Emmy And Me

“Do you mind if we make a little detour?” Emmy asked, glancing over the top of her iPad at me as we sat at the kitchen counter one evening after dinner.

“How little a detour are we talking about?” I asked, looking up from my laptop.

“Just up to Boston for one night,” she replied. “Maybe a little longer, and we can do some sightseeing?”

“We’ll be on a fairly tight schedule as it is,” I said. “I can only steal a few days from the volleyball schedule anyway- I told you I asked Coach Burke to pull me for the match against Oregon State and he was very grudging about doing it, so we can’t add any days to our trip. There’s no way I could get out of the U Dub match,” I reminded her. Taking a day in Boston means giving up that much time in New York. What’s so interesting in Boston, anyway?” I wondered. I mean, we’d been to Boston before and it wasn’t as if I hated on the town or anything, I just wondered why the sudden urge to divert from the purpose of our trip to New York.

“There is a band I would like to see, playing on the night we would otherwise arrive in New York,” Emmy explained. I could tell from her too-casual expression that it actually meant a lot to her, so I gave in.

“Sure,” I said. “We’ll fly in to Boston, rent a car, and drive down to Manhattan the next day. I think it’s only something like a four hour drive,” I said. “It means we’ll have one less day in New York, but that’s fine.”

“Thank you, Leah,” Emmy said. Sometimes I wished she’d assert herself just a little bit more- it meant that I had to work that much harder to pick up on her subtle hints in times like this.

The girl at the little ticket window couldn't stop looking past me over my shoulder at Emmy standing behind me. I couldn't blame her, but it was still a bit annoying. On the one hand, I was pretty sure the stares weren't because of Emmy's unusual looks any more, but I would have expected that somebody working at a club that books some well-known bands wouldn't be so star-struck.

The waitress inside was a bit more honest about it when she asked for Emmy's autograph and if she could take a picture for her Instagram. Emmy didn't mind, as usual, and the waitress left to fill our order, happily posting the photos.

Quite a few patrons came over to say they adored Emmy's work, and wanted pictures and so on. Emmy was happy to oblige, and I tried to not be annoyed at all the fuss. The strangest moment came when a really, really pale girl came over to talk to Emmy. She just stood in front of our table and stared at Emmy, too tongue-tied to say anything, even though you could see that she really wanted to. After a few moments she bolted out of there, and rushed off in the direction of the bathroom.

Curious, I told Emmy I'd be right back and followed the strange pale girl to see what was going on. There were a couple of others in the restroom, but I couldn't spot the girl I'd followed, but a moment later the sounds of gagging and dry heaves came from one of the stalls. Concerned, I pushed the door open and there she was, worshipping the porcelain god.

"Are you all right?" I asked, which was a stupid question, I know.

She stood up and wiped her face with some TP and turned to face me. When she got a good look at my face her eyes got super wide and I could see that they were as green as Emmy's. "You- you're..." she stammered.

"Are you ok?" I asked again.

She nodded, then brushed past me to clean her face and rinse with some water from the sink. When she was done, she was a little more composed. "You are Leah, no? Emmy's wife?" she asked.

"Yeah..." I responded, not sure where this was going.

"Oh, mon dieu!" she cried, and bolted into the stall to retch a bit more. I didn't really know what to do, so I texted Emmy to tell her I'd be back in a minute. Eventually the girl finished and came back out to wash up again.

"I am so sorry," she moaned. "This is not how I imagined it would be."

"Imagined what?" I asked.

"Meeting Emmy. Meeting you," she replied, still distraught. "You must think I am some kind of freak," she moaned.

As my mind was trying to process this bizarre scene, I noticed a few more things about this girl. First, besides the super green eyes like Emmy's, her straight black hair was cut in a bob just like Emmy used to have. Second, her outfit was exactly like the one Emmy wore the first time The Downfall played Coachella- the night Emmy slagged on my old friend Courtney in front of fifty thousand fans. Third, she had a noticeable French accent. Putting two and two together, it finally hit me.

"You're the singer for Night Into Day, aren't you?" I asked, but really, it was obvious she must be. She was like a negative image of Emmy. White where Emmy was black, black where Emmy was white.

She nodded, and said "I dreamed Emmy would come to one of our shows, but I never..."

"Are you going to be O.K.?” I asked when it became clear she wasn't going to finish that thought. When she nodded, I said "Come by our table after the show." Again, she nodded, and satisfied she was going to live, I went back to the table and told Emmy what had just happened.

"Poor girl," sympathized Emmy. "I do hope she says hello when the show is over."

After about forty-five minutes the light dimmed and the emcee took the small stage to introduce the band. "From Montreal, Canada, comes the number one Downfall tribute band on the East Coast! Let's give it up for Day Into Night!"

The pale girl stepped up to the microphone and thanked the crowd, her French accent a little overdone in my opinion.

“Merci d'être venu tonight,” she said. “We are Day Into Night!” And with that, the band started playing.

I thought they did all right, even though the singer wasn’t the one playing the guitar, as Emmy would have done. Every so often I caught Emmy making faces, clearly a bit displeased at something she heard that I completely missed.

“What is it?” I asked after one particular grimace.

“That isn’t how that riff is played,” Emmy complained. “He has it all wrong.”

“I’d bet he just doesn't know how you did it,” I said, trying to mollify her, but it didn’t work.

“It is obvious he does not know how to do it right,” she grumbled.

Eventually it just became too much for Emmy to bear, and she got up and pushed her way through the crowd to the stage. As soon as the current song was over, she beckoned to the guitarist. He leaned down to talk to her, and next thing I knew she was up on stage with the band, looping the guy’s guitar strap over her shoulder while he stood back.

There was a quick discussion with the singer, and the pale girl stepped back up to the microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen, as you can see, we have the real thing with us here tonight. Please welcome Emmy De Lascaux!”

As you might expect, the entire audience went completely wild, cheering, clapping and making a ton of noise. Emmy stepped forward to the microphone and thanked the crowd. “It is wonderful to see you all here tonight. Thank you very much for coming to see Day Into Night, and thank you to the band for letting me join you for a few songs. This is a lovely treat.”

The crowd roared in approval as Emmy gave a little wave. Emmy and the pale girl conferred for a moment, the girl shaking her head no at something Emmy said. Emmy insisted, though, and eventually the girl stepped back to her microphone. “I tried to get Emmy to sing this next song, but she insisted that I sing it while she plays the guitar. Maybe she can sing the next one? What do you all think?”

The crowd seemed to approve of that idea, so Emmy shrugged and smiled that maybe she would. Emmy nodded back to the drummer, who settled into a familiar beat accompanied by the bass player. A few moments later, Emmy tore into the slinky opening riffs of Love For Sale from Dark Times For The Downfall, the band’s second album.

Looking a bit nervous, the pale girl stepped up to the mic and started to sing. I was afraid her voice was going to be as shaky as her confidence seemed to be, but no, she slid into the song smoothly, hitting it perfectly. After the second verse she stepped back to watch Emmy play that famous solo. Emmy didn't disappoint, and even extended the languorous guitar bit for a few extra minutes after looking at the band members to see if it would be OK.

The crowd was hushed in a way they hadn’t been all evening. Even the ever-busy waitresses had stopped in their tracks and were just watching Emmy play, well aware that this was one of those moments that they will remember forever. It seemed at least half of the people had their phones out and were recording it, too. I had no doubt it would be all over social media like wildfire before the evening was over.

As Emmy wrapped up her solo, she nodded to the band and they rejoined as if it had been rehearsed that way, seamless and smooth as silk. To my ears, the band’s singer didn’t actually sound exactly like Emmy, but pretty damned close. After the song finished and the crowd had quieted down a bit the singer introduced herself and her three band mates. I don’t remember the names of the three guys, but she said her name was Elly.

Emmy handed the guitar back to the band’s guitarist and stepped up to whisper something to Elly, who nodded in agreement. Elly moved back a bit and Emmy took center stage. “Elly was kind enough to let me steal the spotlight for this song, after Brad (she indicated the guitarist) let me sit in for him on that last one. I hope I do not let you all down,” she said, getting laughter from the audience.

Emmy launched into Get It Now, and Elly joined her for the backing parts that normally would have been Jackson singing. It actually worked really well with Elly’s voice sounding so similar to Emmy’s.

After the song concluded Emmy gave Elly a hug, then waved goodbye at the audience as she stepped off the stage. As Emmy pushed her way back to our table, Elly spoke into the mic.

“I don’t know about all of you,” she said, “but that might have been the best thing that has ever happened to me!”

Emmy settled back at our table and seemed to enjoy the rest of the show better than she had at the start, even rejoining the band on stage for a couple of songs for their encore. I closed out our tab and made my way backstage, following where Emmy and the band had gone. The security guy obviously recognized me and waved me back to join Emmy and the band in the dressing room, such as it was.

When I got there Emmy was sitting on the beat-up old couch with a guitar in her lap, showing the guitarist sitting next to her how to play a particular riff. Elly spotted me and came rushing up. “Leah!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around me and planting a big kiss on my lips. Evidently her earlier nerves had been forgotten in all the excitement. “Thank you for getting Emmy to play with us! That was fucking amazing!”

I glanced at Emmy as if to ask what Elly meant, but she just gave me a little nod so I rolled with it. “No problem,” I replied. “I’m glad you had a good time, ” I said as I gently peeled her off me.

“Good time?” she asked, her voice still overly loud. “It was the best fucking time ever!”

We wound up hanging out with the band for a couple more hours as the four members of Day Into Night just couldn’t get enough of Emmy, which was O.K. with me, but I found Elly’s hanging all over me more than a little bit uncomfortable. I was trying to be a good sport about it, but when she climbed onto my lap for the second time I just hit my limit.

“Em, we really need to get going,” I said, lifting Elly off my lap and onto the couch next to where I had been sitting. “We have to look at that townhouse in New York tomorrow, and it’s a four hour drive.”

Emmy held out her hand so I gave her a hand up out of the low couch, then guided her to the door.

“Make sure you stay in touch,” Emmy told the band. “Don’t lose my number.”

‘As if that was going to happen’, I thought. These guys were so over the moon with getting to perform with their idol that they were going to remember tonight for the rest of their lives.

As we settled into the rental car to go back to the hotel, Emmy asked “That girl, Elly. Do you think she is pretty?”

Unsure what brought this on, I replied “Um, yeah, I guess so. Why?”

“She wants to sleep with you,” Emmy pronounced, as if that explained everything.

“Well, yeah, I kinda got that vibe,” I agreed. “But, I mean, so what? It’s not like I’m gonna just take her up on it because she’s pretty.”

“No? Why not?”

“What do you mean, why not?” I asked, floored by this discussion. “I have you!” I said.

“But what if I am not enough for you? What then?” Emmy asked.

Looking at her, I could tell that this conversation had more meaning than I’d realized. We had arrived at the classic hotel by Fenway at this point, so I looked Emmy straight in the eyes once I’d pulled to a stop in front of the valet stand.

“Em, this seems like a conversation we need to have- but not right here,” I said as the valet opened the passenger door for Emmy.

It really was late, and we really did have to get up early in the morning, so I let it lie and didn’t bring up the discussion at all. I guess I chickened out, but it was easier than trying to have what might be a difficult talk that late at night.