Chapter 33 #2
My heart thuds as Trev strikes the first note on his electric guitar. My stomach tightens as Jay pounds the foot pedal against his base drum. And my lungs fill sharply when Guy strums the first chord on his Martin. My hand comes to my mouth as I comprehend the enormity of what I’m seeing on stage.
‘Oh my God!’ Livy crashes into me, rocking me backwards so hard it takes both Mandy and Cami to keep us upright. ‘You’ve played it cool all day, all week, and all along, you knew he was coming. You brought The Hand Me Downs to my wedding!’
‘Nice one, sis,’ Joshua says, patting my arm, which even in my discombobulated state, I know feels weird. ‘We owe you big time for this.’
‘Ah, you’re welcome?’ I manage.
As my sister drags my teen ex and new man-aged brother-in-law – totally bizarre – off to the dance floor, I’m left staring at the band on stage as a violinist that never used to be part of the arrangement kicks in to ‘Addicted’.
It’s The Hand Me Downs, the same music and lyrics I’ve known and loved for years, only different. Not better or worse, just new, modified.
‘You had absolutely no idea this was happening, did you?’ Cami asks, flanking me at one side as Mandy, camera raised, stands at my other.
‘None,’ I admit.
But he showed up. He showed up in a bigger way than I could have imagined and the piece of me that thinks there’s a chance he did this for me, at least in part, is whooshed back to Cloud Nine like the slide of Trev’s foot against his wah-wah pedal.
‘Is it okay if I’m massively crushing on your boyfriend?’ Cami asks, making Mandy and me laugh.
‘You’d better get used to people pining after your man, babes,’ Mandy tells me.
As reluctant as I am to let myself hope, as much as I ought to protect myself, I fall even harder, even deeper for the man singing into the microphone with the voice I fell for more than a decade ago.
‘Let’s dance!’ Cami yells, dragging me, running, into the crowd of people dancing and videoing what’s happening on stage – the reunion of The Hand Me Downs. The rebirth of three rock stars – and two of a string quartet.
Guy watches me as I come into his field of vision and though he’s singing words to another track, one that has nothing to do with him or us or even relationships, I know he’s apologising.
Who knows what happens when he comes off stage but right now, my parents are making their way to the dance floor. My sister is married. I’m jumping around with Cami with an aeroplane ticket to start exploring the world in my clutch bag.
For the first time since That Night, I let my head fall back, hold my arms out wide, and move free and easy, liberated, like a bird. Happy.
My bridesmaid dress is sticking to me and there’s as much sweat in my hair as there is running down Guy’s face and wetting his T-shirt.
The music stops while he takes a drink and Dave tosses him a towel.
Refreshed, he steps up to the microphone and says, ‘Bear with me folks, I’m still working on this standing at the front and talking thing.’
I give him a gentle smile as the rest of the room catches his joke because I know it’s not only a wisecrack for the crowd but genuine.
He’s trying. This is new to him. He adjusts his fingers on his fret board and starts gently thumbing the strings on his guitar, a move that seems to help his confidence.
Then he looks up to me, staring so deeply into my eyes, I feel like he’s engraving lyrics on my soul.
‘We’re gonna bring it down a notch with a slow one.’ He pauses and I can hear expectation in the room, despite the pounding of my own heart in my ears, because I know what comes next on his set list. It’s ‘You and Me’. My song. Our song. From That Night.
But he says, ‘This is a new one. You’re getting the first rodeo.’ He clears his throat, his fingers still working his strings. ‘I wrote this one for the woman who’s responsible for making me fall back in love with music, life and her.’ He nods, eyes on me, and I think he’s telling me, Yes. You.
I’m rooted to the spot despite everyone else seeming to partner up and move slowly around me. I wouldn’t miss them if they weren’t here because when Guy starts to sing, it’s only to me. There’s only him and me.
‘Move aside dark mood,
You’ve been around long enough.
And I’ve found your antidote,
The girl to fix me.
‘She says she’s not a doctor,
But she’s the only one,
To save me from drowning,
And keep my head above water.
‘Come into my world,
Let me into yours.
Teach me how to love you,
Like it’s the last night of our lives.
‘I saw you seven years ago,
And let you slip through my grasp.
Then I kissed you,
On the summer solstice.
And you know I won’t,
Make the same mistake again.
‘Come into my world,
Let me into yours,
Teach me how to love you,
Like it’s the last night of our lives.
‘Now I’m gone,
No going back.
Take my hand,
Let’s fly together.
‘Come into my world,
Let me into yours,
Teach me how to love you,
Like it’s the last night of our lives.’
At the end of the song, it’s not sweat running down my face but tears, again.
He whispers into his microphone, ‘I love you,’ then leaves the other musicians on the stage to play an instrumental as he hops down to the dance floor, to me.
His palms meet my cheeks and he runs his thumbs under my eyes. ‘I’m sorry. I got scared and I blew it. Again. But I swear, if you’ll have me, I’m gonna do my best not to fuck up at every bump in the road, Lyra.’
My fingers find his wet hair, which is just about the only response I can muster in this moment.
‘There’re gonna be times I need you to tell me where I’m going wrong.
I might need you to show me how to love you properly, fully, without limitation.
Can you promise me that, Lyra? Because I will mess up and I don’t want to ruin this.
I want to love you every day as much as I love you today.
And I want to be someone you can love back. ’
With every single part of me feeling as if I’m melting into him, I inch closer, our wet foreheads touching with zero shits given. ‘I’m going to get this wrong, too, Guy. I already have, and for my part, I’m sorry. But I want this. I want us. And I’m ready to fight for it.’
His lips break into a smile and mine respond reflexively, doing the same, when he says, ‘I really fucking love you, Lyra.’
‘I really fucking love you too, Guy.’