Strings of the Muse

by Kristi Ayers

  I sighed, then strode the best I could after him. “Adam, I-I’ll take the couch. There’s no reason to give up your bed.” When I turned in to his room, I saw he had his vampire costume off, nude except the boxer briefs he just pulled up over his butt. I froze. And I stared. And I may have stopped breathing.

  There I was, in his room and impossibly intoxicated, more so than I’d ever been, and it was making me feel such a mixture of emotions that were bursting forth like a ruptured dam.

  He put on a clean white T-shirt and threw what he deemed my “sleep clothes” on his bed. He looked at me to say something, his mouth slightly open, but our gazes tangled and his solid and determined expression from before slipped. It seemed that behind his eyes, remnants of memories were flickering like firelight.

  Focused on how his fitted, clean T-shirt made me want his strong arms wrapped around me with my face buried in his chest, all I could do was stand there and breathe. I wanted him to offer that we both could sleep in his bed. Then I stumbled a little from that thought, shocked it entered my mind. My hand grabbed the nearest piece of furniture to steady myself.

  But that was all it took, and the heated moment crashed. “If you need me, I’ll be on the couch.” Just that fast, his wall went back up. His coffee-colored eyes, carnal just moments ago, hardened as he looked away. His face steeled against any previous emotion as he walked out toward the living room.

  Just that fast.

  I sighed heavily then went in his bathroom to get ready for bed. The aforementioned toothbrush, still in a package, was easy to find, as was the face soap that I relished using to get the cake-ton of makeup off.

  His bathroom was remarkably clean and orderly, I noted as I brushed my teeth, swaying slightly. It will be good to sleep this mess off. My unexpected feelings and thoughts were out of control, especially when I slipped into his clothes and then beneath his sheets. His scent was everywhere, engulfing me all at once. I ached for him to slide next to me, hold me while I sobered in my sleep. No, that was a lie. I wanted him inside me. I had no idea when I finally fell asleep, but it was with Adam’s voice in my mind, and oddly, my first name was used. “Sleep well, Holland.”

  I awoke to an eerily quiet house and wondered if Adam was still sleeping. It had to be late morning when I looked over at his alarm clock and spotted a note in front of it.

  Cates, had to run some errands. Stay as long as you’d like, but I won’t be back until tonight. By the way, you’re beautiful, even when you sleep. Later, A.

  My heart twirled at his compliment. Beautiful. Had he really watched me during the night? Tingles like little electric currents flooded my body, but my rational mind caught up, now fully awake and functioning, and reminded me with a stern warning: he has a girlfriend.

  I got up, preparing to go to my dorm when I realized I couldn’t walk back in a T-shirt and shorts, nor with my frilly doll costume. “Shoot.” My eyes locked curiously at his dresser. Sweatpants and a sweatshirt would help, since I knew it was chilly out. I rummaged until I found them and then hit up his medicine cabinet for pain killers. My head felt like an elephant was dancing on it, sure to make studying later a monumental task.

  I locked his front door and pulled it closed behind me, Adam’s note and my drunken musical creation both folded in my hand.

  Chapter 10

  Max

  “Douglas, would you like to go home with me for Thanksgiving?” I blurted it out directly after he took an enormous bite of his burger so he couldn’t automatically decline. He’d do that, decline each time I’d invite him over for a holiday, claiming he didn’t want to “intrude.” Sometimes he’d feed me a load of B.S., stating he had to do something important, only offering vague details that never made sense when I probed. I was ready for it, though. “Your parents already told mine they planned to spend their time at a casino, which is not a Thanksgiving at all. I know you can’t afford a plane ticket to visit your grandparents. There’s no Zombie-Con, Comic-Con, Wizard-Con, or any other convention going on at this time.”

  He swallowed, a hint of a grin on his face. “I guess I’m having Thanksgiving at the Crossley house.”

  Packed and ready to head out, I sent Holland a quick text.

  Me: I hope you have a great Thanksgiving.

  Holland: Thanks. I’m just hanging here though.

  Me: I can’t possibly go home knowing you’re here alone.

  Holland: I’ll be fine. I can practice my violin.

  I debated quickly and went with my gut.

  Me: Come with me and Douglas. We always have lots of food and you can stay in the guest room. My parents would love to have you.

  After I hit send, the seconds ticked by slowly. One minute rolled into the next. Maybe my gut feeling had been nothing more than the dead end of a street called Hope. Just when I was pocketing my phone, it buzzed.

  Holland: Will there be homemade stuffing and pumpkin pie?

  I laughed.

  Me: Of course. Pack and meet me at my room. Bring your violin.

  I turned to Douglas. “Holland called shotgun.”

  “Wait, what?” He nearly dropped his controller.

  “You get the whole vast expanse of the back of the van now.” I smiled.

  Soon we were on the road, two hours away from what I assumed would be a particularly unique experience considering I’d never come home from college with a girl before. The text I sent my parents came back with a positive reply, and no doubt also had my sisters bouncing with excitement. I tried to explain that she had nowhere to go and that I was just being nice, but Mom kept sending back winky faces.

  Holland brought a floral duffle bag and her violin. I brought my guitar in hopes of collaborating with her, and secretly thrilled Adam wouldn’t be anywhere near us for it. He was probably going to stay at his house, entirely missing the holiday, passed out on his couch with a collection of rum and whiskey bottles circling him. Deep in the recesses of my mind, I knew I should have invited him, but he had always declined in the past. He wasn’t one to sit with a family, converse, and do “pointless” board games.

  Holland ended up talking to Douglas for half of the trip, until he couldn’t stay away from his handheld game another second. She was a good sport about his addiction, though. It left us time to get to know each other a little more. She talked about her past job, attending the community college, and how she squeezed in practicing her violin any free moment. It sounded like she enjoyed staying busy, which was a lot like me. I told her what odd jobs I took throughout my high school years, and a few made her giggle with tears in her eyes.

  “A llama caretaker?”

  “Yeah, that one didn’t last long. They lure you in with their cute, innocent faces, but then spit on you when you’re within target range.”

  It was when I pulled into my parents’ suburban neighborhood and the houses sat closer and closer to each other that Holland became nervous. Her silence and clasped hands spoke volumes. I reached over and took her hand in mine. “Relax. This will be just like high school when you hung out at a friend’s house. My mom will be excited to show off her cooking skills to someone new. My dad will proudly show off his antique collection from the 1800s. I will have to beat away my sisters from you or they’ll come at you brandishing curling irons and nail polish. Fair warning. Don’t follow any of them into their rooms or you won’t be free for a couple hours.”

  “You say this like you’ve lived it yourself.” She looked at my hair and fought back a grin.

  “I will not confirm any shenanigans. And don’t listen to them, they’re compulsive liars. Especially if it’s about me.”

  She laughed. “Right... I’m sure they have pictures.”

  “Dammit…” A few moments later, I said, “I should warn you about my dad. He has ALS.” Holland inhaled a quick breath. “He’s in a motorized wheelchair that’s fairly new and sometimes he gets irritable because he can’t move like he used to, but it’s usually short-lived. He tries to stay positive.”

/>   “Max, that must be so hard…”

  I took a deep breath and looked up at the sky, willing myself not to become sad. “Some days, most certainly. We try to enjoy every moment we can before things…change.”

  We parked in the driveway and gathered our things as my parents came out to greet us. Introductions were made and they immediately loved Holland, welcoming her in with a promise of chocolate chip cookies fresh out of the oven.

  Douglas pouted. “They used to offer me chocolate chip cookies… I guess I’m old news now. Yesterday’s headlines.” He sighed for dramatic effect.

  Mom went over to Douglas and gave him a tight, motherly hug. “Never. So happy you could make it. Help yourself to the cookies.”

  Just like I predicted, all four of my sisters descended on Holland, star-struck sighs coming out of them as they complimented her long hair. I eyed each of them. “Leave Holland alone. She’s my guest, not your next YouTube hair tutorial model.” They all pouted, making little sounds of frustration, clearly unhappy I wasn’t going to let them kidnap her for endless hours. “Holland, these are my sisters,” I began, starting with the oldest, who was sixteen, “Michelle, Madison, Mae, and Markie.” Holland flashed me an amused twinkle in her eyes before she greeted each of them. “Yeah, my parents have a thing for the letter M.” I playfully punched Markie’s ten-year-old arm, her skin never free from several stick-on tattoos. “This one was supposed to be a boy named Mark.” She stuck her tongue out at me. I instantly tried to grab it, making her jump back and giggle.

  “Cookies, Max. Your mom promised me sugary sustenance,” Douglas lamented as if he were running out of battery power.

  Everyone laughed and then we made our way into the kitchen, my mom taking the lead, her focus on our new guest. “Holland, my, you have such a beautiful name. I just can’t get over it.”

  Holland blushed. “Thank you.”

  It was at that time I was quite positive she’d noticed the house had an exorbitant amount of fall and Thanksgiving decorations on every wall and surface. “Um, as you can see, Mom likes to decorate,” I explained as I noticed twenty new decorations, flicking one of them.

  “It’s awesome. Makes it magical.” She grinned.

  “You always know what holiday it is, that’s for sure.” I quipped.

  The light that was in her eyes a second ago faded a bit, her smile falling as she mentally went away for a moment. Intuition told me it was about her own family, her own home. I didn’t know if she was missing her parents or if she was thinking about her sister. Or both.

  Mom held a tray of large chocolate chip cookies in front of her and her smile returned. I hoped bringing her to my family’s holiday was going to end up being a good thing. This had to beat staying at the dorm alone.

  The entire drive, I refrained from asking her why she had no plans of going home, and my curiosity hadn’t lessened. All I could do was hope she brought it up on her own because I wasn’t going to be the guy who made her unintentionally revisit something sad. Fact was, I never wanted to see her sad another day in her life.

  As I predicted, Dad wanted to show off his 1800s collectables. He’d managed to add a few things he found online, so the three of us had to listen to his “condensed” pride-filled history lesson. He maneuvered his motorized wheelchair through his hobby room, using his extendable pointer stick to identify each cherished treasure. Douglas was Dad’s biggest fan when it came to antiques and history. He had a question for everything, giving Dad a spike of enthusiasm for the day.

  Holland seemed genuinely interested, even asking a few of her own questions. She didn’t treat Dad like he was handicapped; instead, she extended him the same respect as a professor back at our college. It did things to me, deep inside the alcoves of my heart, to witness it.

  Mom came to the doorway after sufficiently ample “museum time” and smiled lovingly at Dad. “Okay, Michael, I need to snag Holland a moment to show her where she’ll be sleeping.” She leaned toward Holland. “He will give you a history lesson for as long as you let him.”

  “Okay, okay,” Dad conceded. “We can break for now.” His words were a little garbled, but he smiled proudly anyway, happy to have people behold his treasures.

  Holland thanked him for sharing and followed Mom to our basement. “Douglas and I will grab the bags,” I hollered as they descended the stairs. I turned to find Douglas punching buttons on his game. “Okay… I’ll just go get our bags, Douglas. You just relax.”

  “Thanks, man.”

  I punched his arm. “Get off your ass and help me.”

  Incoherent words.

  “Now.”

  He finally threw his game on a plush chair and followed me to the van.

  “So, bro, did Adam say he was going home too when you asked to use the van?” Douglas opened the van’s back doors.

  Adam had been knee-deep in the sauce and probably didn’t even compute that I was borrowing the van. I left a note so he wouldn’t sober up and freak out. “He didn’t say one way or another.” My bet was on him consuming Wild Turkey rather than the real bird.

  Maybe I should have invited him too…

  I pushed the thought away. My sisters didn’t need to be around someone like him.

  Back inside, Douglas carried our bags upstairs to my room while I took Holland’s down to the basement. I already knew Mom had decked out the entire area with decorations, so when I saw them beside the fold-out couch, I smirked at the colorful cartoon turkey bed sheets. “Mom, really?” I tried to look appalled but ended up relinquishing the tiniest grin. Damn, I had no poker face aptitude.

  “What? These sheets? Aren’t they adorable? I threw them in the wash the minute you texted we were having company.”

  Holland was amused, but she didn’t laugh; rather, she professed her gratitude for Mom’s hospitality.

  “Is the bathroom-” I flicked on the light of the small bathroom we added on when we turned the basement into a movie/game room. “Yep. More cartoon turkeys in here. Holland, I’m sorry for my mom’s…zest.”

  “I like it. Really. It makes it fun.”

  “See, Max? She enjoys it.” Mom beamed. She was entirely in her element. I couldn’t fault her for that, but it was amusing to poke fun at her. “Holland, feel free to watch any of the DVDs. Are those becoming obsolete now? I always hear about streaming this and that. Anyway, make yourself at home. Help yourself to anything we have here.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Crossley. I appreciate you and Mr. Crossley welcoming me into your home.”

  “Call us Michael and Alice. And we’re very happy you’re here. Okay, I’m going to get a few chores done before I start cooking desserts for tomorrow.” She walked up the stairs, and in my mind’s eye, putting on her special Thanksgiving apron. The print on it was morbid, actually; a turkey was jovially putting another turkey into the oven.

  “So I’ll let you get settled, and then we can play board games until it’s time for dinner.” It came out sounding like a question with a lilt of my voice at the end.

  “Sure, that sounds great.” She seemed genuinely happy suddenly. Thank goodness. In the back of my mind, I worried something would make her miss her sister and ruin her holiday. I wasn’t versed in the heartache she’d experienced, and therefore was at a loss for the right words. Maybe there was no such thing as the “right words” in that situation.

  Twenty minutes later, we were sitting on the floor around the coffee table, a classic board game fully sprawled out before us. Douglas and my eldest sister, Michelle, joined while my other three sisters picked sides and cheered us on. Okay, so they solely cheered Holland on. Douglas and I became chopped liver. Not even Markie threw me a bone. That was fine; because as Markie sat glued to Holland, I was able to simultaneously tease my sister while having an excuse to look at Holland.

  I’d give my left foot to be able to read her better. Did she just want to be friends with me? More? I had no clue. For all I knew, she was waiting for Adam to dump Bex. They had the histor
y, after all. I knew how those things worked, the missed opportunities that screwed with your mind, the longing and what-ifs, all to ultimately swing back around through life’s rare second chances. The essence of chance encounters. Of course, to ignore it would cause an even deeper feeling of yearning. That was what Adam undoubtedly focused on, and his ultimate plan to open Holland’s eyes to it, if she hadn’t already.

  I’d be a fool to think I could compete with history.

  Chapter 11

  Holland

  Spending time with the Crossley family ended up being fun. I had little time to ruminate over sad things. They didn’t give me a chance. We were busy doing something every moment, and little did I know what was in store for me later in the evening.

  At a long mahogany dinner table, once all the food was spread out and we dug into our meals, Max’s sisters and Douglas fought for time to speak, teasing and talking over each other, which provided me time to get used to everyone’s quirky personalities. Max, who sat beside me, joined in a few times, and then directed the attention on me by mentioning how well he thought I played violin. This was news that caught the attention of the entire Crossley family.

  “Oh, Holland, will you play for us?” Alice asked, hopeful with barely subdued excitement. All glittering eyes begged me silently as I looked around.

  I could feel a heated blush edge up my face. “Sure.” I smiled, secretly mortified.

  Max must have sensed my slight hesitation and reached for my hand. “We can play together.”

  Michelle’s eyes narrowed. “Max, you don’t play classical.”

  Madison chimed in, “Yeah, Max, you don’t even listen to it.”

  Max pinched the bridge of his nose. “No, dorks. I—”

  Mae piped up next. “Max is lying so he can impress a girl!” Markie looked at him like he deflated her balloon. Alice and Michael’s eyes ping-ponged from each child, amused at the exchange.

  “I am not lying,” he said and sighed. “We both play music you like listening to on the radio.” All of them looked equally intrigued now. “We can play later tonight if Holland is into it.”