He nods. “And your name?” “Charlie.”
He scuttles back to the small stage area where Timmy is packing away his bagpipes.
“Next up, folks, we have someone… all the way from New York! This is a very special request for Eddie and Tammy!” What!? No, you fool.
“Please give a welcome to…. Charlie!”
He turns in my direction, clapping me out, and the twenty or so people in the pub half-heartedly join in.
I take a deep breath and walk out into the light.
Charlie
He sits still like someone has turned him into stone, his expression unreadable.
Beside him, Edme shrieks. “Darling, it’s Charlie!.”
“Hi Danny, Edme,” I say in a shaky voice into the microphone.
“Danny,” I hiss at the bartender, and he shrugs his shoulders. “Not Tammy. Is Tammy even a name?”
I wrap the guitar strap around my shoulders, and my head yanks back. My hair is caught in the strap. I fumble with it for a painful amount of time and hear people getting restless.
I can’t look up again. If I look into his eyes and see horror or pity or embarrassment, I’ll never be able to deliver this song.
“So I, umm.” My voice breaks, and I clear my throat. “I wrote this song to explain how I feel about a recent romance.”
There are a few titters around the pub as they mistakenly think I’m joking.
“This is called ‘You’re gone.” I rasp out. I wrote this alone in the dark in my New York apartment over the past few months.
My version of a diary.
No one has ever heard it. I’ve never played it outside the apartment. No one was ever meant to hear it.
Not Open Mic.
Not Julie, Cat, Stevie, Suze.
Especially not Danny.
Yet here I am.
Singing my lowest moments to a group of sheep farmers, the love of my life, and his eccentric granny.
I burst out into the first verse, and it’s raw, so raw, I feel like I’m standing in front of them, naked and crying.
My bittersweet lyrics loaded with heartbroken emotion surge through the bar. My voice is loud and fierce, demanding to be listened to.
Every set of eyes is transfixed on me, on my pain. Including his.
The chorus is high pitched, even for me, but every time it comes around, I hold the note for so long, there are gasps and whoops around the pub.
With every breath I expel, every note I hold on to, I’m letting out more pain.
Then I’m done. I have no more air left in my lungs. Nothing more to say.
There’s a high-pitched whoop from the bar stools. Edme jumps up and down excitedly, trying to put her fingers in her mouth to whistle.
“Woah.” Barman’s eyes are wide. “Got a real Amy Winehouse thing going on there, haven’t you?”
I don’t wait around to see his reaction. I just can’t. I grab my guitar and leg it out of the bar through the front door.
“Your luggage!” Barman shouts after me.
The cold air bites into my lungs, and I walk out onto the street.
“Where the fuck are you going?” The familiar deep voice demands behind me.
I turn to meet his sharp gaze, the stormy dark eyes that have haunted my dreams for weeks.
We stand frozen, two metres apart. I don’t trust myself to move towards him.
“I’m sorry” The words stumble out of my mouth. “It was a stupid crazy idea. I must still be drunk from my leaving party. I’m really sorry I embarrassed you. I -”
“Shush.” He strides towards me, closing the gap between us. His body overshadows mine as those startling brown eyes stare right into me, demanding my full attention.
I’d forgotten how nervous he made me. “No more games, Charlie.”
“This thing between us has been full of incorrect assumptions, jealousy, stubbornness. You thought
I was the father of Jackie’s baby, for fuck’s sake. Is that what you think of me?” My stomach plunges as I hear the evident fury in his words. He’s pissed.
“I understand,” I whisper, studying my feet. “I get it.”
“No, you don’t,” he growls, putting his hand under my chin. “Look at me.” His eyes lock on mine, his demanding gaze softening slightly.
“I’m wiping the slate clean. I love you, Charlie. I’ve never loved anyone like this before. I want you to be my girlfriend; I want you to be my last girlfriend.”
“I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life. I’ve wanted you for 10 years. I’m 41. Someday in the not too distant future, I want us to live together. I want you to be my wife, the mother of my children someday.”
He draws breath.
“So there it is. I’m not expecting you to want all these things right now, but I’m hoping since you travelled halfway around the world that you want something too.”
“All my cards are on the table.” His voice breaks low and gruff. “You have my heart. Do with it what you want.”
He stares at me, waiting, his arms slightly open.
Every neuron in my head fires at once.
“Danny.” I choke back tears and rise up on my tiptoes to meet him. “I love you too. I love you so much.”
He pulls me flush into his warm body, his arms engulfing my hips and his lips on mine, desperate but tender.
All the ups and downs, all the pain was worth it. For this. For now.
He pulls back to meet my eyes, smiling softly. “Good, that makes life easier for both of us.” I bury my head in his chest where I belong.
“I’m sorry I stink.” I mumble from his chest. “Can I go have a shower now, please?”