Amber’s face was pink from the club’s neon sign that colored the sidewalk, too. She had shown up, joined my jam session unannounced, then asked me to follow her outside. In a pair of black leather pants and a sequin tank top, she looked as she ever did. Only, I wasn’t what I used to be anymore, and nothing about her moved anything in me.
“Jerry told you the truth.”
“Okay, but he sort of hinted that it was just for the green card. Said she was like forty or something.” Her scoffing expression was meant for me to join her in jeering the ridiculousness.
“She is.”
“Even better! You’ll get your green card via her and be with me. I missed you.” She sent a hand to my chest and smiled in a way that might have had my pre-June self on my knees. Now, I didn’t even care what had caused her change of heart.
I removed her hand from me. “I’m in love with my wife.”
She laughed. Then, when she realized she was the only one laughing and I just stood there, watching her do so, her smile tightened into a thin line, and her head jerked forward. “You’re serious?”
I didn’t reply.
“You’re giving up on our second chance for an elderly woman?” She looked incredulous. I wasn’t even incredulous that she would consider forty elderly.
“I’m giving up on everyone for my wife. I’m in love with her. Like I’ve never been with anyone in my life.”
Her mouth was agape for a moment before she spoke again. “So, where is she?” Amber looked around her theatrically.
“Here,” I said, briefly putting a hand over the left side of my chest, where the rose tattoo was.
“My boyfriend is leaving me for an older woman,” she called toward a group of women who had come out of the club in a chorus of chatter and laughter.
One of them went, “Aww.”
“Gotta go back inside.Ciao.” I left her standing there and re-entered the club. The dent she had left in me had all been straightened out months ago.
Although I didn’t have June, yet, I knew now that my first luckiest day was entering Luigi’s shop because it had led me here. My second was meeting Jerry, for the same reason. And my third luckiest day was Amber dumping me. I was still hoping for my happiest day.
On Monday nights, the floor was completely ours, which was why I had come here tonight. I needed to be with friends who focused on instruments rather than on empty talk. The sparse crowd was just a background and mostly busy at the bar. So, we were playing for ourselves, and no one cared that none of us was a good singer; exactly our purpose. A few from the audience clapped and whooped at the end of every piece, but that wasn’t why we were playing up there.
I picked up my Strat from the stool and resumed my spot next to Gil, who played bass tonight. I joined in the middle of U2’s “Every Breaking Wave,” nodding at the drummer, who was new to me.
After playing R.E.M. next, I began with the opening chords of “Harvest Moon.” Davey tuned his Washburn, but we soon all fell into the tune, and John, on the acoustic, who had the best voice out of all of us, sang as lead.
There wasn’t a harvest moon in the night sky outside, but I felt every one of Neil Young’s words. “When we were strangers … when we were lovers, I loved you with all my heart.”
“Because I’m still in love with you,” I joined at the chorus.
The second time we repeated it, a loud, out-of-tune voice joined us from the audience.
I was dreaming her, my fingers strumming by themselves, my gaze on the deep blue body of the Strat that reminded me of her eyes. But that off-key voice made me raise my eyes.
She stood next to the empty, small, round tables and sang out loud.
I looked at the people who were playing with me to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating her. John was smiling at her encouragingly, nodding as he sang. Davey made that nod and smile ofthanks for the enthusiasmwhen she went completely off-tune in the line about wanting to see your loved one dance again.
I looked again, and our eyes locked in the dim club-ambience lights.
Her voice went quieter, as if her throat had clogged, but she kept singing.
I removed the strap, put my guitar down, then went off-stage to her.
In a royal blue fitted dress with a deep V-neck that cinched her waist and reached just above her knees, she looked ravishing. But she could have come here with all her forty shades of beige, and she’d still be the most beautiful woman for me.
I didn’t know how many steps there really were between the stage and where she stood, but it felt like a thousand. I didn’t know how loud my friends played because I couldn’t hear anything except June’s voice. I had no idea who else was there because all I could see was her, standing there a bit embarrassed with the club’s lights reflecting in her eyes.
