We go inside and find our mother with a table close to the door. I see Melody, but I’m at an angle where she can’t see me. I could tell something was off, but she was still efficient in her work. Somehow, she’s even more beautiful tonight than the morning I met her. Maybe it’s because I know her story, the scars that made her who she is, or the tender moments when she lets her guard down—like the moment right before I carried her into my room. People are much more beautiful when they’re flawed, I think.
The act on stage finishes to polite applause and is relieved by the MC, Mark. He tells some lame jokes and has an arrogant persona. I make a mental note to have Lily record the moment she tells him she’s not holding up her end of the bargain. He introduces the next act, a middle aged guy, Jerry, who comes to the stage with his acoustic guitar. He kinda looks like an out of shape Tom Hanks, but he has surprising range in his voice. He play three Beatles songs, closing with ‘Hey Jude,’ extending his time by singing the chorus multiple times. Mark appears on stage again and takes the mic.
“Give it up one more time for Jerry.” The crowd gives him a respectable ovation and Mark moves on. “Alright, we’re down to our last performer of the evening, and for the first time in awhile, we’ve got prose poetry.” The crowd starts snapping their fingers in unison. “Give a nice welcome to Mr. Miles Alexander.”
I made sure to keep my eyes on Melody during my introduction to gauge her reaction. Hearing my name, she immediately looks up, and we lock eyes as I walk toward the stage. She’s shocked. But, I still can’t tell if it’s the good kind. The applause from the crowd brings back the butterflies, and internally I start to panic as I fiddle with the mic stand. I’m breathing heavily, with a heart rate that’s doubled in the past forty-five seconds. I sound like a pervert as my breathing blares over the PA system. My eyes find Melody’s again and I remember that moment by the water, the first time I realized I was falling for her. I take my phone from my pocket, close my eyes, take a deep breath, and exhale slowly. I get a few laughs but when I open my eyes, I can see Melody has moved closer to the stage.
“Sorry, I’m a little nervous about this, so bear with me.”
“You got this,” someone calls from the audience.
“This piece is called Coffee and Condolences.” I tell them, taking a deep breath and diving in.
“I’ve loved Coffee for most of my life. The smell of of a fresh pot, the jolt it provides to otherwise average mornings. I felt all of that before I ever had my first cup, and when I did, I was hooked. You see, I’ve always been a runner—jumping from one thing to the next, never satisfied, never appreciating what was in front of me. And Coffee fueled those runs, keeping me alert, eyes forever trained on what’s next. It was an unhealthy relationship where I was giving more than I was receiving.”
I sneak quick glances at Lily, Mom, and Melody, each of them glued to me. I continue:
“It wasn’t until the crash—when I was forced to slow down—that I understood how toxic the relationship had become. All the events I missed, people I had taken for granted, because I didn’t wanna slow down. Ashamed and heartbroken, I went looking for something to replace it, and that’s when I met Condolences. It was a whirlwind romance; the Condolences came so swift, flattering me and giving me a place of comfort to feel sorry for myself, until she revealed how fickle she could be, almost killing me. So here I am, a life spent running, now on the brink of death because the one I replaced was worse than the other.”
I can see Lily and Mom crying, but I don’t look at Melody. I can’t look at her, so once again, I continue:
So I have two vices, each pulling at my soul from opposite directions, each offering its own tragic ending. I needed help, but all those years running left me with nobody. So, I had to settle for something I never saw coming. I had to settle for a distraction. She was everything I ever needed, even though Condolences had told me I’d never be happy. When Coffee told me I was ready to run again, she laced up her shoes too. I guess what I’m trying to say is, I’m thankful for the Coffee and Condolences, because without them, I’d be too blind to see what’s right in front of me.”
The applause is surprising, but appreciated. My breathing returns to normal as I lock eyes with Melody.
We gaze at each other for seconds, but it feels like forever.
Finally, through my tears I can see it, the faintest hint of a smile.
So I take my cue, say a silent prayer for luck, and step into the Universe.