Page 51 of Rock Me

"Jez? Did you hear me? Why are you in the hospital?"

"Um, I don't really want to talk about it."

"Sorry." She leans right back, as if my hesitation to answer her question is a personal rejection. But it isn’t about her.

"No, it's okay! I mean, I'm okay. I just, I'm enjoying being here with you. Not having to talk about my blood pressure, or how I'm feeling, or when I'm going to be better. I'm just... I like talking to you." And I hold my hands out, to show they’re empty. Because it’s really as simple as that. I just like being here with her.

"I like talking to you too."

"And, I like hearing you play."

"I haven't played for a while. I stopped. For a few years. But when you sent me that first note, I couldn't stop myself."

The idea that she would ever stop baffles me. I know there must be a story behind it but I understand more than anyone, that sometimes… there are circumstances beyond your control. I hope I’ll learn the reason one day though.

For now, though, I just say, “I’m glad. You should always play."

She pulls the ukulele onto her lap, plucking a little melody on the strings. "Do you want me to play something now?"'

I grin. "Pretty much more than anything else in the world."

"What would you like to hear?"

"Anything you want to play.”

“Something old, something new?"

"How about something borrowed and blue?"

She thinks for a moment, and then nods her head, "I’ve got it. Perfect."

She shuffles forward on the couch, bracing the ukulele on her right knee. Her throat clears and I get a thrill at the thought they she might be singing along.

I sit back and take it all in.

She plays Love is Blue, L'amour est bleu. Her voice, husky and high, painting my world with color. As she sings, her voice grows stronger and stronger with confidence, her foot tapping on the floor and her head tilts to the side and her eyes flutter closed.

On the other hand, mine grow wider. Watching her. Falling for her.

She ends the song with a drawn-out chord. Her eyes open as the last of the note fades away and her lips curve up high in a bright smile.

"Like I said, beautiful.” I let her interpret what I’m referring to.

"I liked playing for you... I don’t know why, I feel like, you get it. What my music is about."

"I think I do too."

"Did I play for you... before?"

"No.” I shake my head. And now the past me finally gets to know what it’s like to be jealous of present me. “I didn't know until I heard you the other day."

"That's good."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, because there’s something you’re learning about me now, too. Instead of just the other way around. And well, this is me. The me as I am now. In all my fucking glory.”

"Nice to meet you, now Noémie. Potty mouth and all."