Music, Love and Purple Odd Socks

Being onstage, you don’t really see the people below. The lights blind you and the sweat blinds you and the volume of the music and screaming makes your head vibrate and it blinds you. But a chance look downwards in the silence of our interval from the side of the stage, and I saw her. Purple hair, purple hat, purple make-up, purple shirt and purple odd socks. In the darkness, she looked purple herself.

She took me aback: I lost my breath for a second. Maybe it was the loneliness that had struck me since Giovanna left me; maybe it was just the way she looked in the light; maybe it was the atmosphere. But I knew I just had to speak to her.

“Y’alright, mate?”

I looked round, and there stood my Northern band-member. Danny grinned at me - grinned that wide, toothy and infectious grin. I couldn’t help but grin back.

“Yeah, I am. Those bloody nerves are coming back though, as always. You figure they’d fade, after nine years going onstage,” I replied.

“I don’t think they ever will, to be honest,” he laughed.

Laughing with him, I glimpsed back at her. Her Cupid’s bow, open mouthed and wide smile seemed to blaze through the darkness - the clear gloss on her lips shined, the little flecks of glitter glimmering in the rotation spotlights. I looked up slightly and saw her eyes. Wide and the blue-grey of a snowy sky, surrounded by the thin line of black Khol, and a light shade of purple shadow glittered up to her eyebrows - her eyes shined like her lips.

I can’t explain why, but my knees turned to jelly slightly, and butterflies with pterodactyl wings fluttered excitably in my stomach.

“Come on, Tom. Get your guitar - it’s All About You now,” Dougie smiled.

It almost seemed like fate. Walking through the darkness, up the stairs and onto the dimly lit stage, holding nothing but my guitar and my heart on my sleeve, I took my place to the right of the stage. Ready and in position, I looked at Danny. He winked at me and grinned that grin again, and I felt a little less anxious. And then I looked at her.

She smiled that smile up at me, her eyes full of hope and idolisation, and I just wanted to give my heart and soul and more to please her. Danny started to count and I snapped away from her, focussing on my guitar and microphone. And as I started to sing, I watched her sing along with all of her heart, just staring at me and smiling.

“But if you denied me one of your kisses, don’t know what I’d do!”

I kept going red and looking away through the whole song, and I kept looking back at her, just to repeat the process all over again. She just kept watching me, her smile growing wider as her cheeks grew pinker, and her eyes seemed to sparkle more.

“It’s all about… you…” the three of us sang, as Harry made the cymbal shiver behind us.

Uproar, mayhem and absolute chaos ensued as we were cheered for. My eyes never left her for a second - she seemed to notice, and looked away smiling. Even in that light, I saw the pinkness of her cheeks and ears. I smiled to myself, and, knowing what song was next, swapped my guitar for another and waited for Harry’s drumsticks clashing together.

“This one’s Falling In Love!” Danny screamed into the mic, raising an arm and punching the air as pyrotechnics went off in our faces.

She lit up in the light of the flames, and I continued to watch her singing along with me. I took a chance - I winked. I don’t even know why I did it, but I did. I winked at her, and she cheered, applauding and smiling wider. I felt my face heat up and looked away, my shy personality shining through.

“Oh we could have fallen in love!”

As the song neared its end, silvery confetti fell from the Heavens and peppered the crowd, sending them into chaos once more. The girl with the purple odd socks at the front of the crowd looked up in awe and delight, catching one and putting it in her pocket. She lowered her head back down slowly, her eyes falling on me - she smiled warmly, and my belly flipped.

We only did two more songs, and then it was over. We told the crowd we loved them, threw our towels, bottles, plectrums and drum sticks into the crowd, and exited the stage, waving and blowing kisses.

That’s when I started to think - would I ever see her again? Would she be one of the lucky few who were able to stay behind afterwards to meet us? Even if she did, could I really go out with a fan? Would she think of me as a typical music man and assume it was a one time thing - a fling? - and leave me alone in a hotel room, without even the slight inclination of carrying it on into a relationship?

I was never really a fling kind of guy - I’d had a girlfriend for eleven years. Could I ever do that to a girl? Would a girl ever do that to me? Would she?

But then I stopped.

Sitting backstage with a beer in one hand and a pen in the other, I attempted to pen another hit. And when I say attempted, I mean failed. I threw the notepad to the other side of the room, and just put the pen behind my ear.

A handful of girls ran through the door, some of them dragging friends or boyfriends with force and strength by the hand - they must have come reluctantly. The guys in my band each turned on their unique charms for their fans and started signing things and chatting and having their photos taken.

The three of them were so comfortable in this aspect of our lives - I was always the shy one who had to be approached and told exactly what was wanted of me. Dougie was somewhat like me at some point, but he moved on and grew up, taking the fan part of our lifestyle with a pinch of salt.

I stared at the door for what seems like an age. I counted the panels, I circled the doorknob with my eyes over and over - I even went as far as to imagine with the door would be like in a different colour. My mind ran away with me and I imagined a Doctor Who like scenario behind it. When it seemed like she wasn’t coming, I looked away.

My eyes made friends with my feet for a short while, and I hummed Blink 182 songs to myself. I tapped my feet and bopped my head - I must have looked like a crazy person.

There was the shuffling of feet, a sigh and an ‘ooh’. I looked around again to see who this late person was and my stomach did a somersault - there she was, the girl with the purple everything. Including, purple odd socks.

I stood up and messed my fingers through my hair, sticking my fringe up with the remaining gel and the sweat that had remained, and took the chance to walk over to her.

She was even more amazing up close. I noticed her contact lenses - they must have had colour pigments in them, because I’ve never seen eyes so blue before, or since. I noticed the three purple piercings she had in each ear, and the modest, purple gem in the crook at the side of her nose. I noticed how her purple shirt was off her shoulder, revealing the strap and part of the bosom of a black vest top beneath. I even noticed the faint, light dusting of freckles across her nose and cheeks.

“Hi,” she smiled, showing white, sparkling teeth.

“Hi,” I smiled back.

She held out her copy of our latest CD, and I pulled the pen from behind my ear and signed the inside booklet. She went red as I put more than was the orthodox amount of kisses for the average fan, and smiled wider when I handed it back.

“I’m Tom,” I smiled, holding out my hand.

“I know,” she blushed, taking my hand and shaking it shyly.

She had such a cute voice - not really high, but not too low in pitch. It wasn’t excitable and it wasn’t monotone. I stared at her mouth for a few seconds, watching her bite down on her lip gently, out of nerves. The flecks of glitter sparkled as she moved them in the light, and I broke away from my trance.

“What’s your name?” I asked, still shaking her hand.

She whispered her name shyly, not shaking my hand anymore but still holding it tightly. It was a pretty name - not too common, but not one of these ones that sounds completely made up on the spot. I liked it - it seemed to gel with my own name. After talking with her for a while, about anything that came up, such as her phone buzzing to indicate a text, or if a random thought jumped into her head and she decided to vocalise it, I found out she had a brother who was called Tom. Lovely kid, she said, pride radiating from her because of the topic of conversation.

“So…” I smiled.

“So…” she blushed.

We stood silent for a small while, our eyes meeting everyone else’s but each others.

“What’re you doing tonight? ‘Cause I was thinking of going for a drink before we have to get on that bus…”

“Oh?” she smiled, blushing deeper.

“And…” I cleared my throat. “And, I was wondering…” I kept pausing, thinking my words through carefully so as not to make an arse of myself. “If you’d like to… join me?”

She paused, thinking.

“Okay… if it’s not too much bother?”

“No bother at all!” I beamed, just happy she’d said yes.

She had to wait around for a little bit, as other fans needed autographs and photographs - some of them even gave me presents (which I later found out were a jar of peanut butter, some cat food, a box of Thorntons chocolates, a G-string with a Superman logo on it, and a lock of brown hair…).

The whole time, she just sat on the sofa, peeking through notebooks and papers that were lying around, her eyes occasionally lighting up and her smile widening every so often. I kept glancing at her and smiling to myself - she was really something else.

It was eventually over, and we left the arena arm in arm, my peaked cap an attempt to stay hidden - it never usually worked.

The boys sauntered along behind us, Harry occasionally being jumped on by Dougie and forced to provide a piggy-back ride ever so often, and Danny laughing at them and trying to get on Dougie’s back. Once, they even ended up in a muscled, tattooed pile on the floor. She’d laughed at them, and I’d loved her laugh.

We spent that night together. We talked, we drank, we ate, she smoked, and we went to bed. It lasted hours and when I eventually fell asleep, I dreamed of her eyes and her hair and her perfume and those odd socks. I’d fallen asleep with my arms around her, and I didn’t feel so lonely anymore.

When I woke up in the morning, she was gone. Her side of the bed was made, all of her clothes were gone, and she’d ordered me a fried breakfast and a peanut butter smoothie. She’d even showered and cleaned the bathroom up.

All she left was a note and a sock.

“I’m sorry,” was all she wrote.