Davis left the watch upstairs. He’d never realized until then just how much the ridiculously expensive timepiece made him stress out. The slate gray silk shirt with matching slacks and a pair of grey Corinthian leather loafers were a good choice. After changing three times it was the safest one.
Has it really been that long?
Having them both in the same room was too much to ask for. He made it downstairs unnoticed and slipped onto the stage. The band always came in around eight to start their sound checks and run through a few things. They never minded him sitting on stage with his head resting on an arm as he willed his fingers to remember the music, Willow played for him when they were younger.
Davis was so lost in memory he never felt Willow move in behind him. Draping her arms over his shoulders, she pushed them gently down against the chord. Music and memory flowed between them. She lifted her hands enough for him to find the next note in the melody and his hands went still. He turned his head and shook it.
“I can’t... I can’t remember...”
“Give me your hands,” she whispered.
“Willow... wait.”
“Shhh. Just give me your hands.”
Willow eased his fingers over to the next chords in the song and pushed down. The notes brought a soft sound of pain from his chest. He laced her fingers with his own and his shoulders sagged.
“Oh my God. Have you any idea how long I’ve been searching for that note?”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you cry,” she whispered. Her hand tailed over his chest as she moved to pull away.
Davis gripped both of her arms and wrapped them around his neck. “No, don’t. Please... can you just... I just…”
He pulled her around so that he could see her. Tears shimmered on her cheeks like diamonds.
“You have no idea how long... I mean, the notes were there. I could play them all the way up to that point. You walk in and...” He caressed her cheek softly erasing her tears with his thumb. “You just gave me back a piece of my soul.”
“I didn’t think anyone knew about that gem. It wasn’t popular like anything Ethel Waters or Bessie Smith would sing. Nobody knew the artist’s name, but my mother found it and fell in love with it. Played it a lot for my dad. Then again when she was pregnant with me. Must have made quite an impression because it became one of my favorites and his.” She tried to pull her hands away, but Davis held onto them.
“You mean Harlem.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to... It’s just that I get around you and I feel safe enough to talk about him... Doesn’t matter you’re here and I shouldn’t be burdening you with my baggage. You’re here and he... well, he isn’t.”
He turned to face her. “He mattered to you... I want to know “
She laughed softly as a tear stole down her cheek. “Last time I told anybody about him they cheapened it. He all but told I was having an affair with a ghost.”
“Whoever hurt you, said those things, put bruises on you on physically, spiritually. It wasn’t—”
Willow rested her fingers against his mouth. “I know you would never... I’m sorry.” She ran the heel of her hand over her cheek to erase her tears. “It’s not even in your make up.”
“Stop. I know how to speak up if I feel like I’m paying for another man’s mistakes.”
Willow pressed her face to his and he took in a sharp breath. When her lips found the trace of tears just under his eye, he couldn’t help but moan.
“I would never ask that of you.”
Willow spoke the words so softly he was sure she’d mouthed them into his skin. She smoothed his dreads back from his face. Her fingers curled slightly in his hair.
“You could ask anything of me, Willow. You’re safe with me as are your memories of him.”
Willow was quiet for a long time. Her gaze drifted over his face and he gripped her wrists.
I’m here, baby. Right here as real as you are. See me, Willow, put your mouth on me. Your body already knows. Let me give you the other half of my heart. It’s yours anyway.
“You know what? It’s okay. I don’t mean to push. I have no right...” Davis said softly.
She nodded as if to answer some private question and cleared her throat.
“He was in so much pain when he came home from the hospital. Physically, mentally. Spiritually. Everything he knew. His world was gone. My mother was dying of cancer, but both of his parents... he saw them die in the car wreck that nearly took him too.” She sighed and shook her head.
“People say no parent should have to survive a child, but there’s no mention of the child. Natural order of things be damned. It was killing him faster than the burns.”
Davis pulled her closer and pressed his forehead to hers. She’d hit the nail on the head as always. Willow understood on a level no counselor could. She’d spoken the words so simply so truthfully that in the beginning there was no need to talk. Willow was reading his soul and he wanted her to.
“My father and fireman Ted Hollis brought him home. Harlem was burned so badly. All I know was one minute I was standing by Harlem’s bedside and the next I was in bed with him... holding him... praying over him... begging him to stay. Those first few days I stayed there with him like that. Hooked school. Just holding him or holding his hand.”
As Davis recalled, the melody found him through the yards of gauze wrapping his mind and body. Willow’s familiar weight was gone. At least with Willow huddled around him the pain wasn’t as bad.
“And then one day it was like I was losing them both. My Mom and Harlem and... I only went downstairs to play something that would cheer me up. It must have hurt like hell, all that new raw skin raging at the slightest movement, but Harlem found me. He sat there with his head tucked between my shoulders. I don’t know, maybe in the beginning I figured he thought the music came from me. Maybe it did. From then on, my mother’s lullaby to me became our song.” She traced his jaw with her fingers. “It’s nice that someone else knows. Maybe I can share it again?”
Davis brought her hand around to his mouth and he placed a kiss in her palm. They both heard someone clear their throat. She turned to see her father standing near the curtains and she pulled her hand away and stood. “Dad, I didn’t see you standing there.”
“Bartender held me up. Kept saying I wasn’t allowed back here, till I told him you were back here.”
Davis stood slowly, but he took forever to look at the man standing off in the shadows. The older man watched him for a minute or two longer than he needed to, then he emerged from the curtains. They stared at each other for a long moment before William shook his hand.
“Evening, Davis. So, this is the other place I’ve been hearing about.”
“Evening, Will.” Davis looked helplessly back and forth between them
“I forgot you knew each other.” Willow said hugging her father.
“Davis is a fixture in the area. Has been for a while. Sort of like a mayor of sorts for these parts. Never had a chance to come to this side of the harbor “
Davis looked over at Willow then put his head down. William clapped his hands and began to scrub them together.
“So, what do you have to eat around here.”