Humming till the chorus

In which our Hero talks some more about his gurrrrlfrennnnn, with no actual remorse, just acknowledging the besottedness

Nocturne pays me subtle compliments sometimes. She asked me what I was doing while I was working on the last entry, and I told her. She said, “I hope you’re not writing about [topic]” because she was worried about me embarrassing her and I said, no, that’d be tomorrow. And then she said okay and told me that she trusts me to respect her line. Which I do, but also, I think that she’s bashful about some things she’s got no cause to be bashful about.

It has to do with a particular song that Nocturne loves. An old song, but she’s been listening to it a lot, and if you’ve been reading about me and her long enough, Gentle Reader, you know sometimes I would sing to her while she was sleeping badly, as a quiet way to let her know I was there without waking her up. So the next logical thing would be for me to sing her something she loved, right?

“What are you doing?” she asked me one night after I hadn’t spoken for a few minutes.

“Fighting stage fright,” I answered.

“Why? What are you feeling stage fright about?”

I told her I was looking at the lyrics to her favourite song, and that I wanted to sing it to her but was finding myself unable to. She pointed out that previously mentioned fact that I used to sing to her all the time. But here’s the thing: She was asleep. And here she was awake. The odd part was that I wasn’t afraid of singing badly, because my voice is adequate. I can’t say I was afraid of her reaction, either, because she likes the song too much to be unhappy at me attempting it for her. And yet I just couldn’t do it.

A few days later, she came back from a late dinner engagement, and caught by her good mood, I sang her the first verse. And when I finished she asked for more. So I sang on, this song I’ve probably heard a million times and never heard the lyrics to. And when I was done, she asked me to sing it again. And again.

Which is probably sweet enough as it is, but the next time she asked me to sing it to her, she started singing along with me, just a little. Well, technically, she was counterpointing my lines which I think makes what we were doing into a round but still, she was singing with me.

She does that sometimes. Sings, I mean, not with me; that was completely new. Not if she’s aware of it, then she’ll either go quiet or possibly apologize, because she claims to be tone deaf, despite all evidence (and her own admission once) to the contrary. But otherwise, usually when she’s listening to a little music as she works, she’ll hum. (For me, I treat moments like that the same as a bird that’s landed next to me. Stay quiet, pay attention and enjoy the little moment while it lasts.

Anyway, she sang with me a little while. We’d talk a little about various things, and then she’d ask me to sing it again. And talk some more and sing some more. And curling up to sleep, she hummed to herself while I sang her to sleep. Unselfconscious and relaxed in my company.