Most of Saturday morning was spent sleeping and cleaning. Owen left the apartment around noon to take Scooter and the other guests back home. Monica was vacuuming the carpet with her headphones on. She had some of the cord wrapped around her arm and had her eyes closed. She was singing as she ran the vacuum cleaner up and down the hall between the living room and the rest of the apartment.

She felt a hand on her back and ripped out her earbuds, screaming and jerking around in the process.

"Babe," Owen hollered, "it's me. It's me!"

"You scared the shit out of me," Monica breathed and turned the vacuum cleaner off.

"I'm sorry," Owen laughed as he wiped some of her wispy hair off her forehead. "Let's take a shower, huh?"

She managed to speak even though her heart was racing to the other side of town. "Okay. Just lemme finish here and then I'll join you."

"Alright."

Owen began stripping off his clothes right there in the hallway and then walked over to the bathroom. Monica bent over, picked up his clothes and placed them in the hamper. She vacuumed the rest of the hall and their bedroom before taking a shower with him.

They ordered pizza for a late lunch and ate it in bed while they watched a movie. Scooter must have called five times during it. He wanted to go over a new set list with Owen before rehearsal. They were playing at the tavern that night as usual.

Monica watched Owen put his clothes on and fuss with his hair in the mirror. He went in and out of their bedroom looking here and there for stuff he needed. Notebook, guitar pics, cigarettes, cell phone.

He brought her a bottled water from the fridge and kissed her with toothpaste foaming around his lips. He rinsed his mouth out at the sink and shouted, "I'll show you your present tonight, babe. You're gonna love it."

She already knew what it would be. He and the band would perform one of her favorite songs as an encore after their show tonight. She got the same present last year and the year before that. She never knew which of her favorite songs Owen would choose. So far they had played Hoobastank's "Reason" and Fleetwood Mac's "Dreams" expressly for her. The band strictly played alternative hits from the 1990s so the crowd was left rather perplexed.

After Owen left, Monica got out of bed, spread her supplies on top of her coffee table and got to work drawing, cutting and gluing. She took a few breaks to have a snack or shake her hands out or do some neck rolls. Once the reminder on her cell phone jingled she was already finished with the cut-out puppets and they were all laying on her carpet drying. She had fallen asleep on the couch and pressed a button on the side of her phone to silence it.

She chose to wear a simple black tank and her tight jeans. It was balmy outside and she didn't bother bringing a jacket with her. The tavern would surely be even warmer. She spritzed a little of the perfume one of her thoughtful friends gifted her the night before. It smelled like citrus blossoms and it helped to wake her up.

Though Monica had met Owen almost six years ago at that same tavern, she never got used to the crowds. She did not feel at home in them like he did. Honestly, it was what drew Owen to her that first night they had met. Monica looked so out of place, so out of her element. 

After some light conversation and sharing their names, Owen got her to open up. It turned out two of her friends had brought her to see the band perform--Owen's band, though she did not know it at the time. She hadn't even had a drink yet.

Owen's eyes soaked up the sight before him. Her hair was fine and light brown, and hung around her head flatly in a blunt bob. Her summer dress hit just above her knees. She was wearing flip-flops in a bar.

"Where are you from?" he asked.

"Here. I don't go out much."

"I'll say. I've never seen you around."

Her cheeks got rosier with each sip she took of her drink. She had no idea what to get, so Owen recommended a white wine on the sweeter side.

"How is that?"

"It's really nice. Thank you."

Her eyes glistened and Owen knew she began looking at him differently. Something was beginning between the both of them.

"I'm really sorry to leave you, Monica, but I have to go."

"Go? Where?"

"You'll see."

Owen downed the rest of his draft beer, winked at his pretty new friend, and made his way over to the stage. By then, Monica's friends had come back and were plastering her with questions about him.

He wore his hair very long and in a ponytail back then. His slender fingers glided up and down the length of his guitar. Monica ordered another glass of the same wine he had ordered for her. When she got out some cash from her bra to pay, the bartender shook his head and told her all her drinks were already covered.

A guy like Owen had never spoken to Monica before. After the set was over, they were inseparable for the rest of the night.