This Tragic Affair
The Non-Existant
“Hey,” he replied quietly, almost timidly. [I didn’t know Ronnie could be associated with the word timid, but I guess you learn something new every day.] He offered me his hand and pulled me up onto the rooftop, then sat next to what had to have been his guitar, in front of the battered little shed. I waited for him to say something- I’m sorry. Go away. Hell, even thinking something would be good at this point- but nothing happened. Just an overbearing awkward silence.
“So…” I began feebly. “Come here often?’
His face was engulfed by that wild mane of hair of his, so I’m not sure if he smiled or grimaced at -or even reacted to- my cheesy attempt at conversation. All I know is he resumed playing his guitar, focusing intently on the strings. I decided to simply lay in the shadow of the shed and dwell on the notes that floated over the soft breeze and into my ears.
It stayed this way for a while, but it wasn’t uncomfortable; in a way it was consoling. Ronnie was intent on his guitar to the point where it seemed like he was in another world entirely. I sang when I knew the words and enjoyed the music when I didn’t.
This was a side of Ronnie I had never seen before. Usually he was so bright and vital, so full of life- as ironic as that may be. He always had something to say or share. Now though, he seem like such an introvert, but there was something more to it; it was like he was isolating himself with a purpose- not just to be alone but to think. This new Ronnie was intriguing, but at the same time troubling… It just didn’t seem right to me. I couldn’t help but wonder if this was my fault for walking out on him earlier, but thought better of it.
Coming out of my mind, I noticed the music had stopped. I looked over at Ronnie, who had abandoned his guitar to stare off into the distance. I tried following his clouded gaze, but saw nothing in particular that he could be watching. Suddenly, his eyes brightened as his hands lightly brought his guitar back up from his lap. He began playing, but this time he paid no attention to the strings, the frets, his fingers. He simply held his gaze on the non-existant.
I definitely knew this song.
“I’m sorry I’m bad. I’m sorry I’m blue. I’m sorry ‘bout all the things I said to you, and I know I can’t take it back…”
“So…” I began feebly. “Come here often?’
His face was engulfed by that wild mane of hair of his, so I’m not sure if he smiled or grimaced at -or even reacted to- my cheesy attempt at conversation. All I know is he resumed playing his guitar, focusing intently on the strings. I decided to simply lay in the shadow of the shed and dwell on the notes that floated over the soft breeze and into my ears.
It stayed this way for a while, but it wasn’t uncomfortable; in a way it was consoling. Ronnie was intent on his guitar to the point where it seemed like he was in another world entirely. I sang when I knew the words and enjoyed the music when I didn’t.
This was a side of Ronnie I had never seen before. Usually he was so bright and vital, so full of life- as ironic as that may be. He always had something to say or share. Now though, he seem like such an introvert, but there was something more to it; it was like he was isolating himself with a purpose- not just to be alone but to think. This new Ronnie was intriguing, but at the same time troubling… It just didn’t seem right to me. I couldn’t help but wonder if this was my fault for walking out on him earlier, but thought better of it.
Coming out of my mind, I noticed the music had stopped. I looked over at Ronnie, who had abandoned his guitar to stare off into the distance. I tried following his clouded gaze, but saw nothing in particular that he could be watching. Suddenly, his eyes brightened as his hands lightly brought his guitar back up from his lap. He began playing, but this time he paid no attention to the strings, the frets, his fingers. He simply held his gaze on the non-existant.
I definitely knew this song.
“I’m sorry I’m bad. I’m sorry I’m blue. I’m sorry ‘bout all the things I said to you, and I know I can’t take it back…”
♠ ♠ ♠
"I'm Sorry" by Buckcherry