Falling into You (Falling #1)(60)
I adjust the rhythm as we transition into the next song, which Colton introduces.
“Anybody here like City and Colour?” There’s riotous applause of approval and he grins at them. “Good! Then hopefully you’ll like our take on ‘Hello, I’m Delaware’.”
I’m strumming as he does the intro and playing it cool, but inside I’m squeeing with excitement. In the back of my head I’m running back to the beginning, when Colton basically announced that I’m his. I like that. Plus, he told them I’m gorgeous. I’m all ashiver.
I really get into the City and Colour song, because Dallas Green is incredible. I let my voice go, I don’t hold anything back. I sing and let the words roll over me, through me. My nerves are gone and all I know is the music rushing in my veins, the pure beauty of the song and the adrenaline high of knowing I’m killing it.
The next song is all Colton. I’ve heard him practice it, so I’m looking forward to hearing him perform it live. Our guitars go quiet and Colton adjusts the tuning on his while he does the next intro.
“Okay, so this one I’m doing solo. You’ve probably heard the song before, but not like this. It’s ’99 Problems’, originally by the one and only Jay-Z. This arrangement that I’m doing, though, was put together by an artist named Hugo. I wish I could take the credit for the arrangement, honestly, because it’s fucking genius. So yeah. Hope you like it.”
There’s some applause, which fades when he starts a choppy, drum-like sequence of chords. I’m giddy with excitement and pride when he brings in the verse. The first time I heard him play the song, I wasn’t sure what I was hearing, because it was so unique, but then I recognized it and was totally wowed. He’s right about the arrangement being brilliant, because it is, completely.
All too soon it’s my turn.
“You guys are awesome. The rest of Hugo’s stuff is pretty killer too, but that’s my favorite piece by him. So anyway, Nell’s gonna do a solo for you next.”
He insisted I intro my own piece, so I adjust the mic closer and strum the opening chords as warm up. “Hey guys. I’ve never sung solo like this before, so be nice, huh? I’m doing ‘It’s Time’ by Imagine Dragons.” I turn to look at Colton. “I’m dedicating this to you, because it reminds me so much of you.”
When I was jogging and listening to my playlist trying to figure out what song I wanted to cover for tonight’s solo, I came across this song. It’s an awesome song that seems almost eighties pop-inspired to me, which I knew would make for an interesting indie-folk cover. But it was the lyrics that struck me, the emphasis on never changing, on being who you are. Colton had been through so much, and had stayed true to who he was, refusing to change or give in simply because of the expectations of others.
I struggled with that for a long time. I had chosen schools and career paths based on what others wanted for me, what my parents wanted for me. After Kyle’s death, I couldn’t choose, couldn’t think, couldn’t feel any desire for anything. I worked for my dad and went to community college simply because it was the path of least resistance. My dad had always sort of expected I would major in business and work for him. I’d never considered anything else. I’d never thought of my talents or desires, I just went along with their plan without question.
Then Kyle died, and after a few months, I realized I needed an outlet. I needed something to distract me from my guilt and pain. The guitar came along almost as a fluke. I saw a flier stapled to a wooden power line pole advertising guitar lessons. The teacher was an older guy, gray haired and potbellied and genial. He was a talented teacher, patient and understanding. Best of all, he seemed to understand that I wanted a couple hours a week away from everything. He never asked any questions, just drilled me hard, pushed me, kept me busy, leaving me no time for anything but the chord progression. He gave me an aggressive practice schedule and rode my ass if I didn’t keep up with it.
The singing seemed to be a natural extension of playing the guitar. I’d learn a song and of course, I’d sing along with it. Eventually I realized I enjoyed the singing more than the guitar playing, and then the music itself became the outlet. I’d spend hours and hours playing, singing, sitting on the dock watching the sun set and the stars come out and playing, refusing to think of Kyle, refusing to miss him, refusing to cry for him. I’d play until my fingers bled, sing until my throat hurt.
Now the music is a thread binding me to Colton. The songs we sing to each other are statements. An ongoing discussion in music notes.
So I sing, and I let everything out. I feel the eyes on me, feel Colton’s gaze devouring me. I finish the song, and the last note quavers in the air, and my hands tremble, my heart thuds in my chest. There’s a moment of silence, all eyes on me, faces shocked. I’m about to freak, since no one’s clapping, but then they explode, shrieking, whistling, applauding, and I realize they were stunned silent.
Guess that’s a good thing.
When the noise fades a bit, Colton draw his mic down to his lips and speaks facing me but looking at the audience. “Goddamn, Nell. That was incredible. Seriously.” I hear the tension in his voice, see the emotion in his eyes. He’s hiding it well, but I know him by now and I can feel it radiating off him.
We both let a tense moment pass in silence, then. We both know what song is next, and we’re both nervous.