“I hate doing this,” I said as he walked with me into the building. “I’m not the schmoozing type.”
“No one likes schmoozers,” he said. “Just be yourself.”
I eyed him. “You’ve met me. I’m not always at my best when I’m myself.”
“People like authenticity, even if they’re a little rough around the edges.”
“You like rough around the edges?” I asked as he reached to open the door to the large hall.
“I love you.”
Even after all these weeks together, it still melted my heart and made me feel like a sappy school girl when he said that.
I smiled, and I’m sure it looked dopey, but I didn’t care.
As he and his band set up, I made the rounds of the room, saying hello and asking how they were doing. I heard about the latest gossip, including who was sleeping with who. There was a time when such news creeped me out, but now, it made me hope that Ryder and I were still getting it on when we were octogenarians. Assuming we were still together then.
With a head shake, I pushed out the idea that maybe this wasn’t forever. It was another tip my virtual therapist taught me; live in the moment and don’t let what might or could be ruin now. Now, Ryder was my man. We were having a baby, and so far, all our plans involved us raising this child together.
“Good evening ladies and gentlemen,” Ryder said from the mic on the small stage. “Once again, I’m here with the beautiful Katrina Lados from Mayor Valentine’s office. This time my warning to keep your hands to yourself comes with a threat.” He grinned at me. “She’s mine, so don’t touch. I mean you, Mr. Costner.”
The people smiled and the woman standing next to me said, “I’d heard a rumor about you two.”
“Tonight we start with Let’s Face the Music and Dance.” Ryder counted out the beat and his band started playing.
Ryder had such a wonderful voice. It was smooth and suave like one would expect from a 1940s and 1950s crooner. At the same time, it could be sexy rough singing country rock. On occasion, he sang to me while making slow sweet love, and other times, when I was resting on the couch, he would sing to the baby. God, I was so lucky to have him.
He followed his first song with Nat King Cole’s, When I Fall in Love. As he sang, many of the seniors danced while others hung out around the edges of the room. It reminded me of a high school dance. I guess at any age there were the popular folks and the wallflowers.
“When is Bobby Darin?” Harry called out at the end of the song.
“How about Call Me Irresponsible?” He looked at me and winked, as it was a song he recently practiced that seemed to fit us. Of course, I didn’t think he was irresponsible, impractical or unpredictable now. I knew he adored me.
They played a few more songs, and then Ryder asked, “So how many of you here spent a lifetime with your soulmate?”
Several hands rose in the air. “There’s nothing like a lifetime of love,” Harry said.
“So, you recommend it?” Ryder asked.
“If you can find the right woman,” one of the ladies called out. “Don’t settle for just anyone.”
“How will I know she’s the one,” he asked.
He often talked to the audience, but I’d never heard a conversation like this. Then again, we were at a senior center where most of the songs he sang were about love. Although most songs in any genre were about love, weren’t they?
“I knew my Jeannie was the one when I couldn’t go a minute without thinking of her,” a man said.
“If you can’t stand the idea of not waking up without her, then she’s the one,” another man called out.
Ryder seemed to think about that as he strummed his guitar. “Good to know. Thank you. I’ve got a new song for you, but I like to think that if Sinatra had heard back when, he’d have added it to his song set.”
Ryder started the song and immediately, there was something familiar about it. He came in with the lyrics, singing about love and soulmates, and of two people joining together to make three.
My knees went weak as I realized he wasn’t just singing about us, but that this was the tune he was playing the day I barged into his room while he was playing naked.
When the song ended, the room clapped.
“That’s a mighty fine song there, Ry,” Harry said. “Bobby Darin would have done it justice.”