We Both Go Down Together - Pt 1

Rating: PG-13 ish. It's reall not that bad, a few cases of not-so-children-friendly content.
Summary: You meet Colin at an accoustuic gig in Portland, OR.


It was a cold rainy day in Portland Oregon – would you expect anything else? You were walking down the crowded street trying to find something to do with your night that wouldn’t cost an arm and a leg. It was even harder than it sounds because it was right during prime “ooh it sure is nice out, lets have a walk down the street” time and the street was teeming with people. A bumped shoulder here, a stepped-on foot there, and it was starting to irritate you. You swore that the next little coffee shop or club type thing you saw, you were going to duck into it and take the time to figure out where to go.

Suddenly, as if the god of hip, inexpensive nightspots had heard your meek little cry for help, a little coffee house appeared to your right. You ducked inside and let your eyes adjust to the light. It was a small little place with hipster people at every table, sipping hot drinks, talking, and eating vegan munchies. You also noticed that there was a small stage at one end of the room with an acoustic guitar set up, and an empty table directly in front of it.

One of the manager/waiter people came up to you and asked if you wanted a seat. You nodded your head and he took you to the seat directly in front of the stage.

“This WAS reserved for someone, but he just called in not five minutes ago to say that something came up and he couldn’t come. My, what a luck person you are,” the man said, handed you a menu and said he’d be back in a few minutes to take your order. Before you looked at the menu, you looked around the stage to get any sign of who was to be playing. You didn’t have to look far because there was a sign perched on the stool directly in front of you that said “Tonight 7-9: Colin Meloy.” There were other names listed after Colin for later times, but your mind was pre-occupied. You knew that name from somewhere, you were sure of it. However, the name wasn’t coming to you. Perhaps it was the lack of caffeine in your system. You looked over the menu and decided that you wanted a chai black tea and a hummus plate. The waiter came over, took your order and your menu, and went away. After a few minutes, he came back with your tea and said the hummus would be out shortly.

Before you could even begin to cool of your tea, a man walked on stage. The whole place erupted into applause and that was when you remembered that name. Your room mate in college had tried to show you her new Decemberists cd, but she had picked the wrong time. You had just broken up with your boyfriend of 2 years, and the last thing you wanted was to be pestered to throw all your attention into this new band. Ordinarily, you would have dove in head-first, but that time you were too busy getting your face acquainted with your pillow. Months later, you saw the video for “Sixteen Military Wives” on Fuse and became intrigued with the band. This intrigue was short-lived, however, since school tuition came before cds and concert tickets.

Now, however, you were sitting no less than fifteen feet away from the lead singer of a band that entranced you so long ago, yet slipped from your memory. He picked up his guitar, tuned it a little, and meekly said hello. He started strumming his guitar and began the intro to a Syd Barret song you had temporarily forgotten the name of. When you saw the video for “Sixteen Military Wives” all that time ago, you were more interested in the little quirks and subtle humor of the video, rather than the appearance of the members. Conversely, how that you were this close to Colin, without any other distractions, you realized how nice he looked. Sure, he was a little bigger that all the other indie boys you went after in the past, but Colin had a certain something. Maybe it was his eloquence in his lyrics, or the way he pronounced his words like a captain at the helm of his ship, there was definitely something there that kept your attention.

You sipped your tea and intently watched Colin mouth every syllable in his songs. He must have picked up on this, because he started looking at you every other verse. By his fifth song, you had your hummus in front of you and were a little more focused on making sure your food reached your mouth. You were so hungry that you were afraid of looking too ravenous in front of Colin. So afraid that during a very sentimental part of a Smiths song, you brought the pita, filled with hummus and feta cheese, to your mouth and it didn’t quite make it there in one piece. Right over your lap, a good portion of the pita, and its contents, decided to make your lap its new home. You frowned at the mess you just made and picked up your napkin to wipe it up. However, you were cut short by the sound of a muffled giggle. You looked up to find Colin attempting, in vain however, to suppress laughter and keep the song going. He looked right at you and smiled. If this was anyone else, you would have gotten angry at a mocking laughter. However, you could tell by looking into his eyes, past his cute little geek glasses, that it was a sympathetic, “we’ll look back at this when we’re sixty and laugh” type of laughter. You gave back a bashful smile and continued to clean up your mess. He finished the song and looked right at you and smiled. He then walked over to the microphone.

“This next song is for a certain lady here tonight that seems to need a little help,” he said and gave you a sly grin. He then proceeded to play “Oceanside” by the Decemberists. Unbeknownst to him, this was your absolute favorite Decemberists song that, as previously mentioned, had been forgotten. You finished cleaning yourself up and focused your attention back to Colin. For the remainder of his set, you only nibbled at your food, opting to intently watching the charming man onstage.

At nine o’clock, Colin said his final thank you’s and took his guitar offstage. You were right there with the rest of the club, on your feet cheering. He didn’t come back out for an encore, though, so you sat back down to a surprise second cup of tea. No sooner had you started digging into your food again did you feel a tap on your shoulder. You threw up the “just a second” finger, finished swallowing, wiped out mouth, and turned around. “Is this seat taken?” Colin asked and pointed to the empty chair across from you.

“No, of course not,” you said, some how managing to keep it in all English. He sat down and a waiter promptly came over to take his order. He ordered a black tea, one sugar. When the waiter left, he looked right into your eyes and smiled. You smiled back, of course and proceeded to lay on the charm.

“You were great up there. I thought I was the only one that liked ‘Golden Hair’ by Syd Barret!”

“Small world,” he said smiling. “I assume you know my name, but I haven’t had the pleasure of knowing yours.” You grinned slightly and told him your name.

“My, what a beautiful name,” he said taking your hand in his and kissing it, “and such a beautiful lady.” Even in the dark coffee house, you knew he could see you blushing, which might explain his chuckling.

The waiter walked back over and placed Colin’s tea down next to where he had just let go of your hand. He thanked the waiter and turned back to you.

“So,” Colin said blowing across his tea to cool it down, “what brings you to this little club? I’ve been playing here almost every Friday night for three months and this is the first time I’ve seen you here.”

“Well, this is the first time I’ve been in here. I was looking for some place to go tonight, and I actually initially stepped in here to get out of the crowded street and think for a minute,” you said then looked right into Colin’s eyes. “But something was telling me to stay here and check it out, and I’m glad I did.” Now it was Colin’s turn to get bashful. He grinned modestly and looked down into his tea.

“You know,” he said spinning his finger around the lip of the tea cup, “I don’t usually do this, but do you want to go for a walk downtown? The streetlights look very lovely in this kind of weather.” He looked up at you with the look of a child asking his mother to go out and play in the mud.

“Yeah, that would be really nice,” you replied and Colin called the waiter over.

“Take all this out of my pay; I’ll come pick it up tomorrow.” You turned to Colin with a protesting expression.

“No, you don’t have to do that!” you said but Colin put of his hand persistently.

“Yes, I know I don’t have to, but I WANT to,” he quickly finished his tea, the waiter walked away. Colin got up out of his chair, and as you went to follow suit he held out his hand again.

“I’m going to get my guitar, and then I’ll come back and get you like a gentleman.” You watched him slip backstage and reemerge a minute later with a tortoise shell guitar case and wearing a cute little suede jacket with faux fur lining showing on the collar. He walked over to the table and you stood up as he pulled out your chair for you, then took your hand, pushed in your chair and he led you away into the night.

Colin led you to his car; he put the guitar in the trunk, and then held out his arm for you to take. You gladly obliged and the two of you walked down the almost empty street. There was a thin layer of fog on the ground and you were thinking that this is the most romantic treatment you have ever received.

“You were right; these streetlights give the street the coolest atmosphere. You know what I mean; they make it just gloomy enough that it’s romantic. Do you know what I mean?” you asked and turned to Colin. Oh no, you thought, I made a complete fool of myself. He stopped walking and turned to face you.

“Yes, I know exactly what you mean; this is why I wanted to take you on this walk. I wanted to see if you would see what I see in it.”

“Oh I do,” you said. “I’m just so glad that you see that I see what you see in these lights... I think,” you said, all afraid that you had made yet another fool of yourself.

“Oh just shut up and kiss me,” Colin said and the two of you were pulled close together, embraced in one of the most romantic, and best, moments of your life. When you finally pulled apart, the two of you smiled at each other and kissed again. When you pulled apart, again, Colin grinned ear to ear and you two started walking again. This time, though, Colin had his arm around your waist, and you likewise.

“So, where to now?” you asked Colin as you turned onto a little side street.

“Well, I was wondering if you wanted to come back to my place, we can listen to records, I’ll make you some of my famous tea?” He gave you that little kid in the mud look again. Of course you agreed; who could resist that look?

So you turned around and started walking back towards the club and Colin’s car. There was an old man sitting on his stoop, a man you two somehow managed to miss the first time around, selling hand-carved wooden roses. While you were wondering why he was still there so late, Colin had a different idea.

“Wait right here,” he said to you and walked up the old man’s stoop. You couldn’t hear what they were saying, but Colin reached into his pocket, pulled out some money, and the man handed him a rose. Colin bounded down the stairs, grinning wider than when you first kissed, and handed you the rose. You smiled equally as wide and took it from him, kissing him again. Colin took your hand and walked you to his car.

When you got inside his car, and it was turned on, “The Crane Wife Part 3” was playing from the cd player. He quickly reached over and turned it off, blushing profusely.

“What’s wrong?” you asked nonplus.

“Oh, nothing, I just get a little embarrassed when people come in my car and they find out that I listen to myself. I’m afraid people will think I’m vain or something.” You reached over and stroked his shoulder.

“It’s ok, I think it’s cute. Plus, I love that song, so I’m willing to listen to it if you want to,” you smiled and you could tell it made Colin feel better.

“Ok,” he said and turned the cd back on. You were quietly singing along as Colin drove through the city to his house. After a song or two, you noticed Colin was singing along too. You smiled and said “Does it ever weird you out to sing along with yourself?” He chucked and responded, “Not really; I have to sing with myself sometimes in the studio, and so even if it did weird me out, I’m used to it by now.”

“That’s interesting. I know that if I made an album I would feel weird singing with myself,” you laughed and looked back out the window at the passing scenery. You noticed that he drove MUCH nicer than all your previous boyfriends. Even the face that he stopped at a stop sign was an improvement from all the others.

Fifteen minutes later, Colin pulled into a parking spot under a big building that looked like a warehouse.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he said turning off the car, “I don’t like to flaunt any extra money I might have. Plus, it’s a loft apartment, which is something I’ve always been fascinated with.”

“Really? Me too!” you exclaimed and unbuckled. Colin opened his door, and just as soon as you touched the door handle, Colin condemned “Don’t even think about opening that door.” You were taken aback and put your hands back in your lap. Colin rushed over to your door and opened it for you.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you or anything; I just like to open the door for my girlfriend, that’s all.” You smiled and took his outstretched hand and he helped you out.

“That’s ok, I think it’s sweet.” Colin led you through the main door, up the stairs and to the door of his apartment.

“Hold on a sec, I have to de-activate the alarm,” he unlocked the door, and when he opened it you could hear the beeping of an alarm, then the off-tempo beeping of his shutting it off. He opened the door back up and ushered you inside. The whole apartment was everything you had imagined it would be: one big room, a small kitchen with an even smaller table, a few couches, a TV, a massive record and cd collection, and a large Japanese tapestry that ostensibly hid the bathroom and bedroom (you were secretly hoping to solidify this assumption).

“Pick a record, any record,” Colin said taking off his coat and setting down his guitar. You wandered over to the records trying to not only decide what to play, but first what to look for, then decide. You finally chose “Meat is Murder” by the Smiths and handed it over to Colin.

“Ah, one of my favorites,” he said and turned on the stereo.

“Me too,” you replied, “That’s why I chose it.” He put the record on and announced that he was going to make tea and that you should make yourself comfortable. You flopped down on one of the couches and laid your head back on the cushions. This was so surreal for you it was almost overwhelming. Here you are, a simple little indie girl from Portland, Oregon, sitting in Colon Meloy’s apartment while he makes you tea and listening to The Smiths. If only you knew then how much better the night was going to get.