Peter heard the strumming in his sleep and finally opened his eyes and looked at the clock next to his bed. It was a quarter to five in the morning and he wondered if Mike had been to sleep at all. For the past two days, Mike hadn’t said much to any of them. In fact, he hadn’t done much of anything in those two days except play that song over and over. Peter threw the covers off and got out of bed. He quietly opened the door and saw Mike sitting on the edge of the bandstand.
“Are you up early or haven’t you been to sleep yet?” Peter asked in a sleepy voice walking over and sitting down next to him.
“I couldn’t sleep.” Mike set his guitar down. “Sorry if I woke you.”
“That’s okay.” Peter smiled. “You know, it’s a good song. What’s it called?”
“Sweet Young Thing.” He answered. “I wrote it for…” He stopped.
“We figured you wrote it for Renee.” Peter finished for him. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not really.” Mike sighed.
“You might feel better.” He put his hand on Mike’s shoulder.
“I’m in love with her.” He looked down at the floor.
“That’s wonderful, Mike!” Peter exclaimed.
“No, its not.” Mike sunk his face in his hands. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. I wasn’t going to fall in love with anyone ever.”
“Why?”
“Because of my father. I don’t want to do what he did to my mother and to me. He hurt her so bad and then he left. He was a bad husband and an even worse father. He didn’t care about us or what happened to us after he left.” Mike explained, the anger rising in his voice.
“But what has that got to do with you and Renee?” Peter asked innocently.
“What if I turn out to be just like him? I don’t want to hurt her.” He answered.
“Michael, you are nothing like your father.” Peter knelt down in front of him putting both his hands firmly on Mike’s shoulders. “You would never do that to her.”
He shrugged off Peter’s hands in frustration. “I’ve already hurt her. She thinks I don’t care about her at all.”
“Prove her wrong.” He picked up Mike’s guitar and shoved it in his hands. “Write words to that song and prove to her that you do care. Then tell her you love her.”
Mike looked down at the guitar and then at Peter. “Thanks, buddy.” He managed a smile.
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