A Song for Myself

The harsh sound of my alarm clock woke me at exactly five in the afternoon, just as it did almost every Saturday. The machine produced a high pitched sound that was perfect for rousing even the most talented sleepers. I remained in bed for about 20 seconds before the vitriolic noise forced me to open my eyes. Then, I walked to the other side of my room where I turn off both my alarm clock and the speaker that increased its volume.

                I groaned, I cracked my back, and grabbed the jar of bourbon that sat on the floor beside my bed. After a few swigs, I felt awake enough and was ready to start working. I walked into my small, dust covered kitchen where I checked the calendar.  Damn it! I remarked. Today was the day that I had been dreading for weeks. I took another shot; I knew I was going to need it.

 

When Debbie called me I was stoned. I was not expecting her to call, and I didn’t want her to know that I had been using. I agreed to everything that she said or asked and made an effort to get off the phone as quickly as possible. When I checked my email the next day I received an electronic invitation to her pre-wedding celebration. Attached was the following note:

Hey Jason,

Thanks again for DJing at my party. I don’t want things to be weird between us, but you have the best ears, and I want this party to have the perfect music.

-Deb

                I should have just let the call go to voice mail, but hell, I was so out of it that night. I was not thinking strait. And to be honest I probably would have let gunman walk into my house; I was that high.

A few days later I forgot about her email, her phone call, and the party.  However, when June began and I examined my calendar, all the memories came flooding back.  Now, the dreaded day had finally come, and I was not ready for it.

After I took a shower I loaded all of my equipment into the van and headed to the nicest place in town, The Davidson Ballroom.  I got there around 7:30 and was ready to start by eight. That was when he came up to me.

“Hey, man, you must be Jason”.

I’ll play along, I decided.  “Indeed, I am”, I said with false friendliness. I forced myslef out my hand and let this guy shake it. His hand was soft, had he been using hand lotion? Weird.

“I’m Will” he said.

Nope, I can’t do this. “I know”

He made a strange face, but then remarked, “Nice gadgets”, and pointed to my sound equipment.

“Yeah, Thanks”, I said.  Just being around him made my veins seep with anger. I wanted him to go away so I started fiddling with my turn table. He seemed to get the message, and after a few seconds he walked away. Thank God.

I started the music, and as the minutes passed more and more people began to enter the room. Some sat, some danced, and some gorged themselves with food. After I played a few more songs and I began to wonder why Debbie hadn’t entered the ballroom yet. I felt a small tug in my chest and cursed myself. She is getting married, she’s in love with another man, I told myself.  For some reason I still wanted to see her. Stupid. I played another song. She didn’t enter. Then it occurred to me that she may not be coming, and with that thought, I let out a sigh of relief.

It happened fast, the hefty security guard who smelled of stale beer told me to turn the music off. The crowd of people grew silent.  

I see her walking in a silvery white dress and remember when she was wearing a pink one. It was only ten years ago, but it feels like a lifetime. Back then I was just beginning my DJ career; Dad had been arrested, and mom was never home. I started doing pot. But when I got to school and everything was okay. She was an aspiring pianist. She was beautiful, and when I was with her I felt like everything was alright. I felt free. When I went home things changed.  I looked for a distraction, for a getaway, and I found marijuana.  

 Senior year came and I took her to prom; she wore the pink dress that night. After the dance I drove her home. While we were on the highway she opened my glove compartment in search of a good CD to listen, instead she found weed. She cried. She dumped me.

We avoided each other for the rest of the school year and during the summer.  In September she went off to some university in Boston. She quit piano and traded it in for a master’s in business administration.

After she earned her degree she moved back to town. She had a boyfriend; and he moved in with her. Sometimes I saw them when I went grocery shopping, other times I saw them sipping hot drinks at the local coffee house. Sometimes she looked at me.  I wished I was able to read her mind.

***

I tried to focus on my computer screen because it was better than watching her with hands and lips all over him. The evening went by slowly, and eventually, the time came when the party goers wanted a slow-dance worthy song. I don’t know if it was the beer I was drinking or something else, but I got a crazy Idea. I selected the song “Iris” by the Goo Goo Dolls, it was perfect for slow dancing, and it had been our song. I thought that if I played it she would look at me. I thought she would realize that after all these years I still loved her. But that didn’t happen. She didn’t even look at me. She danced with him; to her I was nothing more than the DJ.

I zoned out for the rest of the party. I let my hands dictate the songs that I played. I felt the vibrations around me, but I heard no music. By 3:00 in the morning most people had left, and at quarter after her brother approached me. He handed me a check for two-thousand dollars and told me to head on out. So I did.

I drove home; I unloaded the van.  I carried my equipment up two flights of stairs, and put them in the living room of my apartment. Then, I took my equipment apart. I pulled out the wires, took out the screws, and deleted “Iris” from my song bank. I knew she would never be mine.

However, in the weeks that followed, I began to put my equipment back together. I quit smoking weed. I grew tired of living in the past. Since then I have come to realize that all I have is now. Now I just live.

 

I would be lying if I said I forgot her, I will always remember her.  And I think that part of me will always love her. But she does not consume me. Only I can decide when to take my equipment apart, and only I can decide to put it back together.