by Sophia Duane
Olivia liked dancing, so that meant she liked music. Drumming fit that, but I didn’t want to tel her about a drummer in a rock band because that would be too easy. Everyone already knew that Def Leppard had a one-armed drummer, and I didn’t think she’d care that ZZ Top—the band known for their long beards—had a drummer with the last name Beard who was the only member who was beardless. She lived with her grandparents, who were probably too young to have real y been into the Big Band music, but might have given their granddaughter an appreciation for it nonetheless.
“Sing, Sing, Sing is thought to be the first recording of a drum solo. Gene Krupa played it.” Her expression of happiness felt like a huge reward! But then she asked, “Is that the one that goes: ‘It don’t mean a thing if it ain’t got that swing’?”
I was taken aback. I knew she wasn’t giving it her al , but she had a nice voice to complement the beauty of the rest of her. I didn’t want to disappoint her, but I shook my head. “No. That’s another one. Sing, Sing, Sing is mainly instrumental.” I opened up my laptop and pul ed up YouTube. As I searched for it, she came to watch over my shoulder.
When I started it up, she put her hand on the back of my chair. She was so close to me that I didn’t have to turn around to see her body start moving to the beat. I could feel it.
“Yeah, I know this song. It’s awesome. Can you play it on the drums?”
I felt proud. “Yeah. It was one of the first songs I could play al the way through.”
“So awesome,” she said, and I craned my neck and looked up at her. She wasn’t outright dancing, but she was moving like she wanted to.
“Do you want to stay for dinner? My dad’s off today and he loves to cook. I thought maybe you’d—”
“I don’t eat what everyone else eats, so I’m not sure I can.”
“What does that mean?”
She took a step back, al owing me to stand. I put my knee on the chair and rested my hands on the back of it as she tucked her hair behind her ears.
“It means that I’d like to stay for dinner, but I’m vegan, so I’m not sure I’l be able to.”
“Vegan? Like no meat?”
“Yeah. Or dairy. Or any animal products of any kind.”
I’d never met a vegan before. “Real y? What do you eat?”
She laughed, but I didn’t know why. She must have sensed my confusion or saw it on my face because her laughter quieted and she answered,
“Everything that didn’t come from an animal.”
“Oh.” I real y wanted her to stay for dinner, though. “My dad watches a lot of cooking shows. I’m sure he could make something for you. Do you want to stay if he can?”
“Yeah, of course. And it doesn’t have to be anything crazy. Pasta works. I can help him if he wants.” I chuckled. “I think he can handle pasta.” I went over to the door. “I’l go ask him if it’s cool.”
“Can we go to the garage so I can see your drums?”
“You real y like music, don’t you?”
From behind me she said, “It’s freeing.”
I stopped then turned, my hand on the railing. Since she’d appeared in Lakeside, I’d been taken with her. I’d been studying her. When she’d first arrived, I’d studied her outward attributes—facial structure, expressions, body, nonverbal cues—but now that we spent actual time together, talking, I studied what made her tick—who she was, what her general outlook on life was.
It was in moments like these—the quiet moments when simple two-word answers—revealed the most. Olivia was pretty open about herself. She seemed to know who she was, and more importantly, she seemed to like who she was.
I wanted to be like that.
“What?” she asked, her voice and face expressing a bit of amusement.
I pressed my lips together and my eyes narrowed, not in scrutiny, but in contemplation. She was such an honest person. Wel , she could have been lying, but it didn’t feel like it. It felt like everything she said, everything she did, was an honest and true representation of herself. I wanted to know more.
“Why don’t you play an instrument?”
Olivia put her hand on the banister. She was directly across from me, only a foot and a half away, mirroring my position. “I never got the opportunity.”
I could’ve let it go at that. I could’ve started down the stairs or said something to fil the silence, but I didn’t. My eyes were staring into hers, and I wondered if anyone had ever told her that the golden flecks that accentuated her irises looked as if a master painter had placed each one of them there on purpose.
“My mom was a great mom, but we couldn’t afford instruments, you know?”
I nodded. I did know. I had at least five thousand dol ars wrapped up in drums. When we’d first gotten into band in middle school, Casey had rented his trombone. “Yeah,” I replied. “I’l teach you how to play the drums if you want.” Her eyes widened. “Real y?” I nodded. “That’s awesome!”
“But first let’s make sure you can stay for dinner.”
We headed downstairs. My dad was in the living room watching Ace of Cakes. I felt a little weird about putting Dad on the spot asking if she could stay for dinner in front of her. Things seemed to be awkward enough between my dad and me, so I took Olivia straight to the garage.
“Oh, my God, that’s awesome!”
Her excitement was infectious. She went over to my drum kit and tapped her fingernail against the crash cymbal. The sound was muted and soft.
I went to the shelf where I kept al my sticks and picked out some for her. “Here,” I said, offering them to her.
“Real y?”
I laughed. I’d just gotten finished tel ing her that I would teach her how to play the drums, yet she looked shocked that I was giving her drumsticks.
“Yeah, here.” I extended my arm until she took them.
Tentatively, she tapped one against the same cymbal but when it made a louder sound than she was obviously expecting, she pul ed her hand back. “Sit,” I said. When she did, I stood beside her. “That’s the bass drum, obviously. These are the toms. That’s a snare. Floor tom. That’s the ride cymbal. The crash. And the hi-hat.”
She took it al in, moving her eyes over each drum and cymbal. “Have at it,” I said.
“I thought you said you were going to teach me!”
“I am. First thing about the drums is just figuring out how each sound and then figuring out how the tone changes with the different sticks, mal ets, and brushes you use and also with what kind of stroke you use. You can real y bang on it or you can make the whole thing change by giving a few ghost strokes.”
“Al right,” she said breathily as she hesitantly brought the sticks down on the snare.
“I’l be right back, okay? I’m just going to go talk to my dad. Do you have to see if it’s okay with your grandparents that you stay?” She stopped playing and pul ed her cel phone out of her pocket. Olivia didn’t use it. Al she did was wave it at me and then toss it onto the beanbag chair a few feet from the drums. “I’l cal later.”
“You going to be okay if I go in?” I asked, but then felt stupid. Why wouldn’t she be okay?
Olivia winked at me before turning her attention back to the drum kit. Once inside, I headed straight for the living room. I wanted so badly for her to be able to stay, but in asking my dad if she could, I’d be revealing something huge to him. At least it felt huge. I’d never had a girl over for dinner.
Aaron had girlfriends over al the time. My dad and I had sat through so many stupid conversations, feigning interest in whatever Aaron’s girlfriend of the moment was into. Now I would be the one with company. She wasn’t my girlfriend, but the fact that she would be sharing a meal with us because I asked her was big enough.
“Dad?”
He looked up from his place on the couch. Usual y after work he looked so tired, but when he’d had a day off and was pretty wel rested he looked young, sometimes too young to be a father of high school seniors. I didn’
t think I looked much like him. His hair was a dark blond or light brown. Instead of having brown eyes like me and Aaron, his were a bluish-green. But in terms of body type, Aaron was more like him. He was tal and thick. My dad was strong, and he looked it.
Today he had scruff—another sign that he’d had a night off.
“What’s up?” he asked.
There would be no easy way to ask it. Anything I said would result in him being shocked or surprised, but I didn’t know how big of a deal he’d make of it. He never said much about Aaron’s girls coming over, but with this being the first time for me, I thought maybe he’d make a thing out of it.
I had to ask, though. Olivia was out in the garage waiting for me. I heard her irregular beats sounding through the wal s. After taking a deep breath I laced my hands together in front of my body. “Can Olivia stay for dinner?” For a moment, nothing registered on his face, but then he looked me up and down. He cocked his head toward the garage as if noticing for the first time that he was hearing drums but seeing me in front of him. “Olivia who?”
“Cartwright. From across the street.” I shifted my weight on my feet and started chewing on the inside of my cheek. It felt like he’d been staring at me forever. “She’s in the garage. I’m tutoring her. I mean, she’s . . . she doesn’t eat meat, though. Or eggs, or dairy, or anything like that. But I thought maybe you could make something she could eat? Maybe like pasta or a salad or—” Dad held up his hand to silence me, so I shut up.
“Of course, she can stay. I’l figure something out.”
I continued to stand there chewing on my cheek, hands tightly clasped together.
“I don’t hear any more noise out there,” he said, cocking his head toward the wal behind him. “You’d better go and check on her.”
“Right,” I said. “Thanks, Dad.”
He nodded, watching me as I turned and left. When I reached the garage door, I rubbed the palms of my hands on my jeans to dry them. For as much as I’d been convincing myself that I was happy with the prospect of a innocent friendship with Olivia, I found myself daydreaming about holding hands with her. Visions of her eating with us swirled around in my head, mingling with the imaginings of kissing her. Her lips would be so soft. Her hair would be silky as I ran my hands through it. And her smel —it would be the same intoxicating floral scent I’d noticed before, but it would be much more intense. I would be swal owed by it.
I shook the thoughts away. I had to focus on friendship first. I was excited that she was going to stay for dinner—that I was going to get even more time with her. But when I opened the door and stepped down into the garage, my mood sank. It was instant.
She was sitting behind my drums, sticks in hands resting on her thighs, and her head was thrown back in laughter.
Aaron was standing on the other side of the drums, twirling a footbal around, eyes fixed on her. I recognized that look. No matter what he’d said about giving me a chance, I knew in this moment that he would no longer wait. He wanted Olivia.
I stood there for at least thirty seconds, maybe more, before either of them noticed me. Olivia caught sight of me. She swiveled the seat, her face stil bright from laughing at whatever it was Aaron had said. I wondered if he’d told her something embarrassing about me. “Hey, Ad!” I liked the nickname, but I stil felt on edge after finding my brother in the garage with her. It was like al of the momentum I’d built had fizzled out.
“Hey.” It was al I could say.
“Did your dad say it was okay?” I nodded. “Good. I’l cal my grandma.” She swiveled again, ignoring both me and my brother.
When I turned my gaze onto him, he was watching her. Like always, he could sense I was looking at him, and also like usual, he could tel that something was wrong. He came over to me and stopped just a foot away. “Why are you pissed?”
“I’m not pissed,” I said.
“Yes, you are. You’ve got that look, bro. I’m not stupid. What’s up?”
I sighed. “You said you wouldn’t flirt with her.”
He laughed. “No, I didn’t. I said I wouldn’t make a move until you at least had a shot. I never said I wouldn’t flirt. That would be against my nature.” My heart was heavy because in this moment, I knew that Aaron would once again overshadow me. He might not go al out to win her, but getting girls was effortless for him. Flirtation worked and no matter how nice I was, or how compatible I was to Olivia, he would always be the better choice.
He lightly punched me on my shoulder. “Ask her out and I’l stop.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“Doing what? I’m being nice,” he said, then glanced behind him to look at Olivia who was stil on the phone. “If you want something, you have to go and get it. I like her, too, and I’m giving you a chance. Don’t turn it into something shitty.” I looked away. “You’ve already turned it into something shitty. Why can’t I just like a girl without—?”
“You can like any girl you want,” he said, “but unless you’re going to go for it, there’s no way in hel I’m going to sit back and pretend that I don’t like her, too. See? This is the difference between us. You’re al theory. You say, ‘I like her,’ but do nothing about it. And I’m the proven fact. I say, ‘I like her,’ and I act on it.”
The squeak in the seat of my drum set told me that Olivia had changed position. I glanced over at her quickly, hoping that she hadn’t heard anything we’d been saying. It was already embarrassing enough to have these feelings; I didn’t think I could handle her hearing about it.
“She said ‘yes’.”
My answering smile was muted—in part because of the doubt that had crept into me now that my brother was involved, but also because Aaron clapped his hands once. It was loud and it echoed in the garage as he said, “Yes!” He was so excited that the girl I’d invited over was staying for dinner. Now he’d have an even better shot of impressing her.
Olivia had abandoned the drums. I hadn’t even gotten the chance to real y show her anything. She approached us, and when she was so close I could smel her hair and the light fragrance of her skin, she cocked her head and said, “What’s wrong?” I wanted to tel her exactly what was wrong. I wanted to tel her that Aaron liked her, and that I liked her. I wanted to tel her that Aaron liked a lot of people, but I didn’t, making my feelings much more meaningful. I wanted to grab her hand and take her back up to my room and show her how to play the drums. I wanted to tel her that I was scared that she would fal victim to my brother’s charms and forget about me.
But I didn’t say or do any of those things. Instead, I said, “Nothing.”
“So what do you want to do until dinner’s ready?” Aaron asked. Olivia shrugged. He smacked me in the stomach. It didn’t hurt, but it did catch me by surprise. “Come on, Adam, think of something fun to do to pass the time.”
I could think of nothing, mainly because I had no experience with the concept of doing something fun with a girl in my house. I took too long.
Aaron grabbed Olivia by the wrist and tugged her toward the door. She let out an amused sound at the jerky movement then craned her neck to look at me. “Come on.”
I fol owed, my heart and mood sinking further. Aaron led her through the house, only letting go of her when we were in the sun room. “Wow,” she said, going over to one of the large windows. “Your backyard is awesome.”
I’d never thought about it before. It always just seemed like a backyard. In the summers I hated it because it took so long to mow. Our yard was surrounded by tal trees. My dad had built a patio and surrounded it with plants and flowers he’d seen on HGTV. The Home and Garden Network was his next favorite thing to watch after Food Network.
“Go talk to her about nature or something. Girls like that stuff,” Aaron whispered into my ear before giving me a little shove toward her. Her back was to us, hair swept over one shoulder.
Because of his push, I moved a few steps, but then I stopped. I had to think of something to say. I could tel her about
the little serenity pond my father and Aaron put in two years ago. You couldn’t see it from this angle, but she’d probably like it if I took her over to it. Or maybe I should talk about the changing leaves. Some were stil green, but others were turning the colors of the fal .
Again, I must’ve taken too long. Aaron sighed behind me, and as he passed me, he shook his head. He went right up next to Olivia and said,
“Do you like the fal ?”
“Absolutely. It’s so pretty. In Nevada, we didn’t have al these colors, but in Colorado, we did.”
“Wel ,” Aaron said, “this is nothing. Just wait until early October; the leaves wil get even prettier.” He went to the door and opened it. “Do you want to see the reflection pond my dad and I put in?”
After that, I was nothing more than a pile of regretful nothingness. He said everything I’d thought about saying. Aaron was right. I was theory and he was fact. While I thought, he did. And now he was outside with Olivia—the girl I real y, really liked.
After ten minutes, I couldn’t watch it any more. I could look at her al day, but the fact that she was with Aaron as she took in the backyard gutted me. I went back into the house and watched as Dad put the finishing touches on the meal.
Once the pasta was drained and put into the pan with the sauce, he glanced up at me. “Where’s your girl?” My girl. What a joke. “Olivia . . . ,” I said, to let him know that she was nowhere close to my girl, “ . . . is in the backyard. With Aaron.” He looked at me for just a moment longer before crossing over to the window above the sink. He stayed there for a second before coming back over to me. There was something intense about the way he looked at me. I grabbed the stack of plates and silverware from the edge of the counter.