[Another week, another challenge from The Daily Post — pick a song and write about it. Once again, I’ll work this challenge into the flow of the story I’m developing.]
Arjie looked up in the direction that Jane was pointing. “I don’t see anything.”
Sitting across the polished wood restaurant table, Jane frowned. “The music. Listen.”
Arjie tilted his head up, focused above the muttered din of silverware, footsteps and conversation. He heard violins, playing a slow melody, almost sorrowful. “What is that, a funeral?”
Jane reached over, slapped the side of his head. “Just shut up.” She sat back, looked up in the direction of what she assumed to be a speaker — and began to sing softly.
Eyes full of sorrow, never wet
Hands full of money, all in debt
Sun coming out in, the middle of June
She looked at Arjie, smiled at his incomprehension, then continued, lifting her voice —
Everyone’s gone to the moon
“Oh.” Arjie sounded relieved rather than pleased at his recognition, like he had been reminded of a dentist appointment. “They really need to get some modern music in this place.” He drank from his beer again, nearly emptying his glass.
Jane laughed. “My father loved that song.” She looked down at the table, felt Arjie’s gaze fall on her. “Used to sing it all the time, when I was a kid. That’s how I know the lyrics.” She looked up, caught Arjie’s eyes. “I don’t even know who — ” she suddenly looked to her left, pointed — “hey Brad!”
Arjie turned in the booth, saw Brad approaching the table. Brad removed his wool hat, his long hair rising in its wake, then falling after an audible spark. He looked down at Jane blankly.
Jane pointed up at the speaker. “This song — who — ”
“Jonathan King.” He spoke in the voice of a three-time returning champion gameshow contestant. “1965. British Invasion, one hit wonder.”
“Jesus.” Arjie shook his head, raised his glass to his chin. “They really need new music in this place.”