When he sings the question, “Do you understand who I am?” I nod because the answer to any question he asks me will always be yes. Maybe I’m in too deep, too fast. I haven’t known him for very long, all things considered, but I’m falling in love, song by song. The room is dead silent when he finishes this one, like the audience doesn’t dare breathe, let alone applaud, but Shane doesn’t need motivation to continue. He’s already strumming the next number.
I’m surprised to recognize a song by an Australian band, one I’d swear few people in the U.S. know about yet. I found them on YouTube, so I guess it makes sense that Shane did, too. And this song. OMG. It breaks my heart because I could be singing it to him, asking these questions. “Why, why me? When you could have had anybody.” I ask myself if he’s singing this for a reason, if he saw how much I doubt belonging with someone like him, someone hot and talented.
I’m so not enough. I can’t be. I smile, and I act happy, and I pretend. I’m the queen of bright and shiny things, eternally looking for the positive and seeking a silver lining in the dark. He’s dating a girl I invented three years ago because the real me is horrible, and I wanted to leave her behind, along with the group home and the court-mandated therapy sessions. I want so bad to be normal, but I never can be.
I can’t. Not after what I’ve done.
The tears slip down, but I’m not alone. Other women look misty, but this number isn’t as sad as the others. He infuses this one with a sweetness that melts the females in the audience, regardless of age. Shane cradles them all in long, graceful fingers; he has them hanging on his every word, every note. The women are all breathless and smiling by the time he winds the song down, ending on a sexy flourish.
The next one, I don’t know at all, but as I listen, I know I’ll be looking for it online to compare the original with Shane’s version, which is somewhere between melancholy and bittersweet. To me, it feels like he’s singing about endings, letting go, and saying good-bye. We both know too much about that, he and I. I listen and dry up my tears, eyes half closed with the sheer power of Shane’s voice. He should have his own channel online, where he posts videos of himself singing. I suspect he’d have a million views and record companies wanting to sign him. I see that future stretched ahead of him like a strand of pearls, and I don’t see a place for me there. Sometimes when you meet someone, you can glimpse the future around them like swirls of smoke, and he’s like that, marked for greatness. Someday people will watch him on TV and onstage; and they’ll marvel they knew him, even for a little while.
I’m marveling now.
Finally, he speaks, pausing in his performance. “This is actually meant to be a duet, but I like the song so much that I’m going to try it solo. Be gentle, okay?”
Soft laughter greets his words, which tells me he’s won the room completely. From there, he flows right into a dreamy-folksy number, more upbeat though still with plenty of heart. This song feels like it’s about healing and new beginnings, and I memorize a few of the lines, so I can Google them later. When I get home, I’ll discover some new band. I can envision how it would sound sung in harmony. Beautiful. That could be my theme, and I’m smiling along with the rest of the listeners when he finishes.
Good Charlotte is up next, one of my favorite bands. But Shane picks “Wondering” instead of a more popular choice, like “The Anthem.” His arrangement is unique and masterful, using not just the strings of the guitar but thumps on the body as well. He’s confident now, and he seems to be having fun. Music is such a personal thing, but it lights him up when he plays. I’ve never been to the ocean, but I imagine Shane’s eyes look exactly like sunlight on the Caribbean, and in this moment, they’re shining just for me. His hair tumbles over his forehead as he plays, rocking a little. I could watch him forever.
Apparently the audience agrees because when he tries to stand up and take an awkward bow to indicate he’s done, someone shouts, “Encore!”
“I never get asked for an encore,” Jace mumbles.
“That’s my whole set list,” Shane says.