by Julia Goda
But I did feel bad for Rick.
He didn’t deserve this.
He has always been a good guy. I knew him from when he used to hang out with Cal in high school; I actually had a small crush on him back then. He was tall, dark, and handsome, had intense dark blue eyes with a shimmer of green to them, had an easy smile he used often, and never minded when I followed him and Cal around; never treated me like his best friend’s unwanted little sister; never teased me or tried to get rid of me. I think he had known that I had a crush on him and had found it very amusing. Still, he never teased me about it. He became one of my good friends when I grew up and grew out of that crush.
“Hey, Rick. You okay?” I asked as I made it to him. I leaned my elbows on the bar across from him, getting close enough to talk quietly without anyone overhearing.
His head shot up and his sad eyes warmed as they saw me. He gave me a small smile that was nowhere near the easy smile he used to have. “Hey, Loreley.”
His non-answer was answer enough. He wasn’t okay and probably wouldn’t be until he found a way to forgive himself for not having protected his sister, or figure out that it wasn’t his fault his sister was a total idiot and vindictive whacko bitch in the first place.
“Went to see Gina today. She’s not doing so well.” His eyes went back down to his drink.
I was torn. On the one hand, I didn’t want Gina to do well in jail. She deserved to be locked up. Ivey could have been killed and Gina had had a hand in that because she couldn’t get over the fact that Cal didn’t want her skanky ass in his and his son’s life. How she could have ever dreamed he would want her, I had no idea. As I said, she was a whacko bitch, totally delusional. Nobody in town blamed Rick, not even Ivey. There was nothing that Rick could have done to prevent what had happened. Gina had always been a bitch. Even as a kid she had made other kids’ lives a living hell. She was the queen bee in high school and had kept on living her life like that after she graduated. It had only been a matter of time until she got what she deserved. Nobody would have thought that she was capable of going to such extremes, but there you go. You couldn’t foresee what people did, especially crazy people, so Rick wasn’t to blame for any of it.
Not knowing what to say, I put my hand on top of his. His eyes came back to mine. They were still sad, but also still warm.
“I know you never liked her and think she got what she deserved. You’re right. Hell, I didn’t like her most of the time. She did wrong and had to be punished for what she did; trying to get Ivey hurt; thinking she could get away with it. I get all that and I agree with it. Wholeheartedly. But she’s still my little sister and seeing her like that…I can’t help it. I want her out of there.”
“I know, Rick. And I understand. You wouldn’t be the man you are if you didn’t feel that way about your sister. You feel responsible for her, want to protect her. You’re a good man for still feeling that way after what she’s done.”
“A good man, huh? A stupid one I’d say.”
“Rick, you are not stupid,” I said in a firm voice. “You’re a good man and you feel guilty. I keep telling you, you don’t have to feel that way. It wasn’t your fault. Nobody could have seen that coming.”
“You taking your own advice on that?” He shot back at me. His eyes were serious now. He had me there. I gave him a small sad smile. “I’m working on it, Rick. I’m getting there. And so should you.”
His eyes stayed locked to mine as he studied me. Then he nodded slowly. “I can see it, Loreley. You’re doing better. You’re stronger. You’re finding your way back to you.” He took a deep breath before he shook his head and chuckled bitterly. “I’m sorry. I came to the bar tonight to get my head straight and check on you and here I am, brooding. Trying to pull you down with me. I’m an asshole.”
“Oh, shut it, Rick. You are not,” I snapped at him while I slapped his hand and straightened.
“Spunky. I always liked that about you,” Rick murmured through a smile. His easy smile was back. I grinned at him in relief until I saw a mischievous sparkle in his eyes.
“You think I’m a good man, why is it you haven’t agreed to go out with me?”
My smile died. “I’m not ready, Rick. I’ve told you that.”
“And how long are you gonna keep using that excuse?”
I glared at him, not sure how to answer that. It was an excuse of course. I was as ready as I was ever gonna get. As Chris would say, it was time to get back in the saddle.
I opened my mouth when I heard my name called and turned my head to see who was yelling at me.
“Hey, Loreley. You gonna get to work or you gonna chit chat all night?” That was Chris, giving me the get-a-move-on glare while he was handing out beers.
I turned my head back to face Rick again, seeing his head was turned to glare at Chris. It came back to me when I started speaking.
“I’m sorry, Rick. I gotta get to work.” Rick’s eyes narrowed on me a second, then he gave me a chin lift. I moved away from him and started taking orders and handing out drinks.
For the next hour or so, I didn’t have much time to think about anything other than making and handing out drinks and exchanging the occasional joke or sarcastic comment with patrons. We usually had a band playing on Saturdays and I had been pretty ticked off that they had cancelled at the last minute, but right now I was glad they had. It was hard enough keeping up without having the crowd the band would have brought.
When the crowd finally started to thin a little, Chris and I took a little breather as we leaned against the back of the bar.
“You know, it’s calmed down some. I think the worst is over. You should go up there and have some fun.” He lifted his chin towards the stage. “Give it a nice farewell. It deserves to go out with a bang, don’t you think?”
I agreed. It definitely deserved to go out with a bang.
We were getting a new stage. The contractor was coming tomorrow. Our old lady would be replaced by a bigger and better one.
I grinned at Chris.
He returned my grin then lifted his chin in the direction of the stage again, telling me I should get my behind up there and play already.
My grin got bigger and I rolled up on my toes to give him a kiss on the cheek.
“You good behind the bar by yourself for a little while?” I asked.
“I can handle it. Now get your butt up there.”
I gave him another peck on the cheek before I went to the back room to get my guitar.
The stage was on the left side of the room when you entered through the front door. There were a few wooden booths along the window front as well as round dark brown wooden tables that could seat four in the open space in front of the stage. For bigger events, like the band playing next weekend, we had to move most of the tables to the other side of the room, but when it was just me and my guitar, or we had an open mike night, we left the tables where they were, so that people could enjoy the music while sitting down with their drinks. By tomorrow night, there would be more tables and chairs where the stage was now, and the new bigger stage would start to take shape on the other side of the room against the far wall.
When I stepped onto the dimly lit stage, I heard shouts and hollers throughout the bar, making me smile in anticipation. I grabbed a bar stool from the corner of the stage and moved it in front of the microphone, hopped onto it, and looked out to my audience. From where I was sitting, I could see the whole place. Being on a stage about to perform was exhilarating, always had been. I had been told before that my voice would get me places, but I wasn’t much for being in the lime light or playing in big places. My dream had been to work in the background and write music, but then life happened and changed my priorities. But every now and then—in a small setting like this—I enjoyed sharing my music and my voice. It was one of the most intimate things I could imagine, sharing yourself and your emotions like that with an audience.
I started strumming my guitar randomly, not really playing an
ything specific, just running my fingers across the strings softly and playfully, letting my fingertips feel the roughness of the metal strings. As I looked out over the people watching me expectantly, I noticed that I knew probably only half of them. It looked like tourist season really was starting early this year.
I kept strumming quietly when I addressed my audience.
“A lot of you know that Cooper’s has been jonesing for a new stage for some time now. Well, our wish has been granted, and starting tomorrow, this old lady will be replaced by a bigger and better one.” I looked down at my hands on the guitar as I kept strumming then looked back up. “But I wanted to give her one last farewell. She’s seen some good times throughout the years and deserves one last hurrah.”
Loud hollers and hoots echoed through the room.
I grinned. “I see you guys agree.”
The hoots and shouts got louder. My grin got bigger.
“Well, for everyone who doesn’t know me, my name is Loreley Cooper, and I’ll be playing a few of my favourite songs for you tonight. If you’d like me to play your favourite song, feel free to shout it out and I’ll see what I can do.”
I stopped strumming and laid my hands flat on the strings, stopping the sound.
“The first song I am going to play is one of the saddest and most beautiful songs out there. I dedicate it to the people in my life I have lost, people who were and still are close to my heart and who I think about and miss every day.”
I looked down to my hands as I started playing the opening notes of Eric Clapton’s Tears in Heaven unplugged version. The audience was quietly watching and listening as I played the quiet and sad notes of the song’s intro. When I started singing, asking if he’d know my name, I lifted my eyes back to the people watching me. But instead of seeing their eyes on me, I saw the eyes of the people I had lost. They were watching me, smiling at me, encouraging me.
Losing two of the most important people in my life, people I had loved with all my heart, had almost destroyed me, and I had struggled for the past year to come to terms with it and move on with my life. When I got to the part of the song about being strong and carrying on, tears started to pool in my eyes. I remembered how hard it was sometimes, how painful, to get up every day, knowing they were no longer a part of this world. But like Rick had said earlier, I was in a better place now; I was stronger. As I sang, my mind went through all the good and happy memories it had stored, and I felt a kind of peacefulness wash over me that I hadn’t felt in a long time. It almost took my breath away. I kept on singing and closed my eyes, giving myself over to the song, feeling it, breathing it, letting its words heal me.
Because that was what it did.
It healed me.
It helped me say goodbye. Eric Clapton’s beautiful and devastating song about love and loss helped me let go.
My eyes stayed closed throughout the whole song, throughout the whole almost five minutes of it as I watched those peaceful and happy eyes I could see behind my eyelids as they watched me, and I let go of the pain. I could practically feel it leave my body and be replaced with acceptance, a sad acceptance, but acceptance nonetheless. Acceptance they were gone from this world but would live on in my heart and soul, would forever be a part of me; and because of that, would never be lost to me. I carried them with me every hour, every minute, every second of every day, and the thought of them being with me made me unbelievably grateful and happy.
As the song came to an end and I played its final notes, I opened my eyes again and saw some of the feelings I was feeling reflected on the people’s faces in front of me. It was a powerful song, and I wasn’t surprised that people felt deep listening to it. And seeing as half of the people here had known me since I was born, they knew about the loss I had endured and had watched me go through it.
I ended the song on a smile, finally feeling at complete peace with myself. I caught Chris’s eyes behind the bar. They were worried and concerned as they took me in. My smile grew bigger and brighter, reassuring him and myself that I was okay. His eyes warmed on me and his face split into a big and proud grin as he started hollering and clapping, breaking the silence that had come over the room since I finished the song. Every person in the room followed his lead and started clapping and shouting. I let that wash over me, too, as I pulled myself together.
“Thank you,” I said into the microphone when the noise died down.
“I promise that was the only sad song I will play tonight. Now, I heard there is a birthday celebration going on tonight, so let’s party and play some rock ‘n roll!”
The cheers and shouting and clapping picked up again as I started the next song and continued for the next hour. I played mostly classic rock songs, but mixed them with the occasional newer hit and requests that were shouted at me.
I had a blast.
And judging by the smiles and laughs and singing and general rocking out, I was guessing, so did everyone else in the bar.
“All right everyone,” I said as I got up from my stool and took the guitar strap off my shoulder. “That’s it for tonight. Make sure to stop by next Saturday when Breaking Habit is christening the new stage!”
I made my way to the side of the stage to hop off it when I a loud voice stopped me in my tracks. “Wait! I’ve got one more request!”
I looked out over the people to try and pinpoint whose voice that had been. There were so many people I didn’t know that I had no clue. A lot of them were turning around to look at the shadows in the back, like me, trying to figure out who was speaking.
“Please,” I heard, “Just one more,” the voice begged. It sounded strangely familiar, but for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out whom it belonged to.
Giving in to the request, I walked back to the stool and sat down. “All right, I’ll play one more. What’ll it be?”
“Angel by Sarah McLachlan,” I heard the voice say and my body went solid, my mind finally making the connection as to whose voice I was hearing.
It was Jason Sanders’ voice.
Jason fucking Sanders.
I had forgotten. Forgotten what that voice used to do to me; how his voice could affect me.
But it all came crushing back now.
Memories flooded my brain, the good and the bad: his voice singing to me while we were in bed, both naked after making love, me lying back, watching him, while he sat cross legged with his guitar in his lap, his eyes lovingly on me, singing the very song to me he was now asking me to sing; his growly voice as he was saying my name while moving inside me; his soft voice as he said he loved me.
And his angry voice filled with accusation as he told me I was being selfish for wanting to chase my dream of becoming a song-writer and go to L.A. without him.
And finally, his half-naked whore’s voice after she opened the door to his apartment, telling me Jason was in the shower.
All those memories ran through my mind within seconds and I squinted my eyes, trying to find him in the shadows.
That bastard.
He knew of course that Angel was my all-time favourite song. I loved Sarah McLachlan, and this song in particular was so beautiful, it had always threatened to bring me to tears. Jason knew this. Back then, I sang this song to him more than once, just as he had to me.
And now that motherfucking bastard was in my bar after almost six years, asking me to sing it for him again.
I closed my eyes in an effort to get control over all the feelings that were rushing through me. When I had stood on that doorstep, looking at the whore he cheated on me with, my world had turned from not-being-able-to-wait-for-the-future-to-start to a world of hurt and betrayal and disbelief. When a few months later, he refused to even talk to me on the phone and I had gone to one of his concerts to talk to him, my world had turned from hurt and betrayal and disbelief to one of anger and hate.
That. Mother. Fucking. Bastard.
I opened my eyes again and now I could see him standing at the back of the room.
&n
bsp; God!
He looked just as good as I remembered in his jeans and t-shirt, his tattooed arms hanging at his side. It made me hate him even more. His hazel eyes seemed almost black they were so dark and they were locked on me.
They were serious.
And determined.
And remorseful.
Yeah, right.
He had no business showing up at my bar out of the blue, asking me to sing to him. Looking at me like that. Looking at me like he was asking for forgiveness. He had no business being anywhere near me!
There would be no forgiveness from me.
He had broken my heart, obliterated it, made me turn into a person I didn’t recognize, sent me through hell and back twice.
He didn’t deserve my forgiveness.
He didn’t deserve shit from me.
But I would play the song.
I’d had one hour of acceptance and peace, one hour where I felt like I could be happy again at some point in my life. And I wouldn’t let him take that from me. He had taken enough.
So I would play that damn song.
I would play it and show him that I didn’t care, that neither he nor the significance of the song had any power over me.
That I was over him.
That I had moved on and he meant nothing.