F or F? ~ Cmommy

He was part of her history. During the summer of her 18th year, he'd sung the soundtrack that accompanied her journey through first love. His name was actually a bit different in reality from the name on the ticket stub. He'd almost lost the accent of his birthplace. He hadn't lost his ability to make her heartstrings hum.

Of course, fame made his life facts available and her status as fan made her completely unknown. Driving to the grocery store on a sunny November day was just another task to be checked off of the "to-do" list. Like goldfish trapped in a bowl, her thoughts looped a familiar path: milk, fruit, bread, stamps, am I out of coffee?, chicken for quesadillas tonight, milk...she absently pushes buttons on the radio, searching for a voice to impart wisdom. Signaling a turn, she hears the DJ say his name. He's here. In her city. He's here in her city, tonight. "Call 555-1234 for tickets, hurry!"

Unable to swallow, she speed dials her husband. "EEEEAAAAHHH! Guess what??!! My absolute, all-time favorite musician is in town and he's performing at the Pagaent and the tickets are $30 something and if we can get a sitter for the babies do you think we could take the boys? Please?! OMG, they have the Greatist Hits CD committed to memory and it would be sooooo much fun. Can we go? Will you call Beth and see if she's free??" Laughing indulgently, her husband says he'll call and yes and the boys, really? and wow, she's excited. "Duh!", she thinks, sounding like the teenager who will hopefully fulfill the one requirement that can make this night possible.

The rest of the day passes in a blur. Pieces fall into place. By 7pm, they are whizzing down the highway, aiming for an adventure. At 6 and 9, the boys are fairly clueless about concert protocal. She hopes they'll stay awake, or at least fall asleep in a seat and not in her arms. The opening act is too long and the crowd has reached a frenzy when the lights dim and the opening chords are heard. Screaming, she jumps to her feet, singing with abandon. Three songs later, she remembers that the ties binding her to the here and now are standing on seat cushions and grinning at her. She grins back at them.

Memories have been moving closer as the set list continued...she wonders where the boy is now, if he's happy, if he thinks of her when he hears these songs, if he hears these songs. People like to say that you never forget your first love. Forgetting isn't even an option. And, he was more than just a first love. He was the one who lit a flame that caused her to see who she could be, what she wanted from life. He was a dead ringer for the man on stage, so alike in looks that they had been mobbed together at a concert back in the '80s. The boy was Hard To Hold. He let her go...and he got away.

Twenty years later, the reality of him is superimposed with the image before her. She tells her husband that she's going to peek from the stairs to see what is going on under the balcony where they are seated. No one else is on the stairs as she pauses to watch the man, just 40 feet away, intent on his guitar. She's feeling a bit dizzy, dreamy, when he turns and locks eyes with her. She slowly turns to look behind her, but no one is there. Returning his gaze, she is startled to see him grin at her. With a quick whisper to the security guard, he leaps to the floor and runs towards the stairs. She can't breathe. He's singing into the head mic with the guitar now flung across his naked back. In slow motion, black hair, tatoos, sweat, a blazing smile pass her, followed by a trio of burley men. Time is witness to his eyes meeting her eyes. Did he see her soul?

She races after them, fearing the crowd that is now bolting for the staircase. The rush has caused her instincts to kick in gear: her family, she must get to her family. Pushing down panic, she sees the rock star standing on the counter---in front of her sons. The irony is not lost on her; chasing him, or running towards the men who know and love her, she has ended up in the same spot. Thankfully, for the future contentment of her heart, she'd been looking for the ones who held her heart. Still, she has to believe that in another space of time, or time of space, the music and it's magic in her life would be explained. The past depends on it.