Lessons Learned, Healing Hearts

Time to Kill (Chapter 26)

Marlow walked down the busy streets of Vancouver, one hand on her skirt to keep it from flying up in the wind and the other battling to keep her hair relatively in place from the gust that unrelentingly tousled it. Passing the time browsing through Chapters and through a charming hole-in-the-wall artisan shop full of handmade carvings, bowls, vases, etc, Marlow made her way back towards the theatre. Not keen on waiting outside in blustery winds for 45 minutes till the doors would open, she sought refuge in a quaint-looking coffee shop.

The warm cafe had a friendly, comfortable vibe, and the aromatic scent of freshly ground coffee hit her nostrils the moment she stepped across the threshold. Walking up to the counter, she smiled at a group of four women who looked up as she passed by them.

"Um, excuse me, where is your washroom?" Marlow asked.

"First door down the hall," a pretty woman with a pixie-cut haircut said as she poured steaming milk into a cup.

Studying herself in the bathroom mirror, Marlow huffed. The wind had done a number on her hair. Removing the hair clip, she finger-combed her signature beach curls to untangle them. Then, shaking her head to see where her hair wanted to fall, she decided to not place the hair clip back in.

Pulling a tube of lipstick out of her purse, she carefully applied it to her lips and blotted it with a tissue. Blowing herself a kiss in the mirror, she giggled. It was a silly thing to do, but her excitement was becoming almost unbearable. It was all she could do to resist breaking out in a happy dance in the coffee shop bathroom.

Having smoothed down her hair and touched up her makeup, Marlow stepped back and viewed what she was wearing. Turning her back to the mirror, she looked over her shoulder. Her simple white, pink, and burgundy floral sundress and olive-green jacket were cute, but, looking down at her bare legs, she instantly regretted wearing combat boots. While all three guys had liked the contrast between the soft feminine flow of her dress and the edgy throwback to her rebellious days, staring at her reflection, a settling sigh escaped her lips. Had Piero told her yesterday that he would try to get her a ticket for the concert, she would have put more thought into her wardrobe this morning. Unable to do anything about it, Marlow exited the washroom and returned to the counter.

"Welcome to the Bean Scene. What can I get for you today?"

Gazing up at the menu for a moment, she saw that the cafe offered many varieties of coffees, teas, cold drinks, and fancy-looking desserts. While everything looked enticing, the last thing she needed was to add the influence of caffeine and sugar to her already-racing heart. Playing it safe, she ordered a frozen lemonade and a large croissant.

"This is a great little café," she said, "I didn't even know you existed."

"Thank you. We opened a month ago, and it's going so well."

"I'll definitely tell my friends to come and check you out," Marlow offered as the Barista smiled back at her brightly.

"That would be great, thanks. What brought you to this part of downtown?" the woman asked.

"I'm killing time while I wait for the theatre doors to open down the street." Surprised when the woman sitting at the table behind her asked if she was going to the Il Volo concert, Marlow answered, "Yes."

"We have another 'Il Volover' here," the woman shouted, scooting her chair over, causing the other three to shuffle over. "Come, have a seat with us. We're going too."

Swiping her card in the machine, Marlow dropped a dollar into the tip jar. Then, joining the table, she listened to the four ladies share stories about their experiences with the boys.

In their 50s or older, three of the four had followed the boys from the day they started, while the last had only followed Il Volo over the previous three years. Bouncing excitedly in her seat like a giddy teenager, this was her first live concert.

"How long have you followed the boys?" one of them asked.

"Not long at all," Marlow said, somewhat embarrassed. "I stumbled upon them by accident."

"Well, you are in for a treat," the loudest woman said. "Don't be surprised by the amount of joking they do." Sharing her wealth of knowledge on everything that was Il Volo, the others added to her stories. Told about the Official Fan Club site and which Instagram accounts to go on and which to avoid; they encouraged her to join the Il Volo Facebook group and Flight Crew fan page. Both were active sites with lots of photos/videos, comments, and questions. Listening intently to all that was said, Marlow's first thought was, where were all of you a week ago?

Asked which of the guys she had more of a liking for, Marlow felt a heat rush to her cheeks. Responding with Piero, she burst out laughing when one of them answered, "Oh, yes. He is so sexy. If only I was your age, I would chase him down."

Bursting out laughing, Marlow's inner voice said, "I am."

"After the concert, we're all going to join up with some other Il Volovers for..." the louder of the four again started speaking.

"Excuse me for interrupting," Marlow said, "I'm assuming you're only talking about yourselves."

"Oh, no. An Il Volover is anyone who loves anything and everything Il Volo. We're Il-Vo-lovers."

Not meaning to laugh, Marlow covered her mouth with her hand. Whoever had thought of that nickname was a genius.

"Anyway, we—" pointing to her friends— "plus several others are getting together after to grab something to eat and talk about the concert. There will be about 15 of us. Would you like to come?"

"I would love to but can't. I'm actually skipping out on studying for my final exam tomorrow."

"I'm sure we'll have other opportunities to meet again," one of them said.

Smiling, Marlow answered, "I'm sure we will."

Feeling her phone vibrate, Marlow pulled down the preview. It was from Piero.

Can't wait to see you sitting in the audience, it read, followed by several musical emojis and a single heart.

Excusing herself and exiting The Bean Scene, officially heading for the theatre, Marlow's excitement grew with each step.

Standing in line surrounded by couples and groups of people, it didn't take long before everyone began speaking to whoever was around them. Chatting with a mother and her young daughter, Marlow discovered that they were also attending their first Il Volo concert. The young girl's enthusiasm over wanting to meet Ignazio was infectious, and Marlow smiled at the thought of seeing Piero on stage. Hearing a round of hoorays, her heart leaped in her chest as the theatre doors opened to the crowd.

Stepping into the grand foyer, Marlow was in awe of the beautiful interior. While she had driven past clients to this theatre, she had never stepped inside. Snapping a few pictures on her phone, she tried to capture the interior's opulence.

Absentmindedly following the crowd, she soon stood in front of a merchandise booth. Rubbing the soft fabric of a sweatshirt between her fingers, it was easy to imagine sitting in her bedroom on a cold winter night, wrapped in its warmth. Tempted to purchase it, she changed her mind at the last minute and settled on three T-shirts. One for her, one for Zoe and one for Harper.

***

"Here you go, Darling," a kind elderly man said, ushering Marlow to her seat.

Taking her place, two seats in from the aisle, she had an excellent view of the stage. Placing her bag under her chair, her heart pounded in her chest, and her lungs refused to take in deep breaths. As the minutes passed, time seemed to stand still until a message over the speakers broke the buzzing of voices, urging everyone to silence their phones and disable the flash. Glancing at her watch, she noted that it was 7:56 p.m.

"Just 4 minutes, she thought, her knee bouncing with anticipation.