TOUR MOMENTS
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It is August. Sunset. The last night of the tour, where thousands of bright-eyed adolescents gathered to hear music that spoke to their souls, music that stirred them from their apathy and got them out of their houses. They would dance and sing along to anything.
A delicate bird teeters to the front of the stage, where a lone microphone waits on its stand for her. She sways in her 5 inch heels, feeling strangely powerful in her second-skin jeans and corset top. The wind is whipping at her brown hair, but her eyes, cool and chestnut brown, stare straight ahead. She doesn't ever glance back at her manager, who is watching from the sidelines like a proud but nervous father.
Inside, she's shivering from the cold. Inside, she's wondering what would happen if she fell. Inside'
"Thank you all for coming," she begins in a quiet voice, shyly moving a stray piece of hair behind an ear.
The crowd erupts in ground-shaking cheers, and the expectant faces of so many unfamiliar people fill her vision. They're waiting for her, waving their arms, jumping up and down as if her music would save them. This is her purpose for everything, the reason she escaped from sleepy South Carolina to the big city. Nights like these are her reason for being alive.
"I'm Heer, and this is 'Truth.'"
The music starts playing, and she sings. Her voice is strong and commanding, like a shiny brass instrument. From within the thin 5'4" figure, a different woman erupts: an angry woman, a hurt woman, a woman who sings with her eyes closed and her hands shaking. The audience's roars quiet down and they watch in near silence at the creature standing on the raised stage.
The loud music of her band drowns out everything else, and Heer can feel it right in her bones. This is where she belongs.
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She finishes her short setlist, panting hard, and ducks behind the velvet curtains as the headlining band prepares to come on. The sound of people screaming and cheering is still ringing in her ears, but all she hears is the sound of one boy calling her name, and all she feels is his warm hand on her shoulder.
"Prem!" Heer says breathlessly, turning to smile up at the impossibly tall frontman of The Waves. Prem is naturally in the standard uniform of his now-famous alternative rock band: grey tie, white button-down, brown hair looking as shaggy as ever. Still, he looks somehow different every time she sees him.
"You were beautiful out there, Heer."
"Oh, thanks'"
She feels her cheeks grow hot, and he chuckles. His hand moves to cup her face, and he takes a confident stride forward. His hazel eyes search her face as if looking for some kind of indicator, some kind of mutual feeling, and he seems to find it.
Heer can never understand how he does it.
"You're going to be a hard act to follow." Prem's voice is barely louder than a whisper. Alarms are going off in her head.
"Well, the show's about to start!"
She pretends that she doesn't want him there. She grins and pulls away from him, taking a deep breath. That's the way it has to be.
"Yeah' See you."
He lingers there for a second more before walking away.
---
"Congratulations' To the best tour yet. I've loved every second of it! And I love you all!" Prem announces, raising his beer in the air. Everyone clinks their respective drinks against it and start laughing, eagerly telling stories from the last three months spent playing shows around the country. Someone strums an acoustic guitar in the corner. It's the last night of living in the tour bus, and by morning, they would all be rushing to pack their bags for the long flights home.
Heer feels like crying, and gulps her beer down to try to ease her emotions away. She can see Prem looking at her out of the corner of her eyes, but decides to avoid his gaze. Things would be better this way.
There was no use in following silly pipe dreams anymore ' The tour is over, and she obviously knew from the beginning that it wouldn't last forever. There's no reason for her to be selfish; she had the experience of a lifetime, and should be content to fly back to her hometown, where her family and friends would be waiting for her. After all, Prem was the real deal, the main act. And her, she was just the opening act.
Her. The big, famous rock star who traveled The Waves one blazing summer. One impossibly short summer.
"Sorry, I need some air," she murmurs to no one in particular, and escapes from the tour bus to sit by the river. Tears sting her eyes.
Prem follows her a few minutes later.
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"This is the first time I've seen you cry."
Heer rushes to wipe her eyes, but he gently pulls her hands away and looks at her tear-streaked face. She manages to laugh, despite everything. Why was it that there's always laughter near Prem?
"I didn't want to ruin the party' I'll go back in now. There's still lots of beer left, after all."
He smiles and leans closer, surprising her. Above them, the moon shines over the river and each other's faces. Heer's, wet with tears, and Prem's, full of a quiet intensity.
"No. I'll stay with you," he decides firmly, smoothing back her hair.
"I'm just being stupid, Prem. Sentimental. Go back in and enjoy the '"
His lips brush her cheek in the middle of her sentence, and Heer freezes. Her tears fall faster, and she tries to push him away again. He pulls her closer.
"Heer. Please'" His gentle voice, so weak and vulnerable, convinces her.
She knows that this is wrong, that she would only be setting herself up for disappointment and confusion in the future. Following her biggest inspiration and touring with him was enough of a dream come true, but this' Faintly, Heer remembers the past, when she would fall asleep listening to his voice, pressing play over and over again just to note that one second where he would take a small breath in. South Carolina is waiting for her, but that would come tomorrow.
Within seconds, they're on the grass, kissing and touching like longtime lovers. Heer's fingers run over the tattoo of a small spider crawling up Prem's back, and his mouth travels to her collarbone. She climbs on top of him, slipping off her clothes as if they were water. His kisses are sweet, and no one could ever guess that he was the quirky lead singer of a rock band. Together, their skin slides against each other smoothly like puzzle pieces finally falling into place. They don't rush. The night would be long, and even if it was the only time they could ever be together, they would carefully relish every second of it.
It is August. Early morning. Heer Maan realizes she is in love, and has no clue what to do about it.
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Regards
Roshmita
Edited by Roshmita - 15 years ago
