Compose

by Lily Kay

  After her death, something snapped. I was tired of the pain, tired of the fear, and tired of being tired. I didn’t want the OCD anymore, or the anxiety of constantly worrying if people thought I was fat and ugly. I wanted the better life Ann said could be ours.

  I bit my bottom lip and stifled my urge to scream. I willed my pathetic ass off the floor, though my stomach wretched as if I swallowed acid. Still, I remembered how breath could help me calm down.

  Remembering Dr. Liz’s instructions, I controlled air in through my nose, and out my mouth. I had to stand up but my brain refused to transmit the message to my legs. I closed my eyelids until they burned and tightened all the muscles I could think of, held them tight for a few seconds and then released.

  I took another deep breath and sat up, opting for the black tank top I threw to the ground after the first round of outfits. I wiped the dampness from my eyes and slapped my face. Glancing at the clock on my wall, I noticed the time and freaked out again because tardiness and Dr. Liz’s office didn’t mix.

  While I didn’t make many promises when all this therapy began, I did promise Dr. Liz I would never skip out on her appointments unless I had some shit like mono or the swine flu. I gave myself one more pep-talk and forced my way out of the house, feeling like I swam across the English Channel.

  ~ ~ ~

  “Sounds like you had a moment of OCD, and a bit of an anxiety attack.” Dr. Liz’s voice sounded matter-of-fact, like I had done something as benign as folding laundry.

  “I didn’t even realize until about the fourth outfit.” I played with the tissue before attempting to drain the congestion from my sinuses. Crying always made my nasal passages feel like I stuffed wet plaster up my nose and let it solidify. The likelihood of getting stuff to drain by blowing was non-existent.

  I tried preventing my cry-fest until I made it to the office but failed miserably.

  I winced. “I haven’t had an OCD freak-out since pre-hospitalization.”

  “It makes sense, you know. You were stressed about what happened with Gavin and reverted back to what you knew.”

  “It’s still fucked up. I didn’t do any of the other techniques you taught me until the very end. Freaked the living shit out of me once I realized what I was doing.”

  “I see this as a positive. You did realize what you were doing.” Dr. Liz sat still for a moment. “Pre-inpatient, how long would an episode last?”

  I held the pillow tighter to my stomach and slumped back against the chair. I stretched out my legs versus sitting because it eased the squirm in my gut. “I don’t know. I guess one to two hours.”

  “And how many outfits would you have tried on?” She placed my file on the end table next to her chair.

  “All of them. I’d have done every possible combination.” Beyond embarrassing for me to admit. How pre-hospital, I’d scourge my closet every night, trying on every imaginable combination in my closet.

  “And how many did you do this morning before you stopped yourself?”

  I blew air out of my mouth, feeling it brush past my nose and forehead. “Five? Six?”

  “And would you have been able to stop before?” I swore, the woman never lost her cool. Contrary to Dr. Liz, agitation circled me. My foot shook up and down like a seizure, while my fingers played with the bottom hem of my shirt.

  “Hell no.”

  “But you did this time.”

  “I did this time.”

  Dr. Liz folded her hands together, placed them on her lap, and smiled.

  “Good. Next week we’ll start EMDR, barring any other emergencies.” Dr. Liz picked up my file and made a few notes I would never see. “And Louise?”

  “Yes, Dr. Liz.”

  “The phone works both ways, you know. Call him. Next week we can talk about your fear of committing to a relationship.”

  I wasn’t about to tell Dr. Liz she’d be sorely disappointed, because there wasn’t going to be any type of relationship to commit to in the first place. Instead, I waved and headed to my class.

  ~ ~ ~

  Wednesday after theory class, I meandered to the tutoring room and waited. Would tutoring be canceled or not? Gavin entered a few minutes later, unshaven with his hair all in a scruff, which somehow made him look even hotter.

  “Hey, Lou.” He slung his backpack on the table in front of the room. He went over to the piano and patted the seat again, my cue to sit my butt down next to him. “Let’s work on your play and sing.”

  I reached into my canvas navy backpack and found the sight-singing folder. Pulling out the piece of music I shuffled toward the bench.

  He leaned into me, snuck a chaste kiss on my cheek. “You actually going to sing this time?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  Definitely confused. He didn’t even apologize for this past week but gave me a kiss and pretended like nothing ever happened. I forced a reticent smile after finding my left-hand placement on the keys. My right hand conducted two measures without any music and I launched into the play and sang, my voice keeping the shake in my hands company.

  “Nice job.” Gavin pulled a pencil from behind his ear and circled three measures.

  “You had a little hiccup here, here, and here. Look at this.” He pointed at the fifth measure in the piece. “This is going to feel weird, but the triplet you’re playing in the baseline is syncopated here and this note here ends at the same time with the last of these sixteenth notes you’re singing. Don’t lose the 2/4 time either, it switches into 5/8 time here, and back to 3/4 time. You want to try it again?”

  I shrugged. “Sure, okay.”

  True story, I tried. I did. But my heart wasn’t in it. I kept making the same mistake during those two measures. Either I didn’t accent the right note on the piano, or I lost the tempo conducting.

  Gavin had the patience of a Buddhist monk, and we worked on two of the three requirements at a time, before putting the piano, singing and conducting all together. After practicing for twenty minutes, he asked me to find some blank staff paper, and he would play a melody with both treble and bass clef lines. I drew the clefs and embellished the treble with a smiley face before giving him a nod. For the next twenty-five minutes we did transcriptions. By the end, I batted about .500. Not bad.

  I glanced at my cell and noticed the hour had passed. This prompted me to hand over the last of the transcriptions for him to grade. Once he finished checking the notes, he stood up and leaned over the top of the piano, showing me what I missed and conjecturing why I missed it.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  This time I ventured a very stealth sniff of his hair, since his head angled down as he wrote on the staff sheet. And no surprise, he smelled awesome. Whatever he used for shampoo, the tropical smells mixed well with the natural oils in his skin. Sierra would have been proud I didn’t get caught.

  “You good for now?” he asked, insinuating I didn’t have any other assignments to work on for either music classes.

  “I’m good. Thanks again.”

  “Good.” He stood up and waited for me as I shoved my folder and notebook into my backpack.

  “Hey, Lou?” Dark circles formed under his eyes, and I wondered what took him away.

  “Hmm?”

  “Walk with me?” He nodded toward the door.

  I smiled at him. “Okay.”

  “You okay?” He decreased his stride, and I jogged to keep up with him.

  “Why wouldn’t I be?” I asked, in between counting the number of colored tiles interspersed on the floor of the hallway.

  “You’re a terrible liar, you know.”

  I breathed for air because my tears were about to betray me. Before I could say anything else, he seized my hand and pulled me into an empty practice room, shut the door, and trapped me in-between
. He crushed his lips against mine, kissing me like I was a drug he’d never have again. I felt my shoulders release some of the insecure tension built up over the last couple days and fell into his kiss.

  I fumed he hadn’t the decency to call me all week. Leaving me in the dark about why he left. But when his body pressed against me and his tongue danced with mine, any previous thoughts of abandonment seeped out with his kiss.

  “You have no idea how much I missed you.” He drew his mouth up to the sensitive spot where my ear met my jawline. I stuttered air, and my nether regions throbbed. Gavin leaned into me, his body making no secret of how turned on he was. Before I could prevent it, I flinched. Gavin stilled, his eyes searching mine.

  “Louie?”

  Not wanting to talk about the details of my flinch, I pulled away. “Where were you this week?” I asked.

  He stepped back and wiped his forehead, before rustling his hair. He eyed the ceiling, and then concentrated on his feet. He had a secret.

  “An emergency.”

  “You didn’t call,” I blurted out. Ugh, I probably sounded like a possessive insecure girlfriend, which was comical because nerves prevented me from committing. Remembering Dr. Liz’s reprimand, I relented. “I’m sorry. I could have called.”

  Gavin closed the gap between us again and ran his finger down the side of my cheek and through my hair.

  Because I was tired of dancing around the topic and being passive aggressive, I cocked my head up at him. “Who is she? An ex? A cousin?” Please say a cousin.

  He pulled a few strands of my hair and draped them between his fingers. “She’s a friend.”

  Can we say, Sherlock-Holmes-before-he-solves-a-case cryptic? “With benefits?” I clarified.

  “Hell no. I swear. She’s a friend. It’s not what you think. Not even close. You’re the only one I want to be with. I told you I’d wait for you to decide, and I never go back on my word.”

  I might have been able to believe him more if I didn’t know about his history with women. What was the percent likelihood Gavin concerned himself about a woman he wasn’t sleeping with or had sex with in the past? I didn’t know him well enough to guess.

  I watched him for a moment, letting my insecurity take control of this impasse, and homed in on his eyes now glued to mine. They were pleading. I think he told the truth? But why was he being elusive about this friend? A tidal of insecurity rushed over me all over again.

  “How come you didn’t call?”

  “There was a lot of shit going on with my friend, and when I had free time, I was getting my assignments done.”

  “Curious why you couldn’t see me all week?” Son-of-a, I completely sounded like a possessive girlfriend.

  “I can’t tell you.”

  “You can’t tell me, or you won’t tell me.” My body shifted away from his.

  “You gotta trust me. I honestly can’t tell you.” He caressed my cheek and whispered his thumb across my lips.

  I sealed my eyes shut. And you know the feeling you get when you’re on a roller coaster and climbing to the top of the first giant drop off? And you feel like you might barf? Like, oh shit, what have I gotten myself into, feeling?

  That’s the exact emotion ripping through my body.

  My only consolation was in the end, I always felt awesome after being on a good twisting upside down toss your cookies roller coaster. Being with Gavin echoed the same sensation. I only hoped it resulted in me becoming a little braver instead of woozy with motion sickness.

  Gavin released my face and explained how he had another tutoring session. I had more than enough homework to keep me up past midnight. I guess I believed him because instead of kneeing him in the balls and telling him to leave me the fuck alone and to never call again, I told him I could try.

  His entire demeanor changed, from pleading to a sense of relief, like he made it to the doors of the plane before the gate shut. He kissed me thoroughly again, tongue and all, and then bolted out of the practice room for his next appointment.

  We agreed we’d see each other on Friday. The days between seeing him would suck because I constantly daydreamed about the next time we’d be together. Clearly not a recipe for success when two of my classes were already kicking my butt. Regardless, whatever brewed between us, taking it slow was probably a good thing.

  Chapter 13

  My friends split sides on the idea of me staying together with Gavin after what he pulled over the past week.

  Emmy popped over and we were all seated around the table, having some French bread and homemade gazpacho I whipped up when I got home.

  “Look Lou, I tell you this all the time. You know I love you like you’re my sister, and I say it like it is. His excuse was fucking lame.” Matt never held back, but I loved him for it. He didn’t pussy-foot with his opinions.

  “Well, what if he can’t say anything? What if she’s like on some witness protection and he’s the only friend who knows and there was something crazy like she witnessed a mafia murder, and he couldn’t tell me.” Probably unlikely, but I gave myself points for creativity. Matt apparently gave me zero.

  “Louie, the likelihood of your ridiculous story actually being true is about as likely I’ll marry the professor tomorrow, and live happily ever after, naming all of our kids some form of George.” Matt tapped the table repeatedly to the point Sierra finally slapped her hand on his to stop the noise.

  “All I’m saying is when I studied his eyes, I could tell he wasn’t lying.” My instincts told me there was a legitimate reason for his evasion. Why else would he be vague about his relationship with this mysterious female friend if he didn’t have a good reason?

  “Well, as Nick would say, you’re a daft cow if you think he’s not keeping something pretty important from you. Until he comes clean, I’m not sure if you can fully trust him,” Matt said.

  I turned to Nick. “You know him best. Do you think he’s fooling around with this friend? And capable of flat-out lying to me about it?”

  Nick placed his spoon on the table, and leaned back in his chair, lifting the two front legs off the ground. “There’s the rub. I do think he’s a decent guy who fancies you. Maybe a major emergency kept him away for the whole week.”

  “Nick, you are lovely. Matt, you are a dick, though no surprises there,” Sierra interjected. “For real, you are crushing Louie’s hope here. What if his excuse is legitimate, huh? What if this is a best friend who swore him to secrecy about what happened. And he couldn’t call or say anything to Louie? What if his friend got her heart squashed by some douche who got her pregnant and she had to decide whether to get an abortion? Totally possible, you know.” She fenced her spoon toward Matt like a sabre sword.

  Man, when Sierra went on the rampage, she went in for the kill. “What if this ‘friend’ is your Louie, Matt? And she called him because she hadn’t eaten for a week and he rushed her to the hospital but made you swear not to tell anyone? Hmmm?”

  “All right, Sierra, Jesus Christ, you go for the carotid.” Matt found himself squarely in Sierra’s doghouse. She knew he’d understand. Matt was the one who found me dehydrated and refusing to eat over spring break last semester. One perk of having an affair with his advisor? He didn’t skip town.

  “Thanks, Sierra.” Nice to know she always tried to support me, to try and see the optimism even if the picture blurred.

  She smiled at me, and I resigned myself to be careful but willing to take a chance. Because I wanted to understand being in like with someone, and have them be in like with me back. I wasn’t ready for love yet, but I might be able to manage like.

  “We’ll give him the benefit of the doubt. But I promise you, he breaks your heart? I’ll cut off his fingers.” Matt kept threatening to injure Gavin’s fingers.

  I rolled my eyes. “Again. No one is
losing appendages. Even if he does crush my heart, I can handle my own mistakes. I’m a big girl, you know.”

  “Why don’t you call him and see if he can come over tomorrow night. If he cares for you, he’ll cancel his plans, whatever they are, and choose you,” Matt volleyed back.

  “I don’t know, he probably has some stuff going on. He did mention to me all his volunteering with this group in town.”

  Matt ignored my response. “It doesn’t hurt to ask. Tell him you can’t wait ‘til Friday and want to see him sooner.”

  I shook my head at Matt and pled to Nick, Sierra, and Emmy for support. Sierra’s eyeballs remained fixated on the ceiling after hearing Matt’s suggestion.

  “Well, if it’s no big deal, he’ll change it. I can tell he digs you, love. But if it’s a legitimate conflict, he’ll let you know.”

  Nick sided with Matt.

  I scanned Emmy’s reaction, since her silence extended the entire exchange. “It couldn’t hurt,” she said.

  I sighed. “Okay. I’ll text him.”

  Pulling out my phone, I selected his name.

  Me: Hey, Can I see you tomorrow? Any way you can cancel your plans?

  A few moments later he replied:

  I want to see you too, but I made a commitment I can’t get out of. Promise, Friday will come sooner than we think. ☺

  Me: Ok, see you Friday.

  I read his response to the gang. “It must be pretty important because he can’t postpone.” I attempted hiding my disappointment, but my friends weren’t fooled.

  “Well, if you can’t go out with Gavin tomorrow night, we’re having a girl’s night,” Emmy declared.

  Once classes were over on Thursday, we decided Sierra would drive, and we’d pick up Emmy from the dorms. We parked downtown and strolled through the square, letting spontaneity steer our dining choice for the evening.