Page 10 of Before We Say Goodbye
This time the kiss lasted longer, and he actually enjoyed it as opposed to freezing up. This time he used his hands, too, leaning up and letting her fall back to the earth. He straddled her and came at her with a craving he’d never known.
Between moans, she whispered, “There you go, Otis Till. Show me what you’re made of.”
In what could only be described as a moment of pure freedom, Otis pulled his lips from hers and arched his upper body into the air and let out a howl that came not from a lost boy trying to find his way, but from a dream seeker who had found his princess and slayed his first dragon and tasted what it would be like to live life on his own terms.
“Ahhhwwwwoooooo!”he called out into the night, hearing the coyotes back in Montana howling with him, feeling the fire in his chest.“Ahhwwwwwoooo!” he called, feeling her beneath him and knowing that anything was possible, knowing that whatever had led him to that bus and to the seat beside her was destiny, and he had hold of it, the whole bloody world, and by God he loved her more than he thought it possible to love someone, and ...
Otis looked down and found her smiling at him, feeding his fire, surely witnessing the true birth of the man inside him. He smiled back, and then she took hold of his collar and pulled him down on top of her.
Ahhhwwwwwooooooo!
Since the night of their kiss, they’d barely separated for a moment, and as the purple bus decorated with flowers waited in the longest line of cars Otis had ever seen, he and Rebecca held hands and looked out the window at a spectacle that would make any other circus or carnival on earth appear run-of-the-mill.
Otis had never seen more naked people in his life—all totally uncaring of the curious eyes on them or even the forecast of terrible rain. Theirs wasn’t the only painted bus by a long shot. They were simply another float in a parade, a continuous river of soul searchers hoping to finally find what they were looking for.
People marched alongside cars and buses and trucks that all blasted different kinds of folk and rock ’n’ roll that morphed into one singularsong: an anthem for those on a search for the profound. If they were wearing anything at all, they wore bell-bottoms and headbands and bead necklaces and a thousand different bright colors. They carried backpacks or duffel bags and danced their way toward the promise of a stage somewhere up ahead. Their smiles were almost enough to defeat the long lines and coming rain.
Otis heard a match strike, and he turned to find Rebecca lighting up a joint. She took a long, slow toke and handed it over. He couldn’t find one reason not to, and off he went into wonderland.
A wet weekend it was, but the rain didn’t stop the bands from giving their all. Otis was particularly impressed with Carlos Santana, who played like a man possessed. Or was it the LSD creating illusions? Otis wasn’t exactly sure, but between the drugs and the music and this princess who’d latched on to him, he was having the time of his life, while also questioning everything that had led him to this moment. The part of him that had been hiding, that piece that questioned the purpose of life, now screamed at him, telling him he didn’t have to follow a path paved by his father or anyone else in his family.
He and Rebecca shared a tent, and they grew closer every night, exploring each other’s bodies slowly, one hour, one night, one millimeter at a time. The days and nights blended together as they stayed up late, listening to the likes of Canned Heat, Creedence, Mountain, the Who, Jefferson Airplane, and Joe Cocker. They’d return to the purple bus in the mornings to rejoin their traveling circus and talk about how everything they’d been told growing up wasn’t the way it had to be. Otis could only imagine how displeased his father would be with him, but for the first time it didn’t matter.
This ...this... being here with these people and cracking the code to the universe was what mattered.How can we keep living like sheep?Expanding your mind and stepping deeper into the present momentmattered.The here and the now, man!Letting the music take you to undiscovered worlds mattered.You hear that? Forget everything you’ve been told. That’s religion, brother! No, that’s God!Above all, being with this girl sitting next to him mattered.Take it all away, and as long as she’s in this space, all is right.
The last night of performances crept into Monday morning. At around 3:30 a.m. Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young took the stage. Rebecca pulled Otis through the hundreds of thousands to work their way close to the front. The young barefooted couple were stoned and happy and energized, having escaped the rain earlier and taken a long afternoon nap in the tent. Though the ground was soggy, the rain had slowed. Not that it mattered. Every part of them was soaked.
As the band sat on stools that formed a tight circle at the front of the stage, Rebecca gestured to a man in jeans and a brown corduroy blazer holding a big guitar on his lap. “That’s Stephen Stills there.”
Right then, Stephen addressed the crowd, not quite shy but certainly taken aback by the sea of people staring at him. “This is the second time we’ve ever performed in front of people, man.” His voice echoed out over the masses.
Bec, as he now thought of her, enthusiastically pointed out the rest of them: David Crosby, Graham Nash, and Neil Young. She absolutely glowed, and Otis fell in love with her for the thousandth time since they’d met. The only life worth living now would be one with her in it.
The band opened with a song called “Suite: Judy Blue Eyes.” Rebecca knew it well and danced with Otis to the tune, their muddy feet splashing through puddles. He had never heard prettier singing in his life and knew he’d become a lifetime lover of this band, of these men.
Not only were they perfect and perfect for this moment, but they would always and forever play the soundtrack to the biggest moment in Otis’s life. He felt the ring he’d made that morning with a birch branch swelling in his pocket. She was the only question in his life that came with an answer, and he’d decided the day before that he would propose. There was no time to wait, no time to go to schooland establish themselves before settling into marriage like most people. Their love was different. The two of them were different. He would not get back on that bus without going down on one knee.
The band played “Blackbird” next. Stephen Stills sang in a voice as bone-chilling as it was beautiful. What brought Otis the most joy was the happiness beaming from Rebecca’s face. Though she had her demons, they were a long way away. She was as free as a human could be, taken away and healed by the music.
When they sang of Guinevere, Otis reached into his pocket. Rebecca was nearly off her feet in a glow of joy, swaying and singing along, while staring up at the stage.
“Hey, Bec,” he said, tugging at her hand.
She turned with a look of intoxicating beauty and aliveness. “What do you think?”
“I think ...” His heart kicked hard ... and he wasn’t sure ... and wondered whether he was being crazy ... and then he leaped right off the cliff, letting it all go. He lowered to one knee and sank into the soft mud.
Her eyebrows curled in curiosity, but only for a measure or two of the tune. Because his intent soon registered. Her smile took the rain away, took the pain away.
It was all he needed. He held out the ring he’d made, so insignificant but so much more at the same time. He asked, loudly enough to cut through the cacophony of sound, “Will you marry me?”
Their neighbors caught on and created a circle around them. A more magical setting could not have existed. Forget the rain. There they were under the beauty of the night, a small circle opened amid a sea of people, a band singing their hearts out, and a man so desperately in love that nothing else mattered.
And a woman.
A woman so extraordinary that he saw his destiny in her eyes.
“Yes, Otis! I’ll marry you!”
