Please: A Short story
PLEASE
A short story inspired by Noah Kahan’s song, Please.
God, I can’t wait to get home. It feels like putting pen to paper is a waste of time these days. We just sat in the studio all day, I held my guitar for eight hours only able to think of George Ezra covers. That’s great for me. I’m gonna get fired… probably… maybe… I don’t know.
What is that sound? Is it coming from the car? Hmmm, it is gettin’ pretty old. I got it way back when Alayna and I started dating. We’ve changed a lot and apparently, and I guess so has this car. I love that when I make the turn into our driveway, I can hear Blue barking away; it’ll never get old. Blue has always been that way since he was a pup. Can he hear the noise from the car too? Blue can always tell when one of us is close. I wonder if humans have that capability too.
I finally park the car and meet Blue as soon as I take my first step out of the car. He trips me to the door like he does every night. As soon as I reach the door, it opens before I even take my keys out, and I hear the angelic voice of…
“Well, if you want to sing out, sing out. And if you want to be free, be free. 'Cause there's a million things to be…” Alayna, my beautiful wife, swaying and singing with flour all over her.
“Well, hello to you too,” I said, staring in admiration of her… just all of her. Everything she is amazes me. She is a free spirit. I know something’s wrong if I don’t hear her sing or dance, at least once a day. Alayna gets so into everything she listens to. Her brunette curls swayed to every movement. Her soft green eyes close. She feels every song she listens to. I mean I get it, we’re both musicians. I get to play guitar; she gets to sing. It’s a match made in heaven.
I walk to the bedroom and unload from the day. As I set my keys on the oak side table next to the bed, I look over at the photo of Alayna and I from our wedding day. Her father gifted us a framed photo from our first dance. I loved that photo. I mean… I love that photo. It reminds me of every step we’ve taken together. It always makes me want to hold her a little tighter and a little closer every time I see it.
As I take the short walk from the bedroom to the kitchen, the music coming from the record player becomes louder and louder. I usually know what record Alayna is playing, but for some reason, this one sounds different. The way she’s singing with it, I can tell that it feels different too.
“Whatcha listening to?” I say as I pick up the cover of the vinyl that’s on the record player. A man in a white tee, bellbottoms, a beard, and a guitar in his hands… 70’s? While I examined the record cover, I didn’t even begin to notice the look Alayna’s giving me.
“NOAH! You don’t know who Cat Stevens is?” Her shock is amplified. Her stare could kill me, right here, right now. I shake my head. She rushes from the kitchen, from baking god knows what, and pulls me to the chair across from the record player. She sits next to it. She lifts the needle and places it with all the care in the world. I love this about her too; she knows the exact line this song falls on. This is an album, a song she loves. I sit attentively as she sets the needle down.
We sit still for two minutes. Both of our eyes closed, I opened mine at the last line. My eyes fall right on Alayna, her eyes closed, singing the last line of the song.
“Now there's a way and I know that I have to go away, I know I have to go.”
“You’ve officially experienced, Cat Stevens. That song was called Father and Son.”
“I’m in awe. That last line part was so heavy though. Ah, what were the lyrics?”
“All the times that I cried, keeping all the things I knew inside. It’s hard, but it’s harder to ignore it. If they were right, I’d agree, but it’s them they know not me. Now there’s a way and I know that I have to go away, I know I have to go.”
I asked just to hear her sing.
“I can tell you really hate that song,” I say sarcastically.
“Yeah, I hate it,” she says getting up to go back to the kitchen. I grab her hand and tug her back, pulling her into me. I hold her, and she holds me. It’s perfect.
But then she pulls away.
“I have to go.”
“What are you talking about?” My smile quickly fades.
“I know I have to go.”
“Alayna, I don’t understa-“ I’m scared.
“Noah, I have to go.”
The perfect feeling is gone.
“Noah, wake up!”
My head feels like waves are crashing against my head until finally…
Thank god. He’s finally awake. He was practically thrashing those last few minutes. Noah sleeps so much nowadays. Blue hops in the bed after his brief time protecting the house from the big bad mailman. I watch as Noah puts his sleepy hand on Blue’s head, and it reminds me how badly I miss his touch. I can’t feel anything like this.
I thought if I ever became a ghost or a spirit, I’d be able to float or something, be able to touch things and mess with people. Maybe knock a glass or two off the table, and make some crazy sounds, but this is not what I hoped to be when I died. I’m conscious, I don’t want to be. I’m here, but I can’t touch anything, be heard, or feel at all. God, I wish I could feel it. I mean, I can feel guilt, for deciding to perform at that show last minute. I can feel guilt for getting in that car, right? Can I feel guilt for not being able to be resuscitated? Can I?
Noah, you are a mess. I know it has only been four months, but this is never what I wanted for you.
“Blue, what’s for breakfast?” Noah says jokingly, swinging his legs over the bed. He almost steps on the glass from last night’s drunken rampage. I get that he’s hurting, but that was my favorite picture of us. My dad gave that to us for our first wedding anniversary, he didn’t have to smash it. Three years of marriage, and five years of dating, and yet it always felt new. Now it’s freshly broken. I know he didn’t mean it, but I hurt just as badly as he did when he broke it.
I wonder what he dreams about. He never talks about it. He hasn’t talked about any of this actually. Noah needs to. He needs someone so badly, and I want that person to be me, but I can’t do anything. Is this hell? Probably. He hasn’t played music in months. Our record player has dust on it. DUST! That’s not right. None of this is right.
I glare at the dust on the record player as I follow him into the kitchen. Noah never seems to wake up from his nightmares. Always walking around with sleep in his eyes keeps him dreaming. I know you want to keep dreaming, Noah, but you need to wake up. How do I wake you up?
Oh, are you actually reaching for the leftovers? Nope, you got another beer out of the fridge, damnit! It’s noon, Noah, you haven’t eaten in days! I can’t keep watching this, I will die twice over, if that’s even possible if I have to keep watching this. I have to do something.
My abilities are limited, but I have to try. I walk towards the dusty record player, while Noah sits on the counter staring intensely at his beer. He’s lost enough, I can’t let him lose himself too. I reach out to my favorite record. My hand goes right through it, like I expected, but I’m not giving up this time.
Desperate. I am desperate. After an hour of trying, I consider a break. I take a moment, and I stare at the man that I love. He’s not all there right now, I know that. He’s in there though. I know he is. I miss him.
By the time Noah starts to go for his third beer I walk over to be near him, I’ve lost most of the hope that I had left. He sits down at the kitchen table and starts talking aloud, I can tell he’s desperate to feel too.
“Alayna, if you’re there, I need you to know that I’m at the end of my rope. I can’t do this anymore.”
Noah, no! Don’t start this.
“I can’t keep doing this.” His cries turn into sobs.
No! You have to; you have to wake up!
I run back to the record player; failing is not an option. If he doesn’t wake up now, he may never wake up. I’m hesitant to reach for the record, with closed eyes and a fire I haven’t known before my hand flies towards the dusty cover.
Oh my god, I can feel it! I pick up the album take the record out, and place the needle. The record player turns on, and he whips around. Noah can’t see me, but Blue runs up to me! He can see me… he can see me!
“It's not time to make a change, Just relax, take it easy, You’re still young, that's your fault, There’s so much you have to know.”
He’s finally awake.
I know he can feel me there. Finally.
I pet Blue’s head.
Now that he’s awake, I know I have to go. Don’t worry about sounding professional. Sound like you. There are over 1.5 billion websites out there, but your story is what’s going to separate this one from the rest. If you read the words back and don’t hear your own voice in your head, that’s a good sign you still have more work to do.
