“‘I’ve Just Seen a Face.’” I wanted to learn all Paul’s songs.
Ron patted the space next to him. “You’ll need a capo for that one.” He reached over to his nightstand and pulled out a capo, then clamped it onto the neck of his guitar.
“What does that do?”
“Changes the pitch,” he said. He went on to explain that even though a chord is fingered the same way, a capo shortens the strings and takes the music up a step. He handed me the guitar. “Find your E chord.”
I did as he asked.
“Now find E minor, and play two notes, together, a sixth apart. Got it?”
I glared at him. “No.”
He chuckled. “Watch me.” Ron took back the guitar, starting the song in a slower tempo. But when I joined in to sing along with him, he notched it back up, and we finished the song together.
“You’re a much better singer than me,” he said.
“No way.”
“Oh yeah you are. Emotion bleeds through your voice in every note. I have dreams for us, SuSu. We’re gonna be the next big family duo. Like the Everly Brothers.”
I crooked my pinkie and reached for his. “Pinkie swear?”
“Pinkie swear. What should we call ourselves?”
With a finger to my chin I said, “Suzannah and Ronsounds pretty good to me.”
He laughed and rubbed his knuckles atop my head. “Yeah, butRcomes beforeS.Ron and Suzannah.Much better.”
I couldn’t have cared less what we called ourselves. All I knew was I wanted to sing in a band. With my brother.
We threw away our plates in an overflowing garbage can, then headed back toward the bowl. As we strolled down Ho Chi Minh Trail, I obsessed over asking Leon about a girlfriend. I knew I had to ask him, whether I wanted to or not. My crush had blossomed into something I never thought possible, certainly not at Woodstock.
In a matter of hours, we’d be saying goodbye. I couldn’t afford to fall for someone whose heart was elsewhere. Not even for this weekend of free love. Maybe others could do it, maybe Livy could do it, but I sure couldn’t.
I had to find out.
As we passed through an opening in the woods, he led me over to a flower patch—a weed patch, actually—with tiny daisylike blooms. He picked several, then tied the long stems together before placing the wreath on my head. “Can you pretend these are lavender blossoms from France?”
I reached up to touch the wreath. After taking an exaggerated sniff, I said, “I smell the lavender. It smells sweet. Like you.”
Leon sneered. “I bet my sisters would argue with you about that.”
“Why? Aren’t you sweet to your sisters?”
“Sometimes.”
I drew my shoulders back, peering at him in jest.
With a toothy, kindhearted smile, he said, “Just kidding. I love my sisters. I’m not ashamed to say it.”
“Are you sweet to your girlfriend?” I asked casually, even though my pulse blasted inside my eardrums. It seemed like a benign way to find out. I expected him to say,What are you talking about? I don’t have a girlfriend.Instead, he blinked, jerking his head back like he’d beencaught red-handed. A dazed look transformed his face as he shifted his eyeballs skyward.
My heart plummeted. A heaviness settled inside my stomach, like a tapeworm shredding my intestines apart. A tear or two, much to my dismay, sprang into my lids, stinging my eyes.No! You will not cry,I told myself, biting down on the insides of my cheeks.
“Not anymore.”
A beat passed before his words sank in. “You aren’t sweet to your girlfriend anymore?” I blurted out, rather sarcastically.
