8. Chapter 8
Chapter 8
Luke
M aisy booked a flight south. The deadline for her final project is looming and she needs to return to her university in Austin to submit all the elements in a presentation. I’m more than slightly relieved that our time together is up. I offer to give Maisy a ride to the airport as I can’t run the risk of her missing the plane and showing up again at my place.
“Thanks for putting up with me, Uncle Luke,” she says outside the sliding door to Departures. “You’re not as bad as I thought you’d be.”
“And what does that mean?”
“Oh, you know. Boring.”
“You think I’m boring?”
“Well, yes. While I was staying with you, you didn’t go out once. You didn’t take me out and introduce me to anyone.” Maisy kicks the paving in pretend five-year-old behavior. At least, I think it’s pretend.
“Maisy. It may have escaped your notice but I’m running a ranch here. My time is taken up with ranch stuff.”
“You still gotta live, Luke.” Something in Maisy’s words strikes a nerve. I open my mouth to refute the charges. “You’re not getting any younger.”
“If you must know, I’m going to a gig in a bar this Friday,” I say defensively, but I’m instantly self-reproachful for rising to take her bait. “If you were staying, you could have come with me.”
Maisy smiles, then reaches her arms around my neck in an awkward hug. “Next time. We’ll go out for sure, next time I’m here. If I’m invited.”
“Of course.” I smile despite myself. “There’ll be a next time.”
“Well, thanks for the ride to the airport.”
“No problem. I had to make sure you got your flight otherwise...” I shrug but I don’t finish the sentence. We laugh. Then, when the mood settles down, I say, “And thank you.”
“For what?”
“For getting the trekking material together and organizing the Open Day. That was a great idea.”
“I’m not sure you’ll be able to run it properly without me,” Maisy says folding her arms across her chest.
“I’m not sure either, but I’ll have to.”
“Just assign someone the task of taking photos. They’ll look good on your social media pages.”
“Ah yeah. I hadn’t thought about that.”
“See, Luke.” Maisy rolls her eyes at me. “You need me here.”
“I’ll be okay.” I hug Maisy again. “You’re going to get an A plus for your project, I am sure about that.”
My niece glows with pride for a minute then she says, “Right. Gotta go.” Maisy grabs her backpack and scoots in through the automatic sliding doors before I can say anything more.
I wave through the glass, but I can’t see Maisy. She’s gone. It feels as if I’m waving at my own reflection.
Friday night comes around fast. It’s been a while since I went to a gig in a bar. Since Courtney left for Los Angeles, I haven’t even wanted to go out. I didn’t go out in Austin because I didn’t want to run into our friends and be confronted by that conversation that always begins, “Hey, I heard about you and Courtney and I’m really sorry. You were perfect together.” Something like that. Anyway, it’s refreshing to be in a new town where no one knows me. And I don’t know anyone. At least not beyond polite chit-chat.
I park the pickup in a side street and wander into The Old Oak Bar & Grill. The building is a rustic barn construction with bare wood beams open to the ceiling, and original wooden floors. Beyond the bar, where people are ordering drinks and talking together, a makeshift stage is at the far end of the large open-air courtyard. Background music plays a sound bed beneath chatter and laughter. The place is filling up. There’s a buzz of anticipation as people take their drinks to tables outside. I wait at the bar, order a light beer, and survey the crowd.
There’s a friendly vibe. I lean my back against the wooden wall beside the bar and drink my beer. I suppose it’s still early. I wonder when Lydia will arrive. After a few sips, there’s an eruption of noise from the crowd as band members take their place on the raised stage. They wave to the crowd and each test out their instruments. The background music is turned off.
“Hello Oak River!” the frontman yells into the microphone which complains with screeching feedback. The audience pauses conversations, raises glasses and bottles, and reacts with appreciative thunderous shouts and whistles. “We’re Star Rangers,” the singer says to an enthusiastic roar. “And this is ‘Smells Like Teen Spirit’.”
The guitars scream and the drummer bashes out the Nirvana classic. I forget that I’m here on my own. All focus is on the stage. I relax and enjoy the music. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I spot Lydia coming in. She’s smiling and chatting to some others. She sees me and waves. I wave back. She comes over to the bar with her friends. The music is too loud to have a conversation beyond hello. But we stand close together and occasionally she looks up at me and smiles. The next few songs are rocky and loud too. I like the energy. A few people are dancing up at the front.
“Thank you, everyone,” says the vocalist. “We’re going to take a short break. But don’t go anywhere.”
The crowd from outside surges in and surrounds the bar. I’m immersed in loud voices ordering drinks and raucous drunken laughter. Everyone is having a good time.
“They’re great, aren’t they?” shouts Lydia only just discernible above the din. I lean toward her. Her eyes twinkle.
“Yeah. I like their song choice. Thanks for inviting me. I’m having a great time.”
Lydia nods. “Excellent. Come and meet some people.” I follow Lydia to where a group of people are standing in a close knot. The conversation stops when Lydia says, “Hey, everyone. This is Luke Maddox. He’s new in town so please make him welcome. Introduce yourselves. Go.”
Everyone laughs then, one of the women whom I recognize from the café in town says, “Alright let’s start with me. I’m Kate and I own The Half Moon Café.”
“That’s where I’ve seen you. Great coffee by the way.”
“Thanks. I think so too.”
The next person is Cam. He’s the town’s fire chief. He’s standing next to Molly, his wife, who works at the library.
“She doesn’t just work at the library. She’s lying,” interjects Lydia. “She manages the library. If Molly wasn’t there, the place would quickly fall into ruin.”
“Ah, Lydia. I love you,” says Molly laughing.
“It’s true!” say Kate and Lydia together. Cam hugs his wife, then reaches for her hand which he raises to his lips. He kisses her fingers gently as if it’s the most natural gesture in the world. Something about their intimacy causes a wince of pain somewhere in my chest. I swallow hard to shake off the discomfort. What is it I’m feeling? Envy? Loss? Loneliness? I don’t know.
Lydia surprises me by linking her arm through mine. I’m surprised but it’s not an unpleasant sensation. Does she sense my mood? I’m not sure. But the familiarity of her arm in mine makes me feel safe, as if she has caught me and stopped me from falling. I want to hold her hand like Cam is holding Molly’s, but that would be weird when we hardly know each other.
“Sheena should be here soon,” says Lydia releasing my arm. “She’ll miss the second set as well, if she doesn’t hurry up.”
“I’ll call her. See where she is,” says Kate who finds her phone in her purse then steps out of the bar.
The guitarist from the band joins our circle. Lydia leans close to him and says something.
“Hey, man. I’m Dylan,” he says grabbing my hand in a wrestle while bumping my shoulder. “It’s good to know you, bro.”
We talk about the band for a while. Dylan says that he’s fairly new to Star Rangers. “I’ve been playing guitar for a few years, but only in my bedroom. It’s fun to get out and perform in front of a friendly crowd who don’t mind if I go wrong.” He laughs. “Hey, where’s Kate?” Molly says that she’s calling Sheena outside because it’s too noisy in the bar. Dylan nods. “Okay, just so long as my number one fan is still here,” he says as his attention shifts to the stage where the other band members are getting ready to play again. “I’d better go. Nice to see y’all. And please, get up the front and dance, will you?”
Kate comes back shaking her head. “Sheena’s on her way,” she says.
Lydia relaxes a little. “She’s missing out on a really good night.”
The conversation stops there because Star Rangers’ vocalist, says, “Alright everyone. All you people who have been sitting down here relaxing, your time is up.” He strums a raucous chord which reverberates through the bar as he holds up his guitar to the audience. “It’s time to party!”
“Come on,” yells Kate. “Let’s get close to the band for a dance.”
The women squeal and thread their way between the tables and find a space in front of the stage. Cam shakes his head and laughs. His eyes follow the funky females, but he stays where he is, against the wall. The bar is clear, so I buy another drink, then join Cam. The band is into another song when Sheena arrives.
“Hey!” she yells above the music. “I made it.”
“Good to see you,” I yell back. Cam raises his beer bottle in greeting. “Can I get you a drink?”
“No thanks,” Sheena yells.
The music is way too loud for further conversation. So, we stand next to each other and watch the band and the audience enjoying themselves. I can just pick out Lydia and her friends, illuminated by colored lights, jumping around somewhere near the stage.