Henry picks up Liza.

Liza is wearing blue.  Henry finds this distasteful, but says nothing.

Henry drives to the restaurant.

The restaurant is downtown.  The drive to the restaurant takes exactly twelve minutes and two seconds.

During the drive, Liza takes special note of Henry’s fingernails, which are not in disarray and appear to be clipped.

Henry finds Liza’s insistent gazing at his hands to be off-putting, but says nothing.

They arrive at the restaurant.  Liza instantly panics as she ponders whether or not Henry is the type to open the car door for a lady.  Liza wonders if she should stay put and wait for him to open the car door.  Liza elects to open the car door herself, and her feet touch the pavement before Henry has closed his own car door.

Henry wonders to himself if he should’ve opened the car door for Liza.  Upon realizing that opening the car door for Liza would’ve been physically impossible, given the quick manner in which she herself opened her car door, Henry pardons himself.

(Henry has been pardoning himself quite a bit recently.  Dr. Baird has suggested that this is a good thing, and is encouraging Henry to go easy on himself, for Pete’s sake.)

Once inside the restaurant and seated at a booth, Liza becomes chatty, and asks Henry his opinion/stance on several unrelated topics, in quick succession, including, but not limited to: Childhood, Pianos, Birds, Magnets and Rockabilly Music.

Henry is taken aback by this.

Liza realizes this, and silently admonishes herself for being a Chatty Cathy.

Henry sees Liza’s silent self-assessment as an admonishment of his own silence, and for this he can not pardon himself, Dr. Baird be damned; Henry rolls his eyes at his misbehavior and starts counting the exits.

When it comes time to order, Liza is overwhelmed, not to mention just a little perturbed, at how poorly this outing is fairing.

Liza takes Henry’s aversion to basic, if not scattered, conversation as a sign that she is “failing”, and begins pulling at her sleeves and fidgeting with the hem of her coat.

Liza has not taken her coat off yet.  She realizes this fifteen minutes into the date, and sadly sees the inappropriateness of doffing said coat now;  Liza worries that it would act as a signal of sorts, a “well, I’m comfortable, and I’m ready to have some FUN” sort of gesture, a gesture that she is certain Henry would find distasteful.

Liza leaves the coat on.

Henry wonders why Liza is still wearing her coat, and why she looks so worried, and realizes that this girl may be a tad too complicated for his state of mind, and wonders if Dr. Baird would call this “opting out”, or “avoidance”, or whatever.

Henry thinks that maybe he should call Dr. Baird.

Henry remembers boundaries.

Henry doesn’t call Dr. Baird.

Liza starts thinking about the hair color of the unborn children that her and Henry could possibly have.

This is as good a time as any to pause.

***

Derek is obsessed with the concept of obsession.

Derek finds the idea of broken people latching on to each other and holding on for dear life strangely compelling.

On a related note, Derek has found that these characters he creates when he writes form tenuous connections with his psyche, and he feels responsible for them.  He wonders what will become of the man longing to reconcile his religious doubt with the woman he loves; the woman whose addiction keeps her from the only man who will accept her for who she is; the couple whose respective neuroses connect them in ways they can’t comprehend.

Derek privately wonders what it would be like to write about people who have it all figured out, people who are well-adjusted and comfortable in crowds and have no private or public fears to speak of.

Derek aches for Henry and Liza.  Derek would like to, for the sake of brevity, skip to the end of what, one would have to imagine, was just a horrible date.

***

Liza accepts a tentative kiss on the cheek.  It feels as dry and chapped as a thumb brushing against her face.

Liza goes up to the roof of her building with a stack of saltines and a bottle of red wine, and leans against the edge, breathing in the hot air of a summer night.

Liza sees clouds of people, people she will never know, hailing cabs and beginning their evening.  Liza feels lonely, but happy.  Liza wonders if Henry will call her.  Liza knows that he won’t.

Henry finds himself in the position of having to report to his sister on how his date went.

Henry tells her the truth - that Liza seemed lovely but utterly distracted, as though she was constantly telling and re-telling herself a private joke, one that he couldn’t possibly be a part of.

Henry sleeps well that night.  At one point, it’s too hot, and he gets up and opens a window, and all is right again.

Liza doesn’t sleep as well as Henry does, but she hums herself this song and it makes her feel better.  She imagines Henry humming with her, and it makes her feel safe.

***

Goodnight moon
You were the only thing that kept me true
I’ll keep this curse if you’ll come back here soon
And light me a path

If only I could bring a good thing back
I’d wait for years to see you dressed in black
Your head in your hands

But this is not a happy ending
This could be the best day in history
There will be no new beginnings
This will be the crash of the century

In my dreams
Your tie is crooked and you’re showing seams
But there is no where else I’d rather be
Then in your way

So leave your porch light on and waste the day
I’ll just be minutes from you, anyways
My head in my hands

I exist
To reassemble you with just one kiss
And I intend to do it just like this
Just like this

***

Derek wrote part of it.

Rachel heard it, and liked it;  Rachel wrote the other part of it.

Mike Mittelstedt recorded the demo of it in his small home studio.  It had a small, light-up figurine of either Jesus or Mary perched on an organ.

Derek and Rachel hope you like it.

(note: from now on, mp3 downloads will be available directly underneath streaming audio.  Adjust accordingly…)