5
Hearing A Band Play
~Claire~
It has been almost three weeks since my encounter with Noah. I don’t know where to go from here. It feels like too much time has passed. So, I’m alone. Alone except for Signora Gelardi, who can, in fact, tell that one hundred percent of my attention is not on music.
We wasted an hour one session on her lecturing me on how I am too young to throw away my dream for a “pathetic school love,” as she put it. I wouldn’t go that far, but she seems determined that she sees more than I do. She says this will be my downfall, that I won’t make it to Manhattan School of Music next year because I will throw everything away and be pregnant by this time next year. She’s a little overdramatic.
So here we are now, at another singing practice, inside a soundproof room in the basement of the theater in town. Signora Gelardi makes me sing the same song repeatedly, until the fifth time, when I get a “much better.” Then I look at my cell phone to see that it’s after eight. According to the whole school, who are still talking about Noah like he’s a god, his band is just starting. I want to finally go down to the restaurant and see him.
I haven’t had the nerve before now. Every week, all week, I talk myself into it, telling myself that it’s only one night, and then my nerves betray me at the last minute. If I went there with someone, it probably wouldn’t feel like such a big deal, but I have no one. I will be an army of one against most of the school, by myself as everyone watches me walk through the doors, watching being a teenager, hearing a band play, something I have never done.
And what if Noah is with someone there? Will I be able to handle seeing that? Will everyone think I’m a fool because my knight who stood up for me was only being chivalrous, not appreciating seeing someone get picked on, that it didn’t mean more than what my heart is telling me? Will I be the talk of the school on Monday when everyone sees I thought something more than what it is between us? Was his kiss only an act of kindness? Has he done that to other girls who fawn over him, girls who will be there tonight? Oh, God, I’m scaring myself out of it again.
I can’t go, but I have to! Now is the time to be young, to experience more of life than school and Signora Gelardi. If I don’t start being young now, then maybe I will be the same, boring, social outcast when I get to the Music Conservatory.
I’m going to hear a band play.
“Signora, it’s late, so I’m going to head out now.”
Signora gives me her no-nonsense look. She can see how jittery I am and knows something is up, yet she’s not going to mention it. Her look tells me all she wants to say.
“Four o’clock on Monday,” is all she says as I grab my sheet music and stuff everything in my bag with the rest of my homework for the weekend.
“Good night,” I call out as I make my way out the door.
When I get home, the house is dark except for the foyer light we always leave on because we always seem to get home when it’s dark.
I’m too wound up to eat, so I quickly head up to my room where I throw on some mascara and a light lip gloss. I take my hair out of its bun and brush it out. Now it looks wavy from being up all day.
I remain dressed in what I wore to school—a white T-shirt and dark skinny jeans—but I kick off my converse for a pair of knee-high brown boots and throw on my matching fitted leather jacket. It seems to fit the M.O. for hearing a band play, right? And it’s not something I haven’t worn before.
Ready to go and not allowing myself to think about what I’m doing, I write my dad a note and leave it on the foyer table for him. Then I lock up the house, hurry to my Jetta, and then make my way across town to Jeremy’s. On the way, I play my favorite playlist, acting like I’m on my way to school like normal, except it’s not normal, because it’s night out, not morning.
What am I going to do when I get there? Will I even be able to leave my car? God, what if someone comes out and sees me sitting there like an idiot? No, I have to go in. I promised this to myself. I will go in, sip on a soda, sit in the back, and watch. I don’t have to talk to anyone.
And now I’m pulling into the crowded parking lot. Wow, this place is packed. The whole school and then some must be here tonight. I didn’t even think this place was large enough to accommodate so many people. And I find out they aren’t when I see a line out the door. I’m already late. What if I don’t even get in to hear them? At least I know I tried, right? I made the effort to be young and fun.
Thankfully, the line only has five people in it, and they all seem to be together. They are an older crowd who are talking about Noah’s band. Evidently, the band is pretty talented because these people are from a few towns over and came all this way to hear them.
I am more and more intrigued as we watch older couples leave the restaurant, and now the five people in front of me are allowed in after the bouncer checks their IDs and puts paper bracelets around their wrists. There are a few more people behind me now, but I don’t turn around to see if I know them or not.
When it’s my turn to enter, the bouncer looks at my ID then stamps my hand with the under-aged mark, and now I’m in.
The restaurant is set up with booths along the front and far side of the room, with tables and chairs scattered in the middle. A bar sits along the wall to the left as you walk in, basically entering from the side of the building. At the back is a small stage, just enough room for the drums and a few people to stand in front of it. A dance floor encompasses the space in front of the stage. On a normal week night, tables are covering the dance floor, but not tonight.
There are so many people around that I literally bump into people as I make my way to the back of the room. The band is playing a cover song to my favorite band, and the way Noah sings … it sounds like his own heart is being gutted. Even his voice cracks like he’s feeling the emotions from the song. It’s mesmerizing.
His voice isn’t raspy like I imagined; it’s clear, yet a little throaty at the right times to make it more emotional. He’s simply remarkable, commanding the attention of everyone. And as I look around the room, he does indeed have everyone’s attention.
He’s wearing his usual torn jeans and a gray T-shirt that is drenched in sweat, sticking to his skin. I can see drips of sweat break from his hairline, sliding down his face and the sides of his neck. His hair is slicked back from sweat, but a few tendrils cling to his forehead, and his hair in the back is curled from perspiration. He has a cherry red guitar sitting low on his hips, his fingers gliding over the neck while his other hand holds a pick, strumming the strings.
I don’t even notice the other members, completely caught up in him.
Just then, he looks up and I swear right at me.
My breath catches in my throat as he continues through the ending of the song, singing directly to me.
~Noah~
Finally talking to Claire felt like a huge weight lifting off my chest, but that was close to three weeks ago. We are now in mid-October. Now that weight feels like it’s adding on again as each day passes and Claire and I are back to flirty looks and shy smiles.
I shouldn’t have kissed her hand.
It’s frustrating. I waited in vain during two shows for her to show up to no avail. She’s the only face I want to see out in that crowd. I want her to hear my words. I want to watch her face as she deciphers the songs about her.
I can’t make this girl out. She’s like no one else I have ever met.
Chelsea and her sidekick finally gave up on me. They are both now standing at the back of the crowded restaurant. Troy is still hooking up with Nikki by the looks of him pawing at her right now, and Chelsea has apparently gotten back with her on again off again boyfriend—like she’s capable of a relationship—the quarterback. James, I think his name is. Cool guy. Of course she got back with him in time for homecoming. Two guesses who won that. I heard my name was in the running. I thought you had to agree to be a nominee?
While the crowd begins to grow, I sit back and sip on a Coke with Max while scouring the crowd for any sight of her like I have for the past three weeks.
“Who are you looking for?” Max asks from beside me, gripping his beer mug. I could go for a beer right now. I’m so stressed over Claire never showing up.
“Claire.”
Max already knows about my infatuation with her. I guess I get a little talky when I’m drunk.
“What are you going to do if she shows?”
Kiss her. Take her in my arms and never let go. Just be with her.
“I don’t know. Haven’t thought that far.” I pick up a straw wrapper and start tying it into knots until it breaks.
“Want me to bring her over here? Make sure no one messes with her?”
I give him a look up and down, and then pointedly look around the table at his friends. “I think you’ll scare her out of here.”
“No, he won’t,” Cyn chimes in from his lap. “He can be pretty charming when he wants to be. Even has a nice smile when he shows it.”
Max grins up at her, and then she lowers her mouth to kiss him chastely.
Huh? She’s right. He looks like a completely different person when he smiles.
“Thanks, Max,” I consent. Then I describe her to him.
He gives me a nod as I stand up.
I reach out to take Cyn’s hand, pulling her off his lap so we can get this show started. She’s dressed in a short leather skirt with chains and a cut up Ramone’s T-shirt that shows off her small waist.
Kyle gets up from across the table, and then we all make our way to the stage to loud cheering.
I look out over the crowd again, searching every face for hers. She’s still not here, but wow did this crowd get big over the last few weeks.
We play for over half an hour before I turn to a cover song, one that works well with my voice and the emotions I have to force out. Heart break. Past love lost. It feels almost real when I sing it tonight, thinking about how I lost my chance with Claire, regretting not approaching her these past few weeks, losing my chance with her.
My voice breaks at the right time before I lower it to deliver the next line, and when I finally open my eyes to look out at the crowd, my eyes meet hers.
She’s standing beneath one of the recessed lights in the dim room, it glowing over her head like a halo, bathing her body in soft lighting. It would be impossible to miss her with her standing right there, dressed for sin in those tight pants, a simple white T-shirt, and a leather jacket. That jacket makes me think about taking her for a ride on my bike. No, that’s moving too fast for a girl like her.
I can’t believe she’s finally here. I want to smile at her, assure her I know she’s here, but I can’t lose the vibe of the song, and I’m pretty sure she knows I know she’s here.
When the song ends to an abrupt applause, I don’t take my eyes off Claire, watching her clap with the rest of the crowd as I lean over and whisper in Cyn’s ear, “Tell Max she’s in the back, under that light.”
Cyn looks out over the crowd then jumps off the stage and hurries to Max’s table while I start the next song that has a long guitar solo, giving Cyn time to get back on stage. It’s the first song I wrote about Claire, so it’s ideal to play it now, now that she’s here.
Cyn jumps back on stage and starts without missing a beat. I keep my eyes on Claire as I watch Max approach her. She’s still watching me, so she startles when Max puts his hand on her forearm. I watch him lean over to whisper in her ear, and then she looks over at me with a question in her eyes. I subtly nod to assure her it’s okay to go with him. I see him give her that rare smile, and she smiles at him in return before he pulls her through the crowd, his hand around her wrist, back to our table.
I can’t take my eyes off her as I watch the guys scoot over, giving her room to sit down. She doesn’t look the least bit intimidated by Max and his friends, thank God. Or if she does, she doesn’t show it.
A waitress comes over and takes her drink order, and then I have her full-attention again. I hope she listens to the words I’m singing to her. I hope she hears how I don’t feel worthy of a girl like her, but I can’t help wanting what seems out of my reach. That I watch her every day, too much of a pussy to talk to her. That I have never been so terrified of anything in my life than her rejection.
Once the set is over, I don’t waste any time. I’m like an eager kid chasing the ice cream man. I jump off the short stage, guitar still strapped across my chest, leaving Cyn to say our good-byes and thanks. I hear some guys laugh, and I get a few claps on the back in congratulations on the show as I make my way to her. Her attention is already riveted on me.
“You made it,” I state the obvious. The waitress hands me a bottle of cool water, and I thank her as I wait to hear Claire speak.
“Yeah, I finally decided to give my teenage years a chance.” She smiles up at me.
Wanting her to myself, I grab her hand and pull her up, leaving her no room so she crashes into my chest. Then I lean down to her short frame and whisper, “Come on.”
I drag her along with me, back behind the stage where Jeremy, the owner and restaurant’s namesake, gave us a storage closet for our equipment. My guitar case is on one of the chairs, so I swipe it off and onto the floor, and then lead Claire to the now vacant seat. Then I watch her take in the room.
“The owner lets us keep our things back here so we don’t crowd the stage. He learned that lesson our first gig.” I shrug, not knowing why I felt the need to share that.
She nods, not giving anything away, not saying anything. It’s so frustrating, yet relieving. I’m so used to chicks yapping my ear off. That’s probably why I never talk; never felt like I could get a word in, anyway. No, that’s not why I don’t talk, just an excuse.
We can’t stay mute the entire time, so as I lift the guitar from my body, I ask, “What did you think? Of the music?” I clarify, smoothing my shirt back down. I notice she’s staring at where my shirt had ridden up, so I turn around to put my guitar away before she can get embarrassed by getting caught checking me out.
“You guys are really good. It’s hard to believe you haven’t been together as a band that long.”
I keep my back to her as I wipe down my guitar, placing it in its case gently as I shrug at her reply. “I already had most of the songs written. Kyle and Cyn are talented. It didn’t take them long to pick up on them. It flowed.” I zip up the case then turn back to see her watching me.
“How long does it usually take to learn a song?”
I like how she seems genuinely interested, but then I remember she’s into music, too, just not like mine.
I place another chair in front of her, straddling the back of it. “It depends on the complexity of the song. Usually, I play and they follow. Sometimes we don’t agree to how something sounds, so we change it up a bit.” Folding my arms on the back of the chair, I rest my chin on them. “But, to answer your question, typically two to three days. Though we are practicing a few songs at the same time.” I smile, and she returns it with one of her own. “Do you play anything?”
She looks down, her hair framing her face. I want to reach out and feel how soft it is. It’s so full and wavy right now.
“Um, I have been taking piano lessons since I was a kid, but singing is my passion.” She shrugs. “I dabble with writing music. You can’t be around music all your life and not know something about creating it.” She peeks back up at me, and I grin again, which makes her blush.
I love it. She’s so adorable and sexy and beautiful. I can’t believe I’m finally talking to her; that we are together in the same room, alone, having a conversation.
She says singing is her passion. I wonder what she sings to.
“So, you like singing? What do you sing? Do you like the musical kind of singing? Are you a pop kind of girl? Or are you into the death metal, thrashing, screaming your voice out?”
She laughs and replies with, “None of the above.”
This piques my interest.
I scratch my head. “No musicals, no pop, no death metal … um, rock?”
She shakes her head with a playful grin on her lips.
“Don’t tell me you rap?” I ask in mock horror, leaning away from her as I hold the back of the chair. It makes her laugh, and then she bites her bottom lip to stop herself. I grin at hearing her laugh. It’s unlike her voice—throaty and sensual. “I gotta admit. I’m at a loss here. What do you sing?”
She blushes again and ducks her head back down. “Please promise you won’t tease me. It’s not something a lot of people around here take seriously, but it’s who I am and I love it. It’s my life, my dream, and it’s what I’m going to study when I go to the Music Conservatory.”
“You’re going to the Music Conservatory?” I ask in surprise. When she nods, I ask, “You already got in?” She nods again. I’m amazed and intrigued by this girl now. Plus, I’m ecstatic. She will be in my city, only a stone’s throw away from my neighborhood. “So, tell me.”
“Opera.” She whispers the one word, and I’m stunned. Completely blown away. Never would I have guessed this petite, gorgeous girl would sing opera of all things.
“Wow,” is all I can think to say. Like I said, I’m stunned.
She peeks back up at me from beneath her long eyelashes. “You’re not going to tease me?”
I shake my head. How can I tease her because of something like that? She said it was her life, her passion. That’s the way I feel about my music. I wouldn’t want someone to tease me, so why would I do it back? Besides, I get enough shit from my parents about music not being serious.
I wonder if my parents would take me serious if I went the Music Conservatory. Probably not. I would have to study history or literature for that to happen. They would probably be disappointed if I studied medicine.
Her shyness now gone, she beams at me. “I knew there would be something different about you. Most people think I’m a snob and tease me.” She shrugs, her smile falling. “I don’t think they understand how I take my goals seriously. They don’t understand the dedication I put into the future I have mapped out. I don’t believe in concentrating only on what’s happening today; I concentrate on five years from now and work every day to get to that five-year goal.” Her grin comes back. “I’m sorry, I’m being too serious.”
I break out of my daze of staring at her mouth and shake my head. “No, I think that’s admirable. My parents want me to be like them, but that’s not the future I see for me, so it’s hard for me to plan my future when I know someone won’t be happy about it, whether it’s me or them.”
She nods. “I can understand that. I’m sorry.”
I jump out of my seat, needing to lighten the mood. “Let’s get out of this room.” I grab her hand and help her out of the seat. “We usually head to Max’s after the show. I would really like it if you came with me.”
“Max?”
“The guy who brought you to the table?”
I see recognition alight her eyes as I open the door and lead her out, past the stage, and over to our table where Kyle and Cyn are now sitting. We need to start taking down the drums before we leave, but I want to spend more time with Claire first. I’m afraid if I let go of her, she will leave and none of this would have been real.
I help her sit down and turn to Kyle to tell him we need to start loading up when all hell breaks loose.