"I've seen you smile ,
but I've never really
heard you laugh"
The Smiths, "You've got everything now"
The A Team
I sit on the chair and take a deep breath. The lights are still off, but the people that are nearest to the stage -an awkwardly set up wooden floor, a bit higher than the actual floor and which rocked suspiciously when you stepped on it- have already seen me. The pub is crowded for a Wednesday night, and I don't know if that's good or bad. I feel my guts twist and my voice trembling a bit, but my grip on the guitar tightens. I tap the mic after I turn it on and, still in the darkness, I tune my instrument, my only companion.
"One, two, three?... Testing, one, one, two, three..." it seems to be working alright.
I give the thumbs up to the sound console guy hidden behind the right curtain, and seconds later, the spotlight focuses on me, and I know I must look pale as fuck under these lights, I'm paperwhite on a daily basis, and now that I'm a nervous wreck I bet people can see through my complexion. I suddenly freeze. I can't do this.
Closing my eyes, I picture her in my mind. It's been months, but I can still hear her voice, sweet and soothing like dripping rain, and I feel my heart beat racing. I could never forget her.
"Have you ever listened to your voice, like, actually taken the time to listen to it, Ed?" She asks, while munching on chips and cheese, a can of cold beer beside her.
She's sitting on the sofa of the lousy, falling-to-pieces hostel we both happen to be staying in, with the only difference that I'll be gone in two weeks, and she's staying here for God knows how long. Her hair's all messed up, and she's wearing black, ripped thighs and a tiny skirt, along with a fitted tanktop, even though it's November, and freezing outside. My heart shrinks when I take a look at my wrist watch. In half an hour, she'll be gone to sleep with a man -if those rats can be called men- who can throw her a couple of tenners. Holy shit, how I wish things were different.
"I have, Millie, I always listen to it... I don't know, it's not a big deal," I brush it off. I wish I could make a life out of singing, but Millie here's an example that things don't always go the way you want them to...
She shakes her head, red hair spilling out of the messy bun, and places her right hand on my thigh. I tense. "You, my dear friend, have a talent bigger and brighter than my entire future... wait, that's not a good way to put it, everybody's got a brighter future than me," she laughs, as if she didn't care.
I know she cares, I know she wishes she could ran away, I know she wants to... and I know I want her to do it, too.
I want her to escape from this horrible place, to stop standing on street corners every night, offering her body as if it were on sale. I want her to stop fucking disgusting men, I want her to stop working for a dickhead who treats her as if she were nothing, when she means the whole world to me. And what's worse, I can't tell her how I feel... I know she doesn't want to hear it. She knows it, she's clever enough, but this will never work out, and not because I haven't tried.
"Please, don't go tonight," I whisper, not even aware of having done so. Her eyes flicker at me, confused, and then she smiles. "Stay with me, please. Millie... you don't have to do this, we can ran away. Right now, tomorrow, in an hour, pack your shit and let's go and -"
"And then what, Ed?" She asks, lifting her hands in the air. "What will we do then? How am I ever going to get a job, I haven't even finished high school, for fuck's sake." Millie's blue eyes start to water and she fights the tears back, I know she hates crying. She sighs, and looks at her watch. "I gotta go, Fred's going to be here soon, I'm supposed to be fixing my make-up."
