The boy approached the man hesitantly. His wife was gone, on the phone to the babysitter and he was alone at the table. The boy inched forward and the man could see the boy’s long, slender fingers curled around a CD case. When he finally found himself in front of the table, the boy was without words. Oh he had many, but he couldn’t find them. The man couldn’t take his eyes off the CD case. “Hi,” the boy finally whispered. “I, um, well, I, it wasn’t my intention to disturb you, but it would be a great honor sir if you would sign my CD.” The boy held out the disc in its case. The man took it from him, turning it over and over and remembering when he had finished this album. On vinyl and long before this stammering boy in front of him has even been a gleam in his father’s eye. “What’s your name?” the man asked. “Isaac,” the boy said softly, reverently. “I suppose you know mine.” “Yes Mr. Wilson. For a long time.” Brian looked up into the boy’s eyes and the sincerity visible in them. He carefully opened the CD case and slipped out the liner notes. “You’re a little young, aren’t you? Are you here with your parents?” “Um, well yes sir, but we were the ones invited, not them. We, um…” Isaac didn’t know how to say it. “My brothers and I, sir, we’re, um, singing tonight in your honor.” Brian looked at him again. “You’re a musician?” “Yes sir. My brothers and I have a band. We’ve released some records.” “Brothers?” This story was starting to sound a little too familiar now, Brian thought as he shifted in his seat. “Yes, I’m the oldest and then there’s my brother Taylor, he’s 17 and does most of the lead vocals, and Zac, he’s 14 and our drummer.” |
Drummer. Brian’s mind lept to Denny and his smile turned a little whistful. He looked at the kid and exhaled slowly. Not that there was a mirror image standing in front of him, but so many similarites had made themselves evident it was almost painful. Brian quickly signed the paper before him, folded it back up and slipped it in the CD case. “There you go.” “Thank you sir,” the boys responded respectfully. “Sure. I, well, I look forward to your performance.” A smile slowly spread over the boy’s face. It was like Christmas morning or something and under the table, Brian clench a fist to prevent himself from becoming overly emotional. He watched the boy hurry off and over to a table full of blond headed, obviously related people. Isaac, that was his name, was showing the CD to his father. Brian watched as the boy pulled the liner notes out again and proudly displayed the signature to his brothers, his mother and his father. Brian watched with a tinge of jealously as the boy’s father patted him proudly and he told himself he would ask his wife when she returned to remind him to call Carnie and Wendy. When the show started, Brian found himself much more interested than he thought he would be, and focused on the tall boy with the guitar, as he gathered with his brothers around the microphones. He didn’t know if they had chosen the material for the night, but he was impressed, none the less. As he watched the sweet-faced middle boy develop the melody line, he said a silent prayer for Carl, and as the baby strengthened the notes with his own solid voice, Brian’s chest shook a little as the memories of Denny flooded him. And then there was this boy, this Isaac, this him, the tall, quiet leader, filling in, supporting, lifting, living the music and making the harmonies soar. The notes lifted Brian joyfully over the crowd and he remembered. He went back to his creation time, to the joy he’d felt as a young songwriter, taken there by the unfettered emotion displayed by these voices so new to him but at the same time so familiar. When he took the stage afterwards, he shook each boy’s hand firmly, stopping to pat Isaac on the back. He stepped to the podium positive in the legacy of the music and full of hope for things to come. And he looked back at the boy. Thank you, he mouthed silently and the boy glowed with such a light Brian had to smile. “Ladies and gentlemen, there is nothing in the word comparable to the harmonies voices can create when they come together in song…” Back Written by Kerri |
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