Page 140 of Paint the Town, Dove

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My mom, she looked so happy then. When the light took him, the dark traded her in. I wanted to understand why she left. I wanted a reason. But this was a happy song, a happy boy, a happy time. He didn’t know what was going to happen.

He just wanted to fly.

“We ran around the green flowered slopes,

Running around with all our hope,

There was freedom, in being free –

And I stayed away in this reverie,

Soaring, flying, feeling free –

Feeling free, it was meant to be –

In the Grey Heights, we were all alone…

My wish, my wish, is we could call it home…”

Slowly, I opened my eyes, clutching onto Harley like a life preserver. A tear, then another, dripped down my cheek, like a sliver of glass pooling at my waterline.

There was… no noise.

I thought no one heard me.

But… everyone was watching, silent, drinks in hand, staring –

Staring at me with wide curiosity.

Big men, bared women, Scarlett –

Scarlett, Scarlett, Scarlett.

She was crying.

“I –” The words got caught in my throat. I could only see Scarlett. I could only focus on Scarlett.

No one else was moving.

And then…

And then –

A clap, so low and slow I could barely register. It came from the back of the bar, the right – I think, slow and low, slow and low.

Followed by another.

And another.

And another.

Then shouts, louder claps, raucous claps.

“WHO IS THIS KID?”

“MAN, HE’S GOT A VOICE THAT ONE.”

“HE IN A BAND?”

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