Page 48 of Fa-La La-La Land
Every corner dressed in glitter,
Feels empty all the same.
But you cut through the noise like sunrise,
Breaking cold with something true,
I never dreamed of Christmas,
’Til the day I dreamed with you.
The chorus starts again. Stella catches my eye and smiles in a way that makes me feel like I could write a thousand more songs about her. But it’s the bridge that really does her in.
No perfect postcard, no staged display,
Just stolen warmth at the end of the day.
If every gift faded, I’d still believe,
Because you’re the wonder that I get to keep.
She wipes at her eyes, and I come close to bursting. Every performer wants his audience to feel something, but it means something special to have Stella reacting the way she is, like she gets what I’m trying to say. She understands what’s in my heart.
The outro I thought of this morning. Lines came into my head perfectly formed. That hasn’t happened to me since I wrote the original version of “Fa-La La-La Land.”
Cinnamon and silence,
Brown eyes in the glow,
You turned December into home,
And I’ll never let it go.
I didn’t add any instruments on the last line. It’s just the words, and the song ends ongo. I wanted to create a feeling of truth and certainty. I don’t know whether I accomplished that. Mum claps. Dad slaps his thigh with his good hand.
Stella looks at me, her eyes a bit misty, but otherwise, she’s unreadable. Mum and Dad keep clapping and cheering, but it’s Stella I want to hear applause from.
“Did you like it?” I ask finally.
She pushes herself from the couch and walks slowly to me, takes my hands, wraps them around her waist then winds hers around my neck. The eyes I can’t get out of my head—or my music—stare up at me, glistening with tears like stars in a dark sky.
“I loved every word, Rhys. It’s you.”
I guessed from her face how she felt, but hearing Stella say she loved it does something more to me.
“Yeah?” I sputter and stop myself from saying,It’s not me, it’s you. I don’t know if I’m ready for that kind of admission. I reckon she’s not ready at all.
Then Stella surprises me by rising to her toes and kissing me like no one else is around. Not even Mum and Dad knowwe’re seeing each other. I’m sure they’ve suspected, but I haven’t told them, and they haven’t asked.
They know now. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Mum pushing Dad out of the studio.
They’re long gone by the time Stella lowers to her heels and steps back to look me square in the face, clutching my hands in hers. “What’s it called?”
“Not sure yet,” I shrug. “‘December Dreams,’ maybe?”
“I like it.” She nods, squeezing my hands tighter. “You’ve got your song for Winter Lights.”
I pull back, laugh-cough, and shake my head. “No. Needs the Danny tick, and this one definitely wouldn’t get it.”
