LET IT BE ME
JoAnn Baca

The soft strains of a song he had never heard before drifted out onto the balcony as Vincent knocked softly on the glass of Catherine’s dining room door. The words to the music were indistinct, softly muffled, and the music itself had a swelling, throbbing element which he found interesting but at the same time disquieting.

Doing of bit of spring cleaning, Catherine was surprised but delighted at the interruption. As she opened the doors and threw herself into Vincent’s waiting arms, she allowed herself a silent prayer of thanks that he had come. Usually, when she had spent time Below during the weekend, as she had done the past few days, he did not visit her for several nights - wanting, she suspected, to give her space and time to maintain a balance in her life. She had not been too successful in convincing him that there was nothing wrong with her “balance” that more time with him wouldn’t fix. She had been so certain he would not come on this warm Monday night in March that she had, on impulse, pulled open drawers and closets and begun to do the kind of search-and-destroy cleaning she rarely had time for anymore. She was a bit embarrassed to be seen by Vincent in her oldest sweatpants and sloppiest tee, with her hair carelessly tied back with a ribbon. At least, she reflected, the exertion had put a healthy glow on her face, so she didn’t look a total sight! Still, she always wanted to look her best for him, knowing he appreciated the gesture and took pride in the fact that she treasured his approving looks when she dressed just for him. Oh, well, he gets pot luck tonight!
When Vincent broke the contact, much too soon for Catherine, he turned and walked toward the low balcony wall. Catherine followed, and they leaned on the wall side by side.
Vincent didn’t know why he had come tonight. He hadn’t meant to disturb her so soon after she had been Below, and he obviously had interrupted some work she was doing. Something compelled him, some indecipherable feeling near the surface of his consciousness. He couldn’t explain it yet, but he had to be near her tonight.
“Perhaps I shouldn’t have come, Catherine. You’re busy. I have taken you away from work you need to do.”
“Nonsense, Vincent. There’s nothing I’d rather do than spend time with you, you should know that by now.”
He smiled and ducked his head, a move Catherine always found heartstoppingly endearing. It pleased him to hear the words, she knew, and words were all she had to work with, all that he would accept from her.
In silence, they listened to the music, which was more distinct now that the balcony doors stood open; Vincent could hear the words clearly. The last verse of Simon and Garfunkel’s “Bridge Over Troubled Water” was playing:

Sail on, silver girl.
Sail on by.
Your time has come to shine.
All your dreams are on their way.
See how they shine.
If you need a friend,
I’m sailing right behind.
Like a bridge over troubled water,
I will ease your mind.
Like a bridge over troubled water,
I will ease your mind.

“What is it you’re listening to, Catherine?”
She blushed a little. “Oh, that. It’s silly, really. A boy I knew in high school once made a tape of love songs for me. The quality isn’t very good -- I think he copied them from the radio. He tried -- in vain! -- to put me in a more ‘romantic’ mood with it! I don’t know why I still have the tape. I found it tonight while I was cleaning, and I put it on to see if it was worth keeping. What do you think?”
The next song started as he was on the point of replying, but whatever he meant to say was forgotten as his attention focused on the first line of the song.

I bless the day I found you.

Catherine recognized the Gilbert Becaud lyrics, but to Vincent they were completely new...unexpected. Stunned by the aptness of the line, and immediately absorbed, he listened in increasing thrall.

I want to stay around you.
And so I beg you,
Let it be me.
Don’t take this heaven from one.
If you must cling to someone,
Now and forever,
Let it be me.

Each time we meet, love,
I find complete love.
Without your sweet love,
What would life be?

Catherine hadn’t heard the song in years, but she realized now that she couldn’t have planned to play a more evocative song to speak to Vincent’s heart than this simple one. He was standing completely still, almost as if he were mesmerized by the music and the words. She reached across the small distance between them and tentatively placed a small hand over one of his. He started a bit, then moved to clasp her hand, almost too tightly. Neither of them spoke, neither breathed.

So never leave me lonely.
Tell me you’ll love me only,
And that you’ll always
Let it be me.

If for each bit of gladness
Someone must taste of sadness,
I’ll bear the sorrow.
Let it be me.

This was too much, Catherine decided. How did Becaud know them so well? If Scott Westerman, that pimply-faced walking hormone, was in front of her now, she would favor him with a great big kiss in thanks for the tape!

No matter what the price is,
I’ll make no sacrifices.
Through each tomorrow,
Let it be me.

To you I’m praying.
Hear what I’m saying.
Please let your heart beat
For me, just me.

And never leave me lonely.
Tell me you’ll love me only,
And that you’ll always
Let it be me.

The tape ended, and there was silence. Catherine let her breath out slowly. Vincent stood beside her, still as a statue, the only evidence of life the hand that clung to hers. Finally, after a long moment, he shook himself slightly and asked very quietly, “Would you play that song again?”
She nodded, afraid to break his mood, and disengaging her hand regretfully she turned to enter her apartment. As she rewound the tape, she was surprised to see that Vincent had followed her inside. She kept her surprise to herself, though, not wanting to startle him out of whatever dreamy reverie possessed him. As the music began again, he shocked her once more.
“Catherine, may I have the pleasure of this dance?”
Her smile reflected the pleasure he was giving her, and she stepped immediately into his arms. Vincent held her formally, but he held her close, and they swirled and swayed as one, while the song repeated its plea.

No matter what the price is,
I’ll make no sacrifices.
Through each tomorrow,
Let it be me.

To you I’m praying.
Hear what I’m saying.
Please let your heart beat
For me, just me.

And never leave me lonely.
Tell me you’ll love me only,
And that you’ll always
Let it be me.

Grateful to Scott for having the foresight to find the long version of the song, Catherine immersed herself in the moment, in the music, in the indescribable bliss of Vincent’s presence. She let the words flow through her, willing Vincent to hear them through their Bond, to understand the appeal from her heart to his, to let emotion and not intellect rule the day.
His visceral response to the song shook Vincent to the core. He was a student of great literature and timeless music, had been stirred and touched by profound poetry, and here he was, unexpectedly moved by the eloquence of this little song. Surprisingly, it managed to convey the complexity of the emotions which roiled through him whenever he thought of Catherine, of the haunted love he felt for her, of his unexpressed desires and hopes. He could have wept for the simple perfection of it. I bless the day I found you. Oh, Catherine, yes! He thanked the gods for whatever impulse had motivated his visit tonight. Had Catherine’s remembrance of a romantic gesture caused a ripple in their Bond which drew him, had the subtle subtext of the songs on the tape been a siren call to him through her? He would not question it too closely, just be grateful for it.
After the song ended, in the quiet that followed, they continued to hold each other in the dancers’ stance. The fact that Vincent did not relinquish his hold upon her was the source of yet another surprise for Catherine. She was exceedingly happy that whatever surprises were being wrought as the result of her almost offhanded decision to play this tape were such delightful ones. If I’d only known -- I’ve had this tape for years, she thought with amusement.
Since he was not letting go of her, Catherine needed no further encouragement to reclaim their earlier embrace. She guided his upright hand with hers until she placed it on her waist, then gently wrapped both her arms around him. So they stood, Vincent with his arms encircling Catherine, his head now bent lower to catch the fragrance of her hair, and Catherine with her arms about his neck, her head resting softly upon his chest. Together they held and hoped, and their hearts beat as one.
Finally, he spoke, almost as if coming out of a trance. He leaned closer and whispered in her ear, in a voice pitched so low as to be almost imperceptible, “Catherine, please let your heart beat for me, just me.”
She could feel his lips trembling where they brushed the hair against her face, could hear the quiet intake as his breath bated in anticipation of her response. Tears formed in her eyes. Vincent so rarely spoke of his feelings for her, and never of his desires. How much this must have cost him -- how much fear he must have overcome to speak the words. It was just one line from a simple song, but the effect was devastating. He was laying his soul bare to her, he was putting his whole future, his hope of happiness into her hands. This moment, which she had dreamed of, which she had longed and ached for, which, at times, she had despaired of experiencing, had finally arrived -- he was claiming the love she had offered for so long.
As she looked up into his unique and beautiful face, she replied in a fervent whisper, “Now and forever, Vincent.”
He did not seem to hear her at first, as he stood with his head still bowed and his arms around her. A full minute passed. Then, as if only just realizing that the response he longed for had been spoken aloud, that Catherine was pledging herself to him, he looked up at her and, slowly, deliberately, raised his hands to cup her face. He gazed in wonder at her. His whole world lay between his hands.
Catherine held his gaze, willing him to understand, to believe. His smoldering blue eyes, sparkling with flecks of fire, seemed to bore into her soul, desperate to confirm what her lips had told him. Within their Bond, he found confirmation. Within her eyes, he found forever.
Catherine’s lips parted slightly -- an invitation and a promise. She knew that if he would accept her kiss, he would accept everything.
His decision was made in a heartbeat. She almost cried out in relief -- Yes! -- as his eyes shifted to her mouth and he unhesitatingly closed the distance between them. But just before his mouth claimed hers, he murmured against her lips, “That tape, Catherine? I think you should keep it.”