Chapter 3 - Young and So Alive

Mike woke up with a strange tune in his head. He sat up and grabbed his guitar, trying to capture the strains of music before they drifted back into his subconscious. After a few minutes’ strumming, he ended up with a sketchy melody that he liked well enough, but knew there could be more to. Of course his mind was elsewhere again, and that certainly didn’t help his musical concentration. He swung himself out of bed and threw on some clothes, vague intentions for the day dancing in his head.

Ten minutes later, he pushed open the door to the general store, which was basically the town hangout. He spotted Nolan standing in the corner with a cup of coffee and went over to him.

“Hey man,” he said, “Let’s take a drive.”

Nolan raised his eyebrows. “All right. Why?”

Mike shrugged. “No reason. C’mon, let’s go.” He headed toward the door and gestured for Nolan to follow him. Nolan downed the rest of his coffee and trailed Mike out to the car.

Mike had already started the engine when Nolan slid into the passenger seat. Soon they were traveling slowly down the town’s main road, getting friendly waves from practically everyone who saw them. When they reached an intersection, Mike took a sharp right onto a deserted back street and gunned it.

“You’ve got energy this morning,” Nolan observed, “Now level with me, man, what’s going on?”

“I told you, nothin’,” Mike replied, not really knowing why he had invited Nolan along, except possibly because he felt the need to have someone there while he sorted out his emotions.

“Come on,” Nolan sprawled comfortably, spreading his arms on the back of the seat, “I know you and Georgia were together last night.”

Mike nodded. “Yeah, we were.”

“So did anything, you know, happen?” Nolan winked and punched Mike playfully on the shoulder like the two of them were still in high school.

“Happen? Geez man, I’ve known her for a day,” Mike waved a hand vaguely in frustration, “We sat on the front porch in plain view of the whole town and shared a can of soup, for God’s sake.”

“All right, all right,” Nolan held up his hands in defense, “I’m sorry I asked. Why’d you bring me along if you’re just gonna yell at me?”

“I’m not, it’s just…” Mike blew out a breath, “Dammit, Nolan, she’s too perfect. She’s too perfect and she’s too pretty and she’s too young! What the hell is wrong with me, invitin’ her over for dinner like that? And she talks about music all the time. It’s like she can see into my mind and say what I’m thinkin’ before I’m even sure I’m thinkin’ it! What do I want with a girl like that?”

Nolan rubbed his nose and thought for a moment. “Sounds to me like she’s under your skin already.”

“That’s my point!” Mike slammed his hand down on the steering wheel, “What’s wrong with me, man? I can’t even tell what she’s thinkin’ half the time. For all I know she could be playin’ me and I won’t see it until it’s too late.”

“Oh, she’s not playing you,” Nolan said seriously, shaking his head, “Georgia don’t play. She don’t play, and she don’t lie. So listen up when she says something to you, ‘cause she means it.”

Mike was silent. He didn’t doubt that Nolan was right; the seriousness in Georgia’s eyes was deep enough to show that she was telling the truth when she spoke. But it was the way she carried on a conversation that drove Mike crazy, and he couldn’t tell if that was good or bad. Those eyes were constantly trying to meet his and he just couldn’t handle it. Something in the way Georgia gazed at him and called him “Michael” made his insides want to jump clear out of his skin. And she was so quiet, so sincere, so intense…but at the same time there was something fragile about her.

“Drop me off here,” Nolan said suddenly, pointing to a small building that was coming up on the right.

Mike snapped out of his thoughts. “Oh, okay. Why?”

Nolan grinned. “No reason.”

“Aw man,” Mike rolled his eyes and brought the car to a stop, “Get outta here.”

“See you,” Nolan slid out and waved as Mike made a U-turn and sped back to the town.

Back to the window seat, guitar in hand, head in the clouds. What was it going to take to clear his mind? What, if a drive didn’t work and the music wouldn’t come? With a sigh, Mike got up and carried his guitar out to the porch, hoping something out in the town would kick his muse into gear.

Once he was seated on the front steps, Mike began to play around with songs he was already familiar with, thinking that maybe one would evolve into something new. Instead, he found himself getting lost in old favorites, closing his eyes when the emotion was intense enough, and getting quite a surprise when he finished a song and found Georgia standing at the bottom of the steps, watching him with those blue eyes.

“That was beautiful, Michael,” she said softly.

“Ah…thank you…” Mike wasn’t sure what to say. Somehow Georgia seemed to show up at the strangest, most intensely emotional moments.

“Please, keep playing. Don’t mind me,” Georgia leaned against the railing next to the steps and watched Mike for a moment before turning away and looking across the street. Mike took a couple deep breaths and started another song. He played through it without really noticing what chords he was strumming or what notes he was singing, and looked up only when he felt a sudden absence. Georgia was no longer standing by the railing, but somehow Mike could have sworn that he heard the soft sound of someone crying.

Restlessness set in after dinner. Even the view from the window seat wasn’t soothing, so Mike left the house and took a walk.

He knew where Georgia’s house was; it was impossible not to know after hanging around with Nolan. It took him a while to get there because he kept stopping to look at things: a bunch of flowers growing in the middle of the dusty, unpaved road; a butterfly; even a flattened beer can. Nothing sparked his creative interest, so he eventually gave up and headed on more of a direct path. He knocked on Georgia’s door and shifted nervously from foot to foot as he waited for someone to answer.

It was Jacob who opened the door. “Oh, hi there Mike,” he greeted Mike with a warm smile, “What’s up?”

“I, ah…Mr. Mitchell, is Georgia home?” Mike decided to get right to the point.

“No, no she’s not,” Jacob shook his head, “I think she went for a walk.”

“Oh, a walk, all right. Thank you,” Mike turned and headed back to the house. Soon he had his guitar slung on his back and was making his way to where he thought Georgia would be.

He found her sitting on the bank of the creek in the clearing they had come to on their walk the day before. He stood back for a while, not really knowing how to enter the scene. He didn’t want to disturb her, but he wanted to talk.

Georgia must have sensed his presence because she looked over her shoulder. When she saw Mike, she quickly turned back and looked down at the creek again.

“Hello, Michael.” The greeting was almost inaudible, but Mike could tell that the voice was different somehow.

“Hi Georgia,” he said, easing himself down onto the bank next to her. He tried to get a good look at her face but she kept turning her head so he couldn’t see. They sat in silence for a few minutes, and finally Mike realized what was wrong.

“Georgia…why…why’re you crying?”

“Why did you play for me?” Georgia answered with another question, still looking away.

The question took Mike by surprise. “What?”

“That song. It wasn’t the same as the first ones. You were playing it for me,” Georgia finally turned and looked at Mike, her blue eyes bloodshot and glassy from her tears, “Why?”

Once again, Georgia had gotten inside Mike’s head. But this time, Mike realized, he hadn’t even known the truth until Georgia pointed it out.

“Well I…you were listenin’ and…then I…” he stammered for a moment, then got a bearing on his thoughts, “You’re always talkin’ about music, and it seemed like you really wanted to hear me play.”

Georgia gazed at Mike for a moment. “I did,” she whispered, then turned back to the creek, “No one’s ever done anything like that for me before. No one’s ever noticed…”

Mike let the silence descend again. There didn’t seem to be anything he could say. Georgia continued to look over the creek at the trees and didn’t speak for a long time. Various emotions fought for position in Mike’s head, making him confused and dizzy.

Georgia regarded him again suddenly. “You brought your guitar,” she said. It was more than a statement of fact; there was a request buried in it somewhere. Mike took the hint, brought his guitar around, and began to play.

He doubted that he’d ever played so well in his life. The songs just came to him, one after another, some that he barely remembered and some that he played constantly, but they were all beautiful. His emotions seemed to collect and channel themselves straight into the music. Georgia just sat and listened with her eyes closed and her head tilted back, drinking it all in. She had the most serene look on her face and, when the music stopped and Mike looked up, fresh tears were glistening on her cheeks.

“Georgia?”

She opened her eyes and gave him a look so raw with emotion that he nearly started crying himself.

“Thank you, Michael,” she whispered, “Thank you very much.”

continued