Stacy's Song (7 page)

“There's nothing to talk about. It's no good. I'm no good.”

“Maybe I'm not the one you should talk to about this. But you ought to discuss y
our feelings with someone. You
ought to talk to your mother.”

He shook his head with vehemence and his hair moved like a wheat field in the wind. “She'd be th
e last one! My mother works ten
sometimes twelve hours a day. She pays for me to go to my special school. She pays all the bills. She ha
s to work hard
but she works even harder than she needs to. You want to know why? It's not just for the money. It's because she doesn't want to see me or talk to me. She doesn't want to be around here when I am.”

“You must be imagining that.”

“You think so? She hates me! She can't stand the sight of me.”

“No
,
Michael
,
that can't be true!” I tried to approach him, but he walked away.

“I ruined her life. When my father died, her life ended too.”

“You shouldn't be thinking stuff like that.”

He wasn't
listening;
he just kept pacing and talking as if to himself. “Someday, I'm going to pay her back, pay off every cent she's had to spend on me.” He returned to the piano. “Let's go make some music. When I'm working on that, I can close out everything else.”

I sat beside him again at the p
iano
except that special moment we had shared was gone. I felt a deep sorrow, a sense of loss, like I'd lost something precious. Tears welled up in my eyes, but Michael was unaware. He was closing out everything except his music, and that included me. I bit down on my lower lip, shaking my head in misery.

***
*

The next evening
I phoned Liz. I wasn't
seeing much of Karen these days
so I decided to become better friends with Liz, although she was also busy. I invited Liz to come to the pool on her day off during the week. Liz worked for her mother who managed a dress shop in the mall. She had to work Saturdays and late on several even
ings
but she had Tuesdays off.

Liz turned out to be a fun companion. She was totally unspoiled. She appreciated everything. Seeing the swim club through her eyes was like seeing it again for the first time. Unlike me, she took nothing for granted. She tried tennis, horseback riding and racquetbal
l. By the time we hit the water I felt exhausted
but she still seemed exhilarated.

“This place is wonderful,” she exclaimed over lunch. “How terrific that you can come here everyday!”

I agreed with her but found it difficult to feel much enthusiasm. “How is Michael?” I asked.

She smiled but it didn't reach her eyes. “He's preoccupied
,
you could say. He's been working on somethi
ng new. It's a surprise for you
but don't let on I told you. You know how temperamental he is. He'll just get angry at me.”

“No, I won't say a word. Bu
t what sort of surprise is it?”

***
*

Liz wouldn't tell me anything else. I kept wondering about it. I didn't get to see Michael Wednesday night either because my parents were all set to take us on vacation. Dad took time off from the office. Since he is one of the partners in the law firm, he can choose his own vacation days. In August, things were slow, so he decided that we would take a week or so to drive up to Canada. At home, the weather was muggy and it was a tremendous relief to escape to the cooler Canadian climate.

We traveled extensively and did a lot of sightseeing. The vacation was what I needed. It was good spend
ing time with my family again. It was nice
to have a change of scene. But I couldn't help thinking about Michael and wondering about his surprise. Liz indicated it had to do with his music—Michael only seemed able to express his emotions through music. The accident that destroyed his sight crippled Michael more than physically. He had told me that we couldn't have a real relationship because of it. Would he ever change his mind? Why did life have to be so difficult and complicated?

 

Karen was my first visitor after I came home from Canada. She was all charged up about Randy and we did a lot of talkin
g. I told her about my vacation
but her mind wasn't on it. She was too excited.

“Stace
,
I'm so happy! Randy and I are getting along great. We have
,
like
,
so much in common and we've been doing everything together.”

“That's fantastic,” I said, but
I felt a pang of jealousy in my heart. I knew it was wrong and I tried hard to suppress the vile emotion.

“You know what the best part is
? We go out in a group with the
popular kids like Greg Lawson, Cindy Ellis, and three or four other terrific couples. It's so much fun.
We go
b
owling, m
iniature golf, movies, anything and even just hanging out;
it's so awesome when you're doing it with them.”

“I'm happy for you,” I told her. Even to my ears
my voice sounded wooden. Honest
I wanted to mean it!

Karen's face beamed. There was a
radiant glow about her. “Listen
,
Stace
,
I just had an incredible idea. I could get Randy to fix you up.”

“No, don't.”

“Why not? Randy has lots of friends. He'll find someone for you.”

“I just don't like the i
dea of a blind date. Look
,
I'm
glad you got a great boyfriend. In fact, I alwa
ys thought Randy was a nice guy
but I want to find my own dates.”

Kare
n shrugged. “Sure
,
Stace
,
if tha
t's the way you want it. Listen
,
I'll call you soon so we can get together and practice our cheerleading. Ms. Gladstone will hold try-outs again in the fall. Cindy mentioned that Beth Hilliard moved. It seems her father was transferred to another state. I'm broken-hearted,
” Karen said with a broad smile
and I found myself smiling too.

“Okay, but that's only one spot. Why don't I just practice with you and
forget about the try-outs? I'm
busy these days with the band anyway.”

“Whatever
.”

Cheerleading
was the last thing on my mind, but I wouldn't hurt Karen's feelings by te
lling her that. Before she left
we
made up to meet at the pool the
next day.

**
*
*

I went out to the backyard and lay in the blue hammock Dad had hung between two big trees. I rested in the shade and enjoyed feeling lazy. I gave myself permission to stretch out and enjoy my freedom. I watched clouds that looked like clipper ships at full sail skim the Western horizon. I felt snug
,
cradled in the cocoon of th
e hammock. The air was rare
,
fragrant with flowers
sweet with the scent of growing plants and grass. Some pe
ople turned dreams into reality
;
I was turning reality into dreams. I was nearly dozing when my mother called my name. She must've spied me from the kitchen window tha
t faced the back. With a groan
I set my big clodhoppers back on the ground and went in to see what she wanted.

“I need someone to take out the garbage,” Mom said.

Andy walke
d into the kitchen as if on cue
,
leaking the last of a messy ice-pop on the ceramic floor tile.

“Looks like a job for Spaceman,” I said.

“Nope, that's not me anymore.”

Mom looked at each of us. “I don't care who does it but the trash better be out before I come back here.” With that, she left the room.

“It's a job for Mutant Girl.” Andy pointed at me.

“Oh
yeah?” I grabbed Andy by the front of his sticky T-shirt. “I think it's a job for a bratty kid. If I'm forced to take out the trash, I'm dumping you in it.”

“I'll tell Dad!” Andy said, playing the Big D card.

I glar
ed at him
hands on hips. He took the garbage out to the can without further comment. I guess there are some advantages to being the large economy size after all.

***
*

That evening, I went to the Norris house for band practice. Nothing had changed much in the ten days I was away. I still wondered what Liz had meant by a surprise, and once or twice I caught sight of Liz and Jimmy exchanging knowing smiles or looks and wondered if it had anything to do with the surprise.

We usually took a break at nine, with Liz serving a sm
all snack at that time. Tonight
Michael changed the routine and called for a break at eight. Liz brought out chocolate chip cookies and lemonade. We kicked back, relaxed and talked for a while. I told them how beautiful Canada was. Liz and Jimmy both agreed they would like to go there someday. I thought they meant they'd like to go together. Mic
hael seemed preoccupied and did
little talking.

After we demolished the cookies
Liz turned to him. “Don't you think it's time to tell Stacy?”

“Tell me what?”

“It's no big thing. Liz tends to over-dramatize.” He actually sounded nervous.

“Come on
,
Michael
,
it's time to let Stacy
judge for herself.” Liz seemed
impatient with him.

Michael returned to the piano and started playing. At the same time, Liz handed me a copy of the music. The work was entitled: Stacy's Song
,
printed in the clear
neat writing I had come to associate with Liz. The song Michael played was the most beautiful thing I have ever heard. It had an incredible melody and the orchestration was unique. But there wer
e no words, not that the music
needed any. I was so moved that when he finished playing, I just sat there, unable to applaud or articulate a word.

“You don't like it
do you?” he asked.

I was jolted into a response. “Are you kidding me? I love it! It's so passionate.”

“Michael wrote it especially for you,” Liz sa
id. But she needn't have spoken.
I understood.

“Grea
t stuff,” Jimmy approved, “Mike
,
I think it needs lyrics.”

“I want Stacy to write them,” Michael responded. “It's her song.”

“That makes sense,” Jimmy agreed.

“Michael
,
you know I can't do that,” I protested.

“Sure you can. Anyway
the song will wait for you until you're ready for it,” he said. There was an air of finality in his voice that informed me of the futility of arguing.

I took the copy of the music from Liz and placed it into my handbag. “Thank you. It's a wonderful gift. I'll always treasure it. I'm afraid you'll ha
ve a long wait for those lyrics
though.”

“That's all right. When there's something worthwhile at s
take
I can wait. I wrote another song while you were away. It's a duet. I want you to sing it with me.”

Liz h
anded me another sheet of music
and I looked it over carefully.

“Let's run through it,” Michael said. “I've been waiting for you to return before we tried this one out.”

It seemed as if they
had all been waiting for me; I felt as if I belonged. I'd come home in the true sense. We played it through once on the instruments: Michael on piano, Jimmy on drums, Liz on lead guitar and me on bass guitar. Then Michael had me
sing the song and he joined in
harmonizing with my voice.

“We got a gift for each other,

something only we can share.

Our love is a high beyond compare,

a feeling so rare.

It's the gift we give each other.

Our love is understanding,

like a depthless sea

where there's only you and me

and total harmony.

Your love means everything to me.

We got a gift for each other,

something only we can share.”

Like Michael's other work the song had a haunting melody
but the beat was much gentler than his usual compositions. I felt overwhelmed. His talent amazed me.

“I think it's wonderful,” I told him. “You just seem to get better all the time.”

“Yeah
,
Mike
,
you do the romantic stuff real good,” Jimmy remarked. “I like it almost as much as your hard rockin' rhythms.”

“I think it's your
best yet.” I put my hand on his
but his face reddened and he withdrew from me.

“Thanks,” he said in a stiff
gruff voice. “I was afraid you'd think it was weak.”

I couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking and feeling behind those dark glasses. I wanted so bad to reach out and make him reach out to me. He was tr
ying to do it through his music
but I wanted and needed more. It was his handicap that kept u
s apart, not just his blindness
but his emotional impairment as well. He was shackled in a prison of his own grief and guilt. I would have given anything to change that. I needed to find the key that would unlock his prison cell.

***
*

On Tuesday morning, it was drizzling and I decided to go to the mall. It was more a looking expedition than a buying one. I figured in a week or so I'd get my mom to come with me so we could purchase some cloth
es for school. September wasn't
far away now. I had hoped to be in the mall with Karen, but as it turned out, she had plans with Randy, so I took the bus and looked around by myself for a while. The new fall clothes were on display at all the stores. I enjoyed window
-
shopping, mentally taking notes on where I would steer my mother when we shopped together.

At this point
I couldn't help wishing my share of the money the band had earned was in my pocket. It would have been nice to spend money I personally earned rather than just having my allowance. But I understood how Michael felt about putting that mo
ney toward new equipment. Still
,
some degree of financial independence wou
ld have been great. Next summer
maybe I would look for a job. I'd be sixteen. Most kids found jobs for the summer by then. I figured I could flip burgers with the best of them.

Around noon
I grew weary of walking around. I thought about stopping for lunch, but didn't particularly look forward to eating by myself. I decided it was time to head home. As I passed a long row of potted trees, a particular store caught my eye. The sign said Swan's in large red letters. I found myself blinking at it. I remembered what Liz had told me. Her m
other managed this store. Maybe
I could stop in and say hello. Then I remembered this was Tuesd
ay and Liz was off today. Still
,
I foun
d myself walking into the store just to look around
or so I thought. I examined a rack of slacks and then one of skirts.

A middle-aged saleswoman approached. “Can I help you?”

“Are you Mrs. Norris?” I asked on impulse.

She shook her fr
izzled, gray head at me. “No, Hun
, she's in the back. Her office is all the way at the rear. You sure I can't help you with something? We got a great sale on handbags today.”

“Not right now,” I told her. I walked in the direction the saleswoman had indicated. Somewhere between the profusion of mohair sweat
ers, hot cords, and denim jeans
it occurred to me t
hat I might be making a mistake acting in haste
,
but what c
ould
I say
,
I just went ahead and did it anyway. When I
thought
I
was
right about something, I act
ed
no matter what the consequences might be.

The office door was partly open; I knocked anyway. I do know how to be polite.

“Yes
,
come in.” The voice was commanding
. I
t reminded me somehow of Michael's.

Mrs. Norris was curled over her desk writing out invoices. Her gray hair was rinsed and tinted the same delicate shade of blue as robin's eggs. The eyes that looked up at me were as gray and serious as those of Liz. “What can I do for you?”

“You don't know me
,
Mrs. Norris
,
but I'm a fri
end of Michael and Liz. In fact
I'm a member of their band.” It seemed like the words got choked as I spoke. I cleared my throat and tried again. “The reason I came by was to have a word with you about Michael.” I tapped my toe nervou
sly as Mrs. Norris stared at me
her eyebrows furrowing into question marks.

“I don't understand. Is something wrong with Michael?”

“No more than usual
but isn't that enough?”

She just stared at me with a cold, unflinching gaze. “Is there some purpose for you coming here, Ms…”

“Stacy
Nelson
. I do have a
reason for being here. You see
,
Michael blames himself for his father's death. I think you're probably the only person who can help him get over his guilt. I don't think he'll ever have a normal life if he doesn't.” I swallowed hard and waited for her to respond.

“Michael told you that?” She appeared more shocked than surprised.

“He didn't have to tell me. I'm his friend.” I rubbed my sweaty hands against my shorts.

“Pardon me
,
but I hardly think this is any of your business
.” Mrs. Norris rose to her feet
as
he
r face began coloring. She was a tall imposing figure
but I was just as tall if not taller and starting to get angry.

“I thought if you coul
d talk to him
explain that it
wasn't his fault
he might start to think differently. He needs to get past his guilt feelings.”

“Look
,
young lady
,
not
that it's any of your business
but in a
real sense
Michael was responsible for what happ
ened. The night of the accident
my husband was exhausted. He didn't want to go
to that baseball game. However
,
he'd promised Michael he would. If Michael
had been a little less selfish
there never would have been an accident. My husb
and would still be alive
and Michael would have his sight.”

“Assuming that's all true
,
the fact remains that lots of peo
ple were on the road that night
and many of them were just as
tired as your husband. In fact
the accident had nothing to do with how weary your husband might have been or whether or not Michael acted selfishly. The accident happened because a drunk drive
r hit their car. Please be fair
,
Mrs. No
rris
,
and
place the blame where it
belong
s. Don't take it out on Michael
because it just isn't right. Maybe he can learn to handle his handicap better if you take away the burden of guilt. It's just too much for a kid his age to bear.”

Mrs. Norris turned away from me. “Please leave! Get out of here!”

Tears welled up in my eyes as I walked out of the store on legs that worked l
ike rubber bands. At that point
I knew what I'd done was a mistake. I guess some of the things meant with the best intentions cause the most problems. I had no one to blame but myself. I acted without thinking out the consequences.