Hurt Story
Matthew Ryan Fischer
Her hair was wild and curly. It
was long and wavy and hard to manage.
She was a brunette, but there were lighter shades of auburn and amber
mixed in with the darker browns. No one
thought it was natural, but it was. On
stage her name was Lily Liar and she and her punk rock friends put on quite an energetic
and aggressive show.
In the audience was Red Andy. His
real name wasn’t Red Andy, but all his friends called him Red Andy. Andy wasn’t particularly red or anything like
that. He had a history or running red
lights, but that wasn’t where the nickname came from.
Red Andy was tall and quiet and awkwardly shy. He had few friends, but when he made a friend
he kept them for life. Lily Liar was
loud and showy and ambitiously strong.
She was dedicated to her art and craft and had no time or patience for
waste.
Red Andy fell in love with Lily Liar the first time he ever heard her
sing. Lily Liar had no idea who Red Andy
was. He was just another anonymous face
in the crowd of a poorly lit nightclub.
She had such heart and emotion and spirit. And it was all on the surface and out there
for everyone to see. It was everything
that Red Andy was afraid of and unable to be.
She would compliment me perfectly, he told himself. Not in those exact words, but with similar
gist. This was a not uncommon game for
him to play. He fell in love with lots
of women. Walking down the street,
sitting at a coffee shop, looking at pictures online – it seemed Red Andy’s
biggest and best skill in life might have been falling in love often and at
first glance. He knew this was his
game. He knew he was obviously in need
of something that would fill his heart correctly and allow him to either win or
to just stop playing. But he didn’t know
what that was and wasn’t too keen to leave the game behind. He had heard athletes say things like that
before – they weren’t ready to leave the game.
He realized they were talking about an entirely different sort of game,
but his mind still made the connection.
Red Andy also knew that this was different. This was no game. This might be the most attractive woman he
had ever seen in his life. This girl was
the girl. Sometimes you just know.
Lily Liar was wrapping up her set.
Red Andy was into his fourth beer.
He had tried to spread his drinks out that night, and certainly had no
intention of drinking four. But once he
saw her start to sing and he realized he was in love with her, he knew no good
could come from having his mind working at full capacity. He needed to shut his brain off, not indulge
this fantasy further.
But somewhere during the fourth beer the idea of talking to her grew to
look better and better. Sometimes beer
has that magic effect – you think it will shut your brain off, but all it does
is give you really bad ideas. Red Andy
knew it would be a bad idea for him to walk up to a woman he had never met and
tell her that he loved her. He knew
that. In his heart of hearts he knew
that was true. And yet all he wanted to
do was have a chance to look at her, to speak to her, to share some second of
his life with her.
Suddenly he was drinking a fifth while Lilly Liar was packing up her
guitar and unplugging cords from amps and foot pedals.
Red Andy had no plan. He didn’t
need a plan. He was sitting at the bar
and Lily Liar stopped off to talk to the bartender and get a bottle of
water. All he had to do was turn and say
something. That’s all he had to do.
What he did was turn and stare at her.
It wasn’t much of a plan and it was poorly executed. He sat there for a moment, kicking himself
mentally, knowing he should say something.
Anything. It’s not always so
easy, it would seem.
“Hello.”
She was talking to him. Apparently
it was just that easy for some people.
He rubbed his eyes, embarrassed.
“I didn’t mean to stare.”
“It’s okay. A lot of men stare at
me,” she joked. “Part of the deal that comes with this whole thing, you know?”
“I’m not that guy. Okay. I just, your songs… I just um… you know I
don’t talk to a lot of rock stars.”
“Thank you. I’m still a ways away
from that, but that’s nice.
“Your songs hurt me.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“Not hurt... I mean, I’m… ugh… I’m
not making sense am I?”
“Not yet.”
“They’re emotional. They’re deep.
That’s really powerful, you know?
It can hurt. You really cut to
it.”
“Cool. Well, sorry that I hurt
you.”
“No. I’ll survive. I just meant that you’re really good. You
really get to the issue of the whole thing.
It’s like you’re tapping into something so real and strong. That’s great.”
“I’m glad you’re a fan. We’re
selling merchandise in the back.”
And there it was, that’s all she thinks of me, he thought – somebody to
buy her junk.
“Can I buy you a drink?”
“Oh, I don’t…”
He gave it a try. At least he had
that. He knew he would always regret
talking to her, but knew he would have regretted it more if he had never talked
to her at all. Whoever said the only
regrets are the things we don’t try was a liar.
Sometimes both ‘to do or not to do’ end up with the same result.
He tried to backpedal, “I didn’t mean… I mean, you don’t have to drink it
with me. That’s not what I meant. I just meant that I wanted to show my
appreciation. That’s all I meant.”
“I was going to say I don’t drink.
But thank you. And if you want to
show your appreciation, check out some of our gear or download some of our
songs.”
“Okay. I’ll do that.”
“Great.”
Red Andy stood up and started to look away. He was embarrassed and things weren’t getting
any better inside his mind. He knew it
was going to be a long walk to the train station tonight. There was nothing he
could do or say to her now to avoid a heavy dose of self-reproach.
“I’ll... I’ll stop bothering you.
I know you’re here with your friends and probably want to get out of
here anyway. I just wanted to tell you
how much your music meant. That’s all.”
“Oh. Well thank you.”
She actually seemed surprised by his abrupt disappearance. Maybe he could have talked to her more. Maybe they could have been friends or lovers
even. Maybe they still could be. All he had to do was stop walking and talking
to her.
“Yeah. Sure. See ya.”
He walked off. He was sure he made
a fool of himself. He was sure of
it. Just as sure as he was sure that she
wanted to keep talking to him.
Red Andy hated himself sometimes.
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