You're on

When I sing, I sing only for her. I know that other women come to listen to me, stare at me in rapt attention, dreamy looks floating across their faces. They never see more than my smile, I make sure of that.

It doesn't seem to matter if it's in English, Italian or French; all my songs call to her. I can see it in her eyes, the puzzled look that creases her brow as of she is trying to puzzle something together.

I look out from the side of the stage, from that slight part between the curtain and the wall. I look out at her. Alastrina, sitting so poised and beautiful near the bar. I take in her figure from afar, her green dress swirling just perfectly about her knees. I can also feel the butterflies building in my stomach. Each time I sing to her it's as if it's the first time.

"You're on Partrick," the stage manager told me as he brushed past me.

I swallowed a bit nervously, and reminded myself why I was doing this. I was doing it for her. Hopefully I wouldn't need to keep secrets from her much longer. I stepped out onto the dark stage and found my place as the opening notes flooded into the room.


Hush now baby don't you cry
Rest your wings my butterfly
Peace will come to you in time
And I will sing this lullaby...

Trying to Remember

Alastrina dreamed about the bar that night. Heard his voice in her sleep. It was if he was right there, singing her softly to sleep. She could only see his eyes and his smile, just as in life. Her unconscious mind wanting to fill in the blanks.

A pair of dimples should be with that smile. Dark curly hair, and a slight cleft in the chin. Pretty cheekbones would complete the picture. It would be a face she would recognize.

Struggle as she might, she could not place name to the face. A face begging to be remembered. A voice, calling to her soul.

Alastrina woke slowly. As the night faded, so did the face in her dreams, and the voice in the night.

L'Ultima Notte

Alastrina was closer to the front tonight, just by a little, she had moved from the bar to a table on the side of the room, she had heard he was going to sing tonight, and she hopped to get a better look at him.

Chissa perche stai li cosi
con queglie occhi fissi su di me
vedrai che poi me passera
e che non m'aspettavo
Questa follia

The voice floated from the stage. It seemed like he had poured his whole soul into the words. Alastrina focused her whole attention on the stage, she knew she knew this voice form somewhere in her past, or perhaps another life, but she could not remember where. She felt that if she could see his face then she would remember.

He was in the deepest shadows, still all she would see was his smile.

After the show Alastrina was walking out of the club. “I wonder what that song meant,” She mused aloud.

“who knows why are you there like that
with those eyes fixed on me
you'll see that I'll be okay
and that I didn't expect
this craziness.” said a voice from behind her.

She never saw who it was.

Sway

Alastrina was at the club again. She had been there every night for the last two weeks, waiting. Waiting for him.

Since that first night she had only seen him once. She never saw more of him than his eyes or the glint of his smile. He usually sang love ballads that had all the women in the club swooning. She had come every night, hoping to hear that voice again.

Alastrina's thought were scattered to the wind when she heard the opening bars of one of her favorite songs, looking to the stage all she saw was blackness, and her heart rate sped up. It was him.

It was a smooth samba rhythm; his smooth alluring voice coming out of the darkness.

When marimba rhythms start to play
Dance with me, make me sway
Like a lazy ocean hugs the shore
Hold me close, sway me more

Alastrina's eyes drifted closed, her mind reveling in the gentle caress of his song. She started to sway, the song compelled her.

Like a flower bending in the breeze
Bend with me, sway with ease
When we dance you have a way with me
Stay with me, sway with me

Green eyes found her. She would remember.