Page 33 of Protecting Mr. Fine

A vague embarrassment tried to slither into my subconscious, but I was too relieved to feel it.

“Bear,” I breathed. “I don’t know which train. Which platform. Which city.”

His fingers brushed through my hair. “You don’t need to take the train right now. Just sleep.”

I slowed my breathing down. “Are you sure? Everyone is catching a train… or-or a plane. We’re going to be late. For the show?” It was probably a show. We were always on our way to another show.

“No show right now. Just rest time. Maybe you can work on that new song you’ve been humming.”

Faint traces of chords replayed in my memory, a tune I’d been working on but hadn’t had the words to yet. “I’d like that. Need to write it down.”

“Not right now. Right now… will you sing ‘The Solo Hour’ for me?”

Bear loved that one. I’d caught sight of him once backstage, singing along with his eyes closed. I would have teased him about it, but then he might have realized he’d had his eyes closed, and he would have felt like he’d fallen down on the job.

Since there wasn’t much I wouldn’t do for him if he asked me, I began singing softly.

After the lights and the cheers

Even after all these years

No one walks with me

Across the deep wide sea

Of empty seats.

I sing to you,

You,

You,

And you…

But when it ends,

I walk home to me.

After the final bow,

After the lights go out

I turn around

And glide into the solo hour…

I hummed the guitar riff, my fingers ghosting over invisible strings.

I’m coming home,

Home to me.

Alone with me.

A place to be,

A place to breathe.

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