Just Me and Her

Ah, open mic night once again. It was a casual activity that I'd take part in with a few of my friends. Sometimes we'd do duets with each other or dedicate songs to one another. Normally, I'd play my guitar and sing back up for whichever one of my friends wanted to sing lead that day. Tonight we decided to all do our own thing, just because we hadn't done that in a while.

My friend William went first. He sang a Train song and played his ukulele.  The customers in the venue were usuals, and so were we. Right away, they had all greeted us when we walked in with our instruments, excited that the music had arrived. There was one waitress who was in her twenties and wore a little apron with several safety pin buttons on it, each for a different band. Her blonde hair looked darker in the cool lighting of the  coffee shop we were in. There were nine tables, each occupied, and a small stage in the corner. Microphones weren't required or necessarily needed because the audience was usually respectful towards whoever was playing, which was why my friends enjoyed playing here so much.

But I had a different reason for always coming here. I didn't just come on the nights that we were playing. I'd come here several times a week, actually. Whenever I had time, really. I wasn't even that great of a musician, but there was a dark haired girl who always clapped for me.

Yes, the dark haired girl . The girl who would sit at the table right in front of the stage. She was gorgeous. She had this short curly black hair and these big brown eyes. I'd get on that stage every time, purely with the intention of just singing to her. The coffee shop could be full, but as long as she was sitting in the front, it was just me and her.

Something told me she was close to the people who worked there. Maybe a daughter of the owner or something like that. She had such a positive attitude, always clapping for everyone and smiling.  She'd order the same thing every time she came, too: a chocolate chip cookie and whatever tea they had featured that day. She'd wait for whoever was playing to finish before she'd take a sip. It was her way of making sure it wasn't too hot. I wondered what other little habits she had.

Like most of the people in the coffee shop, I assumed she had just come to enjoy the music because she never said much. Maybe she was shy? Unlike some of the other regulars, she would never approach a musician after they performed to tell they how well they did. Once everyone had played, she'd just collect her things and go.

Tonight, I wanted to stop her and ask her if I could buy her some tea or a cookie. As a musician, I'd like to say I'm pretty good with controlling my nerves. But tonight I couldn't help but get knotted up on the inside. Butterflies hit the walls of my stomach, and my hands trembled as each one of my friends got on stage and played because I knew that soon I'd be going next. I'd be singing for her again. Just me and her.

The waitress called my name. I took my guitar out of its case and made my way towards the stage. Dark haired girl was in the front again, her eyes following me as I passed by. I introduced myself to the audience, as if they didn't already know who I was, and then began to play my version of "Hey There Delilah". Not once did my eyes look anywhere but right at that beautiful human being right in front of me. All of my nerves fled because once again, it was just me and her.

Afterwards, I stepped down and walked right up to her table to shake her hand. She seemed surprised that I had finally come over. I asked her what her name was, and she just looked up at me with a frown. I tried asking a little slower and louder in case she couldn't hear me over the people in the shop that were probably talking about my song choice. Her eyes were fixated on my lips. Did she have the same urge to kiss me as I did her?

"I'm Rachel."  She said. It was the first time I had ever heard her speak. She sounded different than I had expected, like she didn't know where to put her tongue when she spoke.

"I'm deaf." She explained. Oh my god. She was deaf. Everything made sense now. I looked up at my table of friends who had been encouraging me to make a move for weeks and they all gave me thumbs up. Man, if they only knew.

Every song I sang, I always chose in hopes that it might impress her. And hear, she couldn't even. But as I looked back at her, and those big brown eyes, whether she heard the songs I played or not didn't even matter. She was still beautiful, that's for sure.

"Can I buy you some tea?"

Just me and her.