Page 23 of Marley

“Something new I’ve written, but I just can’t get the tune right. I need you for that.”

Maca was great with the lyrics, but I was just as good, if not better, than he was with the music. It’s why we worked well together over the years. Billy and Tom never wrote lyrics, but they were both amazingly talented musicians and could turn my humming of a tune into an intricate musical masterpiece within minutes. We’d grown and evolved over the years, and although we’d improved massively, we still had a lot to learn.

“You wanna work on it now, or d’ya wanna eat?” I asked.

“Go get your guitar, I’ll eat later.”

I carry the Santa Sack, (my mum still insisted on putting all our presents into it), to my room and empty the contents over the bed.

Despite the money I was earning, my parents still bought me the usual socks, underwear, and aftershave, as well as a checked Ben Sherman shirt. I had a vintage looking, Small Faces T-shirt from Jim and Len, along with a rare European import copy of‘That’s Entertainment’by The Jam. Bailey had given me a bottle of bourbon.

As I reached for Maca’s gifts from my mum and Dad, I noticed another gift, still wrapped. I recognised Georgia’s handwriting on the tag instantly and I was shocked to see that it was for me. I tore apart the wrapping and opened the cardboard pouch, tipping it upside down and shook it over my bed. A black leather guitar strap slid out. It had red stitching and the heart shaped crying eye, which was the bands logo, stitched into the leather, along with the letters B B M.

I read the message on the tag properly...

To my Big Brother Marley,

Merry Christmas!

Your Little Sister Georgia

XXXXX

I ran my thumb and finger over the leather, my emotions at war inside my head and my heart. I wanted to be angry at my sister for shutting me out, for not being prepared to talk to me or hear Maca out, but at the same time, when I saw her, it was then that I understood how hurt she was and I knew that she just needed time to heal. The small gesture from G gave me hope that one day, I’d have her back in my life.

I folded up the strap and placed it carefully in my drawer, grabbed Maca’s presents from the bed, and headed back into his room.

I sat on his bed and rolled a joint as he unwrapped the standard socks, boxers, and aftershave that my mum and Dad got him every year.

When I’d finished rolling and lit the spliff, Maca passed me a sheet of A4 paper with words written all over it. I moved up the bed and leaned back on the headboard next to him so that I could use the light from the lamp and start to read the words to the song that he’d written.

Seaside Heart

My heart, it’s like a seaside town, on a dark, winter’s day.

The shutters are down. The crowds stay away.

Its beat it resounds, resembling a military tattoo.

But devoid of all feeling, since there wasn't you.

My heart, it’s like a seaside town, when the wind blows hard.

And lightning strikes, all emotion charred.

It's bleak and it's lonely

It's cold and it's bare.

The sun doesn't shine.

Now that you're not there.

I miss you so much,

That I can barely breathe.

Without your warmth, taste, and touch,