The Passing Sun
Ethan’s head hurt from sunlight streaming through the window as music played in his head. He slid out of his sleeping bag, grabbed a hairbrush and sang Band on the Run, his voice still rough from singing and shouting at the concert, Paul McCartney on stage, almost an arm length away. A surge of adrenaline gave him a feeling of new life. He had just seen Paul in concert for the second time, whose seasoned voice spoke to generations of fans packed into the coliseum. This morning the sun reflected off the bathroom mirror as he inspected his red eyes. A late night but worth it, he thought.
Anne, his high school friend, would be there soon, bringing doughnuts, and asking about the concert. When she had let him into the living room, the day before, he gazed at her face, barely touched by age. “We bought another house, but we’re letting people use this if they need a place to stay for now.”
The sweet aroma of alfalfa filled the room as he opened the door. “So how was it?” Anne asked.
He gasped. “You wouldn’t believe it. I was in the balcony, so close that I could almost touch him.”
She sat on the sleeping bag next to him and opened a box of doughnuts. Patting his hand, she said, “Don [her husband] says hello.”
He grabbed a glazed doughnut, and got up, wiping frosting from his chin. He held her hand and helped her to her feet. As he sung Band on the Run, this time slower, and he drew her into a slow dance, taking in her warmth. “You’re so beautiful,” he said.
She tapped his shoulder. “You said that to all the girls back then.”
“But I only meant it for you.”
“You took Marianne to the prom.”
When he finished the song, she gave him a squeeze and thanked him for the dance. “What ever happened with her?” she asked.
Ethan shrugged his shoulders. “We went out a few weeks. Then she was back with her old boyfriend.” He frowned at her. “And I know what happened with your boyfriend.”
Anne giggled. “Yeah, I married him.”
“Why him?”
She jabbed his chest with her finger. “You never asked me out on a date.”
“Too bad about our band,” he said.
“You went away to college. You said that you couldn’t wait to get away.”
She opened a window to let in some fresh air. The curtain snapped in a gust of wind. The sound of a tractor hummed, tending to a field planted in the spring. He thought about their small town, about how other students said that they would never come back, but here he was with her. “Even you, Mr. Independence, couldn’t stay away forever,” she said.
He sighed. “I’ve been back a few times.”
A plastic vase lay in a corner, its yellow plastic flowers spilled. He glanced at them and laughed. “For guests?” he asked.
“Sort of.”
As he gathered his concert T-shirts, she asked. “Why don’t you stop over? My husband would like to hear about the concert.”
Dan greeted Ethan in their yard, and gave him a bearhug. They gazed at each other, and Dan grabbed a portable CD player, and excused himself. The sun shone on Ethan and Anne. Music from a disc of Paul McCartney hits played, and they talked about how the music spoke to them. Touched by a breeze, he felt a spirit, young and free. “It always takes me back.”
“Me, too,” she said.
“If only we were young again.”
She smiled. “But it isn’t so bad now. How’s it for you?”
“Okay.” Etan smiled, but Anne frowned.
“No, really how is it?”
He shrugged his shoulders.
She picked an apple from a tree. He took a bite, and juice ran down his chin. “Red delicious,” he said. He looked around to see life spread out around them, and took delight in the sound of children. “You found it all,” he said.
She showed him their senior yearbook in high school. He thumbed through the pages, looking at photos and laughed. “How young we were.”
She pointed at a caption under Ethan’s picture, and it said, Destined to be a rock star.
“It was all in the music,” he said.
The caption under hers said: Will run away with a rock star.
They looked at each other, and he said, “We were good together. I just didn’t know it back then.”
Dan brought them glasses of lemonade and headed toward the house. “I’ll leave you two alone to catch up.” He smiled, and she blew him a kiss.
“There were a lot of things we didn’t know,” he said. “It looks like things worked out well for you.”
“And everything is working out for you?” she asked.
The sun was bright, a summer day full of promise. He looked around and nodded to visions and memories that flooded his mind. “I forgot how nice it was around here. Maybe we could start a farm.”
She playfully slapped the back of his wrist, but looked back at the house as her daughter called for her. “I’ll be right back.”
He gulped the rest of his lemonade and set it down, figuring if he left now, he could make it to another friend’s house late in the afternoon. He sang to himself, waiting for her to return. He promised to see her again, but didn’t know when. They hugged. He stepped into his packed car and turned the key. She faded as he drove down the road. The sky opened up for him, and the radio blared, while he wondered where the music would lead.
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