Waiting To Hold You (standard:drama, 851 words)
Author: Pete Holmdel	Added: May 16 2005	Views/Reads: 3401/0	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A man struggles to with the loss of his lover, who he seems to connect with a song.

Waiting to Hold You 

"Long afloat on shipless oceans / I did all my best to smile / ‘Til your
singing eyes and fingers / Drew me loving toward your isle" 

The words followed Mason like a crow. He did not know where he had first
heard it, TV or a movie or something like that. The song had an 
enchanting melody that was both haunting and beautiful at the same 
time. It didn't just remind him of her. To him, it was her. 

"Sail to me, Sail to me / Let me enfold you..." 

Her eyes. That was what attracted him to her and that was what he
remembered most. Shelly had the bluest eyes, as if they thought of 
rain. 

And raining it was that night. She had wanted to go to the party. Mason
preferred to avoid it on nights like that, but Shelly had insisted. The 
club on the pier was the hottest in the city. While the wind and the 
rain came down outside, inside was a celebration that would do Bacchus 
proud. No one heard the cracking. 

Mason had stepped outside to stand under the tarp and get some air. He
was slightly inebriated. This would be another night where they would 
take the train home, he thought. 

He saw it in a flash. The wooden supports gave way and the back half of
the club crashed into the water. Those on land were frantically trying 
to save the victims. Mason himself managed to pull three people out. 
Then he heard her screams. Shelly was only ten feet away, but she might 
as well have been across the ocean. Her eyes were crying, pleading for 
help. That same gorgeous, deep blue that he had dreamt about every 
night for the eight years since he had met her in high school, the same 
blue that soothed him and lulled him to sleep, would be the last he saw 
of her before the current of the Delaware pulled her away. 

"Did I dream you dreamed about me? / Were you here when I was far
south?" 

Mason snapped out of his trance and attempted to brush the memories
away. He left his grungy apartment and wandered down to the Tavern Bar, 
where he was a regular. He wore blue jeans and a faded gray sweatshirt 
that read “Hawks Football” in red letters, a reminder of the glory days 
where he was an all conference back. It was her favorite. Many a night 
had been spent in that shirt, her blond hair falling neatly into the 
hood. 

Mason started his tab for the night. 

It was 2:30 when he was shown the door. He began the four block stumble
past the 7-Eleven, back to that hole he called an apartment. He used to 
be so clean. The song continued in his head, torturing him with its 
repetition. 

"Now my foolish boat is leaning / Broken lovelorn on your rocks / Touch
me not, Touch me not / Come back tomorrow / Oh, my heart, Oh, my heart 
/ Shies from the sorrow" 

Mason played the song on his stereo. He was sick of it, but he needed to
hear it. One more time. Maybe it'll help him sleep. All he could think 
of was her eyes. That blue. “Help me.” It was too much. He went to his 
nightstand and pulled out a .22 handgun. The song blasted as Mason put 
the gun to his temple, then in his mouth. He cocked the hammer. 

The knock at the door startled him. 

“Dammit, Kamensky! Turn that crap off! It's after 3! Some of us actually
work! You hear me, Mason?” 

Without thinking, Mason calmly walked to the door and opened it. He
looked his neighbor in the eyes and fired three times. The body hit the 
ground with such a beautiful thud. Mason pulled his sweatshirt on and 
walked out. 

"I am puzzled as a newborn child / I am riddled at the tide" 

It wasn't a small town, but it was small enough. Word of gunshots would
get around. But Mason wasn't in a hurry. After 45 minutes, he reached 
the river, music playing in his head the whole way. He heard sirens in 
the distance as he began to cross the walkway that spanned the length 
of the bridge. 

The song was louder now. He was beginning to understand its purpose. He
pulled out the gun he had used, examined it, and dropped it 100 feet to 
the river below, the same river that had stolen his beloved Shelly. A 
train passed beneath him, shaking the bridge. Mason leaned over the 
edge. He could feel her pulling him. Without another thought, Mason 
jumped. On the way down, the song's final lyrics serenaded him. 

"Should I stand amidst the breakers? / Or should I lie with Death my
bride? / Sail to me, Sail to me / Let me enfold you / Here I am, Here I 
am / Waiting to Hold You" 

The End 

“Song to the Siren” written and composed by Tim Buckley and Larry
Beckett 


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