Mr. Midnight

Mika's Note: Inspired by a song by the same name off of Garth Brooks' Scarecrow CD.  And before you ask, YES, I DO have an obsession with Oklahoma.  So there.

Thanks, Garth.

Rain on the roof and time on my hands

Trent sighed, looking out the window of the studio. Rain had been pouring down nearly all night, with only a slight break shortly after he’d arrived for his show. Fits my mood perfectly, he thought sarcastically.

The sound of rain on the roof and a cool breeze blowing always brought him back to that night, two years ago tonight. But no, he promised himself that he wouldn’t think about that any longer. Especially not on a night like this when the rain was pounding against his brain and there was entirely too little to keep him busy.

He shook his head and looked at the phone lines. Not a blinking light in sight.

It sure seemed quiet out there in radio land

But how could he not think about it? Or about her? When the lines were dead like tonight all he could do was spin records and fight the memories. No matter how hard he tried, he wasn’t ever able to get her – them – completely out of his head, and heart.

He’d invested so much into their relationship to just let it fall apart like it did. Trent was still convinced that he could have done something more, something that could have changed her mind that night. But what?

They call me at the all-night station/Make their special dedications

The first call of the night came in, breaking his reverie, just one more broken-hearted soul looking for yet another sappy love song to worsen their already miserable condition. Most nights, he wondered if he was performing a service or making life that much more unbearable for the already miserable, knowing that he’d never really know for sure.

“Evening, caller, what can I do for you?”

Sniffles filled his earphones, causing a mental eye roll on Trent’s part. “I, I need to hear a song,” the teary female voice said.

“Sure, what can I play for you?”

“Well, I don’t know, I need your help.”

And I do my best to play their request/When it's a desperate situation

“What’s the situation? If I can’t figure out something perfect for you, I know our listeners can.”

“It’s like this. You see, my guy and I, we’ve been together for four months now and he’s been cheating on me. I love him and,” sobs over came her suddenly and she couldn’t get past them.

Trent sighed, another one of these calls. Why can’t these girls get past the cheaters? Why do they always have to love them? Why can’t they see them for the dogs they were and just move on?

This was a desperate situation

But then, Via got past him, and he’d never cheated. Not once.

“It’s okay,” he comforted. “I know just the song for you. It’ll even bring a smile to your face, I promise.”

“Really?” she asked between sniffles.

“I promise.”

“Thanks.” He could hear a little bit of hope working its way back into her voice, a good sign.

“That’s why I’m here,” he told her before hanging up. But isn’t that Kenny Chesney? He smiled slightly at his own dumb joke. “And that song was about alcoholism, not cheating you dork,” he mumbled, pulling up the song he wanted on his computer.

“Our first request tonight goes out to all you suffering from some dog male doing you wrong. One day, they’ll learn. And if not, well, take some advice from this song and make them learn.” He shut off the microphone and cued up the song about an angry girlfriend taking revenge on her cheating boyfriend. At least he was right about the song making her smile; it always made him grin when he heard it. <Before He Cheats, Carrie Underwood>

I'm Mr. Midnight alone and blue

He’d taken this job a few months after his break-up with Via, his long-time love and high school sweetheart. She’d not wanted to listen to his pleas; she just said it was time to move on, to get past what they thought they had. What we thought we had. He’d never quite figured that one out. He still thought they had had something great.

The brokenhearted call me up/When they don't know what else to do

“Go ahead caller, you’re on.”

“Hey, Mr. Midnight, I need help with a song request.”

At least she wasn’t crying. “Okay, shoot.”

“My fiancé told me this afternoon that he wants to break off the engagement. He says,” and here she sighed heavily, “that he just isn’t ready, that he’s not sure he wants to settle down. I think he’s found someone else and is just afraid to tell me.” She got quiet for a moment and Trent thought she was going to cry. She surprised him by continuing in a stronger voice than before. “We’ve been together for years and, while I really don’t want to lose him, I don’t want him to stay because he feels he has to, you know?”

“I know exactly what you mean,” he agreed, knowing much too well what she was going through.

“So, do you have something that fits that?”

He nodded to himself; it was one of his all-time favorites. “I do. What I’m thinking is a contemporary remake of an old classic, I hope you like and that it helps. It helped me back when I was where you are now.”

Turning back to the glowing monitor, he found the song he was looking for. The deep male voice singing about freeing the one you love caught at his heart. Why tonight? He never understood how the listeners could always know what he was feeling; this last caller proved that much too well. His song choice proved that doubly. If being free is worth what you leave behind… <Goodbye Time, originally by Conway Twitty, remade by Blake Shelton>

Every song is a reminder of the love that they once knew/I'm Mr. Midnight can I play a song for you

All too often, like tonight, his song choices reflected his experiences, past and present. But then, you can only teach what you know, right? He lived in fear of the moments someone called with a problem he could relate to in such an intimate manner. This last caller was one of them. He’d freed the love of his life, given her the chance to go and search her heart and mind for what she really wanted. Two years ago, tonight, he’d given Via up forever.

The phone flashed a red light at him again. He sighed; he’d been hoping he could listen to the rest of the song before having to answer another call.

“Mr. Midnight. Can I play a song for you?”

“Yes, please,” she whispered into the phone.

"Caller on the line could you please hold on?"

Trent’s blood ran cold. No, it can’t be.

I recognized her voice the minute I picked up the phone

Via! It was Via! There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that it was she, even after all this time. Her slight Oklahoma drawl, the breathy quality her voice took on when she whispered like she was now. His heart leapt in his chest. Confusion warred with excitement and dread. It was her, it was her!

Should I tell her that it's me or leave it at a memory

“What can I do for you tonight, caller?” What do I do? Will she know it’s me? After all the late nights she spent sitting up, listening to my other shows on other stations, how could she not know it’s me?

Haven't been myself since the day she left/And I'm never gonna be

Trent never completely recovered from her leaving. She’d taken more than just a piece of his heart; she’d taken his hope and his dreams as well.

All the unanswered questions swarmed into his mind from long ago. What did I do? Why won’t you let me fix it? Is there someone else? Why, why, why?

I'm forever gonna be

He could still hear her non-answer echo in his mind. Trent, I just have to go, please understand. There’s nothing you did wrong, nothing you can change.

I'm Mr. Midnight alone and blue

He’d lost his job shortly after that. He couldn’t concentrate, couldn’t cope with the inanity of the callers he got daily. And then three days after she’d left, he’d gone off on a caller who’d been whining about her one-night stand who refused to be a one-night stand. That had been the final straw as far as his boss was concerned.

The brokenhearted call me up/When they don't know what else to do

An old friend had stepped in then, offering him this job thinking it’d help him get past his heartache. At first, he was skeptical, believing that it’d only make things worse. But the more nights he worked, the more calls he took, the more people he helped… Well, it had helped him.

It never surprised him how much a simple song could mean to someone. But the effect that one song could have, that was the thing that never failed to astonish him.

Every song is a reminder of the love that they once knew

And then the way that someone else’s request could play at his heartstrings at the strangest of moments that could bring him to his knees.

I'm Mr. Midnight can I play a song for you

“I don’t really have a song request, but I do have a request.” She continued to whisper, as if afraid of being overheard.

“Absolutely,” he was on edge, afraid and curious about what was on her mind so late at night.

Imagine my surprise when she spoke my name

“Tell him…” Her voice drifted off; he listened to her breathe for a moment, enjoying the silence and the imagined closeness between them again. He closed his eyes against the memories it brought back.

She said, "Could you tell him that I love him and I wish things could be the same."

“Tell Trent that I love him and that I’m, I was wrong. He’ll understand what...”

Then a voice I never knew Said, "Honey, who you talking to?"

“Baby?” The confused voice was faint but loud enough to carry past Via, across the phone lines and into Trent’s astonished ears. “Baby? Who are you talking to? Hang up the phone and come back to bed.”

“Shh,” she told him. “I will in a minute, I swear.”

Trent held his breath, waiting. Waiting for her to finish, waiting for him to leave, waiting for her to explain. Just waiting.

“I’ve, I’ve got to go…”

The line went dead, along with his hopes.

I'm Mr. Midnight alone and blue

He stared at the phone in disbelief. She was there, right there, just a minute ago, and now she was gone. Again. Just like back then.

“Well, that was awkward,” he laughed at himself and the situation itself. “So, for this Trent and all others like him, this is for you.”

The brokenhearted call me up/When they don't know what else to do

The perfect song had hit him like a rock, slammed into his frontal lobe at the speed of light. No thinking on this one tonight, no hesitation at all. It was divine intervention, he almost believed, but he knew it was just right.

For her.

For him.

Every song is a reminder of the love that they once knew

He closed his eyes and let the music wash over him and through him. Let the lyrics carry him away down into the memories he’d tried so hard to keep at bay.

The song said it all, it hit every nerve. It spoke to him in a way tonight that it never had before. She was, after all, always there, when he closed his eyes. <When I Close My Eyes, Kenny Chesney>

Apparently, he was there for her, too.

I'm Mr. Midnight can I play a song for you

A flashing red light lit up the darkness of the booth and he groaned, leaving his fantasies for his reality.

“Mr. Midnight. Can I play a song for you?”

-- MS 11/14/07