Call you up in the middle of the nightI'm watching from the door as Lochlan opens the bottle and drinks pretty slowly at first, picking up speed as he tilts downhill. The guitar comes up and the words begin to pour easily as he works his way through his most favorite of pop radio hits from the early eighties to the early nineties and not a moment beyond and only the ones within his range, besides.
Like a firefly without a light
You were there like a blowtorch burning
I was a key that could use a little turning
So tired that I couldn't even sleep
So many secrets I couldn't keep
Promised myself I wouldn't weep
One more promise I couldn't keep
The melody turns to water, washing over me like a tide, dragging me out into the deep where I can't swim, drowning me in memories, drinking me back in and the louder he sings the harder it becomes to keep my head above the surface.
He knows I am nearby. Where else would I be? Immersing us in the past is one of his gypsy charms, one of his carny tricks, one of his aces up-sleeve and it's always so fuzzily hard for me to see past it or around it and so I must go straight through it and I never end up in quite the same place on the other side. When I can no longer breathe I open my mouth and the recollections pour in. I die a thousand deaths before he sings me back to life with his sorcery, that magical way he has of just unnerving people enough, just making them crush hard enough on him so that they don't notice he had stolen their wallets or their hearts, for that matter until it is far too late to turn back.
Ben has his wallet on a chain but I've had his heart for years, ripped out when he wasn't looking and stuffed behind my back hastily to hide when he came too close. He walks down the steps to where Lochlan is sprawled in the chair with the guitar and he picks up the bottle and turns and walks back up to me. He hands me the bottle and tells me to drink what I want and then pour the rest out.
I listen to Benjamin and not to the rest of Lochlan's songs while my throat burns and my composure flies out the window like a goddamned bird.