If You Love Me

23

This chapter contains mature content

a v e r y

I HAVE BEEN TO ONE concert before. Millie had won the tickets in a draw at work. She bounded through the front door, her red locks forcing their way out of the knot she tied them in, the brown leather purse that she had for far too long sliding continuously down the length of her arm, and her lipstick coated lips outstretched into a smile. By the look on her face, one would have thought that Millie loved the band, memorizing a song or two but in actuality, she had no clue who they were. As she surveyed the main floor of the house, she watched my mother paint the walls with paint dripping down to her elbows staining the old purple comforter beneath her that I had outgrown. Millie sat on the couch the entire night, her knees resting against the tops of her chest and her arms wrapped around them as she watched my mother with me. Her eyes grew tired the longer that she stared at her, but they never once falling closed. When her alarm sounded from the depths of her purse, my mother finally made eye contact with her. They smiled at one another and then Millie placed her lips on to the centre of my forehead before leaving.

I hadn't understood at first why Millie wanted my mother there as bad as she did.

Not until I saw the look on my mother's face once the band started performing. Her hair, longer than she usually kept it, fell way passed the tops of her shoulders and rested on the centre of her back as her head fell backwards; her eyes drew closed, her black eyelashes rested on the tops of her cheeks; her hands outstretched out, nearly hitting the couple next to her; and her lips formed one of the biggest smiles I had ever seen her wear. The bass of the music that she had heard for the first time that day danced along every inch of her skin as it were a ballerina at the biggest performance of her career. She remained in that stance the entire time they played, as they said their farewell and exited the stage, as the grass fields began to clear, and as the night sky grew further.

For the next few days, my mother held on to that large smile as she would paint the house, got me to dance with her in the middle of the kitchen every night until our legs turned into jello, and would sway her hips while stirring a pot of macaroni.

When the high that she received from the concert had ended, she got a speaker and began to play the music that she could no longer hear in her head.

Dean sits across the console; our fingertips entwined as he rests our palms in my lap. His free hand holds onto the steering wheel as he guides the car down the road that had fallen privy to nightfall. He pulls the car off the highway and into the parking lot of the pub. The parking lot is nearly full as he pulls into one of the few spaces left before shutting off the engine.

The neon sign flashes continuously from above the entrance way. Heath's Camaro pokes out from the driveway on the side of the building, a black pickup and motorcycle parked right beside it.

Dean unfastens his seatbelt swiftly and opens his door, meeting me on my side. He outstretches his hand for me once more before leading the two of us towards the large grey steel doors that were kept ajar, a bouncer standing on either side of it.

The smell of distilled spirits and cigarettes becomes stronger as we enter the pub. People gathered in groups near the bar and by the stage that was only occupied with a mic stand, a guitar, and a drum set. The radio plays all throughout the space, the music of conversation being slightly louder.

Dean leads us over to the bar where Olivia sits on one of the barstools. A cocktail that was nearly empty rests on the countertop in front of her, her finger dancing along the rim of the glass. Her legs are crossed over one another, her tightly fitting black dress resting on the middle of her thighs. Her brown curls cascading past her shoulders.