wonder if he’ll say anything, or just play.
Luke turns on his bench, facing the crowd and pulling the mic nearer to his mouth. “Thank you all for coming out tonight to support a place that is very dear to me. I don’t have the official numbers, but I think”—he raises a hand to shield his eyes, smiling—“that we’ve done all right. I hope to see you all this summer at Liberty Live, where we’re gonna have a host of amazing new talents lined up for your enjoyment.”
Luke wipes his hands down his jeans. “I have one more song for you. And I think you all know the one. My twin brother, Cullen, decided to do me a solid with the girl I was crushing on by releasing this song into the world. Turns out, it was bigger than either of us ever anticipated. So big, I never felt right telling the girl. I worried it might scare her away. It’s a bit intense, because, well, I’m a bit intense, it turns out.
“But I messed up. By not telling the girl, I mean. And that girl went from the one I had a crush on”—Luke’s eyes zero in on me, and I can’t breathe—“to the one I fell in love with. So”—he exhales into the mic—“there it is. I wrote this song for a girl named Vada Carsewell, and it’s called ‘Break for You.’”
At first, he closes his eyes, but he changes his mind and opens them, looking back at me and winking, before turning to his piano. He counts it off with his dad and Phil and begins to sing.
Before now
Not the slightest inclination
Racked with
Hopeless indignation
Except when I sink into bed
Each night you’re in my head
It’s not
That I was born unfeeling
More like
I have some issues dealing
With the thought of offering
Them to you
Till now
Everything’s been pale gray
Outlined with beige
and stony-faced whey
But what if
You misunderstood me
(Would you know
I meant this sweetly?)
That I might
Be willing to for you?
Perhaps that, my heart could break
For you
Fissures split
Along my surface
Snapping my
Carefully crafted courage
Echoes of
My former, brave self
I can’t
Seem to bind all the pieces
What’s left
What’s revealed is the least
It’s
All of me exposed for wanting you
Till now
Everything’s been pale gray
Outlined with beige
and stony-faced whey
But what if
You misunderstood me
(Would you know
I meant this sweetly?)
That I might
Be willing to for you?
Perhaps that, my heart could break
For you
Every song I hear
They all bring you to mind
The way your hair falls
The way your eyes shine
The way my hands shake
When you say my name
And how I can’t concentrate
Until you say it again
Every song I hear
I just had to give you mine
About the way your hair falls
Across the smile in your eyes
The song swells and stretches into the air, his face scrunched up and his hands slamming gracelessly against the keys. It steals my breath and makes my heart ache. This isn’t the same as playing the song over my earbuds at night and wishing it was about me. About us.
Instead it’s listening with all the knowing and understanding within me. It’s hearing the words wrenched from inside of him and feeling them thrum through my veins with each beat of my heart.
It’s something I will never ever forget as long as I live.
Till now
Everything’s been pale gray
Outlined with beige
and stony-faced whey
But what if
You misunderstood me
(Would you know
I meant this sweetly?)
That I might
Be willing to for you?
Perhaps that, my heart could break
For you
But perhaps my heart could break for you
Perhaps my heart would break for you
When the song is over, I can’t contain it any longer. Mike from the Loud Lizard is standing guard at the stage and doesn’t even try to stop me from hopping up past him. Luke sees me coming for him and stands, knocking over his bench in his haste, and before he can say a word, I’m flinging my arms around him and choking the life out of him. He doesn’t seem to mind, pulling me against him just as hard.
“I’m so sorry—” he starts, and I cut him off.
“Oh my gosh, shut up. I wanted it to be about me. So badly. I love you, I love you, I love you, you ridiculously selfless boy.”
This time, he’s the one ending the conversation, kissing me hard, and lifting me clear off my feet, swinging me around with a whoop.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”
“I’m not,” I say, kissing him one last time on the cheek. “This way I got to hear you sing Duritz, too.”
Behind the Music
By Vada Carsewell
(submitted for consideration)
Last night, I had the privilege of witnessing