Page 79 of Up All Night

“Hmm…” She looked around, as if waiting for inspiration to strike again. “I’m not sure yet. Let’s just drive around and look for something interesting.”

“Just drive around?” I asked like she was speaking a different language.

A wide grin spread across her face. “Repeat offender.”

My face bunched in confusion before I caught on to what she was referring to. I was repeating her again. I worked to hide a smile, giving her a new response. “I’ve always wanted to be a chauffeur.”

She smiled like she hadn’t heard my sarcasm. “Then today is your lucky day.”

I shook my head but was grinning like a fool when I pulled out of the parking spot and onto the road.

She started fiddling with the screen on my dash. “What kind of music do you want to listen to?”

“I don’t really listen to music.”

Her hand dropped to her lap and silence filled the car. Turning, I saw her mouth agape.

“You don’t listen to music?” Disbelief made her voice to be high and squeaky.

“Now who’s the repeat offender?” I said with a wicked grin.

“But…but…” she stumbled. “How can you not listen to music?”

I continued to stare out the windshield, driving us through the city. “It’s this crazy thing where I don’t put on the radio or any music app, and I listen to podcasts.”

Her deadpan look had me wanting to laugh. “I get the logistics of not listening to music, but I don’t understand how you could choose not to listen to it.” She turned in her seat so she faced me more fully. “Music is as important to life—to me—as water and food.”

My skeptical look had her asking, “What?”

“Are you really comparing music to food and water?”

“Yes,” she exclaimed. “What do you do when you’re sad? Listen to a heart wrenching song. What do you do when you’re happy? Listen to a song that conveys what a good mood you’re in. What do you do when you’re stressed? Listen to a song that helps you relax and forget about your worries. What do you do when you’re mad? Listen to a song that pounds through your speakers, the words punching out your anger. There is literally a song for every emotion or situation. Letting yourself feel the feelings through music is a form of therapy you can’t get anywhere else.”

I glanced at her after the pro-music speech. “I had no idea you were so passionate about music.”

“How could I not be?” she replied. “I’m a dancer. I put music and choreography together to tell a story, to move an audience, to convey a message. Music transforms a sequence of body movements into an artful dance.”

She was right. Music could have a powerful effect. It’s just that I had been trying to live my life more methodically. (Or was it more robotically?) I was on autopilot when it came to the day-to-day. Music wasn’t on my radar. I had tunnel vision when it came to work. It was all I could think about, all I could work on without feeling guilty that I wasn’t doing more, that I wasn’t trying harder.

“You’re right,” I told her. “I’ve been living a half-life these past few years without music. Enlighten me.”

Her eyes lit up. “Oh, I have so much music to show you.”

I smiled at her excitement, a warmth spreading through me knowing that I’d made her happy.

For the next fifteen minutes, she played me four songs I’d never heard, and I had to admit she had great taste in music. I’d enjoyed everything she had shown me so far.

I startled when she let out a loud squeal, her voice full of excitement. “That’s what we’re going to do next.”

My eyes followed where her finger pointed. “Seriously?”

“C’mon, it will be fun,” she exclaimed.

This was her day, so I pulled into the parking lot. Even if it wasn’t her day, I still would have gone here with her because of how giddy she was.

We walked from the parking lot up a path toward the entrance of Stagecoach Greens Mini-Golf, to a kiosk at the center of the outdoor park where we paid for our game.

Halle had refused when I had tried to pay for renting the bikes. I’d even tried to just pay for mine, but she had been adamant that this was her unplanned day and she would pay for everything, just like I had on my day. I’d pushed back, but the death stare she’d given me had me quickly backing away. So as we approached the kiosk, I didn’t offer to pay for our mini-golf game.

---