Strings of the Muse

by Kristi Ayers

  He grinned and looked at me, blushing a little. “Well, I’m flattered you think that. I, on the other hand, was really hoping to find someone else.” He glanced out the window.

  “That would have been a most terrible and unfortunate mistake.”

  Our eyes connected for a few long moments before he blinked. “You could come out to see one of our practices if you’d like. I could use an ear that knows music.”

  Was this the right direction to follow, hanging out with Max when Adam and I just broke up an hour ago? Granted, the other option of human avoidance and embracing a hermit lifestyle didn’t sound appealing. “Sure, I’d like that.”

  His cautious eyes slowly matched the smile that was forming on his lips. “Good.”

  And it was good.

  The next day they had practice, where I met up with a noticeably happier Douglas at the address I was given, which was a house that looked in need of a few cosmetic repairs, and certainly not sound-proof. I wondered what the neighbors thought of the loud music.

  “Holland, it’s so cool to have you here. I think you’re going to enjoy what you hear. Totally different sound with the addition of a keyboard and extra guitar.”

  I offered him a genuine smile, inwardly thrilled there were no hard feelings between us. “You guys are going to rock it.”

  Max caught up with us, having come from a different direction and holding a plastic sack. “Hey, I got some snacks from the mini mart. Let’s go in.” He also seemed to be in a great mood. It was the opposite of when they were having practice with Adam. “Holland, you’re going to really like the guys.” He walked me inside the small, dated house where three guys cheered when they saw us. They were making one heck of a snack spread, along with organizing a bevy of drink choices. I saw soda, coffee, water, hot tea, cold tea, and kombucha.

  Max placed his hand on my back. “Guys, this is Holland. Holland, this is Wes, the guitarist, Jordan, the keyboardist, and Kyle, the drummer.”

  All of them greeted me with enthusiasm, a chorus of welcoming words and waves. The guy named Jordan asked, “Would you like something to drink, Holland?” He had brown hair that swept dramatically across his forehead and was constantly slipping into his eyes. It was endearing actually.

  “Sure, some English tea?”

  “You got it.”

  Max leaned over to my ear and whispered, “I’ll grab the honey for you.” He knew me so well.

  Kyle, the drummer, pulled back his long blonde hair into a messy knot at the base of his head. “Feel free to make yourself a plate, Holland. We have lots.”

  “Thank you, it looks great.” It seemed like we were about to have a Super Bowl party, not band practice. As I filled a small plate, I noticed Wes seemed to be the shy one of the trio. He had the typical rocker long hair and wore mostly black. And possibly eyeliner?

  After everyone was sufficiently satiated, they got started like a well-oiled group of musicians. No debating which songs to play. No arguing over tempo. No derogatory comments to certain members. It was nice, and I knew Max and Douglas appreciated it to no end. They played one song after another, all of which sounded amazing, as if they’d been playing together for years. Max’s voice was on point, not a fumble or crack to be heard.

  “I think we may be ready for the New Year’s Eve party.” Max said after the last note in a 1990s rock song. The other guys agreed, and I found myself being invited to their first gig together.

  Back in my dorm room, I spent the better part of my evening practicing my violin. Violet was still out of town and I needed an outlet for my emotions. Adam kept invading my thoughts like a playlist landing on the same song over and over. I couldn’t help but feel like I hadn’t received closure, or at least the last word. I didn’t get to be hateful, which was the guiding emotion that wanted to erupt with a vengeance. Part of me wanted to march right over there and let him know all the things plaguing me. The other part of me, the evader who’d rather hide from the ugly truth and hole myself up in my room, wanted to do nothing but crawl under my flannel sheets and become one with my bed.

  There was a knock on my door. I froze, wondering who it was and if I was going to bother answering. After there was no further sound, I got up and cautiously peeked out to see…absolutely no one. Before I shut the door, the edge of something caught my eye. It was…a framed picture? Hurriedly, I snatched it to inspect closer and quickly closed my door.

  A note was taped to the front: Meet me tomorrow at 7pm on the pier at the boardwalk, the third lamppost from the water. I looked more closely at the picture because no one had signed the note. It was sheet music. It… Oh. It was the song Max and I played at his parents’ house, written entirely for a violin. Signed at the bottom: For the girl whose blood runs music.—Max

  I was speechless. This wasn’t something he could do by himself. He had someone proficient with the violin listen to the song and write down each note.

  Best of all, he knew my blood type.

  Chapter 18

  Max

  Douglas, the ass that he could sometimes be, dangled a note in the air like he was holding candy away from a kid. I didn’t care until he’d said it was from Holland. “Dammit, just give it to me.”

  “Isn’t someone impatient?”

  “Douglas,” I growled.

  “Fine. Here. You’re no fun.”

  I grabbed it and could hardly read it fast enough. Max, meet me tomorrow at 7pm on the pier at the boardwalk, the third lamppost from the water.—Music in My Veins.

  It didn’t say it was from Holland, but she was the only one who would write such a note. So mysterious. I was intrigued.

  “Why didn’t she just text you?”

  I shrugged. “Maybe her phone is broken. She could have gotten it wet or something.”

  “Well, Romeo, you’ll need to let me know how it goes. This soap opera has me feeling like a nonessential supporting actor.”

  I gave him a look of exhaustion. “I’d rather not be in a soap opera.”

  “Well, maybe it will turn into one those happy chick flicks.”

  I made a sour face. “Maybe something a little more manly.”

  “I’ll consult Stallone, then.”

  “Dial down a little. I recall his woman died.”

  “Wyatt Earp.”

  “Fair enough.”

  ~*~

  The next night, I was fifteen minutes early. It was killing me to wait one more second. Before long, the sounds of lapping water and the lightly buzzing lamppost I was standing under had me full of restless energy. I inhaled the scent of the ocean air and tried to calm myself, but all I could do was pace and wonder what this meeting was about.

  During mid-pace, I looked up and saw her walking my way. The light cascading down her body illuminated her silhouette into an angelic being, the ocean breeze lifting strands of hair as she stepped closer to me. She was bundled in a green pea coat with a scarf loosely draped around her shoulders. I took a few steps toward her and took the end of the scarf, circling it around her bare neck. “It’s cold out.”

  She blushed. “Always looking out for everyone.”

  I shrugged and put my hands in my pockets, trying not to smile. “Second nature.”

  We both looked at each other expectantly to the point of getting a little awkward. The fog from our breaths took turns floating between us. “So…” she said with a hint of a questioning tone.

  “So…” I mimicked to let her know I was all ears.

  “It’s truly amazing, thank you. Who was the violinist who helped you?”

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  Her brows furrowed. “The picture.” When I didn’t understand, she went on. “The one with the note saying to meet here?”

  “I uh…”

  “‘For the girl whose blood runs music.’”

  My head jerked back, surprised and a little more than confused. That was supposed to still be in Adam’s closet. “You found it?”

  “Yeah, on my doorstep… You di
dn’t drop it off?”

  I shook my head slowly, my teeth biting my lower lip, perplexed at this weird event. “I left that covered in Adam’s coat closet the day we got back from Thanksgiving. I meant to give it to you for Christmas, but with you being with Adam,” I shrugged, “it felt inappropriate.” I rubbed my jaw. “So, let me guess, you didn’t leave me a note to meet here?”

  She shook her head, eyes wide. “It wasn’t me. I would have just texted.”

  Of course. “Well, who—”

  “It’s really good to see the pair of you together.”

  Holland and I both turned to see Adam walking from the edge of the pier. It became clear that he’d been watching us this whole time, hidden in the shadows.

  “You sent it?” Holland snapped at him. I looked down at her to see a complete one-eighty from a moment ago. “You knowingly sent me something that was meant to be from Max? And you tricked him here as well.” Her eyes were lit with fire. “I’m leaving. I’m so sick of you playing with my emotions, Adam.” She pivoted on the heels of her knee-high boots and started to stalk away.

  “Wait, Holland, please. I need to tell to tell you both something.”

  She stopped, lifted her head, and took a slow deep breath before turning around. “What?” she gritted between clenched teeth.

  I felt more and more uncomfortable by the second. I didn’t want to be a part of their unfinished lovers’ quarrel. “I’m just going to…” I started to excuse myself.

  “No, I need you both here.” He looked pained. I finally took a moment to really pay attention to his desperate, somber demeanor. Holland was beyond this, though, based on her tightly crossed arms and deep frown.

  “Adam, are you…okay?” Leave it to me to worry. Always have.

  Adam swallowed and looked away. I caught the bloodshot eyes, though. “No, I’m… I’m not…” He blew out a long breath and looked back at us. “I’m not okay. And it’s time for me to get…” He was really struggling as he ran his hands through his hair then jammed them into his leather jacket pockets. “I’m going to rehab.”

  Both Holland and I froze with our mouths slightly open. For him to accept rehab, something that was suggested to him multiple times, he must have finally hit rock bottom. Maybe not in our eyes, because I would have called stabbing himself and nearly running over someone rock bottom. But in his eyes, he was there.

  He sighed heavily and paced. “I— Dammit. I should have done this a long time ago. Instead, I chose to destroy two people who didn’t deserve it. I made a huge mess of things—countless times—and I can’t apologize enough.”

  I glanced at Holland. Her eyes had softened, but she didn’t look like she was going to say anything. I focused back on Adam. “Do what you need to do for yourself and we’ll,” I glanced again at her, “be here when you get out. We can work on the other stuff after you’re better.”

  Adam smiled, tight-lipped, and then let out a little chuckle that held no humor. “No, we won’t. Because I’m—” He looked down, gathering his resolve. When his eyes looked back up at us, they held a glassy sheen. “I’m going to rehab in California. And I’m not coming back.”

  Air swooshed out of my lung. “What? Why?”

  He seemed to fight with his inner demons in order to own up to what he was about to say, chewing on his lip for a few moments and looking off into the distance. “I need to leave everything—and everyone—that reminds me of my past. If I don’t, I’ll never have any kind of sustainable future. Holland,” he looked into her eyes, “you remind me of the before. The time when my father was alive, when my home life was normal. And, also the time when I was the fat nobody who couldn’t catch a break. No one looked twice at me. You were proof of that back then.” He turned to me next. “Max, you remind me of the after. With you by my side as my best friend, I secretly agonized over emotions no one should ever experience—of loss, despair…I lived my life in a state of constant hell on Earth. Daily, I woke up with a half second of peace when my mind thought nothing happened, until clarity caught up and rammed into me with ice cold reality, reliving the entire ordeal again and again. You were such a great friend that I forced myself to swallow all the pain just so I could have a semi-normal teenage life.”

  I wanted to speak, to tell him he didn’t have to do that, I would have still been his friend, but he held his hand up.

  “You may have saved me back then, but with it comes flashbacks that I can’t escape. The pain doesn’t go away; it settles somewhere deep and rears its ugly head at constant, unexpected intervals. These things—don’t get me wrong—are unquestionably not your fault. You both, and even Douglas, are just innocent bystanders in the nightmare that is my life. So I’m going to take back my life and start brand new, but I can only do that by saying goodbye to both of you.”

  A small, strangled cry erupted from Holland. Tears were running down her face, the light from the lamppost making them shine, accentuating her pain like a neon sign. I wanted to take her into my arms, but this was Adam’s moment.

  For a few punctuated seconds, Adam and I silently spoke, me urging him to soothe her, him not wanting to make this any more difficult on himself. Come on, Adam, do this now and I’ll be here to pick up the pieces when you leave. He must have understood the plea in my eyes. The next moment, he had Holland in his arms, one around her back and the other cradling her head to his chest. She was openly weeping now, and it gutted me.

  “Shhh,” he soothed in her ear. “I’ll always have you with me. I got that tattoo, didn’t I?”

  “You’ll be reminded of me—it could mess up your rehab, the memories…” she whimpered.

  “I don’t want to forget you.” Adam finally broke. His own tears dripped onto her hair. I bit my lip and looked away to control my own emotions.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t notice you in high school.”

  “Not your fault.” He smoothed her hair and took her face in his hands. “Nothing is your fault. You’ll always be someone special to me. If I lose my way, I’ll just look at my arm and it will remind me that you loosened the strings around my heart. You taught me that music speaks even when you can’t. I’ll never forget that, or you.” He pulled her tighter against him. “I’ve got to go,” he said into her hair. “My sponsor is waiting to take me to the airport.” He pulled back to look into her eyes, pausing for only a second before his mouth pressed against hers.

  I couldn’t watch, so I focused on the lights of a boat in the distance. I hurt for Holland. I hurt for my friendship with Adam. But deep down, I was thankful that whatever stars aligned to make him choose to heal had transpired, and that he was hopefully going to get the professional help he needed.

  He didn’t say another word. No last goodbye. He released her, gave me a meaningful look, and then was striding up the pier to his new life.

  Holland watched until she could no longer see him, then she fell to her knees, silently crying. I rushed to her side, gathering her small frame into my arms. This was what Adam wanted me to do. “It’s okay,” I soothed. She gripped my shirt and cried into my chest. “I’ve got you.” I let her release all of it, until she relaxed and was only sniffling. “Can I take you to your dorm room?” I asked in a gentle voice. She nodded, and we stood. I kept my arm protectively around her shoulders until we got to our destination.

  “I’ll text tomorrow to check on you, okay?” I said when she unlocked and opened her door. Then she paused, hand still on the doorknob. Oh, God, she may not want me to contact her after all this. I tried to backpedal. “Or, I can let you text me if you need anything.”

  “Can you stay with me?” she blurted and vulnerably looked up at me through her lashes.

  I blinked, stunned, then composed myself. “Sure. Of course.”

  “I’m sorry. That was probably too forward. I didn’t mean—” She blushed and looked down.

  “No, it’s absolutely fine.”

  “It’s just that…” She shook her head, lost for words.

  “Let�
�s go in and sit down. You can talk over something warm to drink.”

  Her eyes brightened. “I have some chamomile tea.” Once she got focused on the task of preparing the tea, she seemed to relax a bit. I took a seat at the desk and perused her room. Her side was tidy. I spotted the framed sheet music leaning against the bedside table. It seemed surreal, that what I hoped would make an impact—the picture of “our song” ̶ actually did in the most unexpected and twisted way. Thanks to Adam, the picture was now a bittersweet reminder of him. Not a heartfelt gift from me.

  “Here you go. This will warm us up.” She handed me a steaming mug, then sat down on her bed and looked at the picture. “I—” She sighed. “This whole thing is so complicated, I feel like I’m in a hologram and nothing is what it seems. Every door is not a door. Every wall is actually a window.” She put her hand on her forehead as if she had a headache. “I feel—” She sniffled. “Sorry,” she apologized and held her fist against her mouth, trying not to cry again.

  “It’s okay. I understand you were close to him.”

  She set her tea on the bedside table and curled her legs under her. “Unfortunately, yes. I don’t mean to sound so bitter, but I gave up a lot of myself with him. Time I could have been practicing. And…” She met my eyes to drive the point home that he took her first time, and she hurt because of it. Now he was going across the country to get away from all the things that haunted him. Of course she felt robbed in a sense. “It’s going to take some time for me to heal.”

  “Understandable.” I sat forward. “You know, we saw the side of him that was wearing a mask. I truly believe deep down he hid the side of him that was good— that was not a drunk, not a cheater, and not an all-around asshole.”

  She gave me a weak smile. “I’m glad you stayed. It helps knowing I’m not the only one he hurt.” Her hand flew to her mouth, her eyes wide. “Oh, I’m horrible. You were hurt too, and I haven’t asked if you’re okay.” She sat up straighter, a look of panicked remorse on her face.

  “I’m fine. I’m more worried about you right now. Is your roommate not back in town yet?”