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Raine
Over the last year I’ve performed in places I could never have imagined—on Tower Bridge in London, the Pont Neuf bridge in Paris, the Charles Bridge in Prague. (A lot of bridges, really.) But now, as I look out at the familiar faces before me, I can’t help but think that the Local is my favorite.
When my set ends, I find myself in a seemingly endless swirl of conversation. It’s only once the pub closes that I’m finally able go looking for Jack, who disappeared as soon as I finished my final song of the night. At first, I think he’s gone home without saying goodbye. The kitchen is quiet, save for the steady sound of the sink as Róisín cleans up. His office is empty. I’m about to give up and trudge upstairs for the night when I notice the back door to the pub is slightly ajar.
Jack lifts his head when I ease the door open and sit beside him on the top step. He’s hunched forward with his hands laced between his knees. He flexes his fingers slowly, and I can tell he’s resisting the urge to tap out one of his rhythms. I can’t help but feel that whateveris bothering him is my fault. He wanted me to playmysong, and I just... couldn’t. As soon as I said I had one more song and strummed the opening chords, I noticed the faces at the tables before me, faces of people I have come to know and love, people I really,reallywant to like me, and my fingers shifted to something different. Someone else’s song.
“I’m sorry,” I say, and press my shoulder gently against his.
Jack searches my face as if he has no idea what I’m apologizing for.
“My song... I didn’t play it.”
“That’s all right. I shouldn’t have pushed. I was just hoping...” He lets the words trail off. He looks away from me and swipes a hand through his hair. I notice the hilt of the dagger on his neck and want to trace it with my fingers.
“You were just hoping... what?”
He laces his fingers together again. “Nothing... I was just hoping you had a good time, is all.”
“I did.”
“Good.”
I’m skeptical that’s all he was hoping for, because he seems so... sad. He smiles at me, but I’m not sure what to make of it. I think of the tickets to London I purchased and already know he’s in no place to travel. But there’s a small part of me that hopes I’m wrong, and unfortunately that little glimmer of hope is enough for me to open my mouth.
I drop my gaze to my boots and notice I’m fidgeting with the frayed end of one of my laces. “Do you ever wish you could just... get away from it all?”
He’s quiet for a moment. I feel his attention shift to my boots too, and I let go of my torn-up laces to stuff my hands into the kangaroo pocket of his hoodie.
“All the time,” he says. He nudges my shoulder with his. “It must be nice to live by your own rules.”
“It’s okay.” I wiggle my toes in my boots. The voice of reason tells me not to bring up London or traveling, but the words are out of my mouth before I can stop myself. “You could, if you wanted. Get away from it all. Maybe we could do a little overnight to London? I could show you all of my favorite busking spots.”
My heart is racing when I glance at Jack. At the pained look on his face, I feel as beat-up and worn down as my dingy hiking boots. “Never mind. That was a silly idea.”
“Raine—”
“Who cares about busking spots, right? Totally not worth the plane ticket.”
Jack places his hand on my cheek, and the absolute certainty of his touch stills me. “It’s not silly. I want to see your favorite markets, and parks, and bridges, and whatever else you want to show me.”
“You do?”
His thumb strokes my cheek. “Of course I do.”
“Then come with me,” I say. As soon as the words leave my mouth, that sadness returns to Jack’s face, and I want to take them back.
“I wish I could,” he murmurs. “But—”
“No need to explain,” I say. My face is warm with embarrassment. I turn away and his hand falls from my cheek. “I wasn’t thinking.”
“I would love to travel but—”
“You’ve got a real life here,” I say. “You have the pub and your family. You can’t just... spend your life fucking around, like I do.”
“Raine.”
“I wasn’t really asking you to come with me,” I say. “I was just talking. It didn’t mean anything.”
