Free Stacy's Song by Jacqueline Seewald

me sing the song and he joined in harmonizing with my voice.
    â€œWe got a gift for each other,
    something only we can share.
    Our love is a high beyond compare,
    a feeling so rare.
    It’s the gift we give each other.
    Our love is understanding,
    like a depthless sea
    where there’s only you and me
    and total harmony.
    Your love means everything to me.
    We got a gift for each other,
    something only we can share.”
    Like Michael’s other work the song had a haunting melody but the beat was much gentler than his usual compositions. I felt overwhelmed. His talent amazed me.
    â€œI think it’s wonderful,” I told him. “You just seem to get better all the time.”
    â€œYeah , Mike , you do the romantic stuff real good,” Jimmy remarked. “I like it almost as much as your hard rockin’ rhythms.”
    â€œI think it’s your best yet.” I put my hand on his but his face reddened and he withdrew from me.
    â€œThanks,” he said in a stiff gruff voice. “I was afraid you’d think it was weak.”
    I couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking and feeling behind those dark glasses. I wanted so bad to reach out and make him reach out to me. He was tr ying to do it through his music but I wanted and needed more. It was his handicap that kept u s apart, not just his blindness but his emotional impairment as well. He was shackled in a prison of his own grief and guilt. I would have given anything to change that. I needed to find the key that would unlock his prison cell.
    *** *
    On Tuesday morning, it was drizzling and I decided to go to the mall. It was more a looking expedition than a buying one. I figured in a week or so I’d get my mom to come with me so we could purchase some cloth es for school. September wasn’t far away now. I had hoped to be in the mall with Karen, but as it turned out, she had plans with Randy, so I took the bus and looked around by myself for a while. The new fall clothes were on display at all the stores. I enjoyed window - shopping, mentally taking notes on where I would steer my mother when we shopped together.
    At this point I couldn’t help wishing my share of the money the band had earned was in my pocket. It would have been nice to spend money I personally earned rather than just having my allowance. But I understood how Michael felt about putting that mo ney toward new equipment. Still , some degree of financial independence wou ld have been great. Next summer maybe I would look for a job. I’d be sixteen. Most kids found jobs for the summer by then. I figured I could flip burgers with the best of them.
    Around noon I grew weary of walking around. I thought about stopping for lunch, but didn’t particularly look forward to eating by myself. I decided it was time to head home. As I passed a long row of potted trees, a particular store caught my eye. The sign said Swan’s in large red letters. I found myself blinking at it. I remembered what Liz had told me. Her m other managed this store. Maybe I could stop in and say hello. Then I remembered this was Tuesd ay and Liz was off today. Still , I foun d myself walking into the store just to look around or so I thought. I examined a rack of slacks and then one of skirts.
    A middle-aged saleswoman approached. “Can I help you?”
    â€œAre you Mrs. Norris?” I asked on impulse.
    She shook her fr izzled, gray head at me. “No, Hun , she’s in the back. Her office is all the way at the rear. You sure I can’t help you with something? We got a great sale on handbags today.”
    â€œNot right now,” I told her. I walked in the direction the saleswoman had indicated. Somewhere between the profusion of mohair sweat ers, hot cords, and denim jeans it occurred to me t hat I might be making a mistake acting in haste , but what c ould I say , I just went ahead and did it anyway. When I thought I was right about something, I act ed no