I call her Carolina because I think of her whenever I hear the James Taylor song, Carolina in My Mind. The song always takes me back to that night when she wanted to believe that I was a moment worth having. I think about that moment often, and wonder if she ever thinks about me.
I went to see her in a play. She disappeared for months prior, despite my semi-frequent attempts to talk to her. However, out of the blue she let me know she was performing. Her abilities as an actress exhibited great talent for subtle moments. She understood how to elongate a pause between lines to build tension and keep the audience uncomfortable. Around her, I always wanted to know what happened next.
When she walked onstage, her eyes instantly connected with mine—the way they always did. Just thinking about the looks she gave me make my breath catch. We always seemed to lock eyes the instant we were in the same room for a fleeting unacknowledged moment, no matter how much distance separated us.
I think a lot about a single moment of the play. Carolina waited on stage for her love interest to show up and she started singing on syllables. “DaDo Da Da Da Da,” but I heard the melody “Going to Carolina in my mind.”
The audience held its breath, as Carolina stood alone on the stage, humming the melody to that song. The way she looked off I could tell she was far away, maybe thinking back to a time in our hometown—maybe of a future on Broadway. I just knew I wanted to go there with her.
I’ve looked up the play’s script and there’s no mention of any song in the stage direction at that moment. It was all her.
After the show, I waited for her in the lobby. She walked up, smiled and grabbed my arm, slightly holding me back of me as if to see me better.
“Let’s get a drink,” she said and she led me out through the mingling audience even as others were waited for her.
“The play was great,” I said as we hit the street and began to walk. “You transported me.”
Carolina said nothing, but burrowed into me. She grasped my arm tightly as we walked in the cold night air toward a restaurant she liked. Rain from earlier in the night lit up the pavement with reflections of streetlights.
“I always have this feeling when you come around,” she said finally. “Like this is a defining moment, but only a moment, always…”
“I tried last time…”
“I just never answered your messages,” she said. “I’ll be better, I promise, just don’t stay away so long.”
We continued to walk and I felt her focus slip away again. Whatever she felt for me floated off like a few words hummed on the stage. She was off to Carolina and I wasn’t bringing her back anytime soon.