Page 26 of Rock Me

The ending topples like a cascade of chaotic notes from the instrument. It's thrilling. It's been so long since I’ve experienced something musically new, something musically different. Sometimes I envy the people who hear one of the band's songs for the first time, or experience their first concert with us, because you can never have that again... your first time.

But this – this I'll remember this for a long, long time.

I take a breath and step into the room, forgetting all manners, all etiquette, that I'm encroaching on a stranger's space. In a hospital of all places.

Her back is turned to me, bent slightly over, her shoulder lifting and falling with the movement of her hand on the strings. Her blonde hair is long, pulled into a messy, tangled ponytail. She's dressed in normal clothes, like me, jeans and a T-shirt.

I can't tell much else, except that she's young.

The skin along the back of her neck is taught and pale. We're all pale in here, I can't help but think.

But there's something familiar about her. About the way she tilts her head.

She starts to play another song and her foot taps along to the beat. There's something so welcoming about it, I speak before I can help myself.

"Your... your playing is amazing."

She jumps, her hands stopping immediately and she spins around, her mouth in open in a silent gasp.

And it’s my turn to gasp.

Oh my god.

It's her.

It's the girl in the alley.

No, it can't be.

I must be dreaming. I must have dreamt her into being. Wanted to see her so badly, that I’m hallucinating her. It can’t really be her. Here. Right in front of me.

She's standing up, and stepping back.

It's her. I know it is. I’d know her anywhere.

Say something, you complete buffoon.

"Oh my god, it's you. What are you doing here? I can't believe it's you," I ramble, no control over what I want to say.

My hand reaches out and takes her by the wrist, like it's the most natural thing in the world. And I smile, because, suddenly, everything is okay.

I've found her. She's right here.

Except, she wrenches her hand out of mine and takes three steps back, her eyes suddenly flooding with fear.

"Who are you?" she's asking me, her hand reaching for the call button by the bed.

"It's me," I tell her, confused. "It's Jez," I say, before I remember we never told each other our names. I take a step forward, desperate for her to acknowledge that she recognizes me. What's going on, how can she not remember?

"I'm sorry. I don't... I don't know who you are,” she says, still shaking her head.

Is this a joke? Is she playing? "How can you not...?

"Noémie, are you okay?" Toni says, stepping in behind me into the room.

Noémie. Her name is Noémie. Of course, it is. It’s beautiful and unique. French.

"No. This – this man..” she starts, pointing to me.

"I'm Jez... We're..." I don’t even know how to finish. We're what? Friends? Partners in a urinal crime. "She... she knows me." I repeat, as if that will force her to drop this game and admit she’s just joking.

"No," she shakes her head again, harder this time. "I've never met him before in my life."

Desperate, I look into her eyes, and see nothing that reflects recognition of me in her pupils.

Suddenly nothing is okay again.