THE COMEDIAN AND HIS MUSE (continued)<br/><br/>“Sometimes the things I do astound me. Mostly, whenever you're around me.”” the Polynesian girl, a lyric soprano, sings, softly conveying the wonder that the songwriters, Van Heusen and Burke were feeling.<br/><br/><br/>I’m astounded that this charming and radiant young woman wants me to tell her about Janie. I’m conflicted and confused. I feel like I want to share with Thalia anything that she wants to know. I feel like I want to weep and maybe my eyes get a little watery. I feel like it would be a crime to have her tap into my grief and have it take away that smile of hers for even a second. I fear that I’ll do or say something awful and stupid if I pull at the scab holding back so many memories of Janie.<br/><br/><br/>Her touch, this time, makes me a little dizzy. Again, I’m using the bar as a support.<br/><br/><br/>I can see the conflict in her dark and lovely eyes as she watches me. Amazingly, she really cares for a man that she just met.<br/><br/><br/>“Please, Thalia,” I say, no, I beg, “if I ever talked about Janie with anyone, it would be you, I think. But…, but tonight with the wine and how you laughed with me, with me, not at me….” Then I try to lighten things up.  Half-jokingly I tell her, “If I fall apart, I’ll be such mess they’ll need quadramedics, two pair of paramedics, to lift me out of here and into the ambulance.”<br/><br/><br/>Again, I look into those dark and deep eyes of hers.  It seems impossible, but I think I’m falling in love….<br/><br/>(to be continued)