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The front door of the farm house slammed, startling The Farmer. Shane slumped into a chair at the kitchen table, staring at the ceiling. The Farmer set down the glass they’d been drying, watching Shane curiously.
“Shane?” They called after several minutes, breaking the silence that had gripped the kitchen since Shane entered.
“Hmm?” He responded absently, continuing to stare at the ceiling.
“What’s going on?”
He forced his eyes to turn and meet The Farmer’s. They looked concerned, but in a compassionate way, not pitying. Shane sighed, sitting up and placing his hands on the table to fidget with a wrinkle in the tablecloth. His gaze slid away.
“I lost a bet.”
“What kind of bet?”
“I… bet that I could beat my high score at the arcade game. The one I’ve been practicing for, well, years.” He groaned. “I was so sure I had it, but even with three attempts I couldn’t do it.”
“Who was the bet with? What did they win?” prompted The Farmer when Shane didn’t elaborate.
“Gus. I…” Shane looked very embarrassed suddenly, and redoubled his efforts to fix the wrinkle in the tablecloth.
The Farmer walked over and put a gentle hand on Shane’s, stopping the frantic motion. They said nothing, watching Shane and holding his hand.
Shane sighed again, and looked up at The Farmer. “I have to perform at karaoke night some time in the next year.”
The Farmer blinked in surprise, fighting the urge to smile. They’d heard Shane sing along with the rock records he kept in his room, but they weren’t sure Shane knew that. He had a predictably raspy voice that seemed to favor rock ballads above all else.
“Have you picked your song yet? I’m sure you’ve got a few contenders among your records.”
Shane shook his head, sinking lower into the chair. The Farmer suspected he would have sunken clear to the floor if they weren’t holding his hand on the table. They adjusted their hand so it held his palm-to-palm, aiming to show him additional support.
“I can’t pick a song from one of my records. I… I have to write an original song to sing.” His face flushed a light pink, and he groaned as though the very admission was going to be his demise. He looked away from The Farmer, dreading a laugh that never came.
The Farmer looked at him thoughtfully. “How did this bet even come to be? It doesn’t seem like Gus to make such an unusual bet.”
Shane turned back, grateful The Farmer wasn’t laughing at him. “Apparently I sing made-up lyrics to the arcade game music when I’m really focused.”
Now that did make The Farmer smile. “It sounds like you’re already well on your way to keeping your part of the bet. Why not just perform the lyrics you’ve been making up?”
Shane paused. “Good question,” he grunted, reluctant to admit he hadn’t thought of that. “I guess.. I guess I just want to prove that I could write a decent song.”
The flush on his cheeks deepened. He tried to turn away from The Farmer, embarrassed by the admission. The Farmer let go of Shane’s hand and gently grabbed his face instead.
“Shane, I know you can write a decent song. In fact, I know you can write a good song.” Their eyes sparkled. “Can I come to karaoke night when you perform it?”
“I wouldn’t forgive you if you didn’t,” he muttered, smirking despite himself.
The Farmer smiled wider, and pressed their forehead to Shane’s briefly before pulling back and letting go of his face. “I can’t wait to hear what inspires you.”
“What inspires me, huh?” Shane muttered as The Farmer returned to the dishes. He watched as they went about their chore, humming a random tune and occasionally singing nonsense to the tune as well.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________
Spring melted into summer, and the summer heat slowly faded into autumn. Shane found his inspiration in The Farmer, though they seemed completely unaware. Aunt Marnie sensed something, though, and decided to corner him one afternoon when he was visiting her and Jas. Jas had hardly stepped out of the door to go play when Marnie decided to reminisce.
“Hard to believe how much has changed since you met The Farmer, isn’t it?” Not waiting for a reply, she jerked her head towards the door to his former room. “I used to hardly see you. Jas and I would just hear your angry rock music and your off-key attempts to mimic it.”
Shane spluttered, trying to find a retort. Marnie forged ahead, ignoring his indignation.
“After the night at the cliff when The Farmer saved your life, though, the angry music wasn’t as common. We started to see you around the house. Bit by bit, we started to hear you singing on-key like you meant it. The chickens love your singing, by the way.”
Shane wasn’t sure what was worse, knowing that he’d bothered Jas and Marnie with his angsty music or knowing that they’d heard him singing silly songs to the chickens. How often did he sing without realizing it? He suddenly wondered if The Farmer ever heard him singing.
“My singing to the chickens isn’t even words,” Shane muttered, staring at the store counter. “I just make various sounds to whatever beat is in my head.”
“That’s why they like it so much, I’m sure. It’s why Jas and I enjoyed it so much. It’s an honest representation of you in that moment, unburdened by life.”
Shane made a mental note to try and pay more attention to his spontaneous singing. Maybe he could harness that for his song. He had plenty of words about The Farmer and what they mean to him, but the song was still missing something. If Marnie thought random gibberish represented him, maybe, just maybe that was the missing piece.
_________________________________________________________________________________________________
The front door clicked shut, quietly announcing Shane’s entrance to the farm house. He looked around quickly, spotting The Farmer sitting on the couch in the living room. They turned to him and smiled fondly, patting the cushion beside them. He accepted the invitation, settling in for whatever random programming The Farmer was interested in that night. It appeared to be a fishing special focused on a rare fish that only appeared in the rain in the fall. How oddly specific.
Without looking away from the fishing tips, The Farmer asked, “How’s your song coming along? You have to perform pretty soon, right?”
It never failed to impress Shane how much The Farmer managed to remember. Birthdays, favorite foods, what random items someone from town wanted from the mine; none of it was too much for The Farmer. He hoped the song he had written captured even a fraction of that dedication.
“Yeah. I actually just stopped by The Stardrop Saloon to let Gus know I’ll be performing at Friday’s Karaoke.” Shane stared straight ahead at the TV, suddenly very interested in how to catch a fish he’d never even heard of.
The Farmer turned quickly and beamed at Shane. “Really!? I can’t wait! What time do I need to be there?”
“Uh… I’m aiming to go early, so… probably around 6 P.M.” He reached for the remote, desperate to change the subject so The Farmer wouldn’t extract any details about the song from him. “Do you mind if I put on the gridball game? Zuzu City is playing.”
“It’s all yours.” The Farmer smiled again, standing up. “I’ve got to catch the bus in the morning, so I’m off to bed. I’m looking forward to hearing your song. I’m sure Charlie is the star.”
Shane laughed, “Yeah, Charlie. Chickens Rock, coming to a radio near you.”
Laughing, The Farmer leaned down and kissed Shane goodnight. As they disappeared down the hall, Shane began to sing absentmindedly under his breath. “Da-ba-ra-ba-ra, ta-ta, da-ba-ra-ba-ra”.
_________________________________________________________________________________________________
Shane nervously glanced around the room. Why did Karaoke have to be on Friday? Everyone in town was here, and they were all clearly aware of the bet. He swallowed nervously, reaching for his half empty Jojo cola. He continued looking for The Farmer in the crowded space, somehow both anxious they would miss his performance and praying they wouldn’t make it. What if they didn’t like the song?
Just as his thoughts started to spiral and the clock struck 6 P.M., the door flew open and The Farmer raced into the room. Shane spied a pair of gardening gloves in their back pocket and chuckled to himself, realizing The Farmer likely got carried away on the farm again.
Gus hollered from the bar that Karaoke Night would begin whenever Shane was ready. Shane grumbled goodnaturedly into the microphone and settled onto the bar stool set up on the impromptu stage.
“Uh… hi. I lost a bet, so I wrote this song.” He silently debated what else to say. “It’s, uh… it’s called ‘If Not For You’.”
Deciding that was enough, Shane pressed play on the CD player that sat on a small table next to him. A solo guitar filled the otherwise silent room, all eyes on Shane.
“La-ra-ra-ra, la-ra-ra-ra,” He sang nervously, suddenly questioning the wisdom of using nonsense in the song. “La-ba-ra-ba-ra, pa-pa”
There’ll be no summer
There’ll be no spring
If not for this love of mine
Thornes without flowers
Bars with no drinks
If not for this love of mine
All the lights
All the parties would just fade out
Shut them down
Shane glanced around as he reached the chorus, relieved to see no one was laughing or looking bored. Several attendees looked surprised, but otherwise the reception was positive so far. He turned to stare at The Farmer, needing them to hear his next words directly.
If not for you, I wouldn’t sing anymore
Da-ba-ra-ba-ra, ta-ta, da-ba-ra-ba-ra
If not for you, I couldn’t get off this floor
Da-ba-ra-ba-ra, ta-pa
If not for you, hell would be knockin’ on my door
If not for you
The Farmer stared in wonder, clearly understanding what Shane was trying to say. He glanced at the table by the far end of the bar where Marnie and the Mayor usually were. Marnie was giving him a watery smile, clearly thinking back to that awful night that changed everything for him.
No more Nirvana
No Billy Jean
No dancin’ if you were gone
How could I wake up
How could I sleep
How could I be someone
All those crowds
All the music would just fade out
Not a sound
He reached the chorus once more, eyes finding those of The Farmer. Their fond smile pulled a grin from him as well.
If not for you, I wouldn’t sing anymore
Da-ba-ra-ba-ra, ta-ta, da-ba-ra-ba-ra
If not for you, I couldn’t get off this floor
Da-ba-ra-ba-ra, ta-pa
If not for you, hell would be knockin’ on my door
If not for you, ooh-ooh
Shane braced for some laughter as he entered the final portion of the song. His eyes widened in shock as he heard some of the townsfolk start to sing along.
La-ra-ra-ra, la-ra-ra-ra
Da-ba-ra-ba-ra, ta-ta
Da-ba-ra-ba-ra, ta-ta
La-ra-ra-ra, la-ra-ra-ra
Da-ba-ra-ba-ra, pa-pa
Shane stood up as he brought the song to a close.
If not for you, hell would be knockin’ on my door
If not for you, ooh-ooh
Thunderous applause erupted from the crowd, startling Shane so badly that he stumbled into the stool behind him. As he stepped off the stage, trying to head for The Farmer, those nearby swarmed him, enthusiastically congratulating him on a great song and wondering why they’d never realized he was such a talented singer and songwriter.
In the end, it took Shane nearly half an hour to free himself from the mob, ultimately excusing himself to go feed Charlie. As he stepped out of the door, he heard Gus asking if anyone had the guts to follow Shane’s performance or if that was the end of Karaoke night. Shane shook his head and took a deep breath, appreciating the cool touch of the night air.
“Shall we go home and feed Charlie?” a teasing voice asked. Shane turned to find The Farmer waiting for him, a playful glint in their eyes.
“Yes please,” he groaned, pretending to be in a hurry. The Farmer fell in step beside him, reaching for his hand as they headed home. Shane’s face flushed despite the routine nature of the contact. His heart thundered in his ears as he waited for The Farmer to pass judgement on his song.
The Farmer waited until they were nearly to the house to grant Shane peace, slowing to a stop by Charlie’s coop and dropping Shane’s hand.
“I think Charlie deserves a treat for inspiring such a great song, don’t you?” they asked innocently.
Shane stared incredulously for a moment before The Farmer’s facade gave way to a broad grin and they grabbed Shane’s hand once more. Suddenly serious, The Farmer looked at Shane earnestly.
“It’s a soulful song, Shane. Haunting and handsome, just like you.” They moved closer, leaning their head on Shane’s shoulder and wrapping their arms around Shane to pull them chest to chest. “I appreciate what it means that you bared your soul, not just to me but to nearly the entire town. I love you, and I’m glad you’re still able to sing.”
Shane’s heart swelled with pride for his work and love for the person in his arms. “You’ve given me new reasons to sing.” He hugged them tighter, quietly singing “da-ba-ra-ba-ra” into their ear. A quiet, fond laugh escaped from The Farmer, and Shane knew he’d be singing for the rest of his life.