When the song ended, Tommy went to the microphone. He stretched his arm out in my direction. “That’s our little girl, Poppet, over there on the ivories. Everybody give her a hand.” The crowd clapped and cheered and I smiled from ear to ear. I bowed and then grabbed my backpack and headed offstage. As I passed Tommy I quietly said, “Thank you.”
He gave me a one-armed hug around the shoulders and said, “Anytime. You did great.”
The neon lights from Beale Street glowed in my dark hotel room that night as I dozed off, feeling fulfilled for the first time in a long time.
The next day I found a street fair and browsed the artisan craft stands. I came across a young, homeless man. He had a hiking pack and sleep roll propped against a small folding table with several pieces of silver jewelry laid out. When I got closer I realized the bracelets and rings were all made from bent antique spoon stems.
“Where do you get all the spoons?” I sorted through the bracelets.
“Thrift stores, estate sales, stuff like that,” he said, smiling. He wasn’t bad-looking, but he was very dirty, which made his eyes seem like the brightest green color imaginable. I pulled my hotel key from my pocket and handed it to him. “I have to take off, but I have this room until one p.m. if you want to use it.”
“Really?” he said, eyebrows arched. I nodded. “Wow, thank you so much.”
“Sure.” My eyes were instantly drawn to a bracelet that had the same silver-plate pattern as the spoons from Kell’s. I picked it up. “This is beautiful. How much?”
He reached over and closed my hand around the bracelet. “It’s yours. I want you to have it.” Then he held up the hotel key. “Thank you again for this. I’m dying for a shower.”
I put the bracelet on and then looked up and said, “Thank you.”
After the street fair I took Pops by Sun Studios, where it all started for Johnny Cash and Elvis. I had a passerby take a picture of me sitting on the bench outside, right in front of the big neon sign. I texted the picture to Jenny with the words Me and Pops at Sun.
She texted me back, Love you both. I’m proud of you, Mia.
My last stop was the Memphis Zoo. I spent hours roaming from exhibit to exhibit until it started sprinkling. I saw people hurriedly rushing toward the exit. Looking around at the almost-empty zoo, I said aloud, “To the butterflies!” Inside the enclosure I followed one white butterfly around for several minutes until I noticed a chrysalis. With my hand over my heart, I thought back to my father’s words. It’s the change that happens in here that matters. I cried thoroughly until I allowed myself to accept the finality of death and realize that my father’s love was his legacy and it was living on in me. I knew I was changing and that I was finally feeling like the person I wanted to be.
When I landed in New York I went straight to Central Park and decided to release some of my father’s ashes in Turtle Pond. Staring across to the opposite shoreline, I whispered, “Rest in peace, Pops… and thank you.” A cool breeze caressed the still water, forming faint ripples along the surface. I had closure.
I was grateful to my father for the invaluable gift he had given me with the café, my new friends, the music, and ultimately the freedom to be whoever I wanted to be. Kell’s was a remarkable place in that it allowed people to come together and just be, without judgment. I finally saw the value in that, so I decided I wanted the café to remain what my father had made it.
We continued holding poetry nights there; my piano playing became the usual opening act. I always hoped that Will would show up and treat us to one of his sweet prayers or amazing songs, but he never did. One Thursday night after I played some familiar tunes, I decided that it was time to share some of my own words with the crowd.
Everyone cheered when I cleared my throat and hesitantly removed a piece of paper from my pocket. I looked around and absorbed the faces of my eclectic little crew of friends that I had come to know as family. Martha was smiling with peace and reverence like she was channeling my father. Jenny and Tyler looked a little shocked at my newfound courage, but eventually they too smiled, rooting me on.
Sheil wore a look that said she believed in me and it reminded me of how Will and I had looked at each other when we played music together. It’s what faith looks like and I was glad at that moment to finally be able to recognize it. Some of the other members of the poetry group looked on with encouraging smiles. Many of them were essentially strangers, but they were willing to stand up and bare their souls for one visceral moment every Thursday night in the corner of our little café, and for that I owed them.
“Hi, everyone. First of all, I want to say thank you for coming here each week and giving a little piece of yourself through poetry. This is a really beautiful tradition my father started and I want it to continue for a long, long time. Taking the lead from an amazing person I know, I’ve written a little prayer for all of us—it’s actually more like my promise to you and the café. It’s my first crack at this poetry thing, so take it easy on me…
Share Your Coffee
Share your words
Share your music
Share your love, your passion, your fears
Your hopes, and your dreams
Share your precious heart
Share your wild mind
Share your special soul with me
and I promise to
give you all of mine.
Everyone clapped. I smiled shyly and high-fived a few people on my way back to the counter. Jenny looked like she was about to cry as she wrapped her arms around me. “Ahh, Mia, you’re coming along aren’t you?” she whispered. I folded up the paper and handed it to Tyler.
“Shot in the dark, but would you pass that on to Will for me?” He had sympathy in his eyes and I wondered if he thought it was a futile gesture. It didn’t matter to me how Will reacted to the poem. I was sure he had moved on, but I still wanted to give him those words.
Martha stayed with me to close up Kell’s that night. I took my time washing the old mugs my parents had made with love all those years ago. I ran my fingers over their engraved initials as I thought about the mystical alchemy they must have shared, however brief. Martha came over and hugged me around the shoulders. “Full circle, Mia Pia.”
I looked up and gave her a warm smile. “Love you, Martha.”
“Love you, too.”
“Thank you for everything. You can go, I got this.”
“Ok, see you tomorrow.” She stared at me for a minute before turning and leaving.
After she left, my mind wandered aimlessly as I scrubbed away at the dishes. I felt a sense of peace and satisfaction. I was finally able to own the mistakes I made and although I missed Will like crazy, I was happy at the idea of him being happy, playing his music in a dive somewhere, listening to sound of his soul. I hummed a mindless tune while I thought about the next piece of music I would write. What would become the next song in the soundtrack of my life was starting to take shape when the jingling of the café door startled me. I thought Martha would have locked up, but apparently she knew something I didn’t.
“We’re closed!” I yelled from the back as I quickly dried my hands on a towel. When I turned the corner I saw him, leaning against the inside of the doorway. He was wearing dark jeans, Converse, and a plain white T-shirt. He looked healthy and put together; he could have been wearing a paper bag for all I cared, but I was happy to see him looking so well. His head was down, his hands shoved deep in his pockets as he waited. I stood there silently, burning his image into my mind. When he finally looked up, he took a long cleansing breath while he slowly ran his hand through his hair. When he saw me smile, he grinned from ear to ear with that listening-to-God look. His eyes kissed mine; I sucked in a sharp breath at how his gaze made me feel. God, how I missed his handsome face, those soulful, deep eyes that could say everything with just a glance. He mesmerized me, the way he stared at me, the way his face changed when he saw that I was happy.
“Hey,” he said, his voice lo
w but playful.
“Hey,” I breathed. Our eyes remained locked on each other as he walked toward me. I took a step back but opened my arms and leaned against the counter. He buried his face in my neck and pulled me into a hug. I threw my arms around him and whispered, “Never let me go.”
He tightened his grip as his mouth moved to my ear. “Never.”
“Where have you been?”
“Waiting for you.”
“I’ve been here. Why did you go away?”
“You needed to figure things out on your own. I was just waiting for you to come around.”
“God, I’ve missed you,” I said, my voice cracked and pained.
He leaned back, narrowed his eyes, and studied my face as he ran his thumb across my bottom lip. “Baby… I’ve missed you… I’ve missed these lips.” He kissed me sweetly without hesitation.
I literally went weak in the knees, but it didn’t matter because he was practically holding me off the ground. I tried to deepen the kiss; leaning back I hitched my leg up, pulling him toward me. His mouth stopped; he lifted me onto the counter and rested his hands on my thighs. Looking down, he took a long, deep breath and then looked up with a cocky grin. “Whoa kitten, slow down.” I looked at him with mock disappointment. He chuckled. “I have plans for you, little Mia.”
“What are you gonna do to me, Wilbur?” I whispered, touching my index finger to his lips. He wrapped his hand around my wrist and pulled it away.
“One-track mind you have,” he said, laughing.
“You started it.”
There was a long pause and his expression turned serious. “I have to know that you’re all in.”
“I am,” I said instantly.
“It’s just me, nothing else, no fame, no record deal. Maybe I’ll be a bartender forever, maybe I’ll rent a room from you for four hundred dollars.”
“Just you and your guitar?”
“Yep.”
“I don’t care, that’s all I want. I love you.”
“What did you say?” He smirked and cupped his hand behind his ear.
“I love you.”
“One more ti—”
“I love you,” I said and then socked him in the chest. “Can we go home now?”
“I’ll walk you home. I have somewhere to be.”
I scrunched my eyebrows. “Where?”
“I can’t tell you. You just have to trust me,” he said as he motioned toward the door.
“I trust you.”
“Good, let’s go.”
When we got to my apartment, he stood on the landing. I motioned for him to come in, but he just shook his head and smiled.
“Come on, Will. Come to bed?” I said, arching my eyebrows.
“You have no idea how bad I want to.”
“Then why won’t you?”
He smiled. “I told you, I have somewhere to be. If I get into bed with you now, I’ll never get out.”
“I’m okay with that.”
He leaned in and kissed me, but pulled away too soon. “I’ll come and get you tomorrow morning.” He pecked my lips again and then kissed my nose. “Dream about me, okay, sweet thing?” he said as he turned and headed down the stairs.
“Always,” I whispered, too low for him to hear.
Lying in my bed that night, I wondered if Will was an apparition. He was just too good to be true: too forgiving, too sweet, too beautiful. I remembered someone saying crazy people don’t know they’re crazy. Surely I had imagined Will that night. I was truly losing my mind, there was just no way that man would want me back after what I had done. I didn’t deserve him. My own fear of not being worthy started to cloud my mind again, but I stopped it. I remembered what I learned from Gibran on love, to return home at eventide with gratitude; And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips. So that’s what I decided to do as I dozed off, perfectly tranquil, thinking about how grateful I was to have Will in my life again. I also made a tiny request to the universe regarding the subject of my impending dream…
I woke up the next morning to the sound of my own voice as I squirmed under the glorious sensation of my dream. After thanking the universe, I opened my eyes and smiled at the sunshine coming through the window. In the shower I took my time shaving my legs and afterward I patiently dried my hair and clipped one side back. I put on a blue and white striped sundress and a brass cuff bracelet and some lip gloss. I stood at the counter and flipped through a magazine, paying little attention to what I was actually looking at. Instead my mind was on the kiss Will and I had shared in the café and in the doorway the night before. I touched my fingers to my lips and closed my eyes. What if it were all part of the dream? I went to the door and replayed what had happened. I looked at the space where I’d stood while we kissed and wondered when reality stopped and the dream started.
I jumped, startled by the sound of the buzzer. “Hello?”
“Hey, kitten, come down. I have a cab waiting.”
Yes! He was real!
When I reached the bottom of the stairs, Will swung the door open and pulled me into his arms, kissing me passionately. “I’ve been thinking about that kiss for hours. You look beautiful, as always.”
“Thank you.”
He was clean-shaven, wearing the black pinstriped suit pants, his usual belt and wallet chain, and a black T-shirt; he looked and smelled like heaven. I looked him up and down, letting my eyes pause where his pants hung so perfectly. When I got back to his eyes, I smiled sheepishly.
“What?” he said with a brazen smirk.
“Nothing… I just… I love you in black.”
“I know, I can tell.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the cab.
He gave the cabby an address in Brooklyn. “Are we going to your place?”
He just nodded and squeezed my hand. When we got across Manhattan Bridge into Brooklyn, he turned to face me.
“Okay, I want you to do something for me.”
“Anything.”
“Close your eyes and just trust me for a while. I know that’s hard for you, but you’re just gonna have to have faith, okay?” he said, chuckling.
“I can do that now.” I closed my eyes. He took my hand and placed the digital four-track recorder in it.
“Hold this for a while and don’t open your eyes.”
“Okay.”
When the car stopped he took my hand and told me where to step. I felt us enter a building. “No peeking.”
I heard him exchange “hellos” with a few people before we went through another door and then we were in a room that had a familiar plastic, electronic smell. He told me to stand still; the room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. He stood behind me and touched my hand that held the digital recorder. “This has four tracks,” he whispered, then he took my other hand and placed it on something with dials and knobs. “This is limitless. Open your eyes.”
I looked around, quickly absorbing my surroundings. I stood in the middle of a sizable, state-of-the-art recording studio with high-tech buttons and dials everywhere. Beyond the glass I saw instruments and microphones galore along with an isolated vocal booth. The only thing I didn’t see was another soul in sight.
“Did you rent this out for us?” I asked tentatively. He just shook his head and then pulled me toward another door that had a rectangular window in it. I peered through the window into the adjacent room, which could easily accommodate a full symphony orchestra. I spotted two Steinway grand pianos, timpani drums, and a xylophone in the corner along with dozens of chairs and music stands. He appraised me, waiting for a response, but I just stood there dumbfounded. That’s when I glanced over at a desk with a pad of paper that was embossed with the name Alchemy Sound Studios. My eyes shot open at the realization.
“This is yours? How?”
“Well, it was many nights in the storage closet, cheap rent thanks to you, slinging a whole lotta cocktails at the Montosh, writing and producing credit on a numb
er-one song, and some great referrals from Frank.” He paused for me to say something, but I couldn’t speak. “We’re booked for six months solid. We have some big names that Live Wire is sending our way.”
“Our way?”
He pointed to the larger room. “For you… to score, for film. “
I just stood there, mouth gaping. He gestured around the room. “This is my passion, to be part of the process for others in a place like this. I’ll still make my own music because I love doing it, but this… this is my dream, Mia… And my hope… is that it’s your dream, too.”
I reached out to him, my hands shaking, legs trembling. He smiled and laughed lightly as he pulled me into his arms.
“You okay, baby?”
“Yeah, more than okay.” I thought about all the mystery throughout the last year. Will spending days away from the apartment, working on websites with Tyler, the master plan Frank referred to, it was all part of the dream and I was included in that and it was all coming true.
“So will you do this with me, Mia?” he said, looking hopeful.
“Yes,” I breathed.
“And will you play music with me every day?”
“Yes.”
He got down on one knee, popped open a ring box and said, “For the rest of your life?”
Sweet Thing Page 25
