To Be Honest

by Maggie Ann Martin

  But instead she was here, having to include her high school sister who was in a less-than-happy spot. I’d intruded on her plans for the weekend without asking and without taking into consideration that she might not want me to be there. I wrapped my arms around my legs on the futon as Mallory and Ashley finished getting ready. When Ashley turned to me, I motioned toward the door.

  “You guys go out and have fun. Please, go make sure that that girl goes to that party with you. You’ll have way more fun with her than you will with your sober high school sister. I’m super tired anyway—I might just crash in your bed until you come home,” I said.

  “What? No! You should come to the party! It will be fun, I promise. Even if you’re sober,” she said.

  “I love you for wanting to include me, but seriously. You should go have a fun time and don’t worry about me. I’ll be out once my head hits the pillow. I promise,” I said.

  “Are you sure?” she asked.

  “Positive,” I said. “But the only promise you have to make me is that you will make sure that Yael goes out with you tonight in my absence.”

  “Ugh,” she sighed. “I guess that can be arranged.”

  “You all have fun. I swear, I’ll just slow you down if I go with,” I said.

  She enveloped me into a hug and I couldn’t help but notice her normal Ashley smell was masked by the cheap wine she’d been drinking. “I love you, Sister.”

  “Love you, too,” I said.

  After she and Mallory were long gone, I loosened the tie on the dress and took my hair out of its fishtail braid. I climbed up the rickety ladder, into her lofted bed, and fell asleep right as my head hit the pillow, just like I’d promised.

  * * *

  I got the full download on the Ashley-Yael situation the next morning, and they both decided that they were interested in being exclusive with each other. We scarfed down our bottomless brunch in the dining hall until I was sure someone would have to roll me out. I decided that it was time I go check on Norma to make sure she hadn’t been towed yet, and for me to start the journey home.

  Ashley walked me to the car, and sure enough, there were two parking tickets flapping underneath the windshield wipers. I plucked them out before turning back to Ashley and giving her one last bear hug. I thanked her again for letting me invade on her personal time and space, and reminded her to apologize to Isabel on my behalf for coming up unannounced.

  “Stop,” she said. “You’re always welcome here.”

  “Has anyone ever told you that you’re the greatest?” I asked.

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to come back with you for a few days? I can make it work with my classes. You and Mom are my number one priority.”

  “We’ll be fine,” I said. “And your number one priority right now should be you and your classes. I swear, if you come down unannounced because you’re worried about me I’ll be super pissed.”

  “Fine, I won’t do it,” she said. She rubbed her hand up and down my shoulder. “See, I’ve always been right about one thing. You’re stronger than you think, Savvy. The fact that you’re helping to put my school and my happiness first is a huge sign of maturity.”

  “If this is what adulting feels like, I’m not sure that I like it,” I said.

  “No one ever said adulting was easy,” she replied.

  “I mean, technically you just said ‘adulting was easy’ in your sentence,” I said.

  She smacked my arm. “Who invited the smart-ass?”

  “You know you love it,” I said.

  “I do,” she said. “Come here, you little weirdo. Promise me that you’ll drive safe. I don’t want to get any scary calls about Norma doing any NASCAR-style effects on the highway, you hear me?”

  “I’ll try my best to keep her in check,” I said, pulling away from her hug. “I’ll text you as soon as I get home. Promise.”

  “Good,” she said. I stepped into the car, slamming the door behind me in a way to signify to myself that it was time to go. I could have stayed there talking to her for an eternity, but I knew I’d already overstayed my welcome. It was time to get back to my normal life and to my very cute and rambunctious white poodle.

  I watched her wave in my rearview mirror until she looked like a tiny ant in the distance. It had been so comforting to see her, but it also gave me a new sense of unease about what my own college future might look like. I might not want to be at the same college as Ashley, which I always thought I would want. Maybe the two pieces of our college puzzle weren’t meant to fit together like I always imagined.

  chapter TWELVE

  If I was being completely honest, the only reason that I absolutely could not wait two days until our Monday session to hand-deliver a practice quiz to George was because I needed to see his face. And when my need to see someone’s face outweighs my decision to stay in bed for the night, that person must be pretty damn cool.

  A compact car that I didn’t recognize sat in his driveway as I pulled into their cul-de-sac, so I opted to park on the street. According to Hannah’s frequently updated Instagram story, she, at least, was home. George only made very begrudging cameos on social media, usually at the hands of Hannah. This made looking into his past life before he moved to Springdale extremely frustrating and, quite frankly, unfair. And, no matter how many times I pleaded with Grace for a single embarrassing Christmas card from George Smith Past, she refused to show me, stating that it went against “family code.”

  I rang the doorbell and heard someone’s feet quickly shuffle to the door to meet me. Mrs. Smith greeted me on the other side, with a smile that spread across her entire face. Since we were about the same height, it was nice to get the full impact of her dazzling smile without having to strain my neck to look up. This is something that tall people never have to worry about. Looking up can be painful.

  “Savannah! Come on in. George is teaching a lesson in the office. Can I get you a glass of water? A soda?” she asked.

  Because George’s mom is a lovely human, I bit my tongue on the soda comment. I didn’t need to involve her in my passionate crusade to make pop the definitive term for the carbonated drink formerly known as soda.

  “Oh, I don’t have to stay. I just wanted to drop off a practice quiz for George. I forgot to print this one out and give it to him during our last session,” I said.

  “Nonsense! He’ll be done in about ten minutes. Come on, let me grab you a drink,” she said, leading me into the kitchen.

  A sense of familiarity and comfort fell over me, coming back into this kitchen. Even though our dinner here had been only a few nights ago, I felt like I’d been welcomed into this space long before. I felt a peace here in this space that I’d lost in my own kitchen.

  “I wanted to thank you again for letting me come to dinner the other night,” I said.

  “Of course!” Mrs. Smith said. “We were happy to have you. You were very sweet to come and watch Georgie play. I know it really meant a lot to him.”

  “It was seriously so cool,” I said. “I mean, I knew he had to be talented, but I didn’t know just how good he was.”

  Her smile multiplied times infinity.

  “Have you decided on a drink?” she asked.

  As much as I would love some one-on-one time with Mrs. Smith, my growing need to see George’s face was too great. It suddenly became imperative to even get a little glimpse of him, and my legs bounced up and down in the anticipation of seeing him again.

  “Actually, I have to use the restroom,” I said.

  “Sure thing! Down the hall and to the left,” she said.

  I started to walk down the hallway toward the bathroom but instead followed what sounded like a goose squawking. The squawking came in timed intervals, which was further proof that there wasn’t, in fact, a dying goose in the next room, but a kid learning how to play an instrument, aka my own personal nightmare.

  The door to the office was cracked slightly and I could see the back of George’s head as he sat
across from the tiniest human in pigtails. She huffed out a frustrated breath and set down the instrument that I identified as a clarinet thanks to my very scholarly exposure to the instrument from SpongeBob over the years.

  “I’ll never get it,” she said.

  “You’re so close, Adelaide! Let’s do another breathing exercise, okay?” he said. He had suddenly become so animated as he encouraged her to sit forward in her chair and take a deep breath. He counted in time as she took breaths in and out, with words of encouragement to keep her motivated along the way.

  “Pretend like you’re blowing out all the candles on the biggest birthday cake you’ve ever seen!” he said, stretching his arms out as wide as they would go.

  Her eyes sparkled back up at him, and I could tell that mine were equally as sparkly. Teacher George was unlike any other type of George I’d seen up to this point, but he was quickly becoming my favorite. Well, behind Blushing George, of course.

  “All right, now we’re going to try it with the mouthpiece attached. Are you ready to make some music, Adelaide?” he asked.

  She nodded enthusiastically, the dejected girl from a few minutes ago far gone. George attached the mouthpiece to the rest of the clarinet and held it up to Adelaide’s mouth.

  “Remember how we practiced your embouchure? Yep, that’s right, keep that lip from creeping up there. Good. Now, just like we were practicing before, blow with that same breath. Direct, through the instrument,” he said.

  Nothing but any airy sound followed by a loud squeak came out at first, and Adelaide was on the verge of pouting again.

  “That’s okay! You’re almost there!” he said. “Tongue forward, and … again!”

  This time a note emitted from the clarinet and it made my heart soar. Adelaide started giggling and tried a few more times to get the note out, hitting it each time after.

  “You did it! Yes! That’s open G, Adelaide, you played an open G!” he said. “Playing an instrument is all about perseverance. If you don’t get it at first, stay positive and keep practicing until you do. Keep practicing this note and it will get a little less squeaky. Can you practice for me before we meet next week?”

  “Mom said that I’m not allowed to squeak so much in the house,” she said.

  “Well, tell your mom that you’re practicing so that it doesn’t sound like squeaks anymore. Or I can recommend my favorite noise-canceling headphones for her to wear while you practice. Give me a high five. Today was awesome! Great work, Adelaide,” he said.

  George finally turned around to open the door to walk Adelaide out of the office and his hand froze just above the handle when he saw me in the hallway. My heart jumped into my throat and my blood tingled as it worked its way through my body. A small half smile crept onto his face before he turned back to Adelaide.

  “Adelaide, this is my friend Savannah,” he said. “Can you tell her what you just accomplished today?”

  “An open G!” she said with a toothy grin. “Do you play clarinet, too? Or do you play saxophone like Mr. George?”

  “I wish! I can’t play an instrument,” I said. “My mom never forced me to play piano, and I think I might resent her a little bit for my lack of talent for the rest of my life.”

  “Well, he can teach you how to play. He’s a good teacher,” she said.

  George quickly became Blushing George, and my heart continued to melt in a puddle on the floor.

  “Maybe I’ll have him teach me sometime,” I said.

  “Well, I’m going to go walk Adelaide out to her mom’s car, but I’ll be back in a second,” he said.

  He led Adelaide down the hallway before she yelled, “Good-bye, Savannah!” over her shoulder. I waved back at them until I assessed my situation.

  I’d come to a guy’s house, unannounced, and just crept on him while he was doing his job. If there had been any chance that he was remotely starting to like me, I probably blew it in one fell swoop by showing up here today. I had two options in this situation: sneak out the back without telling anyone, or wait for him to come back and ask (politely, because it’s George) for me to leave. Before I even had the chance to be politely rejected by George, I decided to save myself from the pain. I started heading toward the sliding glass doors at the back of the office when I heard footsteps shuffling back down the hallway.

  In an effort to look like I hadn’t been planning a masterful escape just seconds before, I sat down in the seat where Adelaide had just left as George reappeared in the doorway.

  “Savannah Alverson, as I live and breathe,” he said.

  “Surprise?” I said, my voice going up an octave at the end of the word.

  “What brings you to my practice room today?” he asked, sinking into the chair across from me.

  “I heard you’re especially good at teaching people how to play open G on the clarinet. Coincidentally, it’s my dying wish to learn how to play,” I said.

  “You’re dying?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

  “We’re all dying, George. We’re all part of this big wheel called life,” I said.

  “Hmm, yes, I’ve heard of this wheel before,” he said. “Well, you’re in luck that I happen to have a clarinet on hand courtesy of Hannah’s brief stint with playing. I can’t promise that it’s the cleanest instrument ever, but it still works.”

  “That’s what counts,” I said. “As long as I can fulfill my dying wish of the open G.”

  He audibly snickered, and the butterflies in my stomach had a celebratory dance party. I could spend a whole lifetime just trying to make George laugh.

  “So are you serious? Do you really want to learn?” he asked.

  “I’m always serious,” I said.

  He shook his head and hesitated for a few moments before opening up the old clarinet case and reaching inside, pulling out the mouthpiece and taking off parts that I had no idea of their purpose. He put a small piece of wood under his tongue for a few seconds before attaching it to the mouthpiece. I watched him place just the mouthpiece in his mouth before he blew into it, making arguably the worst noise in human history.

  “What was that for?” I asked.

  “This is how you start to learn! You have to work up to Adelaide’s level,” he said.

  He handed the mouthpiece over to me and went into a detailed description of how to properly adjust your lips around the mouthpiece and how your tongue should hit the reed, and all this talk of mouths and tongues in the presence of George did nothing for my concentration. I mostly nodded and smiled as I watched his lips move and imagined other, very PG-13 scenarios involving George’s lips.

  A deafening squeak erupted from the mouthpiece when I blew into it for the first time and I wished, for both of our sakes, that I would have had a few more seconds to sneak out the sliding glass doors. We were both trapped in this situation that neither of us wanted to be in because I had to play it cool.

  “On a positive note, I think you might have broken my record for loudest first attempt ever,” he said.

  “I don’t realize my own strength sometimes. R.I.P. to your eardrums and all eardrums within a mile radius,” I said.

  “Let’s do that again, but this time … less force,” he said.

  This time it was less of a squeak and more of an obnoxious buzz, which I took as a good sign. He pulled out the clarinet case again and started to assemble the rest of it.

  “So, how often do you teach lessons?” I asked.

  “Right now I have three kids who come in for lessons. Most of the young ones come in for clarinet because they usually teach clarinet first before you can switch to saxophone. It’s just a little something to make some extra money here and there. Plus, it’s good practice, since I want to be a music teacher down the road,” he said.

  He handed me the rest of the clarinet, and I attached the mouthpiece. I let it sit in my lap for a few seconds, and I almost felt like a real player. Almost, until I remembered the first horrific sound that I produced.

  Just befor
e more nervous words tumbled out of my mouth, George scooted closer to me, rendering me speechless (which is very difficult to do, mind you). He picked up the clarinet from my lap and held it out in front of him.

  “You see how your thumb rests here? This is how you hold it,” he said.

  I took it back from him and placed it on my thumb. He raised his eyebrows to me, asking silently if he could adjust its position in my hands, and I nodded. His fingers grazed mine as he repositioned the instrument on my thumb, and I wondered if he could feel the same spark that went through my fingertips in that moment.

  “So open G is just blowing the same amount of air as before, but through the instrument. Easy enough, right?” he asked.

  “For most people, yes, but I’ll mess it up somehow,” I said.

  “Impossible,” he said, “Not when I’m right here. Make sure that you’re tilted down a bit—yep, just like that.”

  This time a more refined sound came out around us and for the first time in my life, I was making actual music. Sure, my benchmark had been an eight-year-old completing the same task in less time and with better sound, but I still did it. George really must be a miracle worker of a teacher.

  “I did it!”

  “Is Savannah Alverson genuinely shocked about something? I never thought that I’d see the day,” he said.

  “There seems to be a lot of that going down with you around,” I said.

  “Is that a bad thing?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. I was suddenly very aware of how close we were sitting, our knees nearly touching and his arm braced against the back of my chair.

  “Definitely not a bad thing,” I said.

  The space around us snapped and crackled with energy, and it felt like we were most definitely in the middle of a moment. A moment that could only last so long in my unlucky universe.