The night air was chilly as I made my way home alone, but I did not feel it. My phone rang as I walked into my apartment. He was making sure I was going to his band practice the following day. I smiled as I hung up the phone.
The summer night was warm. I made my way down 12th street on Capitol Hill. As I approached the small building the sound of electric guitars got louder. I entered a large white room where the band was playing on an old wooden stage. I stood in the back and watched them for a while. Scotty had a guitar strapped over his shoulder and was singing into a microphone. Upon seeing me the band took a break. Scotty came down off the stage and kissed me hello. The other band members made their way off the stage and made their way to where we were standing. He introduced me as “Weenie.” I looked at him in confusion and he said he just made up the nickname. That is what he called me from then on.
After band practice we walked hand in hand down Broadway, turning on Denny, then on Belmont to my brick apartment from the 1920’s.