Page 18 of Unspoken Words
It actually felt good to finally let it all out.
Stolen way too soon.
I can’t go on.
Where are you?
I should’ve said goodbye,
instead of asking why?
And it rips me in two.
Where are you?
As I sang the final words, I blushed like an idiot and placed my guitar on the ground. “There you have it. That’s what I’ve been playing.”
My palms were sweaty, and I felt hot.
Ellie glanced down at her wrung hands then looked up and scrunched her nose, and I wanted to dive into the river and never surface.
“It’s not really a dance song is it?” she asked, her green eyes glittering.
I was fast learning that was a telltale sign she was holding back a smile, so I laughed; I couldn’t help it. After finally opening up and sharing exactly how I felt about losing my best friend, the first thing this crazy girl said to me was ‘It’s not a dance song’.
“No, it’s not!” I buried my face in my hands and shook my head. “I guess I could try adding a cool beat though.” Cupping my fist over my mouth, I tried to beatbox.
I failed, miserably.
Ellie giggled and sprung up like a jack in the box. She started doing these weird dance moves as if she was flexing her muscles and double-punching over her head.
“Are you okay?” I asked, confused.
She puffed out a breath. “Yeah, why?”
Ellie continued her weird punching.
“What are you doing?”
“Dancing. What does it look like?”
Her red curls bounced atop her denim jacket covered shoulders, and the gigantic bow in her hair started to slide out of place.
“Like you’re auditioning for ‘Rocky’?”
“No,” she puffed again. “It’s ‘Express Yourself’ by Madonna. Haven’t you seen the music video?”
I shook my head and shrugged.
“You suck. It’ssoawesome!” Her face turned the shade of her hair. “Not because of the sweaty half-naked men. They’re gross. It’ssoawesome because of Madonna’s dancing. I love how she dances.”
Ellie stopped ‘dancing’ and sat down next to me. She flipped open her notebook and wrote something down. “Your song doesn’t need a cool beat, Connor.” She frantically scribbled. “It’s beautiful. Sad, but beautiful.” Turning her notebook around, she pointed to the words,Express yourself. Forgive yourself.“It wasn’t your fault you didn’t say goodbye, you know. You just weren’t ready to lose him.”
“So how do you forgive yourself for something you can’t change?” I asked.
She scratched her head before fixing her lopsided bow. “I don’t know. Maybe tell yourself that it’s okay to make mistakes as long as you try really hard not to make them again?”
“That’s easier said than done.”
