Memories
Be still my beating heart.
How easy it was to find love.
It took me a while to realize that I had been standing in the middle of the sidewalk for a little too long, tapping my foot to the soft flow of music coming from the little band across the street from me. They were all young gentlemen, with the exception of one lady shooting out smoky vocals as she sat on the curb next to her boys, puffing a cigarette and smiling at the small crowd that was gathered around them. I remember clearly that her red dress contrasted nicely with the black-on-black clothing her friends were wearing, her voice not even coming close to matching her innocent face and her shapely body.
I guess one of the main reasons I was standing there was because I saw them the day before and felt so guilty because I hadn't an ounce of change to give them for their free entertainment. I hardly think it can be called free entertainment with her smooth voice and the musical talent in that small group, but it's the best way to describe that little nameless band. I'm taken away with the sounds to a bar where they might someday get a job, each boy playing on an instrument that isn't broken and rusted, but a really nice one that has valves that work and slides that actually slide. She was the kind of person that had a sultry, lounge-singer set of pipes but looked like she wouldn't be able to work there because she was underage.
Her delicate hands ran up and down the length of her leg as she assessed the crowd with her eyes, strands of loose hair spilling across her shoulders to cover up the ghost of cleavage that she seemed very fond of displaying. That fire red hair that matched her dress almost perfectly was screaming at everyone to take in the curves of her body, to look, to appreciate... to be jealous of. Oh, I was terribly jealous as she shifted on the curb and slowly crossed her legs with grace that I would expect from a professional dancer of some sorts.
The way her words slid along my spine, making me shiver with pleasure at the pure emotion I felt rolling off of her like waves, gave me this strong feeling that she was singing only for me. Like she somehow knew that this particular song was one that made me weak in the knees and got my heart pounding in time with her enthusiastic percussionist. My jealousy grew away from her and was re-directed at everyone else for taking part in something so personal. Something that I felt was meant only for the two of us.
Granted, this beautiful woman probably didn't even know I existed because not once had those sultry eyes shifted in my direction. Not once had she criticized me with a lifted eyebrow and the corners of her lips curved in a nasty little grin. Not once had she looked at me with a look of pure disgust that she shot towards everyone else. No matter how much I wanted her to look over at me and really see me, I didn't want to see that look cross her face when she took in my body... or my hands... or my hair... or my eyes.
The man off to her side wasn't even paying close attention to her when she looked over and tilted her head up to look at his face. He didn't see the flash of awful anger that fluttered across her beautiful features for no more than a second, but I saw it. I saw it because I was the only one paying attention to her. Her band mates might have known that she wasn't happy with what they were doing, but from the looks of it, it appeared to be the only thing they could do for some quick cash.
Her foot stretched out slowly to tap the brim of the hat that she had taken right off the head of the clarinet player, and then she let out a quiet laugh as someone tossed a bill in to make her happy. And for a second, she was. Her eyes lit up and she regarded that one woman with a friendly smile and a casual wink before going back to the song. The woman that had tossed the money in clapped twice to show how she wished she could stay before she slowly moved down the sidewalk with a shopping bag hanging around her wrist.
Oh, my heart stopped when she stood up and the fabric of her dress clung to her lithe body for a couple of seconds. They hung to her hips and her shapely thighs before falling down to brush across her knees and sway lightly with her delicate movements. Her enthusiasm for the music gave me that personal feeling again, almost like she was telling the world her life story through a song. Who am I to know if she was? Maybe they wrote the song and each put something personal into it. Maybe that young boy wrote that smooth trombone solo when he had just broken up with the sexy redhead, and that was his way of telling the world that he was once hers. And she, his.
Maybe the saxophone player just wanted to be heard because nobody ever listened to him outside of this little band. Maybe the first person to ever listen to him was this talented young woman who seemed too perfect to be swaying around on public sidewalks. Too perfect to wear a dress like that and have all these eyes wash over her body like mine were doing. Maybe that's why she sings; to show she is something other than a gorgeous specimen.
I can be something else, you see?
Go ahead. Thrive on our entertainment. We're offering it to keep away our pain.
Know we are better.
Better than you.
One thing I continued to notice was how her attention was drawn to these two men standing off to the side by a wrought-iron gate. Her eyes were continually drawn to them, and she smiled every single time she met their gaze. Some of her friends had come to see the show, had probably seen it the day before, and were there to support. The support was obviously something she enjoyed having, but the two boys didn't threaten me. She didn't want them.
Her eyes flicked right passed where I was standing, overlooking me completely as they slid shut, the song coming to an abrupt stop. That wonderful voice faded into the clapping of the people as she took a small bow and sat down next to the drummer with his lone snare and high-hat. Slowly opening and closing her eyes again, she leaned against him and watched the money coming into the hat, almost like she was counting their funds as they were dropped.
I pushed myself to move across the street, and I reached for my wallet, only stopping when her attention was dragged away from counting by those two boys. They crouched down next to her and spoke quietly, all three sharing a small laugh before one of the two kissed her on the cheek and they both stood to leave. The red-haired beauty turned back to the hat and her eyes went right back to what she had been doing originally.
I pulled my wallet out and opened it to find what I had gotten specifically for this little group. About seconds after I had dropped my gift into the hat, her eyes darted up quickly and our eyes met for the first time. Suddenly, the area was too damn hot as she gave me this questionably grateful look and scooted herself towards the hat to take a quick peek inside. I looked down before she actually came within sight of it, and saw the wad of bills and the small business card with my number written carefully on the back.
Stepping backwards onto the street, I turned and made my way carefully across the road in my high-heeled shoes, bringing my gloved hands up to straighten out my blonde hair as I felt her eyes burning into my back. My business suit almost seemed to choke me as I reached the opposite side of the street and turned to find her staring at me still.
Staring with those lips pressed together in a little pout of confusion, her hands wringing into the hem of her dress like that would take away all of her frustrations. Finally, her eyes lit up and the smile she gave me was well worth all the money I had given that little group. I almost felt the need to turn back and take off my diamond-studded necklace and toss it into the hat, but I didn't think I could be that close to her without wanting to touch her.
I walked off, and I couldn't look back.
When I came back the next morning, I was almost surprised when I didn't see her and those boys sitting on the curb again. I had unknowingly fallen into a routine for two days and now it was broken because she wasn't there to be a part of it. Everyone was moving about like nothing was the matter, and I was standing in the middle of the sidewalk again with part of my heart missing.
I was upset because I had to leave that night.
When I finally did reach my house miles and miles and miles away, I was sad because I didn't get to see her one last time before going. I didn't get to see her in that sassy red dress, everything matching wonderfully with her gorgeous hair. I didn't get to see her shoe tapping against the concrete or maybe against the rim of the hat. My family asked me what had happened when I was gone on the business trip, and I couldn't find any reason to tell them that I had fallen in love and felt the whole world crash around me in between three days.
I had suspected that it would happen, but...
Hurt no less, really.
The damage had been done, and I had done it to myself.
But...
... three weeks later when I answered the phone and heard my name spoken with such elegance, I had no regrets for the pain I had gone through. Because it wasn't pain at all, but just another branch of this awful tree that everyone tends to call love. It's something that cannot be avoided no matter how people may try. I guess I just embraced it a little earlier than most.
Oh, her voice...
Even more beautiful when I hear it today than when I heard it through song.