Page 30 of The Beat of My Heart
“This Miss Rosa sounds like a character,” he laughs.
“She is definitely one of a kind,” I tell him.
Stepping out of the hotel onto the sidewalk, Charlie looks both ways like he is lost. That’s when I remember, this is my city, I’m playing tour guide today. The thought has a calming effect, I’m in control here. At least I can pretend to be.
I watch as Charlie walks to the edge of the sidewalk. He holds a hand in the air like he is flagging a taxi.
“Ah… what are you doing?” I ask him, slightly amused.
“I looked at the map, Angel. Fenway is quite the hike from here, so I’m getting a cab,” he informs me.
“Is that right?” I ask him. Taking him in for the first time in his low hanging, well-worn blue jeans. I love that his shirt says Betts on the back. Mookie Betts is one of my favorite players, and I’m willing to bet Charlie has no idea who he is. “I hate to break it to you, Mr. Bigshot, but this is Boston at rush hour, on game day. If we take a taxi, we will arrive just in time for the seventh-inning stretch.”
Taking his hand in mine like it’s the most natural thing in the world, I drag him towards the public gardens. “The scary thing is just how natural this feels.”
“I couldn’t agree more, Angel,” he whispers, kissing the side of my head.
“Crap, I said that out loud? I can’t keep anything to myself,” I tell him.
“Angel, our time is limited. I’d be fucking ecstatic if you let every little thought spill from those sexy lips. Stop trying to keep things from me,” he smiles.
I know he is teasing, but he does not understand how tempting that is for someone like me.
“Alright, my New-England girl. Tell me, where are you taking me if we can’t take a taxi?”
Smiling, I lead the way. “We will walk two blocks through the public gardens, then we are getting on the Greenline. It’ll drop us off right at Kenmore.”
Charlie’s steps falter. “The Greenline? You mean the subway?” he asks.
Turning to look over my shoulder quizzically, I stop too. “Yes. The subway. Don’t tell me Mr. Fancy Pants is too good for the subway.”
“It’s not that,” he starts. “Fuck, this is embarrassing. I hate being underground; we don’t have subways where I’m from. To be honest, whether or not I wanted it, growing up, I always had a car service.”
Somehow, knowing this is something he needs a gentle push on, I take his hand. “Luckily for you, I became an expert at the subway when I was in college. We can walk to the back bay stop, then it is a quick hop to Kenmore, we won’t be underground long. I’ll chase away your darkness, Charlie.” Stepping on my tiptoes, I kiss him gently. It is such a familiar gesture already; I feel my heart cracking. This will suck come Friday.
“Even in the darkness, you’re still my guiding light,” he sings, and it takes me a minute to place it. He is playing my game.
“I’m always in awe of you,” I sing.
“My Angel, and my guiding light,” he says, shaking his head.
“I thought you were a country boy? You’re a Mumford and Sons fan too?” I ask.
We continue walking for about a block before he answers. “Music has always spoken to me. My dad and I never seemed to be on the same page.” He stops and looks at me, I can see the debate going on in his head.
“Tell me anything you want me to know, remember? We are making our own rules,” I tell him.
“That we are, Angel, that we are. Well, my mother loved music. She could hear a song once and know every word. Music was always blaring throughout our house when she was home. I guess I got it from her.”
Not wanting to interrupt him, I squeeze his hand to let him know I’m listening, and he continues.
“As I got older, it was my escape. I could connect with it even when I couldn’t connect to my father.” He laughs, lost in thought. “My best friend and I started going to live shows when we were thirteen. We would sneak out of each other's houses and use fake IDs to get in.”
We arrive at a crosswalk at the end of the public gardens and have to wait to cross. Turning to me, he says, “The music had died for me for a long time. My head has been silent for years. There is something about you that brought it back. From the very first time I saw you beside your car, and I realized you were talking to yourself,” he laughs. “Do you want to know what I heard?”
“Ah, I don’t know, do I? If it is a song about a crazy lady, the answer is no, I don’t want to hear it,” I tell him.
Shaking his head and laughing, “There is nothing crazy about you, Angel. I heard Ed Sheeran. Tell me what’s going on in your head,” he sings.
