"Yeah... I know it very well," she said, and a strange look came over her face – a look I hadn't been expecting at all. It was like a kind of veiled sadness. It seemed, for whatever reason, that this song was bringing back some bad memories.
"I can change it if you don't like it," I said cautiously. "I just thought that everyone liked this song."
"No, no, it's a great song," she said. "It's just that it reminds me of my dad."
"Oh, I see," I said. "I'm sorry, I didn't…"
"No, how could you have known? No, look, let's listen to this and enjoy it. It brings back good memories of him, and I'm really lucky to have had such a great dad."
"How uh, how long has he been gone?" I asked, sitting down on the bed next to her and wrapping a sympathetic arm around her.
"It's been around four years now. He had an aneurysm; it was quick and painless for him, thankfully. I didn't have to see him suffer or slowly deteriorate and waste away or anything so I guess I should be grateful for that."
"I suppose out of all the ways, that's a pretty good way to go, as long as it doesn't happen when you're young."
"He was 67 when it happened."
"It's a decent age," I remarked. "Many don't make it that far."
"Yeah. Well, he was my only parent growing up. My mom died in a car accident when I was two, so I don't remember her at all."
"And he never remarried?" I asked.
"No, never. Stayed single for the rest of his life. He truly loved my mother; said no other woman could possibly take her place."
"He sounds like a really great guy," I remarked.
"Believe me, he was. And all this 70’s and 80’s rock and metal stuff, that was totally his thing. I grew up with that music playing in the house all the time."
I chuckled. "There are definitely worse soundtracks to grow up with."
She laughed, and it was good to see a smile on her face.
"There sure are. You know, he was an exceptionally talented guitarist."
"Was he, huh?"
"Oh, he was, believe me. We had a room in the house that was his, well I guess these days they'd call it a 'man cave.' But yeah, he had this big Marshall stack amplifier in there, a Gibson Les Paul, and a huge rack of effects pedals. He would sometimes sit in there for hours on end, just playing. And he could play all of the well-known guitar solos note for note, seriously."
"Wow. I was gonna say that I can play a little, but that's just strumming chords. It'd take me years to learn to play even a simple solo. Did he play in a band?"
"He did when he was young, but after my mom died and he had to take care of me by himself, he just didn't have the time for it anymore."
"You know, I was raised by a single parent too," I said.
"Really?"
"Yeah, except in my case, it was by my mom."
"And did you have any siblings?" she asked.
"A younger brother and a younger sister. You?"
"No, I'm an only child. So, what happened to your dad, if you don't mind me asking?"
I felt a ripple of darkness rush through me as I thought about him.
"He was a deadbeat. A drunk. He used to beat my mom up a lot. He would get wasted and disappear for days. One day, when I was eight, he got really trashed and, as he always did, he got in his car and drove off. And that was the last we ever saw of him."