lot of chords, either. But they already had a conscience—not like the Pistols, who were only ever in it for the money. Right from the start they were giving voice to a whole generation that the system had let down.”
She studied me for a moment.
“Well, at least you know your stuff,” she said. “Are you a musician?”
I nodded. “I used to play the trumpet, but I don’t have the lip for it anymore.”
“Did you ever play with him?”
“No, I was in an R&B cover band in the seventies, but times were hard and I ended up living in the squats for awhile, same as him. The closest I got to playing the punk scene was when I was in a ska band, and later doing some Two-Tone. But the music I loved to play the most was always jazz.”
“What’s your name?”
“Eddie Ramone.”
“You’re kidding.”
I smiled. “No, and before you ask, I got my name honestly—from my dad.”
“I’m Sarah Blue.”
I glanced at her hair. “So which came first?”
“The name. Like you, it came with the family.”
“I guess people who knew you could really say they knew the Blues.”
“Ha ha.”
“Sorry.”
“ ’sokay.”
I waited a moment, then asked, “So is there more to your melancholy than the loss of an old favorite musician?”
She shrugged. “It just brought it all home to me, how that night at the Standish was, like, one of those pivotal moments in my life, only I didn’t recognize it. Or maybe it’s just that that’s when I started making a lot of bad choices.” She touched her hair. “It’s funny, but the first thing I did when I heard he’d died was put the eyebrow piercing back in and dye my hair blue like it was in those days—by way of mourning. But I think I’m mourning the me I lost as much as his passing.”
“We can change our lives.”
“Well, sure. But we can’t change the past. See, that night I hooked up with Brian. I thought he was into all the things I was. I wanted to change the world and make a difference. Through music, but also through activism.”
“So you played?”
“Yeah. Guitar—electric guitar—and I sang. I wrote songs, too.”
“What happened?”
“I pissed it all away. Brian had no ambition except to party hearty and that whole way of life slipped into mine like a virus. I never even saw the years slide away.”
“And Brian?”
“I dumped him after a couple of years, but by then I’d just lost my momentum.”
“You could still regain it.”
She shook her head. “Music’s a young person’s game. I do what I can in terms of being an environmental and social activist, but the music was the soul of it for me. It was everything. Whatever I do now, I just feel like I’m going through the motions.”
“You don’t have to be young to make music.”
“Maybe not. But whatever muse I had back in those days pissed off and left me a long time ago. Believe me, I’ve tried. I used to get home from work and pick up my guitar almost every day, but the spark was just never there. I don’t even try anymore.”
“I hear you,” I said. “I never had the genius—I just saw it in others. And when you know what you could be doing, when the music in your head’s so far beyond what you can pull out of your instrument . . . ”
“Why bother.”
I gave a slow nod, then studied her for a moment. “So if you could go back and change something, is that what it would be? You’d go to that night and go your own way instead of hooking up with this Brian guy?”
She laughed. “I guess. Though I’d have to apply myself as well.”
“I can send you back.”
“Yeah, right.”
I didn’t take my gaze from those blue eyes of hers. I just repeated what I’d said. “I can send you back.”
She let me hold her gaze for a couple of heartbeats, then shook her head.
“You almost had me going there,” she said.
“I can send you back,” I said a third time.
Third time’s the charm and she looked uneasy.
“Send me back in time.”
I nodded.
“To warn myself.”
“No. You’d go back, with all you know now. And it’s not really back. Time doesn’t run in a straight line. It all happens at the same time. Past, present, future. It’s like this is you now.” I touched my left shoulder. “And this is you then.” I touched the end of a finger on my left hand. “If I hold my arm