I continue, letting my music take me away, keeping my mind off my racing heart and aching muscles. A bigger breeze blows across my heated skin, my eyes catching a glimpse of someone up on their deck as a nearby tree shadows moves away from a light. I don’t turn my head but continue looking as I keep moving. I swear it’s the same deck as yesterday, what I thought was a girl watching me. Is it the same girl? Again, as the light flickers, I can see she’s doing something up there. A fast movement of her hand. What is she doing? Looking ahead, I notice I’m coming up to the coffee shop. Not much further and I’ll turn around. It must be well beyond one-thirty by now, and I’m starting to grow tired. I used to be able to run for longer. My stamina is not what it used to be. I need to find time to workout more.
By the time I turn around by the dock and head back, I couldn’t stop myself from looking at that deck, the mysterious person gone and her lights off. Why do I feel sad about that? I guess I was hoping to see her again. At least I think it’s a – her. I must be more tired than I’d realized. After making it home, a little out of breath, I take another shower then put on a clean pair of boxers and climb into bed. Laying here with my head on my arm, I stare up at the ceiling and think about that girl and what she was doing. Well, I hope it’s a girl, otherwise, my mind might have gone crazy.
The next day, I cram in some time playing my music, taking a run on the beach and lifting some weights in my apartment. It’s another long night at Johnny’s but one that I didn’t mind so much, again. It was louder than last night and more people crowding the place, dancing and drinking. But it was a good atmosphere. Word must be spreading.
Two days later and two days off, I return on Thursday, on my last free night, but only for open mic night. I thought I’d hang in the background and watch. This working two days and having two days off is kinda nice. I’m sure it’ll be even busier and hectic on the weekends. Johnny pays well so having Wednesday, Thursday and Sundays off is a dream job, one I can easily get used to. The bar is fairly crowded, the lights low, more than normal, as the dance floor is taken over by a couple of chairs and a microphone. A karaoke machine sets off to the side with a display panel beside it. A couple of spotlights hang overhead, shining down on the chairs. There’s a woman sitting in one of them. Looks to be in her early thirties, if I had to guess. I find a chair in the back, most of the patrons are sitting closer to the makeshift stage. I’d brought my guitar, thinking I might want to get up there, but now I’m not so sure I want to expose myself just yet. I set the case down beside the chair, folding an ankle over my other knee and sit back, waiting.
She opened her mouth and I thought she was going to sing, instead she held up a piece of paper and read a poem she’d written. It was eloquent, full of emotion, and actually very well written. She finished and everyone applauded. I even found myself clapping. Next was two girls, too giggly and definitely showboats. They tried – and I use that word loosely, to sing to the karaoke machine. Their rendition of Taylor Swift’s “Shake it Off,” was hysterical, to say the least.
“You gonna play?” I look up as Johnny sits down and shrugs. “Ever play in front of anyone before?” I shake my head, my brows lowering. He lets out a laugh and settles back in the chair. “What’d ya bring your guitar for?” I look down at the case and wonder that myself. Was I really planning on playing in front of everyone? Am I even good enough? A bottle of beer fills my vision and I take it from him, giving him a nod and taking a big drink. “Try a little liquid courage, my friend. Then, go out there and play a song.” He stands, patting my back, and I watch him walk around the side, behind all the people sitting in chairs and filling up the area. Do I dare? Am I strong enough to overcome my fears of being noticed by someone I know?
Six more people have gotten out there, as I’m on my third beer. There’s singing with the karaoke machine, another person reading a short story they’d written, more singing to the machine, and a guy telling jokes. Finally, he sits down, people all around still laughing and clapping. Unconsciously, I reach down and grab hold of the handle of my case, my fingers sweaty around the worn leather. Am I really going to do this? I’ve watched many others up there, some making a fool out of themselves but laughing it off. Others are enjoying sharing their talents and people around them seeming to like it. I don’t know if it was their exuberance or the beers, but I stand, pulling up my guitar case with me and walk around the chairs. Slowly, I make my way to the dance floor, set my case down, open it and pull out my guitar as I sit down on one of the chairs. Silence. Waiting. My heart feels like it’s pounding against my chest as I place my fingers on the strings, resting the base of the guitar against my leg. I close my eyes, taking a deep breath, and start strumming, waiting for the chord I need. Just pretend you’re back at home practicing. I close my eyes and imagine myself at home, sitting on my couch, and let the music take me away.
Just be you,
Don’t hold on to who they wanted you to be,
Be yourself and hold on tight for the ride.
Change is coming,
Embrace it with all your might,
Let go of the old you,
And be who you are.
Some will hold on,
Trying to keep you were you were,
Let them go,
And just be you.
Just be you,
Don’t hold anything back,
Be yourself and hold on tight for the ride.