Coldplay has me completely hypnotized. My eyes haven’t moved from the stage throughout the entire concert. My mind, body, and soul are more than thankful for the musical reprieve, prompting a momentary cease-fire between them. I peek at my cell phone and realize they probably only have two songs left in their set, when they start playing “Trouble.”
I listened to this song on repeat, all girl-like, for a week after Bo and I broke up. I don’t know if I pretended it was for me or him; either way, the notes lean me back in my seat and sink my shoulders. I cast my gaze to the floor as the opening line suggests I may have “lost my head.” Or was it Bo who lost his? Bo shifts in his seat and his arm presses into my shoulder; he doesn’t move it. Biting my lip, I glance up at him, only to find him staring at me with a furrowed brow.
“Come with me.” He nods his head and crosses in front of me, exiting to the aisle.
Rae is sitting in the seat next to his and shrugs before mouthinggo. I oblige. When I get into the mezzanine, Bo is a good distance ahead of me.
“Hey wait up!” I shout, slowing his pace. “What the hell?” I ask as I shoulder up next to him.
“I want to show you something. I know you’re slammed with more meetings tomorrow and we won’t have time . . .”
“You’re taking me out of a Coldplay concert to show me something?” I stop and put my hands on my hips.
“Stop standing there and follow me.” He rakes his hand through his hair, as he always does when he’s nervous, and opens the door for me.
Silence mocks us on the walk to the car and on the drive to wherever we’re going, despite the dings of incoming text messages sounding through both of our phones. Within a few minutes, we’re parked in front of the DROP community center, still under construction for the studio they’re putting in.
“I want you to be the first to see the studio. It’ll be finished tomorrow.” While he should be smiling, he’s not. He exits the car and waits for me at the center’s door.
Bo unlocks the door and flicks on the lights. My eyes widen in praise as I take in my surroundings.
“Oh my God, Bo, this is gorgeous!” My loud whisper bounces off the walls, and all the tension I’ve been holding onto melts into a smile.
The center has undergone a major upgrade in the wake of putting in the studio. It’s modern: computers line one wall, large work tables are pressed up against another, and plenty of tables and couches are scattered around for reading and hanging out. I look back at Bo, who has clearly let go of his tension as well. His face is proud, as it should be.
“You like it?” He holds out his hands, showcasing his dream. I’ve missed the playful smile dancing across his face.
“Are you shitting me? This is amazing!” I head toward the studio addition, and he follows.
“Watch your step here—they’ve got to fix them tomorrow.” Bo holds out his hand and leads me down the narrow stairs.
I can feel his eyes measure each careful step I take without looking up. If I look at him in this studio, his studio, his dream...I don’t think my heart could take it. I spot a gorgeous piano in the corner of the room with what looks to be a Shure Series chrome microphone hanging from the ceiling above it.
“Is that mic hooked up?” I ask without releasing his hand.
What’s happening?
“Yeah, why? You want to try it out?” I think he squeezes my hand, but I can’t be sure—I lost all sense of rational feeling the second he grabbed it.
“Y-yeah.” I have to swallow feeling back into my throat as I tug my hand away and head for the piano.
Bo walks to the control room and plays around with a few switches as I squirm on the hard lacquered bench.
“Don’t stand in there the whole time. It makes me feel weird.” I giggle. “Plus, I need you to hit a “C” for me before I try this out; I have no idea which keys are which.”
His heavy sigh fills the two-way speaker from the control room. Bo walks almost robotically toward me and dings the middle “C” on the piano. I hum in an attempt to tune. He strikes the key one more time. My heart is racing, but I’ve wanted to sing into one of these mics forever—they’re simply stunning and make me feel glamorous. I fly through the song Rolodex in my brain until I settle on the only option, the most beautiful song I’ve ever sung before—“San Diego” by The San Diego Six, my parents’ band.
“The San Diego sun setting in your eyes The taste of salt and sweet summertime”
Even though my parents only sang with Six until I was about eight, they sang this song to each other often. It’s upbeat and sweet. It sounds like sunshine. My mom always started the song, and I’d blush through the second half of the first verse.
“Days were short, but the nights were long Crashing through waves wrapped up in your arms”
I start to hum the musical interlude when I feel Bo sit next to me. In an instant, the piano sings the part my father wrote for guitar in this song. Holy shit. This song is on the album Bo has in his studio. My mouth runs dry, and for a second, I forget the words to the next verse as my heart takes over all noise in my head. I clear my throat to reach for my dad’s part in the song, but Bo beats me to it, “Oh sweet mama don’t make me go
Take my hand, mmm don’t say no