I smiled to myself and scoffed a small amused little laugh.
There were several of those too but I wasn’t about to ask which one she wanted. If she really wanted it, I’d just play them all.
Moving to play was always something that made my heart jump just a bit.
There was no way to erase all those things I’d been taught: body language, technique, the right pauses, the correct form. Even sitting down without shoes like this was a calculated act of defiance that I actually enjoyed. That’s why the cold metal felt so delicious on my toes like I’d always been meant to play just this way.
I readied myself. As soon as my fingers touched down I was off and away.
Philip Glass was particularly euphoric. I was more fond of The Hours soundtrack than possibly any other composition or score of his. I’d often play it through speakers in my room or in the treehouse or even at a cafe while I wrote or I read. Intensity; if I had to describe his work I’d call it intense.
He tended to compose in this cyclical nature. It was more than just a recurring melody or theme. One page of work lead to the next. One measure more than necessary for the next and on and on. With Glass, I felt myself playing and I knew that I was building up and up and up, going round and round with the notes and rhythms in my mind to create a grand palace out of sound, constructing something emotionally bigger than could easily be felt through writing or words. It was like Elsa from Frozen and her pristine ice castles, the more I constructed the more powerful and emotional I actually felt.
The first metamorphoses was never a favorite of mine. I played it for Avery, incase maybe that was the one she wanted to hear.
When it got to the second though I felt myself completely trying to be the music as much as I could be.
It started out slow but then built and built, testing my speed and my reach and forcing me to have to cross over my arm many times just to play it with all accuracy and make it through.
I played and played, trying to do it some justice.
Somewhere in the middle I gave up trying and just let myself go.
It was like a waterfall, this piece. It was like how water travels over soil and rocks making its way over cliffs and leading out to the sea.
As I played I somehow couldn’t stop thinking about water.
I’d never had this problem before, not in front of others. When I played alone this wasn’t a problem just a reality, a meditation. I’d often play and lose myself alone.
In front of others though? Not so much.
This was uncharacteristic of me, to be lost in my head. When I felt it coming I just decided to let it come.
I thought of Avery in the water, swimming her heart out all alone. Our baths and our showers. Our hike up the mountain just to wade in those pools. My proposal by the lake. Avery sitting in her car freezing silently by that other lake on that day I couldn’t rightly breathe.
So much time had elapsed since I’d met her. So many things had gone on. It seemed we lived a life already somehow.
I played and played but then I noticed I’d been crying.
Coming to, I pat my fingers to my cheekbone on the right side of my face and let out a surprised sigh.
I didn’t even know which part I’d stopped at, which song I was on.
It had taken me somewhere else and now I was lost.
Avery came to the piano, looking at me across the surface. There was space, and an object between us physically, but our matter made up the same space on another plane.
We were not separate. We saw each other in that moment with the last reverberations of music fading off into the air. I wondered how long she’d been standing there. I didn’t even feel her stand up.
"Thank you," she whispered. Her own voice yet another sound that made me whole.
My mouth had become dry. I cleared my throat and hear my own voice sounding hoarse. “Should I keep playing?” I asked. My right hand ached and I felt it now.
I didn’t know if I’d scared her or worried her. All I knew was that I wanted to please her and play what she’d like.
All those memories had been flowing inside of me, runs and repetition, runs and reptition. When I saw her again it was almost like I was lost in a dream.
“If it were up to me you’d play forever but that’s cruel.”
She sat down beside me on the bench, touching the keys where my fingers had just been. They came away wet and she reached her hand up to wipe my cool tears off my cheek.
I smiled because I hadn’t meant to cry.
“But stop if you want to. When you play I see you everywhere. A lot of times it’s hard to tell what you’re thinking but not when you play. You come out.”
“What do you mean?” I wondered.
No one ever told me quite what I looked like while I played. But then again I didn’t often lose myself playing in front of others. Not like I’d just done.
“I mean. You’re sitting there playing but you’re also a part of everything and your emotions show in the music. I can feel them. You’re so internal but this brings you external.”
“I’m crying,” I laughed softly, embarrassed by it. “That’s what you mean.”
“No, not that you’re crying. It’s not that simple. Normally, I can feel you… your vibe.” I wondered what she meant by that word. “But it’s low key and when you play it fills the room and I feel like I’m inside how you feel. I love it. I felt like I wasn’t even here anymore. I was in your feelings.” She frowned and looked away. “That sounds stupid, doesn’t it?”
“Oh,” I said, realizing what she meant. “No, I get it.” It wasn’t stupid at all, more apt than anything else. “I know that feeling too.” I felt that when I watched Avery exist on her own. But I didn’t feel comfortable saying that, not right now.
I felt her hands come up and touch the tops of mine.
My eyes closed into the familiar feeling of one of the first times we really touched, really connected physically on that stage back at school.
“I was thinking about you, just now,” I confessed. “I usually only cry like that when I play all alone.”
"You were? I was hoping I was in there somewhere. And I'm honored that you let me see you like that.”
Hard to pin-point. When did we become so ingrained?
She pushed my fingers down gently, not really playing anything specific.
I let out a long pleased exhale.
“I was thinking about water,” I swallowed longingly, as I remembered all my thoughts. My voice squeaked. “How it flows and bends and covers and stains…” I let my eyes open to look over at her. “Drips and pools… Burns and swells.” I made eye contact, wishing to hold her within. “But I was really thinking about you…”
“What were you thinking about me?” She asked, not hearing.
“That was about you…” I tried to explain. “Emotions... Like water…”
Flowing…
Bending...
Covering…
Swelling...
Everything with us just started happening so immediately. From the first moment we met to the now space where we sat close and said kind things and touched with enormous intention.
“I love water. It’s like malleable life. It can carry, sustain, and destroy. Mostly, it just holds you up.” She smiled.
“See,” I said. “You do all of those things… Carry, sustain… Hold me up.” I left out destroy. She could probably do that too but I’d want it if it meant she’d be coming over me with every part of her and drowning me still. It’d be worth it all, to be touched by her.
“Anyway,” I shook myself from my daze. “I just wanted to play for you before we left… Especially if there’s a possibility we’ll have to part tonight… Sleep in separate beds.”
“I get that,” she said sweetly. “But you should eat. You’ll need the protein.”
“Okay,” I relented, ignoring that last bit, I wouldn’t need protein if she was going to be away. By now my breakfast was definitely col
d.
I walked over and picked it up.
“I better zap these,” I said.
“Okay, but come back,” Avery smiled. “I have plans for you.”
As I walked away I heard her fingers tickling the keys and playing something I didn’t know.
While I waited for my food to get warm I cleaned up my pans and the cutting board and set them aside.
Going back to the music room felt right instead of wrong. With Avery inside there was no question the room was mine again and I should be proud of it.
As I neared I heard the faint sound of a guitar being tuned.
“Oh,” I said, noticing her on the couch with the guitar on her lap.
“Come on,” she said, nervously. She seemed excited to play.
“I didn’t know you played guitar,” I said.
“I’m okay,” she said. “I took guitar for a couple of semesters since I had to take something and I wanted to learn anyway. It was pretty boring actually, mostly we’d just screw around and talk. Occasionally we would have a very lax chord test or something. I met a few really great people in there. Super shy and quiet but really insightful. We don’t talk much now but we’ll always have some base-level connection.”
“That’s cute,” I said, imagining it.
I wondered how I came off. People always said things like that about me. But then they also said I was a know-it-all and that I was uppity and pushy which is the modern day equivalent to being called a straight-up bitch.
I can’t really think about things like that. Being a bitch is usually not my intention. It’s not my fault if I’m short or blunt by default. More often than not I feel an estranged robot. No one really understands me. That’s why it was so refreshing to meet Brian last night. Maybe I’m more attuned to the way a boy works than a girl? Boys at Huntington, for the most part, only talk to me to ask me out. When I say no, they have no interest. I think I intimidate them. But these are things I can never really know.
Without meaning to I thought of Ben…
There was a time when it seemed he was my closest friend.
Thinking of that now hurt me more viciously than it should but I kept it from Avery.
“Anyway,” Avery sighed. “You played for me so I thought it was only fair I sang you a song.”
“You don’t have to,” I smiled, touching her hand with my own and stilling it over the strings.
“I want to,” she said. I took my hand back and forced myself to give her a little space. With my plate on my knee I began to eat a little at a time. The sweetness invaded me quickly, I’d made this for Avery more than myself. I was more concerned with getting her fed. I knew she wanted to go see her Mom. The thought of going would bite at her until we left. That was for certain, so I tried to rush us but she wouldn’t have it, what with the way she treated me this morning.
With the sweetness in my mouth I felt my lips upturn and my eyes slowly close in memory of the way she treated me twice.
My eyes slowly opened and when I saw her again she was so pretty it actually wounded me someplace deep inside.
There was something about the way she looked with a guitar. Her long sun-blonde hair flowing naturally over her shoulders, her strong fingers pressing with precision along the strings.
When Avery began to play the instrument responded well and made only pleasing sounds, nothing coarse or unkind.
It wasn't lost on me that she had tuned the guitar by ear.
That meant she could hear it as well as feel it. She wasn’t new to this or just screwing around. When she sat with the thing in her lap she had a goal in mind, a path to go, a place to wander.
She played a few notes of an intro before her voice took over and blew me away.
The song was slow but I knew it.
Her voice was one of my favorite things. It wasn’t high pitched or girly. It was Avery. More real and original than anything else. No one else had that voice. Only her.
Sometimes when she sang she closed her eyes. I loved when she did that because I felt her inside, I just wanted to reach out and touch her face but that’d be wrong and I knew it would cause all the sounds to cease, I’d hate that the most.
She opened her eyes and probably noticed my fight because she smiled and blushed, singing softer for just a near second, soft enough for me to hear I’d altered her.
I loved the way she tended to look at me once she knew I liked looking a little too much.
She smiled and laughed a little at a tragically funny part as she strummed, her voice cracking a little because of amusement and not strain.
My water memories rushed me once more since she was singing a slow romantic song about water and boats and being closer. I even felt it in my chest as she sang the repeating words.
Her voice was so sweet it quite killed.
The lyrics were asking for someone to come closer.
The words caused my heart to speed and beat impatiently. With each passing line, the lyrics were more like a statement of need than a request and I felt that in her. She couldn’t know what she was doing.
The song finished with her asking for me one last time...
I couldn’t think or move or eat I was so lovestruck.
“Anyway,” she said, laughing a sweet laugh I was more than addicted to by now. I had to shake my head to wake myself up from the pull I was feeling towards her.
I watched her prop the guitar up on the outside of the couch and turn back as I swallowed.
I put my plate down on the table and I knew I couldn’t fend the craving off. I turned to immediately touch the soft skin of her neck and pull her in close to have her kiss me again.
I wasn’t rough with her, just needy.
How dare she sing a song like that. She knew what that would do to me.
But then she was pretending we could just sit together and eat?
Yeah, no.
I pulled her to lay ontop of me on the couch. After that song I needed her kissing me. If she stopped I’d honestly cry.
Her hands were so great on my stomach and in my hair. It was like a fever had struck me and only Avery could lead it to break. The cause and the cure. How dare she even exist in my presence. She was constantly adding insult to injury.
“If I didn’t know any better I would think you were trying to pick me up,” I cockily smiled, gasping a breath out between kisses.
We were well past that by now but she kept playing with me, kept wooing me.
“Maybe I am or maybe I'm just showing you what you missed out on. We didn't really, uh- court each other.”
“I dunno,” I said. I felt the pain of it. When we showed up at that hotel and ended up in the same room, aside from feeling a panic, I really did feel like she was courting me, asking me to let her be more. It was just confusing. I wasn’t sure if she wanted to be my friend or something else. Her intentions were positive, just more than unclear. I didn't know what any of it meant. In a way, it was sort of like a rabbit hole. You go in not knowing what lies at the end. Perhaps, by that time, she was already falling, and there I was already waiting at the bottom to try and catch her no matter what she’d really feel at the end of her fall. “I guess I always took any communication from you as a gift…” I confessed. Still do… I wanted to say.
Even that text from her at the lake…
Even that was somehow a gift.
Still, I didn’t know how to tell her these things. She already thought me devoted and strange. But those were two things I’d always been with her from the very start until now, devoted and strange.
“I think I was courting you without really knowing what I intended. I just wanted to be close to you and I didn't want to analyze it,” she explained.
“I knew I wanted you,” I said, laying my head back on the cushion and allowing us to just lay and be. I pulled Avery’s hair behind her shoulder and felt her face resting up on my skin. “I wanted anything with you, everything. Whatever you’d let me have. I wanted that. Still do.” She was so soft
and warm, so perfect. My mom kept the house so cold. I was sort of used to it but Avery felt good.
“You've got me, all of me. You will have your hands full.” She kissed my skin. “Caution, I'm broken.” She laughed and squeezed me.
“You’re not,” I smiled, squeezing her back.
I wanted to quote Cold Mountain to her but I knew that’d be lame.
Instead I ran my lips along her skin and thought it instead.
I know people can be mended.
I thought.
Not all, and some more immediately than others. But some can be. Why not you?
And then another quote quickly followed.
Our minds aren’t made to hold on to the particles of pain the way they do bliss...
I heaved a great sigh and stared up at the painted ceiling where the shapes seemed to blur.
“We better go, huh?” I asked worriedly.
“I guess. I don't want to go but I do. Better not let your parents catch me mackin’ on their daughter.”
“I think I’d be okay with them finding out this way,” I teased, running my fingers up under the line of her shirt near her collarbone til I went beneath and rubbed to her shoulder and then onto her upper-back, watching as she breathed in and the skin of her forehead twitched.
It was true though. I’d almost rather not tell them and just have them see.
Maybe if they saw they would immediately understand.
Warning signs are what they are.
If my parents caught us here like this there’d be no question to what we were or what we meant, how we felt, whether or not it was real.
My parents met around my age, my mom was telling me as much just last night.
They’d know.
It would be done.
“In fact, I think I’d rather like that,” I smiled, breathing her in and cherishing her scent. I could still smell the shower from last night, the strawberries on her tongue, her shirt from my body, her sweet sweat from a night of actual sleep. And the underlying scent of the deeds we had done, the ways she had touched, the places. Every note of hers infused and delighted me. For once I knew all her ingredients and she more than encouraged me to imbibe. This wasn’t usually the case. I was so satisfied I could pinch myself.
Paper Dolls [Book Two] Page 11