Page 107 of Goodbye Days

“Hey. I hope y’all had fun tonight,” he says, with a sudden hint of bashfulness as he meets our eyes.

Jesmyn laughs and smoothes her hair. “Oh, yeah, completely. It was amazing,” she stammers.

The way she’s all jittery and giggly and looking at him. My stomach coils again.

“We were near where you grew up last week,” Jesmyn says as Dearly signs her poster.

He looks up with a slight, sad smile. “Oh, yeah? I don’t go back there much.”

Jesmyn tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. “So—I’m a musician too.”

“Nice,” Dearly says. “What do you play?”

“Classical piano. But I also write and record songs.”

“Man, music was my refuge when I was your age.”

“I’d love to play keyboard for you after I finish college,” Jesmyn says.

Her fawning tone is making my blood froth.

Dearly twists around to a man standing behind him, chatting with a couple of beautiful women who seem to be VIPs. “Will? Hey, Will? Give me your card.” The man hands Dearly a card.

Dearly turns and hands the card to Jesmyn. “When you finish college, contact Will; he’s my manager. But only when you finish college, okay?”

“Okay,” Jesmyn says, breathless. “So. One more thing. That song you played for your friend really meant a lot to us. I just lost my boyfriend, who was his best friend.” She points at me.

I shift my weight uncomfortably from side to side. Trying to look casual.

“I’m sorry,” Dearly says softly. “I’ve been there.” Something else has replaced his bashfulness. “I hope you find peace eventually.”

“Did you?” Jesmyn asks.

Dearly gets a wistful and distant look in his eyes. “Not yet.”

“Any tips?” Jesmyn ignores the tangible impatience of the people behind us.

Dearly ignores them too. “Stick with the people you love and who love you. Stick with the music.”

“That sounds like solid advice,” Jesmyn says. “Anyway, amazing show. Thanks.”

Dearly thanks us for coming, and we leave, making way for the next devotees in line to receive Communion.

“Okay, I am, like, buzzing right now. I’m probably going to stay up all night playing music. That was intense,” Jesmyn says.

“Yeah, it was cool,” I say without conviction, pretending to focus intently on the road.

“I mean, did it not blow your mind?”

“Pshew.” I make an exploding motion from my head.

“How is somebody even that brilliant?”

“Yeah, I thought you were about to ask Dearly to marry you.” I hope she takes that as a joke, so I can say it without consequence. But even I can tell that my accompanying laugh is a bit too caustic.

If Jesmyn were a video-game character, her “exuberance status bar” would have zeroed out after that hit. “Um. No.”

“I was kidding,” I mutter.