Page 62 of One More Weekend

Taking a bow, I grabbed Jenna’s hand and bent over.

As quickly as it started, our final duet ended and I would be left with the memory of it all.

41

JENNA

I watchedSy move through the crowd, her skin slick with sweat as she chatted with our friends in Winnie’s Bar. I hadn’t been able to keep my eyes off of her the entire night.

She was magnetic.

A part of me couldn’t believe I’d chosen to leave her. But then I remembered I kind of wasn’t, despite my parents repeated, reassuring texts throughout the night. I knew they were excited but I couldn't help the dread building in my chest.

I knew that once I left, she’d find someone who could give her the world. By the time I came back, any hopes of us rekindling would be long burned through embers.

Searching for me in the crowd, Sy waved and walked over. “You all good? Need a refill?”

I shook my head. “I’m all good.”

Just as the words left my mouth, our friend Jay finished their song and headed off the stage.

“This is me.” Sy winked as she walked away, flashing that charming smile before taking the stage again.

With the mic in hand, Sy quieted the crowd. “Guess who?”

I could tell she was a little nervous, my forehead wrinkling at the concept.What did she pick?

Leaning against the mic stand, Sy scanned the crowd. “This is a slower song than Jenna would have selected for me. But it felt right.”

Sy’s eyes found me in the crowd, the bright green prominent under the bright spotlight. “Just remember, you are home.”

As soon as she said it, my heart shattered. I hardly even heard the opening notes of Elton John’sTiny Danceras I tried to get my bearings.

But a strong piano played through the bar as the crowd started to sway.

Hitting the note just right, Sy sang. “Blue jean baby, L.A. lady. Seamstress for the band. Pretty-eyed. Pirate smile. You’ll marry a music man.”

As I met her gaze, theAlmost Famousscene flashed into my mind. I could hardly breathe as she moved through the words seamlessly.

“Now she’s in me, always with me. Tiny dancer, in my hand.” Sy smiled, a glint in her eyes as she kept it going.

It wasn’t until the end of that verse that she looked at me again. “Turning back, she just laughs. The boulevard is not that bad.”

Behind her melodic voice, the piano and light guitar carried the tune out to the rest of the bar.

“Oh, how it feels so real, lying here with no one near. Only you, and you can hear me when I say softly, slowly…”

She raised her voice an octave, her eyes clenching closed as she hit the note. “Hold me closer, tiny dancer. Count the headlights on the highway. Lay me down in sheets of linen. You had a busy day today.”

The strings filled my heart, Elton John striking the keys of his piano perfectly.

I couldn’t take my eyes off her as she performed. Mixed in with the 25-year-old woman standing before me were flashes of an 18, 19, 20, 22, and 24-year-old Sy. Her confidence had grown over the years.

What a privilege to have witnessed her.

On the final chorus, Sy waved to the crowd. “Sing it with me now.”

Before holding her arm out toward me, and singing. “Hold me closer, tiny dancer.”

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