Like a Shooting Star Fades

Part 2

Another plane, another state. It's been a week, maybe more, since that night. I can't shake her, and I'm not sure I want to. I'm leaning my head against the window, watching the tiny beads of moisture tracing paths on the outside. I'm penning a song in my mind, sparked from a tiny seed of a feeling from that night. An unexpectedly beautiful encounter. A star, fading as quickly as it came.

I'm shaken from my thoughts by the captain announcing we are decending. I should write this down before I lose it.

When we land, I turn my phone on. There is a message from my wife. I quickly call her, comforted by the sound of her voice. In the midst of the insanity, the touring, the children, she is my constant. She is concerned for me, that I'm not getting enough rest. She mutters sweet words of encouragement though the phone. Thank God for her. I would be but a shell without her to fill me. The mystery girl flickers into my mind again, but I easily dismiss her. I love my wife in such a way that no one could ever compare.

We make our way to the next venue. It is smaller than the others so far, and a smaller crowd. I don't think of the girl again until I take the stage that night. There is a small part of me that has been hoping she would show up again. I scan the faces. I'm not disappointed when I cannot see her. This is another state after all.

Its later, and I am exhausted. We have an early flight and I just want to sleep. We decide to skip the interaction with the fans tonight, they will understand. We load into the van in a cordoned area, in peace. I slump in my seat, pulling my red cap low over my eyes. As the van rolls out into the street, I see her. She was waiting for us. For me? For us. She looks relaxed. She shrugs at a friend, clearly not bothered that we didn't come out to take pictures tonight. I feel like she understands, like she knows I'm tired and just wants what's best for me. I mentally slap myself for thinking something so ridiculous. She shrugs because she doesn't care, idiot. This isn't about you.

On the way to the hotel, I am all up inside my head. It's a week later, in a different state. Where will she show up next? Will I even know she's there? And above all, why do I care?