Little lost girl, I’m not afraid
Arms wide out, don’t hesitate
Goosebumps run down my spine. River’s voice is surprisingly clear, despite a rough aspect, filled with longing and melancholy—beautiful and a thousand times more powerful than Asher Blackwell’s. It awakens even more images in me: a boy and a girl on a highline, their arms outstretched as if they could fly; a full moon night, black cranes flying, and the stars dying in the sky.
Tonight is ours, maybe we’ll fly
Make up your mind, maybe we’ll die
Kissing my lost girl, I’m everywhere
I’m above the moon, you’ll find me there
My vision blurs because I know River is singing about himself. About him and June. Somehow, I suddenly know. During the interlude, he looks down at the piano keys as if he doesn’t want to look at me, seemingly lost in his melody.
What about June? Why are you so sad?Everything inside me screams, angry and completely confused. One moment, I think I know a lot, and the next, I realize I know absolutely nothing about him.
I barely hear the rest of the song. Only the melody fills my mind as images continue to appear. When the last note has faded away, I realize that it hasn’t only enchanted me and put me in a trance but also everyone here. For a few seconds, it’s as quiet as a church before a sermon. The pigtailed blonde in front of me has her mouth wide open, and her friend fares the same.
I furtively wipe a tear from the corner of my eye.Kissing my lost girl, I’m everywhere. I’m above the moon, you’ll find me there. I don’t know why, but these lines resonate with me. Again and again. They echo through my mind as the audience goes wild and claps in a frenzied state. They echo in my mind as I step through the wooden door outside in a daze. I barely feel the cold night air of the desert as I walk along the wide main street with increasingly quick steps, past utility poles with hanging cables, past driveways and wooden houses.
I realize why I’m the perfect travel companion for River. I don’t ask questions. At least not with the insistence that would be necessary for him. Writing everything down in minute detailis annoying and tedious in the long run. With me, he can be whoever he wants.
But is that the best thing for him?
I don’t want him to jump. I don’t want to go to Yosemite National Park with him. I want to help him. But I can’t help him as long as I remain silent. Until then, I’ll allow him to live in a dream world where he can be River McFarley. For a moment, I think about his big five.
“Damn it, stop! Where are you going?” River’s shout lashes out behind me like a quickly thrown rope.
I don’t even turn to see where he is. I wouldn’t win a race against River in fifty years if he even lives that long. The last thought hits me like a punch. I stop without turning.
“Hey!” He’s already caught up with me, grabbing my arm and turning me around to face him. “Can you tell me why you’re running away like a madman?” He glares at me, but it’s the anger of incomprehension.
Because I don’t understand you! Because I can no longer stand you not telling me!I think. I pull my phone out of my pocket and type:You have an awesome voice.With that, I free myself from his grasp and continue to move down the street.
“That’s it?” he calls after me angrily. “That’s all you have to say?”
I wave him off without looking back, even though I’m hurt. I ask myself what actually offends me about what happened. Am I jealous of the love he has, or had, for June? Am I mad because he still wants to jump? Because the way he likes me isn’t enough to not do it?I’m above the moon, you’ll find me there.
Dying stars...
“Kansas!” He’s obviously stopped because the call comes from some distance away. “Dammit, stop running!” I can feel his glare burning into the back of my neck.
Then finally tell me the truth! About June? Why were you in Cottage Grove? What’s your name?
“I love you, damn it!”
For a second, I think the world around me is shaking, but I just stumbled.
What did he say?
My heart pounds against my ribs, and not just from running. As I turn, a hundred silver dots flicker through my senses, a tingling sensation that goes right under the skin.
He stands in the middle of the street, his hands in his pockets, his eyes still flickering with confusion.
He loves me.
He loves me?
