4. The Beauty of His Words
1846 Words
“Why are you getting mad!?”
“I had to find out from someone at church about your date!”
“For the last time, Patrick, it isn’t a date! And for crying out loud! I know it was Marie!”
We’re only minutes from Andy’s house but Patrick and I have been arguing for the last 10 minutes on the phone.
“Even if it was Marie, it should have been you.”
“Why else would I have called you? I’ve got nothing to hide.”
“You call me while you’re on your way to the dude’s house? You already made a decision to go.”
“It’s for a Biology report. Quit acting like I’m cheating on you or something.”
“Do you like him?”
“As a person, sure, but Patrick. I’m with you.”
“You know what I’m asking.”
“Oh my gosh Patrick. He’s just a classmate, I swear.”
“Sylvia, don’t lie to me.”
“If you’re going to believe someone else over your own girlfriend, why are we together?”
Silence.
“You’re right Syl. We shouldn't be together.”
“Oh wow. This is ridiculous. Bye Pat.”
“Seriously? You know I hate being called ‘Pat.’”
“You know what I hate? Being called a Liar!”
Silence.
“I’m here, I need to go.”
“Sure, have fun on your date.”
“Thanks, I will.”
And with that I hang up.
Freakin’. A.
I hear a loud sigh as the car pulls into the driveway. I look over at Mallory who has been silent this whole time but looks like she’s bursting now to say something.
“I’m sorry.” I say to her.
“For what?” she asks. “You did nothing wrong.”
“I know…” I say. “I just don’t want to put a damper on your date.”
“It’s fine Syl,” she waves it off. “I’m proud of you for holding your ground. Pat is being unreasonable.”
I can’t help but giggle at her use of “Pat.” She must have been able to hear the whole conversation with us yelling.
“Looks like you’re in the clear,” she says as she nods towards the front of the house. “Unless Andy is like 40, I’m sure that’s his dad.”
I look in the same direction and see an older version of Andy sitting on the porch. He’s sitting but his long legs and torso give away his height. He’s waving and has the same kind smile that reaches to his brown eyes except they are framed by wood glasses. He is wearing a checkered-button-down collared shirt with jeans. If those jeans had holes in them, I would think I traveled years into the future.
“Haha I’m sure it is,” I laugh. “Thanks for the ride! I will see if mom can pick me up in a few hours.”
“Okay, but call me if you need anything!”
“Of course,” I give her a side hug, “love ya!”
“Love you too girlie,” she says as she ruffles my hair.
“Hey!”
“What? It’s not like you need to be cute since it’s not a date!” She winks.
“Har-har” I retort getting out of the car as she laughs and puts the car in reverse.
“Be good!” she says before driving off.
“Hi Mr. Bishop, I’m Sylvia,” I introduce myself to the man who is now standing up to greet me.
“Hello Sylvia! Welcome to my home!” he smiles as he shakes my hand.
Now that I am closer, I notice Mr. Bishop’s eyes have a hue of green to them and is much taller than I anticipated.
“Thank you!”
“Go in and make yourself at home,” he says. “Oh and you will have to work a little harder at getting Andy’s attention.”
“I’m sorry?” I don’t know if I should be offended.
“Oh I mean because Andy is in the basement playing his drums,” he explains. “He’s got his headphones on and you will have to to wave him down to get his attention because he can’t hear you.”
“Aww. I see,” I nod, relieved he didn’t mean what I thought he did.
He walks me into the residence and I immediately notice the difference between our homes. On the outside the house looks like any suburban home, but on the inside, I can’t help but notice it is missing… character.
At home, we have portraits on the wall and a lot of bright colors that accent the modern furniture. Here, there are very few photos, save for small frames filled with aged pictures that look no later than the late 80s. The couches seem to match that same era… actually, the house looks like it never left the disco era.
“Right through that hall to the left, you’ll find the stairs down to the basement.”
“Thanks I say!” as I make my way down the carpeted hall.
Even the walls smelled aged. I make my way down the hall decorated with vinyl records of artists like “The Beatles” and “Jimi Hendrix.”
Okay, those are pretty cool.
I can hear the clashing of symbols and the beating of drums more clearly as I open the door to the head of the stairs. I make my way down and when I reach the bottom, I spot Andy towards the back corner of the basement. He is completely lost in his own world.
He is behind a plexiglass wall that wraps around a rather impressive black and blue drum set. He is wearing the same destroyed jeans but only a white tank and massive headphones.
His eyes are closed and I watch his body move to the rhythm of the music only he can hear. I’m completely fascinated. I’ve only seen one person play the drums in person at church and it isn’t near as lively or as… passionate, as this.
I don’t want to interrupt this beautiful display but he senses my presence and when he opens his eyes, he captures mine. He doesn’t miss a beat and keeps playing while never breaking our gaze. I’m captivated. I can almost hear the music just by his playing.
He does a last crescendo when he finally looks away to finish the song with a final clash of the cymbal. He takes a breath before he opens his eyes again and smiles when we find each other's gaze again.
“Hi gorgeous!” He greets me as he takes his headphones off.
I blush insatiably.
“Gorgeous?” I ask, “Lost my goddess status, have I?”
“Never,” he says as he stands up and makes his way around the wall separating us.
My heart feels like I’ve just jogged a million laps around the track the closer he gets.
“You want to give it a go?”
With you? Yes.
“A go?” I nearly whisper.
“Yeah, on the drums,” he points towards the set with his sticks in hand.
“Oh. No, I’ve got no rhythm,” I say nervously.
“I’m sure I can teach you a thing or two,” he says menacingly.
Oh, I don’t doubt that.
“We should probably get started on our report, no?” I try to take us back to the task at hand.
“If you insist,” he says with a shrug.
“Yes,” I say firmly. I don’t think I can handle anymore of whatever is happening. “Do we work here? Or-”
“In my bedroom?” he asks with a wink.
“Or up in the living room” I suggest instead.
“Here is fine,” he says. “It’s more private.”
Oh boy.
We settle down where there’s a lounging area set up with a couch and some bean bag chairs. I choose to sit on the bean bags while he chooses the left side of the couch.
“You know you can sit next to me,” he says with a grin. “I don’t bite… always.”
“Do you ever stop flirting?” I ask boldly.
“Not really,” he says.
“Okay then.” I really need to be the one to keep us focused. “Did you take notes today?”
“I was a bit distracted today,” he says with a wink.
“Andy, seriously,” I’m getting impatient now. “I really need you to do your part on this project.”
“Okay, so all work and no play?,” he doesn’t really ask. “I promise I will if you answer one question.”
I raise an eyebrow at him.
“What is it?”
I already regret this.
“Did you have a crush on me in middle school?”
I can’t lie.
“Yes, but that was a long time ago,” I say without looking at him.
“And now?” he asks with real interest.
“That’s two questions,” I remark. “We’re not doing math but you said you would work if I answer one question.”
“You got me,” he says in surrender. “Here are my notes.”
He takes his notebook out and flips it open to what I think are supposed to be notes on endocrine systems and hands them to me.
“What is this?” I say holding up the notebook for him to explain.
“Oh, that’s nothing,” he tries to grab the notebook out of my hands.
“Wait a minute!” I say trying to keep it out of reach. “You have to answer a question of mine too!”
His hand pauses, mid-reach, as he contemplates his next move.
“It’s only fair,” I say with a pout.
He stops reaching and studies my face.
“You’re lucky you’re gorgeous,” he says.
I shrug and smile at him in my easy victory.
“Well?” I inquire. “What is this?”
“It’s a song I’ve been writing,” he says with a nervousness I’ve never seen this overly-confident boy have.
I look down at the notebook and see where he’s written words and lines of music notes with little drawings around the edges.
“Do you care if I read it?” I ask, not wanting to violate his privacy.
He looks like he wants to say no but instead…
“Yeah, go ahead,” he says. “But before you do, can you promise me you won’t tell anyone?”
I promise him with every fiber of my being.
Your smiles fades into frowns
My heart already feels heavy at the first line.
“Are you sure you’re comfortable with me reading this?” I ask him again.
“Yeah, I trust you,” he says reassuringly.
I take a deep breath and start from the beginning.
Your smile fades into frowns
Your laughter into cries
And I can’t remember now
How to make you try
Try to be around
The lullabies are your goodbyes
When your voice saying hello
Would be all I needed to feel whole
My eyes become blurry as the beauty of his words sting deeper than I would like to admit.
“Andy this is incredible,” I say breathless.
“Thank you,” he says sincerely. “It’s about my mom.”
Oh wow.
“I’m sorry,” I try to tread lightly. “Is she…”
“She’s very much alive,” he says, almost with a glint in his eyes.
“No, I mean… that’s good? Right?” I have no idea how to navigate this.
“She left my dad years ago,” he says. “She was never happy.”
“My dad left too,” I say, understanding.
“Hey, look,” he says, “we’re just a couple of abandoned kids.”
He laughs but I can hear the familiar pain behind it.
“We’re too good for them,” I say.
“Yeah, f**k them,” he says with a resentment I knew all too well.
“Yeah, f**k them.” I agree, even when the cussing felt unnatural coming out.
This makes him laugh.
“Sylvia, with the potty mouth!?” he is shocked. “Guess you’re not as innocent as I thought.”
I laugh because he seems like he’s getting back to his normal self.
“I’m not that innocent,” I say defensively.
“Sure you’re not,” he says, still laughing. “Shall we get back to work?”
“You mean are we going to actually start working?”
“I mean I have things I would rather do with you,” he winks. “But I know you’re definitely too innocent for that.”
“Oh my gosh! Andy!” He’s definitely back to himself. “School work, and only school work is what is going to be happening.”
“For now,” he says with a confidence I don’t dare match.
* * *
- Writer
