Waiting

“Wherever you go, whatever you do
I will be right here, waiting for you.
Whatever it takes, or how my heart breaks
I will be right here waiting for you.”

--Richard Marx, “I Will Be Right Here Waiting For You,” later covered by Bryan Adams

I’m sitting in a tiny little coffee shop right now. There are eight other people here (including the baristas). Some of us drink coffee, some of us drink hot chocolate (me). Three of us type on laptops.

In the corner, there is a man playing guitar and singing songs by Bryan Adams. (Honestly, that’s all he sings. Songs written by, or once covered by, Bryan Adams.) He’s probably somewhere in his ‘50s. Slightly over-weight. Red hair. Grizzled face.

This man in the corner playing guitar and singing songs written by (or once covered by) Bryan Adams—he’s not very good. His guitar playing is okay at best. (It’s better than mine, but that’s not saying much, seeing as I’ve never played a lick in my life.) And his voice is, well, not very good at all. (It’s better than Tom Waits’ voice, but that’s not saying much because, well, the reason Tom Waits’ voice is so good is because it’s not good. Hm. So maybe me saying this guy in the corner’s voice is “not very good at all” is actually a compliment.)

There is a woman sitting across from me. She’s probably somewhere in her ‘50s too, but I’ll say she’s somewhere in her ‘40s in case she reads my blog. She’s thin. Asian. Professional looking. (She wears a pants suit.)

This professional looking, thin, Asian woman sitting across from me—she’s in a sexual relationship with the man in the corner playing guitar and singing songs by Bryan Adams (if not written by him, then once covered by him, and I'm gonna stop mentioning that because I think you get the picture). I don’t know if they’re married, or if they’re dating, or if they’re only lovers—but they were holding hands when they came into the coffeeshop. (That’s how I know they’re together.)

Whatever they are to each other, she definitely loves him. I can tell this because she’s singing along with him to every Bryan Adams song he sings. (Which, in and of itself, is obviously love. If I wanted to sit in the corner of a coffeeshop and sing Bryan Adams songs and you wanted to sing along with me, I would know we were in love.) This woman, she's not singing along with him in a loud obnoxious way. She's not even singing in a remotely obvious way. She’s just sitting there, quietly singing to herself. (Actually, I don’t think there’s even any breath coming out of her mouth, I don’t think she’s making a sound—she’s just mouthing the words. Mouthing the words along with him and smiling.)

She doesn’t look at him. The way she’s sitting, she’s not even facing him, she’s facing me.

So this man in the corner playing guitar and singing songs by Bryan Adams—he’s singing his Bryan Adams songs to the back of her head. You can see that he’s sending them in her direction--but she doesn’t want to take them. Not right now, anyway. Right now, she wants him to have this moment with his public, with his people, his audience. (All eight of us.) She doesn’t want to take anything away from this moment, which she knows he needs.

A few moments ago, he launched into “I Will Be Right Here Waiting For You,” and this woman sitting across from me…she smiled a big smile. She started nodding her head. She mouthed the words with even more conviction than she had before.

This is their song.

“Wherever you go, whatever you do
I will be right here, waiting for you.
Whatever it takes, or how my heart breaks
I will be right here waiting for you.”

She knows he is not a great singer. She knows he is not a great guitar player. But she also knows how much he loves this, his rock star moment. So she will let him have it.

She will let him have this moment with the rest of us, his audience.

And then she will go home with him, and she will be his, and he will be hers, and there will be no more waiting.