William pondered for a moment. His father had taken him and Willow to the concert a
year after his mother died. It had been one of the rare times the three of them
went out of town during his childhood.
“Yes, it was!” William responded.
“I was there too!” Casey exclaimed.
“Were you?”
“Yes, it was 1986. I was five,” she told the group. “And during Daydream Believer,
Davy told the audience to stand up and start clapping along.”
Memories from the concert started flooding into William's head.
“I was pretty tired so I didn't stand up or clap,” Casey continued. “Then Davy
pointed at me and said he could see I wasn't clapping.”
William tried to remember when it happened.
“It seemed like he wasn't going to continue the song so I stood up and started
clapping along. I saved the concert,” Casey told them.
“Hmm,” William started. “I think he was pointing to me though. I was sitting
towards the back of the pavilion and I remained seated for that part too.”
“Are you trying to steal my Davy Jones story, William?” Casey asked, raising an
eyebrow.
“No, I think you may be misremembering,” William joked.
“I remember fine,” Casey said. “And I know he was pointing at me.”
“Fine,” William said with exaggerated indignation. “But when Peter Tork was waving
goodbye while walking off stage, that was to me.”
“I'll let you have that,” Casey said.
The group kept talking, trading stories from high school and college. William
didn't have many stories to tell that didn't revolve around the gas station or