Near Love Stories
by J. B. Hogan

Watching him, silent, moody, so into his own pain, she felt the great tiredness that had plagued her since even before the last tour had begun. She was so very tired. Tired of the demands upon her from family, career, fans, and from him.

She smiled remembering the first time they met, such a short time ago really. His agent had called her agent and on the morning before a concert the four of them had got together at her hotel. His agent introduced him as a screenwriter and a novelist, "your biggest fan." He had been shy and nervous at first, but then loosened up and she had thought he was clever and charming and funny. That was what she liked best: he made her laugh, made her feel at ease. And he was so obviously taken with her. From the very beginning. She teased him back and flirted a little, not meanly, and saw that beneath the jokes and fan talk, he really was interested in her, and in her career.

Later they went for a walk in a nearby park and his praise of her and his good-natured attitude made her feel happier than she had in months. They ate salads at a little restaurant and she invited him to watch that night's show from backstage.

For the first time in several shows, the band was extraordinarily tight and she had sung with a feeling that had not been there since the start of the tour. Towards the end of the show she glanced into the wings and he was suddenly there holding up a big sign requesting the song she always liked to sing the most. She laughed and smiled at him, wondering if that was his favorite song too or if somebody in the crew had put him up to it. He gave her a little wave and winked and she sang the song better than she had since she had recorded it, remembering how beautiful it was and how sad.

After the show he waited patiently to congratulate her until all the fans, musicians, and other hangers-on had had their time with her. Then at her hotel room door he appeared again, holding a single red rose and a CD which he made her autograph against her objections. They talked well into the early morning, him telling her that he believed he loved her even though they didn't know each other. He told her she was very, very special-even overwhelming her by saying that she was among the elite artists who would live for the ages. He apologized for being so "forward," but, he said, she was too special-he used that word a lot-not to be told so. Just before dawn he excused himself, saying he knew she had a rough schedule to keep, and with a gentle handshake, left. When he had gone, she lay on her back on the bed and laughed out loud for joy.

During the rest of the tour he would appear off and on, always when she least expected him, and they began seeing each other when they could-eventually nearly all the time. He became a buffer for her, absorbing the anxiety producing tensions between her and her manager, her fans, her band members, anyone who could distract her from her music, and they had a wonderful four months together. Then she took him home, against his will, to meet her family. Her dad, brothers, and sister tolerated him, even grudgingly liked him. Her mother did not.

"He's older than I am," her mother said. "He could be your father. How did we go wrong with you? Does he have his own money?"

That memory made her laugh bitterly. Somehow, by osmosis it seemed, her mother's attitude spread to her manager, her band, and then although she fought it, it began to taint even her own thinking. After that he changed. He became defensive: holding on now where before he hadn't, forcing that which he wanted most away from him.

To her he began to seem old, and although she chided herself for such an attitude she began to notice younger men again and to think about her own personal future-a home, a family, all the things they would not likely have together. She looked over at him, nearly passed out on his beach chair, and a great swelling of emotion surged within her and she had to fight back tears. She did love him and he had been wonderful for her, for a while. But it didn't feel that way anymore and it made her immeasurably sad. It was all too difficult now, his love would cost too much.