Judy

Chapter IV

"Love Never Felt So Good"

XSCAPE

Michael Jackson, Justin Timberlake

I opened the door, and to my surprise, everything seemed quite normal. The books against the shelves, the table clean and organized. I heard a sweet melody of "Hey Soul Sister". My head quickly turned around, trying to figure out where the source of the music was coming from.

Realizing it couldn't be downstairs on my current floor, I trotted up the stairs, curious, to find the noise that had come from my daughter's room. I looked a bit puzzled at first but soon reached my hand toward the door. As I pushed the door open to take a look inside, Charlotte was there, playing her heart out.

"Charlotte?" she asked, almost immediately.

Charlotte turned around with a hesitant but warm smile on her face. "Oh, I didn't see you there." She replied. "I was just enjoying the sweet melody. I haven't touched that thing in years."

Rosie approached her mother a few seconds later in awe and sat beside her. "I never heard you play before mom."

"Me neither," I responded

She laughed and stroked Rosie's hair.

Rosie said, "Let me hear something. I wanna see what you can do."

I stepped into Rosie's room slowly while Charlotte was playing a simple melody. It sounded familiar, but yet non-recognizable. She taught Rosie the melody and then Rosie took over. That was when Charlotte started walking toward me with her arms out.

At first, I didn't get it. But, within mere seconds of us interlocking fingers and a steady sway, I knew.

Charlotte placed her head on my shoulder and closed her eyes, smiling. After a few more sways, she looked at me. "I remember you were very excited that day."

I tried to look confused, but she knew. The song Rosie was playing was "Stand By Me" by Ben E. King. I was surprised she remembered it. The wedding was 12 years ago.

After the song, Charlotte looked at me, a happy, and expressive look glazed her face. I couldn't help but kiss her. And kiss her I did. I got her back up to her feet and I led Charlotte out the door.

I told Rosie, "We'll leave you to do your homework," and closed the door behind me.

My wife headed downstairs, but I caught a glance of our wedding photo hanging on the wall. Charlotte, in an Off-Shoulder A-Line Taffeta wedding dress with beading in a beautiful ivory shade. It felt like prom all over again, but it wasn't in some flimsy gymnasium. No, it was in Western Routes, a fancy banquet hall in the middle of North Garden.

I felt like a king that day, November twenty-third. She was treated like a queen. Everything was perfect. I couldn't remember most of it; I was too excited and happy to have someone to call my wife.

❋❋❋

It was a crisp Thursday. The breeze had filled through my hair, shaking it like a bush and formed goosebumps. The trees were rustling, a sort of rhythmic tune. Another day passed and life seemed perfect. I decided to take a walk to just admire the crisp weather; the indifferent varieties of leaves that scatter the sidewalks. The sense of Halloween was underway, but I for one wasn't that into the Halloween spirit. You see, me and Charlotte's anniversary was coming up. And, I wanted to do something special for her. For the family.

I walked a mile or so until I reached an old rickety oak wood bridge. A rocky yet seamlessly constant rush of water flow beneath the bridge draining down to another part of town. Emerald Skies.

Eventually, I came up to town and pulled out a dusty North Garden Troopers hat to disguise my face. I trotted down the hill and avoided eye contact.

It's not that I'm an outcast to society or anything, it's just that I don't wanna be seen in public and be bombarded by mothers telling me how big of a fan they were of my music and how much they love me in front of their husbands. Some asked to marry me, others handing me Sharpies and albums asking for my signature.

I took a quick look around; but luckily no fangirls, or mothers, were running or screaming to see their favorite musician.

I sat down at a nearby bench, and a scruffy old man sat down beside me. A drink in his hand. His hair receding but still connected. He was a black man, in a coat and thin reading glasses. I noticed he tended to tap his foot rapidly; like he was in a rush for the bus.

The old man started, "You're that Jablonsky kid, aren't ya?"

I looked up and took the cap off from my head and looked at the man. "Pardon?"

He pulled out a photo and gave it to me. It was a photo from the night I invited Charlotte to Sulfur Angus.

"How'd you get this?" I asked, concerned.

The man got up and chuckled. "Not to worry, boy! I'm the manager of that bar; The name is Abraham Ragin. My friends call me Abe.".

I looked at Abe with such confusion. "You know Charlotte?"

He laughed and took a long nice sip of his drink. "Yup, you're a lucky feller. I'll tell you that much." He chuckled and began coughing. He signaled me not to help to see as he could take care of himself. And yet he helplessly tried to get back to his feet.