I'm Scared of Heights | ONC 2023 ✔️

20) Final Song

Natalie

When words fail, music speaks. The phrase stands true tonight, as any other moment. Hans Christian Anderson was right.

Closing my eyes, I wait for the next rasp of Winn's voice. Though, the melody strings me in further, enveloping me in the music. If I were to believe in magic, maybe I would claim this performance as one. If anything, I could claim this as a distraction for my mind, bending my brain's reality into something blurred and vividly unclear.

Three thoughts form the rubble situated within my head, never fading. For those thoughts, no distraction will ever prevail.

One, the LE isn't pursuing the case.

Two, this is Winn's last gig.

Three, he's terminating treatment.

"Reading minds. Shooting fire. Super strength and laser eyes. We got the average supernatural show." His fingers dance along the neck of his guitar as he continues to the chorus. Baring his fingers, Winn stares at me, a spark kindling in his eyes. Something shines within him, a trace of feeling that remained dormant throughout the last one or two dozen top-hit pop songs.

He wrote this. I swallow hard, taking another breath. The sequential notes flow, transporting my mind further into his novel music. He slaps the side of his guitar, creating a rhythmic beat to accompany the tune. "See the good and help the bad. Pretend heroes aren't just comic strips."

I run my hand through my chestnut hair while my boneheaded mind wanders to my mother. The way her eyes keenly stared me down yesterday, deducing the changes since she last saw me. She changed. She was calm, too collected as she stated her case. The oddest bit of this over-dramatic situation is that she willingly dropped the case after seeing me. Why? I'm beginning to believe she cares.

Again, Winn bars his fingers against the board, pressing his lips into a thin line. He doesn't glance up to skim the crowd like before but keeps his eyes sealed shut, continuing to what I believe is the second verse. "Dreaming of a world where everybody sees a superhero in disguise, helping those in need. Maybe not a comic hero destined by the stars, but I'd rather dream of those with bigger hearts."

The music waves through me, settling in my head on a never-ending track. For once, I don't mind the song replaying in my mind. A thick chunk of saliva slides down my throat at my next thought.

He's going into hospice. My stomach churns with the thought.

"Supernatural disappear. Now we just got people here." Winn's voice trails, sending yet another chill down my spine. "We all got superpowers."

Vaguely, I register Winn speaking into his mic, packing his guitar away, and sauntering toward me. He will never do... that again. Circling like a bee around a flower, the gears in my head rotate in predictable motions, turning with each slice of information. He won't be here next year... month... week even.

"Too bad you can't get a record for that original," I manage to say, shaking myself much like yesterday, out of a trance of disbelief and dread. After all, the LE is a stress-inducing topic along with Winn's new shared end-of-life course.

Winn only grins, making my chest ache. He won't be smiling on his deathbed. "I recorded it." He holds a small recorder in his palm, raising a brow. "Don't know what you're going to do with it, but I'll download to my phone and send it over." He accompanies his statement with a shrug as if this is the most important topic at hand.

What about everything else end-of-life related? The hospice care papers? Informing loved ones? Checking up on assets? Freeing yourself of obligations?

I won't say those dooming words. Never. Not when I can capture the glow in Winn's eyes, only exemplified with his last song.