“Can you shut that shit off?” I shouted to the cooks, but they ignored me. I steeled myself, and cleaned off the tables quickly, trying not to think of Desi and the last time I saw him. When I was done, I wrapped myself up in my coat and boots and started out the door.
As soon as I pushed through the doors to the outside, I heard a familiar piano tune. I paused and looked around quickly for the source of the music. The cooks had turned theirs off fifteen minutes ago, and yet, I could hear the beginning piano to Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believing”.
Suddenly, someone started singing over Steve Perry. I went down the steps and into the parking lot.
“Randy?” I squinted, seeing a figure standing on top of a car at the end of the parking lot. I started toward him, and Desi’s other friends walked out from behind it. Just as the guitar was getting louder, they climbed onto the car’s hood and trunk and the music got louder. Soon, they started singing it together.
What was this? They had air guitars and invisible drums and a hairbrush for a microphone. I shook my head. Was this Desi’s doing? Why? Could he not come, so he sent his friends to entertain me instead? This was just some stupid game for him. It started to snow again, and I began to walk backward. They didn’t understand how hurtful this entire scene was. I was going home.
The long guitar solo came and Randy and the others pointed behind me. I turned, and there he was. Desi, at the far end of the parking lot, holding roses and mouthing the words to the song that had made me cry so much these last few weeks. He started toward me and I broke out into a sprint. My body collided with his and we fell to the ground.
“You said you hated this song,” he said after I stopped kissing him. “I didn’t want you to associate it with something bad. I don’t want you to have any memories about me that are sad. Only good things from now on, okay?”
“Only good memories.”
“And this is one of them?” He motioned to his friends still performing their hearts out.
“Absolutely. It completely erases my previous memories of this song.” We walked together to his friends, who were now performing “Lights”.
“Good,” he grinned. “Because hiring a live band isn’t cheap.”
