Page 83 of His Bittersweet Regret

“What in the hell are you doing with my guitar?” I questioned the minute I got out of the truck and finally realized what was slung over his shoulder.

“Have a little faith, Opal,” he suggested as he took my hand and guided me into the bar. Immediately, I tuned into the fact that there was a woman already on stage, crooning to the enraptured crowd about the love of her life. She ended the song with a round of applause and immense laughter as she revealed that the love of her life was an old Chevy pickup truck that never failed to start.

“It’s open mic night. I thought you might want to give it a try, and I’d love to hear you perform again. It’s been a long time.”

“I don’t have anything prepared.”

“How about you just go up there and sing from the heart? No matter what comes out, you can’t go wrong.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I told him as nervous laughter bubbled up from somewhere inside me.

“Next up is Opal Morgan.” The man announced while glancing into the crowd, until he spotted Marsh who raised his hand and pointed down at me. “Come on up here, Opal! Everyone make a path for the little lady.”

With great trepidation, I took my guitar from Marsh and cursed him under my breath as I made my way to the stage. I would kill him, after I finished embarrassing myself. Sadly, there was no pit available for me to throw myself into. Too bad, because I’d almost rather be swallowed by a hole in the ground than go sing in front of a crowd when I was completely unprepared.

“Thank you,” I said as the man offered me a stool to sit on and helped me adjust the microphones to the appropriate height. I looked out at the audience, without really seeing anyone, and then I sighed into the microphone before banging my head against it, much to the amusement of everyone in attendance.

“I was supposed to be out on a first date tonight,” I said into the microphone.” People hooted and hollered at that. “He’s known me for a long time, and I guess he thought it would be memorable to throw me to the wolves as a surprise.”

“Aw! We’ll be gentle!” Someone yelled.

“Thanks! I’ll need you to keep that promise!” I chuckled into the microphone. “I haven’t played in nearly six months.” There were shocked gasps in the crowd, and one that I recognized. My eyes tracked to him and immediately noticed that Marsh was not sitting alone. All of his brothers, his parents, Bethany, and her mom were all there.

I shook my head. “No pressure or anything,” I grumbled as I finished tuning my guitar. “I wrote this song at the lowest point in my life. That also happened to be just before I stopped playing and singing. Hopefully, someone else out there might need to hear it too.”

“I fell,” the words squeaked out of me rather than sounding like a song, so I started over.

I fell for the boy next door

my future, my everything

Until he didn’t want me anymore

My memories were stolen,

The boy didn’t exist

Our life together

Was nothing but mist.

Hard to hold onto

Harder still to get back

My heart incomplete

Nothing left intact

We used to be happy

So much more than just friends

Sadness and questions

The only thing left in the end

I fell for the boy next door

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