Dreamland(54)

Back at the condo, I put everything away and took a few minutes to straighten up the rooms. With nothing left to do and Morgan on my mind, I reached for my guitar.

I plucked out the melody of the song that I’d played for Morgan on the beach the other night, still nagged by the knowledge that it wasn’t quite right. The lyrics needed more dimension, a specificity that I hadn’t quite nailed.

Crossing out bits and pieces of what I’d already written, I thought about the way Morgan made me feel—not only the emotions she inspired but also how differently I saw myself through her eyes. There had only been a handful of times in the past when a song almost seemed to write itself, but that’s what I started to experience. New lyrics felt effortlessly resonant, anchored now with details plucked from our day together. Meanwhile, I ramped up the driving energy of the chorus, already envisioning a multilayered recording that would give it the sound of a gospel choir.

A glance at the clock warned me that I was almost running late. I didn’t have time to scribble the new lyrics into my notebook, but I already knew it wasn’t necessary. I tossed on a clean T-shirt, hurriedly collected what I needed for Bobby T’s, and scrambled down the steps. Overhead, clouds were rolling and twisting as though gathering energy before exploding. I made it with only five minutes to spare, noting that the crowd was less than half the size of my previous show, though every seat was still taken. I didn’t expect to see Morgan in the crowd but nonetheless felt a jolt of disappointment at her absence.

I played my show, filling the extra hour mostly with requests, while the clouds continued to grow even darker. Halfway through, the breeze picked up and started to blow steadily. For the first time since I’d been performing at Bobby T’s, some people began to rise from their seats and head for the exits. I didn’t blame them—in the distance I could see dark thunderheads forming on the horizon, and as they approached, I expected Ray to cut the show short at any moment.

Shafts of sunlight occasionally broke through the roiling clouds, creating prisms of color and a glorious sunset. Beyond the audience, the beach had emptied, and as more people continued to leave, I wondered whether Morgan would even show up. Nonetheless, just as the last rays of sun were vanishing, Morgan finally arrived. She’d come in from the beach and was dressed in a flattering yellow sundress; over her shoulder was the Gucci tote I recognized from the day before. Backlit by the shifting light, she appeared like an otherworldly vision. She offered a small wave, and I instinctively found myself launching into the song that I’d been working on, the one I suddenly knew I never would have finished without meeting her.

Even from a distance, I could see delighted recognition on her face as the first notes filled the room. Though I typically sang to the audience as a whole, I couldn’t help focusing most of my attention on her, especially as I sang the new lyrics. When the song ended, the audience was quiet before suddenly exploding into a longer-than-usual wave of applause, interrupted only by a bright long streak of lightning that split the sky over the water. Seconds later, a deep growl of thunder rolled down the beach like a slow-moving tumbleweed.

The applause died out as most of the remaining crowd rose from their seats. I could already see Ray walking toward me and making a slashing gesture below his chin. I immediately set my guitar aside as Ray stepped up to the microphone, announcing that the show was finished. By then I was wending my way toward Morgan.

“You made it,” I said, unable to hide my delight. People streamed past us onto the beach with an eye on the sky; others hustled in the opposite direction, toward the parking lot. “I wasn’t sure you would.”

“You played the song,” she said softly. She placed a hand on my arm, her eyes glittering. “But it was different this time.”

Standing before her, I was about to explain why, but I was struck by the thought that she already knew. Over the water, lightning cut the sky again, followed by thunder, which came more quickly than it had only a few minutes earlier. The wind had a cooler edge now, but all I could think about was the warmth of her hand on my skin.

Searching for something to say, I asked, “How was Busch Gardens?”

She nodded toward the sky, an amused smile on her face. “Do you really want to talk about that now? Don’t you think we should leave along with everyone else?”

I reluctantly withdrew my arm. “Let me load up, okay?”

Morgan followed me past the now-empty tables. Ray and other employees had already cleared away most of the equipment, and as I reached for my guitar case, I felt the first drop of rain. I moved quickly, but even before we started for the parking area, that first drop turned into a sprinkle, followed by an almost immediate downpour. I opened the door for Morgan as the clouds unleashed the deluge that had been building all day.

I rounded the truck at a run and hopped up into the cab, my shirt and pants already drenched. Even with the windshield wipers on high, I might as well have been in a car wash. I navigated almost blindly through the parking lot. On Gulf Boulevard, a number of cars had pulled over with their hazard lights blinking, while others simply inched along. Lightning flickered overhead like strobe lights.

“I think I need some dry clothes if we’re going out.”

“We’re not going out in this,” she said. “Let’s just go to your place, okay?”

Figuring that I was already wet and having driven through hurricanes in North Carolina, I rolled down my window and leaned my head out, trying to spot the upcoming turn. Rain pelted my face and blew into the truck, but eventually I was able to turn off Gulf Boulevard onto a quiet side street.