-1My respects to Mr. Larson, who created this world and owns the people. Much thanks for letting me borrow them for a while to play in mine.
Do You Think I Can Tell People About Your Eyes?
(Amy's Perspective)
When Roger stepped out onto the small stage in the Kennedy Bar, the crowd didn't stop talking, but all the same a sort of whispered hush, if that makes any sense, fell over everyone. There was still noise, still the flutter of voices… but there was also a sort of reverence I never expected from the half-drunk on-lookers.
Mark was late. I had managed to snag a little table near the wall for the two of us. Maureen and Joanne were stuck back in a small corner of the bar opposite the stage. I kept looking nervously around for Mark, but the time ticked away, and there Roger was, looking nervous but excited. Mark was late.
"I hope everyone's having a great night." Roger spoke into the microphone, playing with the strap of his guitar. A couple of people clapped in agreement that they were. "My name's Roger Davis and I'm here to play for you all. It might not be what you expect but it's what I'm here to say." I wanted so badly for him to do well. Maureen caught my eye and gave a thumbs-up sign. I grinned back at her and once again scanned the crowd for Mark. Where is he?
Roger sang "Your Eyes", the song he wrote for Mimi, and the crowd was hooked. A few girls were crying. A few guys didn't know what to do. He was brilliant. Still, Mark wasn't there. I was going to kill him. He shouldn't be missing this. This, I knew, was more important than anything else. He should be here for this.
"I wrote this next song again for my wife, but this was after she died. It's been a long time coming. This is everything." Roger said, and started to strum a slow, intricate, blues-y rhythm that was sad and uplifting at the same time. I don't know how he did it. "It's called 'You Mean'."
"She used to say to me
She used to say to me
"Don't go cryin,
Don't go cryin"
But I've been crying
Oh so long
Did she know what she meant to me?
Did she know how I'd miss her?
Could she predict my emptiness?
Who will be my witness?
The witness…
I've been crying
I've been crying
I've been crying
But no more
I've been dying
I've been dying
I've been dying
For so long
Here's my shot
Here's my plea
This is everything
I'm meant to be
Here's my promise
Here's my gift-
This is everything
You mean to me:
You mean love and regret
And pain and happiness
Love and respect
And soft little kisses
Love and regret
Love and regret
You mean-"
And there was this long pause while he played a few quiet chords and he whispered, "I wish there was a word for everything…"
"You mean candles and flame
And long winter nights
Dancing like mad
And smiling through tears
You mean love and regret
You mean the night that we met
You mean years of my life
You mean moments of joy
You mean our little boy
You mean love and regret
You mean big brown eyes
You mean falling inside
You mean ripping apart
You mean heart-wrenching ache-"
Roger smiled suddenly as he sang
"You mean silly pet names
You mean smelling like pears
You mean long endless hugs
You mean love and regret…
But mostly you mean love.
Mostly you mean love.
You used to say to me
You used to say to me
"Don't go cryin
Don't go cryin"
But I've been crying
For too long…
You mean…"
It was haunting, that song. His voice had this ethereal quality. It sent shivers down my spine. There was no word for everything she was and so he said no word at all. She just meant… everything. They were eating out of the palm of his hand. Hell, I was eating out of the palm of his hand.
(Mark's Perspective)
I had managed to get in through the door just as he started playing "Your Eyes", but had no room to really move and try and find the girls. It didn't matter. Roger had managed to reach all the way to the back of the bar. I don't think there was an untouched person in that room. He was amazing.
It was so raw and so heartfelt and so… honest? Yeah. Honest. He was being so true to what he and Mimi had that no one could deny its power. No one was exempt from the message he conveyed.
At the end of "You Mean" the audience didn't know what to do. There was only silence as the last chord died away. I could see Roger grow stronger.
"I've only got one more for tonight. My time's almost up. This song- well, I wrote it for my son." Pause. He looked out at the audience, taking us in. The crowd shifted a little and I stepped forward to try and find Amy. "This is called 'Roger's Song'."
I saw Amy up in front of me and managed to slide my way through the crowd as he started playing.
"Hey." I whispered, slipping an arm around her. She startled slightly and half smiled, half frowned at me.
"Where have you been?" She asked.
"In the back. Don't worry, I was here." And then our attention went back to Roger, up there on that stage.
"I was afraid to want you,
Afraid to hold you.
I was angry and scared
And completely unprepared.
I was seething, breathing
But barely getting air.
I was grieving, leaving
Until I saw you there.
The smallness of the world
The depths within your eyes
Your fist as it unfurled
Oh, I had to admit my lies…
Baby, I wanted you all along.
I longed to see your face.
Honey, I was never very strong.
You were my last saving grace.
I was seething, breathing
But barely getting air.
I was grieving, leaving
Until I saw you there.
If I said I memorized you
Could you believe it?
If I said I loved you
Would you believe it?
My heart was twice dead
But then you re-lit the flame.
My heart was twice dead
Until I gave you my name.
And then suddenly
You were torn from me
And just as quickly
I ceased to be
I was seething, breathing
But barely getting air.
I was grieving, leaving
Until I saw you there.
One grave for my soul mate
Whose death made me leave my hopes behind
And one for my tiny angel
Whose death made me quietly lose my mind
I'll hold him again someday.
Nothing will keep me away
I'll hold you again someday-
I promise you baby.…
I was seething, breathing
But barely getting air.
I was grieving, leaving
Until I saw you there.
Seething, breathing
Grieving, leaving
But then I saw him there.
Oh, I miss their eyes…"
(Roger's Perspective)
As soon as I finished the song, I could feel it. So many people in the bar seemed to be mourning them. But that wasn't what I wanted. I just wanted to tell people. I needed to let them hear it. Hear me.
"I thank you for listening. And for being such an amazing audience for my first time back onstage. Don't mourn the death but celebrate the life. Thank you." And I walked off the stage and to the tiny 'backstage' area. I let out the longest, heaviest sigh, and smoothed my hair. Mike, the owner, clapped me on the back.
"I don't know how you did that, but it was too… important for words." He smiled. "You're welcome back whenever you want."
"Thanks." I said quietly. Right now, I just needed to see my friends, but I was half-afraid to go back into the bar area. "Can I sneak out the back way?"
"Sure, sure." Mike said, leading the way, though clearly surprised that I chose that route. "Night, Roger." he said as I slipped out the door and into the night.
"Night." And I headed for home. I was sure that eventually my friends would come back there when they didn't find me.
----------------------------------
"Roger!" Maureen squealed half an hour later, entering the loft and seeing me sitting on the couch. "How could you sneak off like that? People were waiting to talk to you!"
"Simple, Maureen. I just wanted to come back here." I told Maureen, Joanne, Amy, and Mark. "To be with just you guys." Though I wished like hell that Collins was there, too. It was his idea, after all. Well, my idea seconded by none other than Collins. I wanted to bask, but I wanted to bask with all of them. With everyone.
Tonight was a success. I told a story to a bar full of partially drunk people and they listened. Really listened. Dropped everything and took it in. It meant the world to me. And the fact that my friends were all hugging me and saying how proud they were made it that much better.
This worked. I succeeded. I can do this. And I didn't cry. Though I sure as hell had tears in my eyes. Though I had to fight not to choke on my words. My lyrics.
That night I smiled myself to sleep.
(Amy's Perspective)
When Mark and I got into bed that night, it was after a few hours of me not feeling well. It started during Roger's last song and had been steadily getting worse. I was really uncomfortable lying there. Hot one second, cold the next.
"Can I get you anything?" Mark asked me quietly.
"No. I'm sorry. I just don't feel well."
"Do you want me to sleep on the couch-" he started, but I stopped him.
"No. I'm sorry. I'll try to go to sleep."
"It's ok, really. I don't want you to worry about moving around or anything." he said, sitting up.
"Stay. Really. I'm actually starting to feel a little better." So he laid back down and kissed my cheek.
"Let me know if you need anything. Wake me up. I don't mind." he said.
"Ok. Thanks, Mark." I said, smiling with effort. He soon drifted off to sleep.
I was surprised when I started in bed. I'd somehow managed to fall asleep. Once more awake, I couldn't tell if I was just having stomach pains or about to throw up. Something didn't feel right. I was sweating like crazy.
I moved around a little, trying to get comfortable. Should I wake him up? No. It's nothing. I'll be ok. I'm just sick. The flu, maybe.
Ten minutes later, my stomach dropped to my feet. Oh, fuck. I felt the wetness between my legs and brought my hand up to my face. Blood.
Blood. Not the ok kind of blood. My stomach seared in pain and I doubled over into the fetal position.
"Mark. Mark." I moaned, feeling like I was going to throw up and pass out and explode all at the same time. "Mark, please wake up."
"Amy? What's wrong?" Mark asked, jumping awake at my words.
"Something's wrong. Call 911." I started to cry. "Oh, Mark, I think I'm- I think I was-" I cried out in pain. "Oh, Mark. I think I'm having a miscarriag- Oh!"
