“Bookends.”
“Simon & Garfunkel?” I asked, already knowing the answer. I was thrilled that he was also a fan of Paul Simon’s gentle voice and poetic ballads. I couldn’t get enough of Paul Simon. I mean, he was no Paul McCartney, but he wrote gorgeous songs that spoke to my heart.
“It’s amazing. Their best yet. Have you heard it?”
I shook my head. “Only on the radio. And in that movie.”
“Oh man, The Graduate. That was a trip, wasn’t it?” He shook his head, biting down on his lip.
“Like nothing I’ve seen. I liked the actor. Dustin something.”
“Hoffman, I think.”
“That’s the one. He’s different, you know? Not like the rest of the larger than life movie stars. He seems like a guy you could live next door to, it made the story so believable.”
"Yeah, I guess it did." Max narrowed his eyes and smiled like he was impressed with me or something. "I hadn't thought of it that way."
“The song is perfect, too, isn’t it? I’ll have to get the album.”
“You won’t regret it.”
A calm silence wedged between us briefly as we approached Sonny’s. “Here we are,” I said before glancing down at my watch.
“Don’t you want to come in? See if they have Bookends?” He asked, raising his eyebrows in earnest. I barely knew him, but the idea of walking away from him made my stomach flip and my heart sink. I wanted to spend as much time as I could with the intriguing guy from my bus. At least long enough for him to ask for my phone number.
God, I hope he asks for my number.
“I don’t want my mother to worry. I’m usually home before 5 o’clock.”
“Oh,” he pressed his lips together, nodding. Disappointment covered his handsome face.
What are you doing? Of course, you want to go in!
“Well,” I shrugged. “I have a few minutes. Let’s see what’s new.”
Max’s face lit up and grabbed the doorknob, stepping aside. “After you.”
The cowbell above me let out a cheerful clang as I walked into Sonny’s, smelling the familiar scents of vinyl and cardboard with just a hint of incense. Max beelined for the guitars along the far wall of the store.
“That’s right,” I said, walking behind him as he studied a smooth, chocolate brown bass guitar. “You play, don’t you?”
Max cocked his head to the side, looking curious. “How did you know?”
“I, uh…”
I notice everything about you since the first day I saw you on the bus.
“You carried a guitar once…or, at least I think that was you?” Trying desperately to sound casual, I bit down on my lower lip as he digested my answer. He tapped a finger to his lips.
“That’s right. I did have it with me…once.” He pulled a guitar pick from the front pocket of his jeans and strummed the bass.
“Wait, do you carry those around with you?”
He shrugged. “Force of habit. You never know when you might need one, right?”
I shook my head with a nervous laugh. “I’ve never played an instrument, although I’d like to learn piano someday.”
“I know a great teacher if you decide you’d like to learn.”
“Really?” Now it was my turn to be curious. I cocked my head to the side. “Who?”
Max placed the bass back in its spot. "Me."
“You play piano, too?”
“And the drums.” He said with a smile, running his hand over a tambourine.
“Wow, I’m…I’m in awe. Are you some kind of musical genius or something?”
“Nah,” he said, brushing off his obvious talents. “Just takes practice, that’s all.”
With a jester’s grin, he placed the tambourine in my hand. “Give it a try.”
“Now? Here?”
“Why not?” He asked, pointing to the speaker next to the wall that was playing The Dave Clark Five. “You just have to find the beat.”
My cheeks grew hot, but I clutched the tambourine, shaking it softly and slapping my hand to its soft leather as I followed the beat of the tune hovering above us.
“There you go. See? You’re a natural.”
Laughing, I slapped it against my hip before handing it back to Max, surprising myself with my flirtation.
I really like this guy.
“A total natural,” he said, placing it down. “I knew it.”
“You did, huh?” I asked with a nervous laugh, walking toward the first row of vinyl records.
"Mm-hmm. I can always tell when someone has rhythm. It's a gift," he said with a wink before adjusting his glasses and dipping his fingers into the sea of records.
“I see,” I said.
“Ahh, here it is. The one I came here for,” He said, holding an Otis Redding record with both his hands.
“Otis?” I exclaimed. “He’s amazing.”
“It’s his new one,” Max said with a grin, showing me the cover. “They have a bunch. We can both get one.”
“I, uh…payday is next week. I think I’ll wait until then.”
“You at least need a 45 of Dock of the Bay. My treat.”
I shook my head, pursing my lips. “I can’t let you do that. You barely know me.”
“Consider it a thank you for showing me how to get here. I would’ve wandered for at least an hour if you hadn’t shown me the way.”
“I doubt that.”
"Please," he said, his expression kind. "I'd like you to have it."
“That would be so nice. Thank you.”
“It’s settled then,” he said, grabbing the full LP and a 45 RPM for me. Then he wiggled his eyebrows playfully. “Let’s see what else they have.”
We walked the aisles, again and again, talking about our families, our pets, our favorite movies. I learned that Max was 22 years old and had lived in Chicago his entire life, just like me. Despite being someone who lived on the north side of Chicago, his father raised him to be a die-hard White Sox fan. He despised country music about as much as he loved rock and roll. He loved dogs but didn't trust cats. He'd never been on an airplane but had the honor of opening for The Who and The Byrds up in Milwaukee (which he was grateful to drive to). His life was exciting and unique and the more I learned about him, the more I wanted to know. He was equally curious about me, asking about my job, my friends and the things that made me tick. Unlike a lot of the guys I had dated, he wanted to know the answers. He listened intently and my answers led to more questions. For the first time in my life, someone seemed fascinated by me. Me, Jeanne Kramer. It blew my mind! When he asked about my family, I realized how much time had passed.
“Oh no, I had better go. It’s going to get dark and my mother might be worried.”
“Wait, can I walk you?”
“Sure, that’d be nice.” I was relieved that Max didn’t seem any more ready to say goodbye than I was. After the cashier rung up Max’s purchases, and he handed me a small bag with my Otis record, we walked out into the cool spring air just as the sun was drifting down into the horizon. Pink and blue swirls filled the sky.