Your Voice Was The Soundtrack Of My Summer

I wasn't thinking of anything in particular when I woke that morning in June waking up to the sun's rays hitting my eyes. I was thinking of how this summer vacation was going to suck some major ass, since all my friends were either going away to somewhere cold and windy or super hot and sunny. And I was kicked to the curb, with no money left to go to Jamaica or Spain.

A lone 16 year old boy stuck in the trance of summer, all alone and aimless this summer. Every summer job I applied for didn't want me. I guessed the lip piercing spoke for itself when it came to hiring.

Everyone was out doing something, and I was left empty handed. No money, no life. Just as the clouds moved over the sun to blare another shining ray, something glinted inside my room. I looked around to see the source of the glimmer and smiled to myself when I saw my faithful acoustic guitar lying haplessly on the floor among the mess of sheet music, notebook paper and discarded shit.

There are two things people can do if they were in my situation. You could either mope around and wait until summer vacation ends to go to another lousy year of school, and just when you thought Hell was over, there was another sort of Hell that was worse than the one you had initially. Or you could make the most of your summer no matter how worthless or hopeless or moneyless you happened to be.

Hell wasn't an option for me.

Pulling on an old shirt and some jeans I grabbed my guitar and walked barefoot on the hot hot asphalt that burned the soles of me feet. But that seriously couldn't stop me. When I was set out to do something, I knew I had to do it, and there was no way of stopping me.

It was maybe miles or so until I reached the beach. The Atlantic Ocean that no one barely went to since it was pretty shitty out there, but still plenty of bypassers went by, and some sand and ocean wouldn't hurt. When realizing the sand wasn't much colder than the pavement I sat Indian style on the soft sand and started strumming my guitar.

It's interesting to see who comes to the beach. Mostly the families are composed of teenage couples, a mom and their kid, grandparent couples and joggers. I just played and played, not realizing the soft thump the coins were making on the sand, or the feathery drop the dollar bills made.

This is when Indigo comes into view.

A black haired girl with her knees up to a chest, tightly curled into a ball, looking out onto the ocean.
She buried her head in her knees from time to time, her choppy short black hair tied messily sticking out from her small head.

I couldn't see her face, but there was something about her and I instantly knew she was beautiful. Her reluctance at being in the ocean, or maybe the fact she wasn't in a scantily clad bathing suit.
But there was another reason that made up for the fact that I went up to her, giving in to all my barricades of keeping my distance from trouble.

But this couldn't be possibly considered trouble? It could be called, A Desperate Attempt Of Having A Life. That would definitely be more appropriate.

"Hey,”

I plopped next to her, laying my guitar in between us. Carefully she looked at my guitar, then cautiously and slowly looked at me, and we made eye contact.

Her hazy blue eyes shimmered with wet tears.

She brushed her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt and smiled apathetically at me.

"Hi," she replied, going back to gazing at the ocean.

"You came here, because you were wondering why I was crying," she turned sideways at me, looking at me with a playful glare.

I was speechless at first.

Why did I come here? This beautiful chick, looking intimidated, yet confident. Was that even possible? And here we are on the beach. She is crying, I have my guitar. Cliches, anyone?

"Well, yes I guess so, and I was going to play for you," I added the last part, just to see how she would react.

And I got a less than satisfactory reaction.

"Really. Well, you really shouldn't be wasting your time on someone who doesn't have money, you know?" she smiled sadly at me gesturing to her empty pockets.

Did she seriously think this was a matter of money? That I was only hitting on her just to make some damn money?

I knew I wasn't that desperate looking. At least from my perspective.

"I'm not asking for anything. I just want you to listen," I cooed her.

"Fine, I guess I can do that," she shrugged.

I collected the guitar in my hands, feeling its familiarity and its warmth. The guitar was a respiratory necessity for me. It was living air, and essential for me. And I strummed, not once looking at her, already aware of her glare. But whether it was one of appreciation or hate, I did not know, nor did I attempt to figure out. I just played, letting my heart take both of us away.

Even if she didn't know the first thing about me.
Even if I didn't know her name.
Even if I had no idea about her.
Even though she might hate me.


Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to arise.

Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these sunken eyes and learn to see
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to be free.

Blackbird fly Blackbird fly
Into the light of the dark black night.

Blackbird fly Blackbird fly
Into the light of the dark black night.

Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to arise
You were only waiting for this moment to arise
You were only waiting for this moment to arise.

I looked up at her when I finished. Her surprise clearly comprehended and her admiration clearly defined in her shining eyes.

"So, you serenade to me my favorite song, and you don't know the first thing about me?" she folded her arms doubtfully.

"Yeah,” I nodded, shaking the hair out of my eyes to take in a full view of her.

Inside I felt a stroke of luck. Her favorite song. Either there was a shooting star this morning or God decided to play Cupid.

"It was good. Very good actually. Thanks,” she looked at me with her hazy blue eyes.

"My pleasure,” I bowed in a mocking manner.

"I guess you're asking for something back in return?" she looked expectantly at me.

I had to take this matter and twist it into my advantage. Of course I had to do something drastic.

"Yes, actually I am,” I assured her.

"Name your price,” she nodded.

"A kiss,” I blatantly said.

She stared at me in disbelief. A thousand emotions played at her face in the matter of 1 second. Shock, confusion, idleness, recognition, disbelief. You name it.

"Very funny,” she decided it was a joke.

I decided it wasn't.

"No, really. I want a kiss,” I persisted.

"Why?" she obliviously asked, inching away slowly from me.

"Because, I just do, that's all. Please?" I begged.

"A kiss?" she looked uncertainly at me.

"Yes, I can demonstrate if you like?" I cockily told her. She frowned at me.

"Close your eyes,” she finally inaudibly said.

Sweet revenge. Sweet love. Sweet kisses.

Summer was going my way.

Close proximity lasted for only a millisecond. But I didn't mind. Because I knew I was already in love with a girl whose name I didn't know. All I needed was her presence and everything would be fine.

"I'm Paul by the way,” I told her casually, after the short kiss.

"Indigo,” she muttered under her breath.

Indigo, her name reflected her in oh so many ways. Although ways I couldn't say, since I've known her for a grand total of 5 minutes.

"Indigo like purple?" I looked at her apprehensively.

"Yes, like the color,” she gritted her teeth at me, showing her display of hate for her name.

"Guess what Indigo?" I looked at her from the corner of my eye.

"What?" she looked at me, losing her menacing glare and gritting.

"I wasn't finished,” I said with a smirk in my voice.

"Finished with what?" she looked at me with a confused look. She was totally oblivious, this one.

"With that kiss,” I smugly told her, as I pulled in closer to that sweet angelic face I yearned to touch.