If Only

by Yvonne Beattie

  “Oh, right,” I nod, feeling guilty now.

  “We’re on in five,” Paul turns to Marty. “You about ready?”

  “Yup, ready as I’ll ever be,” Marty jumps on the spot a couple of times, and I can’t help but cringe. I am dreading this.

  “Come with me,” Paul says and pulls me gently by my elbow. “You can sit with Paula, she’s feeding Kade at the moment. She’ll be glad of the company.”

  I turn away from Marty without a word, and follow Paul over to his wife. As we reach the table, a fiery red head looks up and instantly smiles at Paul.

  “This is Rachel,” he indicates to me behind him. “She’s Marty’s girlfriend, remember he was telling us about her the other day.”

  I can’t help but feel elated at that introduction, though I’m not technically his girlfriend; it’s kind of nice he told them about me.

  I raise my hand and give her a small wave, “Hi!”

  “Hi,” she smiles back at me. “Come and sit down, they’ll be on soon. I’m just feeding the wee man.”

  I instinctively look down not seeing a baby and see she means she is breast-feeding the baby, I snap my eyes back up to her eye level immediately. I didn’t see anything, but I don’t want her to think I was gawping at her.

  “We’re still working it all out,” she says, as I sit down, not at all embarrassed. “The breast feeding, I mean,” she answers my silent question. “He’s only six weeks old.”

  “Oh, right,” I smile. “Sorry, I know very little about babies.”

  “Me too, I’m learning hands on,” she grins as she lifts baby Kade up onto her shoulder and rubs his back.

  “Is it hard?” I ask, not really sure what else to speak about. “Being a mummy, I mean.”

  She smiles warmly at me, “It’s not as straight forward as you’d think, a handbook would be super, but it’s amazing. Honestly, the whole thing still has me flabbergasted! I mean, look at him. He’s the most perfect little bundle, and Paul and I made him. I can’t believe he came out of me!”

  I laugh and she giggles. I like her.

  “Do you want a drink?” She asks waving at someone behind the bar.

  “I think I’d better to help prepare myself for this,” I reply motioning to the stage as I stand up. “Do you want anything?”

  “No, I’m good for now,” she says, indicating to her glass of water on the table.

  I pop over to the girl behind the bar that came over to us when Paula beckoned her, and order myself a white wine. My first alcoholic beverage in a few days. No one drank today with Christmas dinner as everyone had their own reasons not to. It’s my first dry Christmas day since I’ve been old enough to drink, and actually, it’s been nice.

  “So, what are you preparing yourself for then?” Paula asks me while cradling her now sleeping baby.

  I have no idea how he can sleep in here, it’s really noisy and the band is about to start. It then occurs to me that I’m also about to insult her husband.

  “Um, I heard Marty singing the other night at karaoke,” I tell her trying to keep any expression off of my face.

  She smiles and rocks back and forth, “Ah, right. That certainly explains why you’re preparing yourself.”

  She gets it, phew.

  “Yeah, it was intere…” I’m cut off by a man speaking loudly into the microphone.

  We both look up and over at the stage and all the guys have taken their positions, the bar manager, or who I presume now to be Paula’s dad, is introducing them.

  “So fill your glasses, be merry, and Happy Christmas from us all!”

  Everyone claps and he makes his way off of the stage and back to behind the bar.

  I brace myself as the drummer starts tapping his sticks together, then the band start playing an excellent melodic, yet rocky version of Let It Snow, Let It Snow, Let It Snow. They have very much made it theirs, but it’s still obviously the old classic. I decide I can’t watch and close my eyes in anticipation of Marty’s vocal introduction.

  I hum along to the music, listening intently and am surprisingly impressed by the different instruments blending very well together. The arrangement is different but put together by someone very talented. I wait, more impatiently, for him to start and my heart beats what feels like treble time to the beat of the drum.

  Then, someone starts singing and it cannot be Marty, because it is beautiful. My eyes snap open and I study the band trying to figure out who is singing and why Marty is still standing centre stage with his lips moving.

  “He did it again, didn’t he?” Paula leans closer to me so I can hear her.

  “What? Did what?” I ask her not looking away from the stage.

  “He sang shittier than shit at Krap Karaoke, didn’t he?” she asks and I turn to gape at her, instead of the stage for a moment.

  “Yes. He was really awful. Bloody awful, in fact. I wished the ground would open up and swallow me whole,” I snap my eyes back to the stage.

  “I guess he was seeing whether you’d stick around,” I hear her smile.

  “Why would he do that?” I glance back at her for only a second.

  “It’s bad taste karaoke, they all sing awful on those nights!” She shrugs. “And, he was probably testing you, because he’s had a rough time since the accident, he’s spent more time pushing people away than he has pulling them in. Every local girl up here has her sights set on Marty, he’s the biggest catch around here. I mean, he’s obviously smart, he’s a doctor for Gods sake. He’s nice looking, he is kind, his family are a big deal up here, but he’s a bit of a lost soul,” she grimaces and gently strokes her baby’s head.

  I can’t help but frown and sit back slightly, “What do you mean, accident? Lost soul?” He seems to be fine to me.

  Paula looks momentarily surprised and then extremely guilty, I watch as she rubs her eye with her free hand.

  “Paula?” I prompt her again in quick succession.

  “Shit, I wasn’t thinking. I don’t get much sleep these days,” she says as she bites her lip. “Look, please don’t let on that I’ve said anything, it’s not my place, ok? There was an accident a few years ago that involved Marty’s family, it wasn’t his or anyone else’s fault, but he lost a lot in it. It’s taken him a long time to get over it, or maybe just get on with things, but finally he seems to be headed in the right direction. He’s dated a few girls in the last year or so, but they’ve never gotten past the first date. I couldn’t believe it when I heard you spent today with his family, and then when I saw you come in here with him tonight. Seriously, he evidently likes you a lot.”

  I feel my gaze at her snap from one eye to the other as I study her and take in what she has just told me. I wonder if this accident has something to do with his sabbatical. No one has mentioned anything about an accident to me. I don’t get it.

  “Look, please don’t let this spoil things, Rachel. I wish I’d kept my big mouth shut. Marty will tell you in his own time. I’ve known him my whole life, we went to school together, he is one of our best friends and this little guys Godfather. He is a great guy. I know you’re on holiday up here, but if you like him, he’s worth the effort, ok?” she smiles encouragingly at me.

  I really don’t know what to think, but I nod at her and turn back to the stage to watch Marty finish off the song. He looks gorgeous on stage, and Dean Martin has seriously got nothing on him. I take a small sip of my wine, but it seems to taste like straight up vodka, and I place it back on the table and slide it away from me.

  The band goes straight onto the next song, ‘Rocking Around The Christmas Tree’, and I watch Marty up there enjoying every second of it. I can’t help but wonder just what sort of baggage he is carrying around with him.

  The band play for around fifty minutes, a plethora of Christmas and other well known sing-along songs. They really are fantastic, I’ll give them that. As they finish up for a break, I watch as Marty jumps down, like he did in the other bar at the karaoke night, and heads over to our tab
le and I squirm, not at all sure of what to say to him to begin with. But what I do know is, that I am more attracted to him than I think I have ever been to another guy before.

  Baggage, or not, he is mine.

  Chapter 23

  Marty reaches our table, grabs my hand pulling me to stand up, and kisses me while still smiling, obviously exhilarated from being on stage, and blissfully unaware of what Paula has just told me. I open my eyes and see the happiness in his eyes as he holds me close to him, and what Paula has told me, is pushed to the back burner. What is in the past can stay there, for now anyway.

  I pull back and smile up at him, in awe really, “Is there anything you can’t do?” I ask him and wrap my arms around his neck.

  I feel him laugh as he hugs me back, “There is plenty I can’t do, I assure you. Apologies for the bad taste karaoke the other night, by the way.”

  I pull away from him and glower at him playfully, “Oh yeah, what was that all about then?”

  He shrugs, “It was fun. I saw you hated every minute of it. I’m amazed you hung around.”

  I swat his arm, “Do you even know what I do for a living?”

  He frowns, “Actually, no…”

  “I’m a piano teacher. I run a choir, I play flute in a local orchestra, my life is music!” I elaborate using my hands. “I am over the moon I got it all wrong the other night, Marty. You’re my perfect man!”

  He moves his weight from one foot to the other, “Really? You’re a piano teacher? I never had you down as that for some reason.”

  “Why?” I give him a bizarre look.

  “I actually haven’t thought at all about what you do, I’ve been so caught up in just getting to know you,” he strokes the stubble on his chin. “Occupations aren't important to me, living is, now. Do you sing?” he asks. “I mean, other than in a choir?”

  I hesitate for a moment, “I do sometimes, nothing like this though.”

  “Would you sing with me tonight?” he asks taking both my hands eagerly.

  I’m truly stumped; I didn’t expect him to ask me that.

  “I, um…” I pause for a second.

  “You don’t have to, but it’d be fun?” he coaxes me.

  Paula stands up and rounds the table to stand by us, “Go for it,” she tells me. “He’s relentless,” she rolls her eyes.

  I smile back up at Marty, “OK, but can I pick the song?”

  He looks uneasy, “It has to be something the guys can play.”

  I give him a ‘whatever’ look, “That band of yours are brilliant, I highly doubt there is anything they couldn’t play.”

  “Well, you could be right there,” he turns and glances back at the stage. “Come on then,” he takes my hand and guides me over to the stage, “This week has been anything but normal, lets see what you come up with.”

  Paul looks at me skeptically, “You want to sing ‘Up Where We Belong’? As in, the Joe Cocker song?”

  “That’s the one,” I nod enthusiastically.

  He looks at Marty, “You know it?”

  “I do,” he shrugs, shaking his head as if he can’t believe I just chose that song.

  “You guys think you can manage it?” I ask.

  “No problem-o,” Paul turns back to the other guys and they seem to plan their performance quickly.

  Before I know it, I’m standing centre stage with Marty, everyone in the bar is chatting and appears to be enjoying themselves, no one is really paying us any attention, and I think we might just manage this. Or rather, me, I, might just manage this.

  The keyboard player starts playing the short intro, I take a deep calming breath, and begin singing with my eyes closed, “Who knows what tomorrow brings, In a world few hearts survive…”

  Marty soon starts his part, and at the chorus, I worry our voices might not mesh well.

  Boy, was I wrong.

  We perfectly harmonise together, I open my eyes and turn to look at him and find he is already watching me, “…Where the eagles cry…”

  We both smile and it seems like no one else is in the room with us. As the song heads toward an end, Marty takes my hand but his eyes never leave mine. It’s the perfect song, I don’t know what made me think of it so quickly, but it is perfect for us, for here, for tonight.

  As the song finishes, and the keyboard player plays the last note putting the bar into momentary silence, everyone then erupts into applause and I jump as if only just remembering that we are surrounded by lots of people. I look out from the stage and over at all the tables, smiling shyly, and somewhat filled with emotion.

  Marty squeezes my hand and then moves over to me and puts his arm around me, “Wow,” he says into my ear.

  I look up at him, embarrassed, I’m not used to being on stage like this, in this sort of environment, and more so, with him, “Wow...” I whisper back.

  “I’d never have dreamt you’d sing so well,” he smiles proudly.

  “Ditto,” I smile back up at him.

  “Wow,” he says again, trailing his gaze down and then back up me.

  “I think I’ll just go and sit down again,” I hand him my microphone and start walking very carefully down the stage steps to head back to Paula’s table.

  The crowd simmer down and I feel incredibly highly charged coming off stage and walking past everyone knowing their eyes are upon me, probably all wondering who the hell I am.

  As I am about half way to the table, I hear the drummer start a gentle repetitive beat and I instinctively start to turn back in bizarre recognition, almost in slow motion as I feel my face turn quickly to ketchup red as Marty, pointing directly at me, sings, “Oh my gosh, look at her butt. Oh my gosh, look at her butt…”

  I meet his gaze and can’t help an extremely flustered giggle escape from me.

  “You bastard,” I mouth silently back at him, shaking my head in laughter, and in turn it makes him beam even wider at me, raising his hand in the air as if to innocently say, ‘What?’

  I turn quickly on my heels and almost run over to Paula who is laughing hysterically at us, along with everyone else. I sit down just in time to see and hear him sing, “My anaconda don’t, My anaconda don’t want none unless you got some buns,” he laughs loudly into the mic, “Hon.”

  Nicki Minaj has a lot to answer for.

  Then the band immediately and impressively, switch to Elvis Presley’s, ‘Unchained Melody’, and the mood switches again while I hide my face behind my glass of wine, which I take a gulp of to calm my nerves. I don’t even taste it this time, and I lay it back on the table with shaking hands.

  “Who-lly shit,” Paula says, and I turn to look at her trying to wipe the smile off my face. “I think you guys just made babies up there!”

  I almost choke as I swallow the mouthful of wine I just glugged.

  “Seriously, wow,” she carries on. “That was something,” she nods like a nodding donkey.

  “I can’t believe I just sang with him,” I am still coming down from my stage high.

  “You guys were amazing,” Paula says again. “Seriously! You need to do that again!”

  “Nah, one hit wonder, that’s me,” I smile at her openly.

  “Hey, where’s little Kade gone?” I ask looking around.

  Paula looks lovingly over at the bar, “Grandaddy has stolen him, every chance he gets,” she says. “He is besotted with him.”

  I see her dad looking down at Kade who is amazingly still sleeping in his arms.

  “How on earth can he possibly still be sleeping?” I ask her.

  She laughs, “I know, I ask myself the same thing daily. The more noise the better, he can’t seem to sleep when it’s quiet. When I was expecting him he used to kick in my tummy when there was loud music on, admittedly that was a lot. He loves the guitar especially, it’s never out of Paul’s hand, so I guess that’s a good thing.”

  “Wow, really?” I ask. “That’s crazy.”

  She smiles and agrees with me.

  We both sit bac
k and watch the guys finish up their set on stage and when they finally finish for the night, I’m surprised by how quickly the bar starts to fizzle out.

  “Did you pre-book this room?” I ask Marty suspiciously as I follow him up the stairs to our room at the hotel, which I didn’t know, but is actually attached to the bar.

  He turns and looks down at me, “No! I wasn’t even sure that you’d come with me tonight.”

  “Hmm…” I remark still suspicious of him.

  “What?” he asks. “Look, I called ahead before we left my parents to see if there were any available rooms because of the weather. Whether you came with me or not, I’d have probably crashed here.”

  I grab his hand as we reach the top of the stairs, “I’m only winding you up, stop being so defensive,” I say as my mouth meets his.

  He kisses me impatiently and gently pushes me against the quiet corridor wall, my body relaxing into his and I push up on my tiptoes as is becoming natural for us. He runs his finger down my spine and it makes me shiver involuntarily, “Come on, lets get to our room,” he groans into my mouth and reluctantly pulls away, taking my hand and quickly guiding me light footed through the old winding corridor of the hotel, to our room.

  He throws our room door open, grabs my hand again and pulls me quickly inside as I squeal with laughter, for some reason, this feels so naughty, and I have no idea why. Maybe because he is making a fuss of me, maybe because he wanted me to see him sing tonight without my friends taking over, maybe because I’m really and truly having fun or maybe because he makes me feel so real, so incredibly alive.

  He pushes me impatiently against the back of the door as it clicks shut, and kisses me again, harder, selfishly, our bodies as one, the room is still in darkness and for some reason that makes it even hotter, even more exciting. He kisses down my neck, and I feel the hard muscles on his shoulders as I press down on them, wanting him, needing him, ripping his t-shirt up and over his head. He wastes no time and follows suit, lifting my glittery top up and over my head and goes to expertly unclip my bra. I feel him pinch the material as he tries to find the clip, and then I feel him try again. I feel him run his fingers across my back over the rim of my bra material, to no avail, and that’s when a giggle escapes me. Then he abruptly stops, pulls away from me and bangs comically along the wall until he finds the light switch. As our eyes adjust to the light, he comes back to me with an animalistic prowl about him and turns me around to look at my back, quickly turning me back again to look at him, then says, “Fucking nipple sucking blocking piece of shit. If it didn’t look so good, I’d rip it off of you.”