Page 18 of Locked Down In Watch Hill
“I won’t ask you what the secret ingredients are. I know you have to keep those close to the vest.”
We fell silent as we turned to the wrapped croissants, which we ate for a few bites. They were good too, with flaky crusts and creamy filling, but not quite as tasty as the Mexicocoas. And more than the food, I loved the silence that fell around us, and the mere idea of having someone elsenearme, someone else eating with me. I hadn’t realized the power of company and the pleasure of it until it had been unceremoniously ripped away from me.
“I’m glad you wanted to eat with me,” I told Kyle when I’d finished half the croissant. “You probably have no clue what it means, but I am so thankful for it. Quarantine can be lonely.”
“This whole year has been lonely.” He blanched. “Morethan a year.”
“It’s funny, I used to live for the nights when I had so much going on that I needed to cancel at least one of my plans. I loved being booked solid, and I assumed that it would always be that way—dinner with friends, drinks downtown, a concert here, a party there, full weekends all the time.” I laughed at the absurdity of it all.How silly my life had been. How meaningless, in a way.“And now with everything canceled, I find myself becoming more and more like a hermit every day, almost as if I’m going to have trouble going back to my old life once it opens up again.”
“If it opens up again.”
“You don’t sound so confident.”
“Seems to me that by the time this is all over, enough space will have passed that things will have changed for good. Things won’t be the same at all.”
“But we’ll have concerts and museums and plays and...” I broke off because of the sadness in his expression. “You really don’t think we’re going to get back to that, do you?”
“I supposed in some way we will, but it’s all going to take a while.” He grimaced. “And live music is one of the things I miss the most.”
“Me too.” I ate the last bite of my croissant, choking down some nervousness right along with it. “You know, I can fix that for you.”
“How so?”
He ate his own final bite and shoved the used wrapper in the accompanying bakery bag. All that remained between us now were two dwindling Mexicocoas and the sudden urge I had to extend this dinner in any way possible.
“Well, um... it just so happens that I play the guitar,” I tried. “Not very well, but I do play it. In fact, I’ve been working on getting better these last few months.”
It was a stretch of the truth, but not a big one. I did play, but since the pandemic began, I hadn’t felt much of the music in my heart. Every time I dragged the guitar from the back of my closet there was almost something painful about it, as if playing served yet another reminded of what was missing, and what had changed.
“It’s strictly a hobby, but I started playing in high school and I’ve kept it up.”
“That’s amazing.” He smiled. “I want you to play for me.”
“I don’t know...”
“Please.” I heard a hint of begging in his voice. “One song? Just one.”
“Okay.” I steeled my nerves. “I will.”
As I grabbed my guitar, I told myself it didn’t matter if Kyle thought I had a good signing voice or not, what mattered was he was staying, I had company, and for once something other than the four walls of my apartment was going to hear me play.
“Any requests?” I asked when I settled onto the couch again, the instrument across my lap and a pick in my teeth.
“What’s your specialty?”
“Depends on the situation. I can do alternative, folk, pop music...”
“Have you written anything yourself?”
Another rush of nervousness pulled at my stomach. “A few things. Not much lately, but... a few things.”
“Play me some of that.”
“Are you sure?”
He nodded, then stared at me over a long sip of whatever remained of his drink. “I want to hear what comes out of your mind. Your point of view. That’s what music is about, right? Point of view.”
“Okay. You asked for it.”
