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“Thatis the problem,” he says, sitting up quickly. “It’sgood, but it’s notgreat. It doesn’t have the full gut-punch of the original,” he brandishes the diary at me again. I really wish he’d put it away. Having evidence of my old crazy crush staring me right in the face is more disconcerting than I’d like to admit. I look like aloonin that old diary entry! Especially when you think who it’s about.
“This song has potential. But something is off. How do I get it from good to great?” Ben asks, turning to me seriously, his dark eyes pleading with me.
“I don’t know, Ben, you’re the songwriter,” I say, getting up and grabbing a damp cloth to wipe down the now dust-free shelves with. I can’t stare into those blazing eyes for too long when they get that tortured artist look to them.
“Yeah, but you’re the poet!” He retorts. “Your words pack more power. What’s your secret?”
“Well, when I wrote that, it was coming from the heart,” I say slowly, averting my gaze from his. “Maybe you need to stay truer to the diary,” I add carefully. “What else is in there that you could adapt for your song lyrics?”
“Hm, let’s see.”Ben scans the pages and then his eyes light up as he finds a passage he likes. “How about this?”
“Every time I see him, it’s like an out-of-body experience. I feel like I’m floating, awash in his presence, drawn in by his magnetism. Hearing HIM laugh makes ME happy. It’s so weird. It’s like his joy is my joy. And he seems to have experienced so little joy in life.”
“I mean, that’s so deeply caring, you know?” Ben asks, looking up at me. “You totally get how much she—you—care about this dude!”
“Well, I think you just hit the nail on the head,” I say, turning to face him. “Caring. That’s a very feminine energy, normally, right?”
“Yeah,” Ben says slowly. “So maybe tap more into that. Harness that feminine energy. But translate it into your macho rocker vibe, I guess,” I add with a wry grin.
“Hm, interesting way to put it,” he says, looking thoughtful. “Want to hit pause on your cleaning crusade and help me with this? I could really use your insights,” he says, looking serious.
“You know, I actually work better when my hands are busy,” I say with a shrug. “Want to try it?” I gesture towards the mop and bucket waiting at the door.
“Sneaky move. But sure, worth a shot,” he says, giving me a sly grin as he walks over to the mop and dips it into the bucket.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say sweetly, making my eyes wide with mock Bambi-like innocence.
“Sure, sure. You got me cleaning. Happy now?”
“I’ll be even happier if I can get you through this song.”
“Okay, so talk me through it,” Ben says, as he swishes the mop over the floor rhythmically. “What am I missing? How do I convey that caring element, but in a ‘macho’ way?”
I thought he’d get offended that I called his vibe “macho rocker” and am pleasantly surprised when he takes the comment in stride.
“Well, let’s go back to the source text,” I say as I continue wiping down shelves. “Think about that feminine perspective. How does the girl feel?”
“She’s clearly crazy about this guy.”
“Sure, and how do you feel about that emotion? What does it evoke in you?”
“Honestly, it’s kinda scary, but also kinda wonderful.”
“Scary?”
“Not like stalker scary,” he says quickly. “More like scary how someone can care that much for another human being.Thatis scary to me,” he says softly.
I pause to look at Ben, perturbed by the insight he’s just inadvertently given me into his heart of hearts. For a brief moment, I wonder… Has he ever been in love?Reallove? Head-over-heels, topsy-turvy love? When I reflect back on his ‘relationship’ history, which has always been widely publicized, I doubt it. After all, he’s mostly been single or had a new woman on his arm for a few months at a time.
“So what else?” Ben asks, the furrow of consternation in his brow deepening. “What else am I missing?”
“Well, I mean, imagine something like that was written about you,” I say slowly.
You’re playing with fire, Lacy.
Against my better judgment, I go on. “Or, what if it was written about you?”
Stop it!My brain screeches, but I can’t.
