigolds. Emile hurried after the best he could, trying not to lose sight of her short brown bob, white button up, and pale pink skirt. It always opened up on a scene like this. Sometimes it was a homely cafe, sometimes a beach, sometimes an empty street, but always the two of them alone. Jo would be trying to tell him something or lead him somewhere. But where?

He only knew that he couldn't lose her. Desperation blotted out everything else. He didn't realize it, or even feel it, when he suddenly tripped on a rock and tumbled to the ground. In a patch of cornflowers and packed dirt, he laid stunned, eyes squeezed shut against the bright sun. Then he heard laughter- Jo's sweet, cheerful laugh that could outshine any summer day.

He lifted himself against his elbow to see Jo lying next to him. Brown eyes met green, and she stopped laughing, only watching him fondly with a closed-mouth smile, fingers grazing her lips. There seemed to be so much in that look, so much she wanted to say to him. Likewise, Emile couldn't find the words to tell her how happy he felt when she was beside him like this and how lonely he felt when she was gone. All he could think to do was touch her cheek. So he slowly reached out, the field becoming blurry, everything but Jo's face losing focus.

Just before he could make it, though, the sun above bloomed and turned everything blindingly white. Jo and his own arm vanished. He was still lying down but it wasn't on a warm bed of flowers anymore. It was only his cold, stiff mattress, the sun bursting through the blinds of his messy apartment. It was the cheapest place he could get; he grew up living in a ramshackle hovel, after all, so how bad could it be? But waking up from his dreams to peeling paint and tattered shutters only made him more depressed not to mention the trash and odor of stale takeout.

Squinting his eyes, he turned to face the other direction, trying to get comfortable again but to no avail. As much as he wanted to sleep, he was vaguely aware of the alarm clock on his cluttered bedside table reading 10:52. Griff would call him any minute with another gig. Then it would be another night of playing for a tiny, bored crowd.

But right now, all he could think about was Jo. They hadn't seen each other since the breakup and that was how long ago now? A few months? Jo, sweet Jo... You taught me all I know. I need you more than ever, I cannot let you go- Was this what love felt like? The songs always made the realization sound so good and happy. 'Scales falling from the eyes', whatever that meant.

Why, then, did he feel so hopeless?

~~~~~

Six months later, Emile would be pushing up a flight of carpeted stairs, struggling to keep up with the hulking form of his old bandmate Obie. The hallway was achingly familiar, bringing to mind the many times that he walked back with Jo to her apartment when he was staying in her guest room. It was only yesterday that Obie had rescued him from his family's shack and stated his plans over the car ride to L.A. Finally, after over a year, the Surfers were getting back together. His singing days might not be over after all.

But as he ran through all of his hopes and anxieties, his thoughts couldn't stop returning to Jo. By now, he had done more than just admitted to himself that he loved her. He had his entire speech planned out from the moment that Obie had pulled in. Jo, you're more special than a friend to me... He would say, cupping her hands in his...

"Emile, it's right here," Obie called impatiently from behind. Emile hadn't even realized that he had continued walking when Obie stopped. Trying to hide his embarrassment, he hurried to join the bassist by the door. A big gold 10 hung on the wood and voices were coming faintly from inside- familiar voices. Obie knocked on the door while Emile hung back a few feet, nervously smoothing down his plain yellow button-up and running his fingers through his hair. Soon the door swung open and the faces of Shannon and Ed appeared.

"Obie, my man, come in!" Ed cheered, making space for the taller man to step through yet close enough to punch his shoulder. Like Obie, they were both wearing button-ups with jeans of a more casual style. Their hair was also longer and parted in the middle.

Just as Emile began to follow, Ed put on a confused face and looked around Obie. "Now wait a minute, where's-" and then he saw him. In the presence of only one band member, Emile could almost forget that he, too, had changed significantly and not just in the hair or style department. The bigger change was visible in his face shape, his proportions, the way he filled a doorway. When both Ed and Shannon gave him with wide eyes and gaped mouths, he glanced from one to the other, confused. Then it finally dawned on him.

"Almost didn't recognize you there, Em," Ed said a second later with a grin, "Nice shirt."

Shannon gently pulled Emile in by the upper arm, squeezing past to reach the door knob. "Here, let's not disturb the neighbors."

While he closed the door, Emile had time to take in Jo's apartment. It was the same layout and much of the same furniture, but all of the decorations that he came to love were missing. Only a few- a floral platter on a sparse bookshelf, a ceramic dolphin on the coffee table- remained. A group was already gathered in the living room, however. Jerry stood behind the couch with a drink in hand, donning a new mustache. Obie and Shannon were already deep in conversation. Somewhere a record was playing- a folksy song that Emile didn't actually recognize, and altogether he felt rather outside of it all. Where was Jo? He needed to speak to her. The sooner he got everything out, the better.

Suddenly Ed came up beside him and he jumped a little when he spoke.

"So, Em... Whatcha been up to all this time, huh?"

"Um..." Emile rubbed his arm, his gaze falling to his shoes. Even if he were fully present, he wouldn't know how to answer the question. He thought by all the smiles and laughter that everyone had it good while his attempt at a solo career failed miserably. So he shrugged.

"Not much, I guess. I wanted to keep doin' music but the work in Los Angeles was just alright."

Ed gave him a gentle shove with his elbow. "Hey, beats working at my unc's car shop. I still got a bit of oil smell on me," he chuckled, before cupping his mouth to call above the din, "Hey, Obe! How's the new transmission treatin' ya?"

While they were momentarily distracted, Emile slunk away, scanning the room. Where could she be? He was going to tell her. This was the day. There was no turning back. Just as he gravitated towards her bedroom, a door swung open and someone bumped into him, sending him stumbling back a few steps. A gentle hand caught his wrist, and suddenly he was facing the most incredible large green eyes that he hadn't seen for over a year.

"Oh, I'm sorry! Did I-" And then she stopped, staring back at him in astonishment. Even after the changes that he and the others had gone through, he somehow still expected Jo to look like the woman in his dreams. But her short bob had lengthened to soft curls upon her shoulders, her cheeks had slightly thinned, her dress had put on a more colorful pattern of orange paisley...

And somehow, some way, she was even more beautiful.

"Emile... wow! I'm so glad you could make it," she began cheerfully, closing the door with her back, "I was just getting some boxes out of the way. My room is a bit of a mess right now. But look at you! The new hair is a great fit."

His hand darted to his hair as he rushed out an, "Oh, thanks... Yours, too." Only in his struggle to make simple small talk did he realize that he couldn't just go out and say it like he had planned. But he hadn't prepared any questions or clever remarks, either. Looking at Jo, he almost felt like calling the whole thing off and running away. He was fixed to his spot, however, even as she asked the same dreaded thing with a grin.

"Talk about long-time-no-see, though. Did you do anything exciting over the break?"

I found out I love you. Emile's mouth was too dry to speak and he swallowed. "Uh, Jo, I- um..." he took a deep breath, staring at Jo's hands until he finally worked up the courage to reach for them, "Can I tell you somethin'?"

He tried to make his voice as serious as he could, but Jo huffed and rolled her eyes. Her fingers were stiff in his hands. "Oh, Emi, I'm sure there's nothing that embarrassing. What'd you do this time?- Wait! Oh my gosh! I haven't told you the good news!"

Emile's hands slipped from hers, causing her to glance down. "Ugh, how rude of me. Here, you say your thing first and then I'll tell you the news!"

But suddenly, looking at her excited smile and slight bounce in her stance, he couldn't bring himself to tell her. The speech laid in arm's reach, however, as he shook his head rapidly.

"No, th-that's alright. You go first." He told her, nervously pressing his hands together. Perhaps this was his chance to have more time. Then he would say it.

"Okay, okay, goodness..." She covered her mouth to hide her giggle, jumping up and down. He couldn't help but smile, too, as curiosity got the better of him. That was when she stuck out her left hand.

"Look at this ring and tell me what you think!" Emile squinted and saw that she was wearing a gold ring with a bright blue gemstone circled by tiny gold ornaments. That was it? She bought a ring? He smiled again, hesitantly putting his fingers under the band and commenting in his rural drawl.

"It sure is a per-dee ring..."

"Emile, this ring is the best thing that has ever happened to me," She declared, moving her hand closer to her face with the fingers facing up, "Do you know why?"

He couldn't get it out of his mind that she seemed to be putting a lot of weight on this tiny piece of rock. It was even a little amusing. He continued to smile as he shook his head and Jo huffed, furrowing her brow in concentration.

"Okay, well... My last name isn't Lewis anymore! It's Rockower! Josephine Rockower!"

But Emile was still lost. What was wrong with Lewis? And where had he heard Rockower before? Jo moved closer to him, and his smile started to drop.

"Emile, Doc and I..." She slowly began before letting out a hop and squeal, "Are married! Eek!"

And as soon as the word left her mouth, Emile's face went pale, his jaw dropping a little. Married, married, married her voice kept repeating in his mind. Now the image of the ring burned a hole through his sinking heart. The piece of rock symbolized that it was permanent- he knew that much. But it was Doc's ring, Doc's last name, and Doc's wife standing before him.

The world had blurred around him so much that he barely processed Jo's next words- "Aren't you happy for me, Emi?" Although the question implied that she had noticed something wrong, the grin remained on her face, he same face that he had imagined holding in so many of his dreams, the same face that might've grimaced had he said what he had planned to. He quickly shook the picture from his mind, answering "Oh- y-yes, of course I am."

In the same moment, a toilet flushed from the nearby bathroom door and a tall, lanky figure stepped out into the living room. Doc. With a jolt, Emile recognized the red curly hair, freckled face, and cheek scar. Sure enough, Jo ran up to him, her fingers slipping into his as naturally as a bird landing in its nest.

"Doc, you just missed Emile and Obie coming in!" She announced, "The whole group is finally here!"

In Doc's own way, he offered little more than a slight smirk as he looked down. But Emile could see the glimmer of love in Jo's eyes and that was enough to break his heart in two. With another hop, Jo broke away.

"I'll go grab my camera!" She said as she disappeared back into her room and, it felt, out of Emile's grasp forever. For a moment, he was alone with his bandmate and her new husband. Why Doc? He only wondered now, unable to recall Jo being that close to him unless he just never noticed. It always felt like himself, Jo, and Ed. That was it. Nobody else.

But for a brief second, Emile's eyes met Doc's and the pieces clicked. It didn't matter that he spent time with Jo, learned to read with Jo, or even lived with Jo in this exact apartment. What mattered was that Doc was smarter, tougher, and more in shape than Emile would ever be. It was this explanation that made him quickly avert his gaze, staring at the ground as the shock of their marriage continued to reverberate in his skull. Everything seemed to be miles away. It startled him again when something cold nudged his arm and he looked up to see Ed again.

"Hey, you still like coke, right?" He asked, smiling as he gave Emile a bottle of Coca-Cola, wet steam still rising from the lid, before twisting his face into an exaggerated frown. "The others forced me to supply the drinks, you see..."

"You volunteered!" Obie yelled from across the room, causing everyone to laugh. Everyone but Emile. He could barely get out a "Uh, thanks, Ed," as he took the bottle from his friend.

A dream from the hiatus- Jo, flowers, running through a field- flashed across his mind and he quickly shoved it away alongside any hope he had of being with her. But if he didn't have those memories, what did he have of that wasted year? A few failed gigs? Night after night in front of the television, scoffing down a double cheeseburger or an entire container of chocolate icing? Suddenly that was all he wanted right now that even the cool soda tasted like dust in his mouth. He wanted to get out of the apartment. He wanted to be alone in his shame.

But there was one thing to help him: a certain trick he had learned as a small child, a survival mechanism in the face of years and years of abuse. For the rest of the party, his body was there, saying little, expressing little, mostly staring at his coke. His mind, meanwhile, was somewhere far away. Nobody in the apartment seemed to notice, too wrapped up in their own conversations- Ed talking to Obie and Shannon, Doc talking to Jerry- to tell that anything was off. Finally Jo swung back into the living room, cheering "I found it! I found it!" as she began to set up the camera. The countdown began. Ed and Obie pushed Emile between themselves, Shannon stood next to Obie, Doc and Jo stood on Ed's side, and Jo called for Jerry to join in- "You're part of this, too!"

And then the camera flashed: the five former Surfers together again for the first time in over a year... and a cut-off arm and shoulder next to Shannon that people decades later could only theorize was Jerry or maybe some journalist there for publicity. Emile was squeezed in the middle of the group, a bottle of Coca-Cola in his hand, and his droopy eyes widened and mouth slightly agape. It was the same mostly blank, vaguely surprised look that he had donned across many of their earliest photos before he understood what cameras were and how they worked.

But hiding behind that look was a world of pain that nobody would know- the all-consuming pain of a crushed dream.