The Ballad of Johnny Bishop II

He thought back to the night Gracie had proposed to him and the memory burned through his mind like the first shot of whiskey. Pleasantly strong, then building to an intensity that made it impossible to distinguish pain from pleasure.

Tears began to roll down his cheeks as he remembered the smell of her. Citrus, flowers, and tobacco, as they lay on the side of a hill in the large park just a couple of blocks from his house. They had wandered down here to get some air and some time alone from the party raging at his place. He could not see the stars or the steel and emerald of her eyes.

He could hear some teenagers playing a game of basketball just over the hill from where they lay and the cars rushing by on the four-lane, a block away. But they were alone, while the basketball slammed the broken concrete of the court, and the cars served in and out, jockeying for a better place in the seemingly endless procession of traffic. They had somehow wandered into a place out of time and space, where neither the teenagers nor the traffic could touch them.

Grace was propped on her elbow leaning over him, John was lying on his back staring up at where the stars would be if the lights of the city had not dulled their shine. They had not spoken for several minutes, both of them enjoying the quiet fascination with the company of the other that only comes with newly blossoming love.

She leaned in closer and kissed him, it was a gentle kiss, but there was something behind it. Not her usual fiery passion, this was different, like she was asking herself a question.

She then broke the silence. "I want you to marry me.”

“Right now?" he asked, taken by surprise.

"No jackass, not right now, but soon. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, I know you love me and I love you, but I also know that if I wait for you to propose it will never happen. So will you marry me?"

He almost laughed out loud. Not at her proposal, but at the fact that she knew him well enough to know that what she had said was true. He would love her until the end of time, but he would quite likely never ask her to marry him. They had been friends for a long time, and had been dating a few months and he had never even considered getting married before. On this hillside in the middle of this dying city, he had never wanted anything more in his life.

"Yes of course I will."

He pulled her down to him, they embraced and kissed again. This time the question had been answered.

John nor Grace knew at this time that this would become a theme for their lives. Together they would create a quiet shelter for one another. They would very much become an island unto themselves. They would always be very social people, they did not isolate themselves as some couples do when they first get together but they would always be able to create this place of solitude and comfort for one another regardless of the chaos around them.

The hardest part for him through all of these long years was that he did not know what had happened to her and the kids after his death the first time. Did they go on living their lives, or did time just cease to exist for them? Did each timeline that he repeated himself in continue on after he was done?

He tried to tell himself that they lived on. That they grieved, and then they lived. He liked to picture her dancing at their sons’ weddings, playing with their grandchildren. Maybe traveling the country with a wonderful man to keep her company, someone who would make her laugh, someone to sing and dance with her until she could dance no more. He hoped that she lived on happy and satisfied. Maybe telling the kids stories of what their dad was like when he was young. He wept fully as he remembered the songs they used to sing with the kids. Gracie dancing and singing in her endearing, slightly off pitch way. The boys dancing around the two of them, not an ounce of rhythm between the four of them but happy just to be alive and able to dance.

He washed the tears from his face in the sink of what passed for a bathroom in the band area of this bar. He steeled himself for the task at hand. Seeing her here had rattled him to his core. He had long ago given up on trying to recreate their life together, too many failures, too many tragic endings that left him empty and wanting.

He checked himself in the mirror and straightened his hair. He took a long pull off of his bottle of bourbon and let its fire bring him back to reality. He had purposely avoided the Midwest for some time, but when Bryan called and asked if his band would come and headline the grand opening of his new club in Palatine, he could hardly say no.

"What are the fucking odds?" he asked his reflection in the mirror.

About thirty minutes before he had ventured out of the dressing area to grab a beer and chat with the tech guys about the lighting, Bryan had grabbed him. There were some friends of his from out of town and they were big fans, so Bryan had asked if he had time for an introduction.

There she was sitting on her husband's lap, her black skirt riding up the side of her leg, her knee high leather boots shining under the house lights. Her hair was short and dark and she was thinner than he had ever seen her but there she was, his Grace, the love of his life, her hands entwined in the long dark hair of her husband. Her eyes shining with a lust he had seen countless times, only now it was not him reflected in her eyes.

As he approached they both straightened up and took notice. Bryan made the introductions, and everyone told him how big of fans they were. How cool it was that they would get to see the band up close in this small of a room. Autographs were signed; pictures were taken. John thanked them, smiled, and signed dutifully until everyone lost interest and returned to their drinks.

Now he had ten minutes to get his shit together and get on the stage. These people were here to see Full Circle and he owed it to Bryan to tear the roof off of this place.

Just one more he thought as he tipped the bottle up and exited the bathroom. The rest of the band was standing off the side of the stage waiting for him to lead them up. The opening guitar part of the first song was his, and he would saunter onto the stage alone and play the part for a few bars while they got into place before the full stage would light up revealing the whole band.

Then forty-five minutes of banging, screaming white hot noise, and he could get his ass back to the hotel and try to forget tonight ever happened. All he had to do was not look off to the right of the stage in the VIP seating anytime the stage lights went down, and he would not even know she was there.

Play, sing, scream, stomp a hole in the stage if necessary, but do not look for her.

To Be Cont.