Love draws a man to a woman
Like nectar, draw a bee to a flower.
Chapter 7
After dinner, they talked a little more about the band and the hope that it might one day become famous—traveling the world and signing big contracts. Later, Tim went to wash the dishes while his father and sister went to bed.
When he finished washing up, Tim turned on the television because he didn't feel sleepy at all. The movie on the screen was full of gunshots and loud screams, but Tim hardly noticed. His thoughts were still fixed on the beautiful girl he had seen after rehearsal. He hadn't told his father about her because it didn't seem important. After all, they hadn't really met—there was no conversation, no exchange of names or phone numbers. Still, he wished they had. That would have made the moment feel more real.
After a while, he began to wonder if he had imagined it all. Had he really looked into those deep, captivating blue eyes? Had he actually felt her hand over his shoulder? He sighed. "If only I had some kind of proof," he smiled in mockery of his thought; his mind had drifted to Cinderella and the glass slipper the prince found; if he had something of hers like that, he would have a way to find her.
He then thought about the argument she had with the man who was likely her boyfriend. She had looked deeply hurt. Whatever the reason, Tim felt it was wrong—even sinful—to cause such pain to someone so beautiful. If she were his, he thought, he would never knowingly hurt her or make her frown. He would only want to please her through his actions and honor her with his words. The thought stirred something in him, and he felt inspired to write a song—one that would describe all he would do for her if she were his.
He quickly grabbed a pen and paper. Like wine flowing from a bottle into a glass, his feelings poured onto the page. Around 1:00am he finished writing the heartfelt lyrics about loyalty and deep commitment.
Leaning back, he read through what he had written and smiled, pleased with himself. All that remained was for the band to approve the song and give him the chance to sing it.
On his way to the next rehearsal, Tim walked down the same street where he had first seen the girl, hoping their paths might cross again. Unfortunately, he did not see her.
When he got to the garage, he met the guys setting up the instruments, so he joined in. When they were through, he showed Jax the song he had written. Jax was impressed. With a doubtful look, he asked Tim if he had really written the song himself. Tim simply smiled and nodded. The other guys read through the lyrics too and were just as impressed. Excited, they decided to rehearse the new song first.
As the session went on, the song became more rhythmic and easy-flowing. They tried out different melodies and finally chose one that blended rock and country. When they added the instruments, the song turned into a smooth and calming ballad.
After working hard to find the perfect sound for Tim's song, Jax gave them a fifteen-minute break. Tim stepped outside to get some fresh air and rest his voice.
Night had already replaced the daylight, and the stars shone brightly in the sky. Tim looked up and admired their beauty. He searched for constellations shaped like objects and animals. He spotted the Big Dipper and Orion and wondered if they were formed by chance or carefully arranged by God.
The night air was cold, and the chill slowly crept into his body. He rubbed his hands together, trying to keep warm.
"Cold night, isn't it?" Mary's voice broke his thoughts.
"Um—" Tim turned around.
"I said it's a cold night," she repeated as she stopped beside him. "Here, this should help." She handed him a cup of hot cocoa.
"Thanks," Tim said with a smile as he took it.
As Mary passed the cup to him, she noticed a shoelace wrapped around his left hand—the same hand he used to take the cup.
"Why do you wear that?" she asked, staring at it.
Tim smiled, wondering if this was the first time she had noticed. "You mean this?" he said, touching the shoelace with his free hand.
"Yes. It's a shoelace, isn't it?"
"Yeah."
"So, what's it for?"
Tim shrugged. "It's… kind of an ornament, I guess."
"Oh, an ornament?"
"Yeah," Tim said as he sipped his cocoa. "I tied both ends together to make a loop and wore it on my wrist one day. It was one of those silly things you do when you're bored. But after a while, I grew attached to it, and I've never taken it off since."
Mary reached for Tim's wrist and gently touched the shoelace. "It feels worn," she said. "Looks like you'll be wearing it for a very long time." Then she took a sip of her cocoa.
"Mm-hmm," Tim replied, his cup still at his lips.
Mary studied him as if he were a little strange. "What kind of attachment can someone have to a shoelace?"
"Well," Tim shrugged, "I don't really know how to explain it. It's like when a king or a famous person—a movie star or musician—picks up an ordinary stone and keeps it because he just likes the color. When that person dies, people suddenly see value in that stone just because he liked it. That's how it is for me—a special feeling for something ordinary that doesn't really matter."
Mary looked amused and curious at the same time. "You know," she said with a teasing smile, "I don't remember you saying you're also a philosopher."
Tim laughed softly. "Did I sound like one?"
"Like a life philosopher," Mary laughed. Then, as her laughter faded, she looked straight at him and asked, "So tell me—how did you learn to write songs and sing them so well?" Her eyes were fixed directly on Tim's face.