An Audience of One

A man listened from across the walkway as I busked on Pearl Street, close to the Ben & Jerry’s where I liked to play. People milled around, some stopping for a song and others listening as they passed. I was tracking several waffle cones. The shade was cool, an appreciated contrast to the sunny afternoon.

He stayed.

I noticed him watching from just outside the loose circle of my audience. His interest in the music was obvious from his body language and applause, but I could also tell he was uncertain whether he was welcome any closer.

I stepped across the space between us and asked what he wanted to hear.

“Pearl Jam?” I suggested. “Wishlist? Better Man?”

He didn’t know Wishlist, so that was what I would play.

I gestured toward my space beneath the trees, inviting him into the shade and close enough to hear. Then I took a drink of water and tuned my instrument, quietly giving him time to move his large backpack and shoes.

When he was settled in, I began to play.

His bright blue eyes sparkled with delight.

His name was Andrew.

We began building a set list together. I asked him to choose a decade.

“The seventies.”

Out came You Make Me Feel Like a Natural Woman.

“The forties.”

La Vie en Rose.

I added some of my own favorites: Stickshifts and Safetybelts, Valerie, Come Sail Away.

One hour became two.

Andrew helped choose the songs, and I began choosing songs I thought he would like. He smiled when I got it right. Sometimes a crooked, boyish smirk appeared. Someone passing by offered him food, and he ate while we talked and chose what would come next.

At one point, I looked over and saw tears dropping from his eyes. His chin wobbled as he stood tall and straight.

At other moments, his laughter refused to be contained. Joyful shouts burst out of him.

The afternoon grew less sunny and more clouded, and I decided I would play four more songs. I knew what I wanted the final three to be, but I asked Andrew to help me choose the first.

Tangled Up in Blue.

Then:

Bittersweet.

Over the Rainbow/What a Wonderful World.


I was about to play Soulshine when raindrops hit my nose and ʻukulele.

“Well, I’m done!”

I quickly packed my instrument and tore down my setup.

Then I said my next thought aloud.

“Do you want to get ice cream with me?”

His yes came without hesitation.

After Andrew put his shoes back on and adjusted his large backpack, we headed toward Ben & Jerry’s.

I hoped no one would ask him to leave. As we approached the door, I rehearsed my response.

“He’s with me.”

“We’re together.”

I held my breath as we entered the store.

We discussed flavors, and I told him he deserved half of my earnings. He had played DJ for the afternoon, after all. We would split the money in ice cream.

When he bent down to collect a bill floating along on a little wave of paper scraps, I stopped him.

“No, we’re using this. Get whatever you want.”

Andrew chose the berry sorbet because he wanted a healthy choice, he said. Then he asked for a sample. The employee looked toward him and asked whether he wanted his single scoop in a cup or a waffle cone.

I gave her a look of thanks.

He chose the waffle cone.

I paid for our treats and gave Andrew the rest of the tips. Once again, he accepted without hesitation, but his appreciation was unmistakable.

We carried our desserts to a bench facing the street. The rain had stopped. We ate and talked about websites, music, and the grief of losing a cherished dog.

I stayed until my ice cream was gone. Then I needed to get home.

We fist-bumped, and I walked away.

When I crossed the street and looked back, Andrew was gone.