Finding Me, Finding You (Finding #1)

by Shealy James

  “Well, come on. Don’t make it too easy for me.” He was taunting me, but he didn’t sound playful at all. It was more like he wanted to prove me wrong. I didn’t mind though. He could use me as his punching bag if it made him feel better.

  I ran up to defend against him, trying to block him from getting to the goal. He slipped by me and took a shot.

  “One to nothin’ Mags. You gonna let me out run you? I thought you were a killer.” He passed me the ball, and I started dribbling. I pushed the ball too far in front of me, and he was able to turn his body to block me and steal the ball. “I’m starting to think you’re letting me win.”

  “I’m not.” I ran up and leaned my shoulder into him knocking him just enough off balanced for me to get the ball and dribble it away and score. “One to one.”

  We went back and forth like that for a while. The next round he started with the ball, and I jockeyed backwards allowing him space to dribble, so he couldn’t kick the ball past me since he could outrun me. When he tried, I was able to steal the ball. Before I could score though, he ran up and grabbed me around the waist. My feet flew off the ground as he picked me up and passed the ball into the goal.

  When he put me down right in front of him, I said, “I think that may have been a foul.”

  “Says who? I don’t see a ref.” He looked around for a referee before looking back down at me. If I were braver, I would have lean up and kissed him. He was gazing down at me perhaps reflecting similar thoughts to mine. He lifted his hand and tucked some hair that came free from my ponytail behind my ear.

  “I know what you were trying to do Maggie, and I appreciate it, but I really am fine.”

  “Well, if you ever don’t feel fine, you know I’m here. I certainly don’t know everything that is going on, but I’m your friend, and I’m here for you if you ever want to talk about it.”

  “I know. It’s just…you wouldn’t understand.” He rubbed his face like he does when he gets bored in class.

  “Maybe not, but I’ll listen.”

  He gazed down at me for a second and then said, “Will you go somewhere with me on Saturday morning?”

  “Where?”

  “Yes or no, Maggie.”

  “Yes.” I nodded as I agreed to go with him to this secret place on Saturday. The field lights went off right then, and we both looked up.

  “I’ll explain then. Come on. Let’s go get ice cream. It is getting too dark to be out here.”

  Parker seemed more himself for the rest of the week. On Saturday, he knocked on my door promptly at nine in the morning. When I answered he was dressed in his jeans and red t-shirt that I liked on him so much.

  “Hey. Can we take your car? We may need the space.”

  “Sure. Where are we going?”

  “You’ll see,” he said with a smirk. “I’m taking you up on your offer, so come on.”

  We went for breakfast and then went somewhere I had never been- the symphony. The orchestra was rehearsing, and we sat in the balcony listening to the beautiful music they created.

  I whispered, “What are we doing here? Can’t we get in trouble?”

  “Shh. I’ll tell you everything.” He leaned over to me when he spoke, and his very masculine scent alone made me want to crawl in his lap and run my nose and lips all over him. Oh my! That’s a new fantasy to add to my mental collection.

  We listened for the last thirty minutes of their rehearsal. The music was incredible. I had never heard a symphony live, so I was amazed at the sound they could create from all of those instruments. I was so focused on what they were doing that I forgot Parker was there for a minute. When I looked up, I saw him watching me. I leaned back in my seat embarrassed at getting caught lost in my own little world, but he just smiled and grabbed my hand.

  After they finished rehearsing, he tugged on my hand. “Come on.” He took me down the stairs, and back into the auditorium. He was heading toward the stage when they conductor turned around towards us. I knew we were going to get in trouble.

  “Do my eyes deceive me? Is that Parker Pryce?” The conductor shouted and then let out a jolly chuckle. When we reached the stage, the conductor shook Parker’s hand then gave him a hug. “Oh Parker, it has been too long. How are you?”

  “I’m good. Jerry, this is Maggie. I go to school with her.”

  “Ahh. Beautiful, Beautiful Maggie! It is a pleasure to meet you.” I turned bright red at being called beautiful. I could feel Parker laughing next to me.

  “Hi. This is amazing. I have never heard anything so wonderful.”

  “Then you must not have ever heard Parker play.” This time it was Parker who was blushing. His red cheeks were something I had never seen before.

  “I have heard him play some incredible rock solos on his guitar.”

  “No piano? Sax? Violin?” I shook my head no at each of those. “Parker, have you been playing?” The conductor looked concerned.

  “No sir. Just guitar.”

  “Maggie, you should hear what this kid can do on the piano. His mother taught him how to touch people’s souls with music. It’s remarkable.”

  “Jerry.” Parker said narrowing his eyes at the conductor. “We’re here because Pops wants to clean out the music room, so I was wondering if you had somewhere where I can store some of the instruments for a while.”

  “Ah. Yes, I guess it is time to move on. Of course we can find a place for your mother’s instruments until you have a music room of your own. How many do you have that you want to store here?”

  “Ten or so. I don’t think the dorm or my bedroom at Pops’ house is the best place for some of them.”

  “Sure, the storage room by my office. Just label their cases, and I’ll keep them safe. Maggie, do you play?”

  “I played some piano growing up, but I was never very good.”

  Parker laughed at the conductor who continued to fuss over me. “Then you must not have had a good teacher. Someone as lovely as you must have a talent.”

  Who was this charming old man? “I play soccer?”

  “Ah. Like my boy Parker here. I see. Parker, why don’t you play for her?”

  “No. I was showing her around. I’m going to tell her about Mom, but I wanted her to hear and see for herself.”

  “Parker, you can show her. Show Maggie what your mother taught you. Show yourself that you won’t forget,” the conductor said as he guided Parker to the piano by the shoulder. “Parker, is this not what you came here for?”

  Parker looked sad like a lost puppy. His face in that moment broke my heart. You could see the torment and the frustration and the will he had to avoid this moment, but you could also see the desire he had to overcome it. When he looked from the conductor to me, all I could do was give him an encouraging smile. I didn’t know why he stopped playing the piano, but I could see that it was torturing him.

  He sat down and shifted in his seat to prepare to play. He lifted his hands and placed them on the keys. With my eyes glued to his fingers resting on the keys, I held my breath in anticipation. The conductor stood on the other side of the piano with his arms crossed and with chin down and his eyes looking over his glasses at Parker. It was completely silent in the room.

  All of the sudden Parker shot straight up. “Nope. Can’t do it. Let’s go Maggie.” He was walking quickly out of the auditorium. “Sorry Jerry. I’ll bring the instruments this week.”

  I looked at the conductor, and he nodded telling me to go after him. “Good-bye beautiful Maggie. Come back to hear him when he’s ready. It is truly breathtaking.” At that I ran out of the auditorium to catch up with Parker.

  I found him standing outside bent over with his hands on his knees. “You ok?”

  “Ugh. Yeah. That was embarrassing.”

  I gently placed my hand on his shoulder. “No. Don’t be embarrassed. Just…I don’t really know what happened.”

  He grabbed my hand and said, “Come on.” I followed dutifully to the car. He drove this time. We headed
to a small town right outside of Atlanta. It was a very German-looking little town with a large neighborhood of houses surrounding a lake. We pulled into the driveway of a two-story brick house and parked next to a blue truck.

  “Where are we? Whose truck?”

  “Home. This is where I grew up. That is my brother Preston’s truck. Pops must be out. Good. Come on. Let’s go inside and see what we’ve got.”

  We walked in the front door into a large living room with antique furniture, a marble fireplace, and a baby grand piano on the far side. He led me further into the house, and we found his brother in a family room with overstuffed leather furniture and a large TV on the wall.

  “Hey Preston. Where’s Pops?”

  “Research meeting or gym or grocery store. I don’t know. Who’s she?” He nodded his head towards me.

  “This is Maggie, a friend from school. Maggie, this is my charming brother, Preston.”

  I smiled widely at the teenager. I knew how much he bothered Parker, and for a moment I wanted to laugh because he was a regular sixteen year old, not the little monster Parker made him out to be. “Hi Preston. Nice to meet you.”

  “Hey. You guys here to clean out the music room? Dad wants to make it an office, but I was thinking we could put a pool table down there and make it a game room. I would live at home for college if we had a sound proof party room.”

  Parker tensed up and growled, “Shut up Preston. You’re an idiot.”

  “Ooh touchy today, huh Parker? Watch out for him Maggie. He has quite a temper these days. Well, I’m out anyway. See you later big brother. Nice to meet you Maggie.” He got out of his chair flipping off the television and went out of the room and then we heard a screen door slam shut.

  “Sorry about that. He drives me crazy. Come on. Let me show you the music room.”

  We walked through the kitchen and opened a door to the stairwell leading to a basement. The entire basement of the old house had been transformed into basically a recording studio. The room had dark ocean blue walls with a light beige carpet. There were bright lights set on a dimmer that Parker adjusted as we walked in the room. On one side of the large room was recording equipment in a glass booth with a keyboard and a guitar inside and a microphone hanging from the ceiling. On the other side of the room was a grey recliner with blankets hanging on the back, a few guitars, and other instruments locked in black cases. There were a few black metal music stands and a desk and a couple of chairs against one wall.

  Parker pulled out a chair for me, and he sat on a stool and picked up a guitar. Once he was settled I asked, “Are you going to play for me?”

  “No. My plan was to tell you about my mom. My dad is always telling me that I need to talk about it, so since you offered to listen, I thought I might try. Now that I have you here, I don’t know if I can.” He paused for a moment and stared at the grey recliner. He rubbed his chest over his heart with the ball of his hand then he ran his fingers through his hair. For a minute I thought we were going to sit there in silence, and I had to remind myself to be patient. This was obviously really difficult for him.

  He nodded to the recliner and said, “My mom sat in that chair listening to me play, teaching me…guiding me. The last two years of her life I watched her body give up on her but not her mind or her soul.” He stopped and looked at the chair like he could see her there. I kept my eyes on Parker.

  “Her soul...her soul lasted until her last breath. I know that sounds lame, but with my mom you could see it. She could have moved mountains with her music. She could play anything and her voice was angelic.”

  He strummed the guitar a couple of times before he looked back up at me. “She taught me how to play. She started me really young on the piano because I would always hit the keys when she was playing.” He smiled at that memory. “When I was six, she started playing violin with the Symphony. She worked part time at the admissions office at school to be close to my dad, but she spent most of her time playing music. I loved it, but Preston not so much. My dad always had Preston, and I was usually with my mom.”

  He stood up and put the guitar back against the wall, and started pacing. “She was diagnosed with cancer when I was thirteen. She had surgery, but they didn’t get it all or it came back or something. She didn’t even look sick until after chemo. She never got any better, only worse. The last year she was with us, her body gave up. Her skin was ashen, and her eyes looked too big in her head. She had lost her hair from a second round of chemo, and it never really grew back. Soon she wasn’t able to play anymore. Her fingers were stiff, and her lung capacity diminished almost overnight.”

  “So you started playing for her…” He looked up like he forgot I was there.

  He whispered, “Yes.”

  “She must have been so proud of you.” I waited for him to continue, and when he didn’t, I prompted him. “Then what happened?”

  He sat back down in front of me. “She taught me. I played everything, some classical but mostly classic rock. Pops, Preston, and I built her the recording booth down here. When she felt up to it, we would record pieces of her favorite songs. Other times I would play to make her smile or keep her company. I spent every free moment in this room for two years, no soccer, no homework, and no friends. She wanted me to go do other things, but I knew we were running out of time, so I stayed here.”

  “You have her music recorded?”

  “Yeah. Dad and I pieced it together and we have a couple of her songs.”

  “Can I hear?” He looked surprised and maybe a little scared for a moment. He walked over and turned the computer on, and when it was loaded, he clicked a program and a few buttons. A few minutes later music filled the room through the surround sound. It was smooth, flawless… heavenly. I couldn’t stop the tears filling my eyes, so I closed my eyes and listened. My breathing stopped. My heart stopped. The world could have stopped turning in that moment. All I could do was listen to the beautiful sound coming through those speakers.

  When it was over, Parker let out a deep breath and turned around. I looked up and saw tears in his eyes. I stood up and walked over to him. “Thank you for sharing that with me,” I said and I put my arms around his waist and hugged him as tightly as I could. If I could take an ounce of his pain away today, I would. He buried his face in my neck, and we stood like that for a few minutes it seemed. When he pulled away, he rubbed his hands over his eyes and then used his thumbs to wipe the tears from my face.

  Parker sniffed and shook his head as if erasing the emotion. “How about we jam out? You pick a song, and I’ll play it.” He plugged an electric guitar into an amplifier and checked the sound. When he was ready, he looked at me expectantly. “What’ll it be, lady?”

  I said the first thing I could think of, “Livin’ on a Prayer.”

  Chapter 8

  Parker

  I told Maggie almost everything about my mom. It felt cathartic to talk to her and listen to her music with Maggie, like it would be ok. Before it felt like my mom was the oxygen, and I would suffocate without my mom in that room. Today I felt like I could almost breathe again, like the weight wasn’t resting on my chest anymore.

  Maggie and I stayed and played for a while, well I played. She named songs and sang off tune with me. It was really fun. She has great taste in music, and I never knew what she was going to pick next. Maggie kept it light and upbeat, and she’ll never know how much I needed that.

  Later that afternoon when I was dropping Maggie off at her dorm, Maggie stopped and nervously said, “Parker?”

  “Yeah Mags?”

  “Can I ask you one question?”

  Her apprehension made me reluctant, but I had shared so much with her today. What could it hurt to give her a little more? “Sure.”

  “Why won’t you play piano or any of the other instruments?”

  Oh. That question. “Because I hear her voice. I hear her telling me what to do, guiding me. Something happens and my hands cramp up and I stop breathing like the air
has been sucked out of the room. I freeze. I never froze when she was alive, Maggie. I have played in numerous performances. I have played in crowded bars. I have played hundreds of solos and concerts, and I have never frozen, but I cannot seem to get my body to cooperate on anything but the guitar.”

  “Oh…Why can you play the guitar then?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe because it was the one instrument that I taught myself. My mom never played the guitar.”

  “Oh. I see…Parker?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Thank you for letting me in. Your mom sounds amazing.”

  “She was Maggie. She was amazing.”

  At that I said good-bye to her and planned to meet up with her later that night with the rest of the gang for dinner.

  Max was in the room when I got back. “Hey. What’s going on?” He pointed to the instruments I carried into the room.

  “Oh, I’m keeping them here until I can take them to storage on Monday. Sorry about the mess. I still have some in Maggie’s car too. She came with me to get them.”

  “Did she now?” He asked with his voice rising at the end in curiosity. “What’s going on with you two? You have been hanging out a lot. Things between you two seem…”

  “Seem?”

  “Different.”

  “Nothing is going on with us. She met my dad the other day, and she helped me with moving some instruments.”

  “If you say so. Hey, you coming out with us tonight? The girls want to dance.” I nodded my consent.

  That night we went to dinner and then to The Blue Room. Everything seemed almost normal. I felt a shift in my relationship with Maggie though. Suddenly we could communicate without saying anything, like we knew each other differently now. We made eyes a few times, and for the first time since Mom died, I felt like I had someone who was on my side. It was a bonus that the person on my side happened to be sweet, innocent, and disarmingly beautiful. Our relationship was definitely different now. I think I liked this even better. She could see through me, and her presence wasn’t just enjoyable now. It was calming and…necessary.