Samantha Savage Smith - You Always Come to Mind - Tara Abel

Samantha Savage Smith's album Tough Cookie is a total break up album and for some time (I'm talking at least two months) I poured my soul into this cd, forcing it into my parents ears at dinner, wailing it at obscene hours of the night, and driving along to it at every available moment. Ironically, I lent the cd to a subsequent boyfriend and never got it back after that break up (am I allowed to write that on a blog...too soon, perhaps).

Of the thirty days that make up a month, fifteen of those days I am overly emotional, and if there are thirty-one days in that particular month you can bet that sixteenth day is included in the "overly emotional" subheading (I'm really selling myself here). When Tara emailed me a draft of the short story you're about to read, I started to cry. Maybe it was just one of those days, but I'm going to give myself the benefit of the doubt and say No! I'm stronger than that! Those tears were down to evocative writing! Tara really captures the essence of Smith's track "You Always Come to Mind" and it left me with a sense that sometimes doing what's right can even feel wrong, that there are no easy answers when it comes to matters of the heart, that the one you want is sometimes the one you can never have. Samantha Savage Smith is a local Calgary musician who was picked up by recording label Arts & Crafts at the Calgary Folk Music Festival a couple of years back (or so the rumour says). I would definitely recommend seeing her play live; she's lovely.

Before I dig myself into an even deeper grave, here's Samantha Savage Smith's track "You Always Come to Mind":

And here are Tara's thoughts on SSSmith's song and a few words on the creative process, followed by her very own short story:

"You Always Come to Mind" was the first Samantha Savage Smith song that I had ever heard. I immediately fell in love with her unique and powerful voice, and the depth and melancholy of her lyrics and sound. Even though this song is about unrequited love within an affair, I wanted to entertain the idea that she might actually have captured his heart. I was excited by the possibility of writing it from the man's perspective, truly thinking it likely that he didn't just walk away unscathed.

* * *

His fingers close around the cold knob of the door. He tugs it open and there she is. From the blond locks that curl just so as they fall down her back, to the large honest eyes that he had spent so much time trying to read, she is perfect. Her full lips are set in the smallest trace of a smile.

"Hi," she says, stepping inside his front door.

"Hi," he replies softly, brushing a rouge snowflake from the curve of her cheek. He hadn't previously realized that you could feel so much in one moment. As he watches her remove her coat and place it with her bag on his cluttered sofa, tenderness, regret, guilt, and the tiniest bit of despair start to course through his mind and force him to take a seat at the kitchen table. Even in the dim light, he can see her nervousness. She knows. Something is different this time. There's a silence, only to be broken by jarring beeps, letting them know that their coffee is done. He hands her a piping mug and asks her how she is. She's fine.

She breaks the long silence, "I know that there was something you wanted to talk to me about. So, what is it?"

He places his mug down on the table and looks at his hands. All of the carefully planned speech that he had gone over so many times in his head had disappeared.

"I can't do this anymore," he hears himself say hoarsely. What had he done?

"I know."

"You do?"

"I knew that eventually you were going to have to make a choice. I had just hoped that the choice would be me."

Her words were enough to crumble his false exterior calm. He raked his fingers through his hair and whispered, "So did I."

"I just want to know why. Can she really make you feel more than I do?"

She was so matter-of-fact. Not cold, but not pleading. She was too strong for that. He wanted to silence her musings with a kiss, but he knew that all she would accept was answers. He felt sick to his stomach. An explanation was the one thing that he could not give.

He said her name, but couldn't get any further than that.

She stood up to go, scraping her chair ever so slightly against the run down wood floor. Not bothering to put her coat back on, she tucked it under her arm and strode resolutely toward the door. This was it. She would be gone in a moment. Maybe it wasn't too late. Maybe he could take it all back.

He called her again and she turned. Waiting. His heart was full of her - the scent of her laundry soap, the flush of her cheeks after a few glasses of wine, the way she crossed her arms when she was preparing for a fight.

Then she was gone.

The truth was he thought this would be easier. He thought it would be easier to face her than having to face the rest of his world. It was only now as snow and a draft swirled in through the open door that the truth formed in his mind. Coward.

Months later, he was standing in a clearing on an icy podium. Looking into the crowd of people dressed in their finest and warmest attire, he shivered. There she was. She was just as beautiful, although he wondered if she appeared more tired than she used to. She stopped fiddling with her program, and glanced his way. Suddenly, he was aware of a question that was hanging in the air, waiting for his answer. With two small words, he determined that his life would be filled with longing, regret, and wondering about what could have been. She would never know.

"I do."

* * *

Tara Abel is a young mother of two and married to her high school sweetheart. On her blog, Maybe, Matilda, Tara says she enjoys waltzing around the living room with her babies and making the acquaintance of quirky fictional characters. For more about Tara, see the contributors page.

For more on Samantha Savage Smith and her album, Tough Cookie, visit her myspace.