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Kyla's Song

by Amanda J Cobb

Troy sat on the beach with his bare feet enmeshed in the sand, absentmindedly letting the soft grains run between his toes. Dark head bent over his guitar, the brisk salt wind played cat-and-mouse with strands of his hair. He sat listening to the sounds of the waves crashing and the gulls wheeling overhead, waiting for inspiration to come. If only just this once, he needed the melody in his head to come out right.

It was moving into the evening of a warm December day; what few beachgoers there had been had left hours ago. He’d been there all afternoon, trying to write this one song. But nothing fit. He strummed chords and tried out different lyrics, but nothing worked. Nothing said what he wanted to say, what he felt. He’d never had such trouble putting his feelings into words for a song.

Part of the problem, of course, was that he’d never felt this way before. What he felt for Kyla… it was wonderful and confusing all at once. It was extreme and intense and fiery, yet at the same time tender and calm and comfortable. It baffled him. But he was determined to try to put it to song, to try to give her this one thing that told everything, to create a piece as moving as he was moved by her. And he was getting nowhere.

Everything he tried came out sounding like something done too many times already – the chord progressions were predictable, the lyrics were cheesy and overused. It came out cheap. Each he threw away, frustration growing, while the normally inspirational beach sat by ineffectually.

The beach was his escape from life, a break in his routine. It was where he went to think and to write. He came when he needed to, to just sit and watch the ocean, listen to its vastness. It put things in perspective. In the presence of something so immeasurable and so constant, everything else seemed little and unimportant. His bartending job that didn’t pay enough, his seemingly useless aspirations as a musician…none of it mattered for the brief time he was there. Sometimes Kyla came along, just walking with him along the edge of the waves. Those times were the best, when the entire world seemed right and at peace.

He would get no peace or help from the beach today. No words of poetry dripping from the palm fronds; no musical genius descending on him like the rolling blue waves. This song would have to come purely from him if he wanted to write for Kyla something worthy of everything she was to him.

Troy sighed, setting his guitar back in the worn, black case. He pulled his knees up beneath his folded arms and looked out over the ocean. Sunset was coming on and the sky was painted in vibrant reds and pinks and oranges. Near the horizon was a ship in full sail, silhouetted against the sinking sun. Somewhere off in the distance he could still hear the gulls crying. He watched the waves coming in, creeping closer to his buried toes as high tide approached. He closed his eyes and rested his forehead on his arms.

Kyla would love anything he wrote for her, he knew that. It wouldn’t matter what it was; as long as it came from him, she would be happy. She was like that. But he needed to know that she understood all that she meant to him. The only way he could think to do that was through music and so far he hadn’t even come close to a song that would do her justice. Trying to write this elusive melody was like trying to grip a handful of sand – it just kept slipping through his fingers.

Hearing footsteps approach him, he lifted his head. It was Kyla. He was still amazed at how the simple sight of her could make his heart beat faster. It had been like that ever since they met, at the little music store where she worked, where he had bought his new guitar. He hadn’t been able to breathe. Almost three years, and she still made his breath catch in his throat.

She came and sat down beside him, handing him a sandwich and keeping one for herself. Peanut butter and jelly - simple pleasures. Kyla was always saying that a good life is made up of simple pleasures. She leaned against his shoulder as they ate in silence.

Sandwiches done, he put his arm around her as they watched the sun sink into the shimmering ocean. She didn’t say anything; neither did he. They just took it in, together.

Troy forgot all about the song he had been trying to write. He pulled her closer and leaned his dark head against the top of her golden one. He listened to the night falling around them – the sounds of the ocean and the gulls, Kyla’s steady breathing mingled with his own. Suddenly he knew that this was all the music he would ever need.

02/11/2003

Author's Note: This was inspired by a photograph I took. See photo here: http://www.deviantart.com/deviation/1164993

Posted on 02/12/2003
Copyright © 2024 Amanda J Cobb

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