The Walkman

"Stars shining bright above you. Night breezes seem to whisper I love you. Birds singing in the sycamore tree. Dream a little Dream-" that was where the recording cut off. Cass remembered this distinctly. As did any other being present for the showing of The Sound of Music. Cass had inherited her father's theater when she was 46 and now maintained it. Cass was a woman who did not like conflict, particularly because she believed that it was completely avoidable. She was a tight-lipped and quiet woman. Thus, she strictly didn't allow alcohol or those who were intoxicated in her theater. Of course, Homo Sapiens are not creatures who obey. So, as Maria's sweet voice filled the room, and booze was passed around quietly, the night went on. The day was a good one. Until, one woman stood up in a drunken manner and clambered toward the large screen, temporarily casting a suffocating silence on the auditorium. "I'm Marilyn and today I will be singi-", poor Marilyn was cut off by an angry gentlemen in the cigarette booth.

"What is this bloody nonsense?" he yelled aimlessly. The crowd dispersed almost immediately, yet a single man stayed behind. He was a man who when sober, incredibly stoic, but... if a lucky woman were to catch him drunk... then he was the happiest man alive. Naturally, drunk and blissful- he clapped and cheered, his words slurring. He recorded her voice, until the workers began to request the both of them to leave. The pair left, drunk and buzzy. They were happier than the rest of Mama Cass's customers. After all, their antics had dissolved a large crowd within minutes. After that day, Harold O'Connell visited Marilyn with stark devotion in his usually icy eyes.

One night, after the pair had worked until the skin on their hands was peeling, they decided to visit the very theater they met, to watch a showing of Mary Poppins. After all, they wanted to continue their childish movie viewing antics. As they entered, shawls wrapped around their heads, caps and glasses covering their faces, they sat together this time. Not alone. Mama Cass luckily didn't recognize the rowdy pair, considering they were at the peak of their adolescence. After the first half of the movie was over, the pair decided to take their leave. Once out of the musty club, Harold took his chance. He shut his eyes tight so that his eyelids scrunched up, cleared his throat and leaned toward her clover-like lips. Marilyn gleefully kissed back, her cheeks tinted slightly crimson from the numbing wind and Harold's behavior.

She was disconnected from reality in that moment, feeling as though she was basking in sunlight, even at this hour of night. Harold pulled away, his calloused hands holding Marilyn's soft ones.

As one can imagine, a kiss generally leads to love, and love... it leads to life. Thus, Faye O'Connell was introduced to planet Earth. That fateful day was the 23rd of December, 1966. "Faye, don't run!" Marilyn warned playfully. Of course, Faye being the most "obedient" child defied her mother with a smirk plastered on her face.

The pair had snuck off to Macy's to buy Harold a gift for his birthday. "What do you think of this one mommy?" Faye questioned. Marilyn paused at the black knitted socks, laced with pink flowers. "I uh, don't think daddy would like those." she tried.

Faye had stared up at her with evident confusion all over her face. "W-why?", she pondered with hurt in her voice. Marilyn gritted her teeth, then guided Faye away from the feminine socks. "What about this pair?" Marilyn suggested. The socks she gestured at were a gritty white faded color with red and blue stripes along the heel of the socks. "I think daddy will like them", Faye decided with a proud smile on her face. When mother and daughter returned home, Harold was lounging lazily on their old patchy couch that Marilyn's great aunt had left them.

"What were my two favorite people up to?", he teased. Faye and her mother shared a look then shrugged and dispersed. In truth, Harold had full knowledge they were shopping for him and had actually suggested the idea himself. He loved his wife and his 6 year old daughter who meant the world to him.

The tape now sat in their attic, growing mustier and mustier with each passing day. One day in the early spring of 1983, Faye sat perched on the creaky wooden floor with her ear up to the wall, listening for termites. Even after a whole lecture towards Faye from Marilyn, the youth still didn't believe the house's foundation was entirely safe. A draft caught her nose and she sneezed, thus causing a box to fall from it's precariously placed position. It fell with a surprisingly quiet thud and Faye opened it reverently. Inside, was a grey threaded shawl now in tatters. A flat cap, and a tape lay tangled in the shawl.

Faye extracted the tape with a look of surprise, then returned to her room. Once inside, she scrambled around for her jeans and found a paper slip with a number scrawled on it messily. She dialed the number, saying each individual digit aloud. "8-0-5-4-5-7-4-9-9-2", she spoke. The landline rang, and she picked on a scab she never let heal while eyeing the phone. Eventually, the person on the other end answered. "Who is this?", they asked.

"It's me Liam.", Faye informed. On the other end, Liam could be heard sitting upright and moving things around. "Oh! Sup.", he told her.

Faye cleared her throat and asked Liam if he still had his old Walkman. He, wanting to please Faye under any circumstance, agreed. After several phone calls, Liam had retrieved a Walkman and called Faye back nervously. In ten minutes, she was at his place, dressed in the very jeans Liam's number had been found in and and a sweat shirt. "Hi.", she said, momentarily putting Liam on the spot. "Uh, h-hi Faye.", he said unsure of his words. She smiled at him warmly and after standing idly, Liam led her into the garage as he wrung his hands.

"No clue how these things work but, uh you probably know. N-not that I'm calling you old!", he explained. Faye nodded, slightly taken aback but slid the tape into the Walkman. Garbled noises were heard until her mother's sweet, but drunken voice could be heard. "Is that... you?", Liam asked.

Faye shot him a look then rolled her eyes. "Yeah Liam, I totally got drunk and went back in ti-", He cut her off by shushing her. A voice could be heard yelling in the tape. An incredibly familiar voice. Faye let out an audible gasp, then Liam shot her a puzzled look. "What?", he asked. She was still frozen but managed to open her mouth. "Listen, I have to go, but c-can I keep the Walkman just for now?", Faye inquired, her voice trembling ever so slightly. Liam nodded, his thoughts occupied with the song. "Later.", Faye told him and left his garage.

She settled herself on the bicycle and sped ahead. Faye's Aunt Celia always thought that the youth was childish and uncivilized. Why? Well, she rode bikes at the "ripe" age of 17 and she still secretly liked braiding her hair while singing Time after Time. Faye came to a halt at her house and carefully stepped inside. She felt more nervous than the time Harold had gotten pneumonia. "Mom? Dad?", she managed. Inside Harold and Marilyn were sitting on the couch watching the cable. Al Pacino could be heard, and her parents were absorbed in the movie. "Say hello to my little friend.", Marilyn shut the TV off and looked at Faye with warmth present in her eyes.

Faye walked towards her parents and cleared her throat then stiffly sank in an armchair. She took the Walkman out of her pocket and pressed play. Very faintly, Marilyn's voice could be heard. "Is that... what I think it is?", Harold asked. "You tell me.", Faye replied. Marilyn's eyes dilated and her jaw clenched. "Give me that.", was Marilyn's response. Faye reluctantly handed it to her. "What is it?", Faye questioned. Her parents shared a look, then Harold excused himself. "Why is Nana Cass's voice on the tape?", that was a question scarier than any death, attack or war. Mother and daughter sat facing each other, though it felt like a gap the size of a lifetime was between them. "You were born in 1966. That year, your grandmother passed.". Marilyn started.

"But?", Faye prompted. She had known that her grandmother had been gone. "Nana Cass was my mother and she didn't exactly...", Marilyn took a pregnant pause to find the right words. Faye stared at her expectantly, "What?", she pushed. "She didn't approve of your father.", Marilyn admitted. "Wait what?", Faye asked. She had spent her whole life believing that her Nana was a woman that loved anyone. "Wait... but what does the tape have to do with that?", Faye asked. Marilyn couldn't open her mouth, as a memory played in her head. "I- I screamed at her.", she whispered.

Faye saw red. Her whole life she had been told "Don't scream at your mother. Stop being so sensitive. You're too rowdy. No guy would date you, let alone be friends. You're not good enough. Keep on pushing. You can't. You won't. You're too scared. Stop doing that. You're wrong. Nobody cares.", those words had shaped her. "You're such a hypocrite!", Faye yelled. "Oh sorry, I'm screaming at my mom now.", she said. Faye O'Connell was done. She retreated to her room, her feet dragging against the very carpet she had once spoiled, and had gotten yelled at.

Mere minutes later, a sharp creaking sound could be heard. One of a window opening, and the sole room in the house that had a window that could open was... Faye's room. Harold heard the noise before his wife could and he abandoned his timid and distanced act. "FAYE!", Harold shrieked as he frantically ran up the stairs, his face a sickly pale shade. After several attempts, he managed to open the door and found it in a wreck. A lamp lay shattered across the floor, the bed overturned and clothes everywhere. Several shirts and a hoodie were missing, including some jeans, and a wad of money that Faye had gotten for birthday money. Harold sank on the bed and heard a rustling sound. It was a flyer for "Grandparents Day" at Faye's school. She had been the only one without one there, every single year. On the back of the flyer, some words were scrawled on it messily.

"I'm sorry.", that was it, Harold thought. His only daughter was gone.

Liam opened the wooden door to find Faye standing there, drenched. Her eyes were red-rimmed and she looked somewhat "helpless". "Faye? You seem like you've had a... great day.", he commented. "Shut up.", she managed before collapsing in his arms. He stood frozen for a moment, but took her weight and placed his arms on the small of her back. "Listen, would you mind if... if I stayed the night?", she asked. He pulled away and nodded. "You can set up in the guest room. I'm making some sandwiches. Want some?", he tried. "Sure.", she managed. She was unable to speak in full sentences without crying.

As Faye walked up the carpeted stairs, she heard a noise. It was Do Re Mi from The Sound of Music. Liam's grandmother was sitting in her chair, knitting and singing along to the song. Her voice faltered at certain parts, but it sounded pure. Like she was unaffected by the war, hatred and sin of the world. "Girl, are you just going to stand there?", she asked. Faye stepped into the room. "Sorry ma'am.", Faye said sheepishly. "Call me Martha.", she added. "Yes ma'a- Martha.", Faye said. "Nice save.", Martha teased. Liam walked up the stairs to rescue Faye from his grandmother. "Gran! You wanna leave Faye alone?", he teased.

"Why should I leave your girlfriend alone?", Martha asked, before turning her wheelchair around to exit the room, and visit her library. "Gran!", Liam hissed. Faye chuckled then smiled at the doorframe Martha had just left. "I wish my Nana hadn't...", Faye left the sentence open. Faye walked to the guest room, leaving Liam alone with the words he wished were true. Meanwhile, Harold had called the police station 5 times, but they needed 24 hours to declare the case a missing persons case.

Harold sat by the clock, counting the hours. 23 hours to go. It was 8pm, and Liam had heated up some frozen hot dogs. His gran was eating hers in the living room, watching The Joy of Painting. This left the pair eating on Liam's porch, sitting on a ragged picnic blanket. "Food's good.", Liam commented. Faye rolled her eyes and got up to get a glass of water. "Where are you going?", Liam asked. "Sorry, sir. I did not ask of your permission.", she teased. He blushed slightly, embarrassment evident on his face. Faye returned after a few seconds, holding a glass of water.

After their dinner, they decided to go on a walk. As they approached Wesley Park, the time was 9pm. They sat on the swings, a silence falling over them. It wasn't an awkward one. It was one of trust, peace and calm.

Liam closed his eyes, tilted his head and leaned forward. Faye captured his lips and they stayed there for a moment. He moved his hands to the small of her back, and she tangled a hand in his hair. It wasn't a stiff, dragged out moment, rather one of yearning and pent-up feelings. Faye pulled away. "You crazy boy.", she muttered. He blushed and looked down feeling an immense sense of shyness. They walked home in silence, their hands intertwined. "If you could describe my lips as a flower, what would it be?", she asked. "A poppy.", he immediately answered.

"You're such a creep! Who answers a question like that, that too so quickly!", she joked. He looked her in the eye and took her hands. "I would do anything for you Faye.", he said. They neared his house and she packed her stuff. "Leaving so soon?", Martha asked. "Yes.", Faye replied as she shoved her hoodie in the first pocket of her suitcase. She walked in the cool, night air and she had second thoughts on walking home this late.

Her bicycle was at her house, and she had no other way of getting home. Considering that it wouldn't look nice for her to be coming home after 3 hours of no contact.

With every step, she neared Maple Street and her feet felt heavier and heavier. As she neared the cul-de-sac, she noticed a figure sitting on the porch sobbing. It was Marilyn. She was drinking something out of a paper bag and her eyes were puffy. Harold was standing next to her, a knowing look on his face. "Faye?", Marilyn called out, a sliver of hope seeping in through her voice.

"Mom.", Faye spoke. She ran over and buried her head in Marilyn's lap. Marilyn stroked her hair, and found herself crying. "Mom, can you sing for me?", she asked. "Stars shining bright above you. Night breezes seem to whisper I love you. Birds singing in the sycamore tree. Dream a little dream of me."