Page 23 of The Night the Stars Went Dark

“You look great.” He kissed my cheek and reached for my hand.

We walked down the street a few blocks until we came to the park I played in as a child. “I used to love it here. My mom would push me on those swings, and I felt like I was flying.” I pointed excitedly over at the blue and red swing set. “Are you bringing me to the park?” I slowed down and he stumbled a little.

“Sort of.” He led me off to the left of the playground. There was a small pond with a gazebo that had some picnic tables around it. Set up in the center was a keyboard.

“What is this?” Fear crept into my voice.

“One of my buddies is letting us use it. I thought we could practice.” He shrugged.

I swallowed. “This is… a lot.” I could feel my heart starting to race, and my palms sweating. Playing in front of people was not what I wanted to do today. I’d thought we were going to get food, maybe hangout and talk about what this was between us, not this.

“Just try,” he coaxed. “No one knows us. If it’s bad, it won’t matter.” He gently pulled until I gave in and followed him over. I sat down on the bench, and powered up the keyboard as Bryson tuned his guitar. He set the case in front of us, and then looked over and smiled at me.

“What am I playing?” I shouted in a hushed whisper.

“Whatever you want. I’ll just join.” He grinned. “Push yourself.” He nodded as I sighed. Push myself. What the hell did that mean? I closed my eyes and lowered my hands to the keys. A soft chord sounded, and Bryson nodded. I picked a John Mayer song I’d learned in high school. I went at a slightly slower tempo, but I got through it without a mistake. There were several covers I’d learned over the years from playing open mic nights and entering talent shows. The longer we played the better it felt, and more and more people stopped to listen. I tried to ignore them, I wasn’t ready for an audience, but when we finished an acoustic version of “Better Man” I couldn’t help but look up.

Bryson

It was working. I was watching the bricks from the wall she’d built slowly crumble apart. The longer we played, themore she seemed to blossom. Her movements were getting more precise with every movement, and I knew she’d be back in a matter of days.

I let her lead, and I joined in with the harmonies until I heard the opening chord to HER song. I say hers because the first time I heard her play this, I knew it was written for her. The melancholy tune for “What Was I Made For?” came quietly at first, and her voice trembled when she started singing, but then it all clicked into place. I stepped back and let her have the moment; I’d done what I’d set out to do, and now I just needed her to see that she could do this. She could do anything.

I don’t think she even noticed that I wasn’t playing until she hit the final chord. Her eyes opened and I let out a whoop as the group of about fifty park goers erupted in applause. She had a look of shock as she glanced around the crowd. I nodded as tears began to leak from her eyes. I stepped closer, pulled her to a standing position, and wrapped her in my arms. “This…this is what you were made for and so much more.” I hugged her tightly.

“I didn’t know I could do this.” She sobbed as she buried her face in my neck. Several of the people watching stepped forward and tossed bills into my guitar case. “Thank you,” she mumbled.

“You can thank me by promising that you’ll never give this up again.” I pulled back and looked at her face. She was beautiful in all her emotional glory. “Wanna get some food?” I smiled. She nodded, and I packed up my guitar. “We can leave the keyboard; Shawn will come to get it later.” I wrapped my arm around her shoulders and led her out of the park.

Aspen

It was thrilling and therapeutic in a way. The emotion that poured out of me in that moment. I didn’t know I could do that, and the scariest part was I wanted to do it again.

We walked a few blocks to a sandwich shop I patronized as a kid and grabbed dinner. “You know, this is the neighborhood I grew up in.” I took a bite of my ham and cheese hoagie. “My parents used to bring me here at least once a week, more after my mom died.”

“I didn’t know that, but I knew you guys had lived in this neighborhood. I thought if you could conquer your fear here, you could do it anywhere.” He glanced out at the street. We were sitting at a small bistro table right in front of the shop.

“That corner store there was a favorite spot when I was little.” I pointed to where I used to get drinks and candy from Mr. Vern. “Mom would let me grab a lemonade on hot days, and Mr. Vern would try to sneak candy into the pockets of my jumper. Mom always knew though. I went to school over there.” I pointed to a tree-lined area where a big brick building was somewhat hidden from view. I paused for a moment. It felt weird, but in a good way, coming back here. I’ve lived just a few miles away for years, but the idea of being here without them was just too much. Bryson made it easier to remember. I wasn’t sure what I’d do when he had to leave. We only had a few more days, and then I’d be alone once again.

“Stop thinking about it.” His words broke into my thoughts.

“How’d you know?” I finished my sandwich and sipped my iced tea.

“I can read you like a book.” He grinned. “Stop thinking about what’s to come and enjoy what’s here now. Come on.” He stood up, tossed his paper wrapper, and reached for my hand. “Tell me more about growing up here.”

I smiled as I let him lead me down the street. It was a beautiful day, and I chatted away about anything and everythingI could remember from my childhood. I left out the bad moments and tried to appreciate everything that was happening. I felt lighter, and music was finally finding its place with me again. I just hoped that tonight when I looked outside, the stars shone as bright as they once did.

Chapter 15

Aspen

Today was my day off. I usually spent the day cleaning the apartment, and grocery shopping. I slept in for the first time in weeks, and when I was finally motivated enough to get out of bed, I saw I had four missed calls from Bryson. I quickly tapped the notification to call him back. The fact that he’d called four times made me worry that something was wrong.

“Good morning, beautiful,” he sing-songed into the phone. “Did you sleep well?”

“Are you ok?” I was shocked by his tone.

“I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

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