Tomorrow night will be the last night I stay here before going back to my own apartment. I’m bummed because I’d much rather be here with Syd than in an apartment with Warren and Bridgette. But that’s what’s going to happen because I’m not speeding this relationship up even faster. Once we move in together, we’ll live together forever. I want to wait until Sydney has experienced life on her own before making that kind of commitment.
I finish brushing my teeth, and then head to the living room. Sydney is on the couch with her computer in her lap. She sees me walk into the room, and she makes room for me on the couch next to her. Like a fluid dance, I sit and she moves and then we’re effortlessly situated in what’s become our standard positions on the couch this week. Me in a half-seated, half-lying pose against the arm of the couch while she lays with her back against my chest and my arm wrapped around her.
We can’t communicate this way very well since we aren’t facing each other, so we usually chat on messenger. Her with her laptop, me using my phone. It feels natural, though. And I like it in the evenings when we spend time together like this because she wears headphones and listens to music on her laptop while we chat. I like it when she listens to music. I like watching her feet sway with the music. I like feeling her voice against my chest when she sings along to some of the lyrics. She’s singing right now as she scrolls through iTunes on her computer. She has the newest Sounds of Cedar album pulled up. They released it as an indie album a couple of weeks after Sydney moved in with us, so none of the stuff she helped me write is on the album she’s browsing. The songs I wrote with Sydney haven’t officially been released yet.
That’s not to say none of the songs on the album she’s browsing were inspired by her. She just doesn’t know that. I watch as she opens her messenger app and types me a message.
Sydney: Can I ask you a question?
Ridge: Didn’t I tell you once to never propose a question by asking if you can propose a question?
Sydney: I just called you a dickhead out loud.
I laugh.
Sydney: The song called “Blind.” Did you write that about Maggie?
I look away from my phone and down at her. She tilts her head and looks back at me, her eyes full of genuine curiosity. I nod and look back down at my phone, not really wanting to discuss the songs I wrote about Maggie.
Ridge: Yes.
Sydney: Did it make her mad?
Ridge: I don’t think so. Why?
Sydney: The lyrics. Specifically the part you wrote that says, “A hundred reasons for the pain and only one on my mind. When did looking out for you make me go blind?”
Sydney: I just feel like if she listened to that, she would have understood what you meant by it and it might have hurt her feelings.
Sometimes I think Sydney understands my lyrics better than I do.
Ridge: If Maggie took those lyrics literally, she never made it seem that way. I write very honestly. You know that. But I don’t think Maggie knows that. She didn’t think everything I wrote was really how I felt. Even though it is, in some form or another.
Sydney: Is that going to be an issue going forward with us? Because I’ll be dissecting every single word of every lyric. Just so you know.
I laugh at her comment.
Ridge: That’s the beauty of lyrics. They can be interpreted many different ways. I could write a song and you might not even know it was inspired by you.
She shakes her head.
Sydney: I would know.
I smile. Because she’s wrong.
Ridge: Play the third song on that album called “For a Little While.”
Sydney presses play on the song and then sends me a message.
Sydney: I know this song by heart.
Ridge: And you think you know what it’s about?
Sydney: Yes. It’s about you wanting to escape for a little while with Maggie. Like maybe it’s a song about her illness and how you wish you could get her away from it all.
Ridge: You’re wrong. This song was inspired by you.
She pauses and then tilts her head, looking up at me. She looks confused, and rightfully so. This song was released shortly after she moved in with me, which probably made her think none of these songs were related to her in any way. Her fingers start tapping at her keyboard as she writes a response.
Sydney: How is this song about me? You would have had to have written it before I even moved in with you. They were already cutting this album when I moved in.
Ridge: Technically, the song isn’t about you. It was just inspired by you. The song is more about me, and how sometimes being outside on that balcony, playing music for the girl across the courtyard, was my escape. It was the little bit of time I got every day where I didn’t feel so stressed. Or worried. I didn’t know you. You didn’t know me. But we were both helping each other escape our worlds for a little while every night. That’s what the song is about.
Sydney immediately stops the song and restarts it from the beginning. She pulls up the lyrics on Google and reads along as the song plays.
For A Little While
I don’t know what you want but you do
If you told me I would make it true
Oh, for a little while
Oh, for a little while
Something changes when the sunlight shines
Shadows fall out of my worried mind
Things go right and then I feel just fine
You and me will be just one tonight
Oh, for a little while
Oh, for a little while
You know for a little while
Oh, for a little while
For a little while I feel okay
For a little while I float away
For a little while I can stay
For a little while I’m on my way
For a little while I’ll be alright
For a little while I’ll be outside
For a little while I’ll be okay
I’ll be okay
For a little while
For a little while
For a little while
When the song ends, she closes out the lyrics and lifts a hand to her eyes, presumably to wipe away a tear. I stroke her hair with my fingers while she types.
Sydney: Why have you never told me this song is about us?
I inhale a breath and release it, pulling my hand from her hair so I can respond to her.
Ridge: It’s the first song that was inspired by you while I was still with Maggie. It was innocent between us because we had never even spoken at the time, but the sentiment still made me feel guilty. This song was my truth and I think I tried to hide it, even from myself.
Sydney: I can understand that. In a way, the song kind of makes me sad for you. Like you were living a life you needed a break from.
Ridge: Almost everyone needs a break from their real life every now and then. I was content with my life before I met you. You know that.
Sydney: Are you still content with your life?
Ridge: No. I was content before I met you. But now I’m deliriously happy with my life.
I lean forward and press a kiss into Sydney’s hair. She leans back and gives me access to her lips, but from an upside-down angle. I kiss her, and she laughs against my mouth before lifting her head and returning her attention back to her keyboard.
Sydney: My father used to say, “A life of mediocrity is a waste of a life.” I used to hate that he would say that because he only said it to prove a point to me about how he didn’t think I should become a music teacher. But I think I get it now. I’ll be content with becoming a music teacher. But he wanted me to be passionate about my career. I always thought that was enough—to just be content. But now I’m scared it’s not.
Ridge: Are you thinking about changing your major?
Sydney nods, but she doesn’t type her response.
Ridge: To what?
Sydney: I’ve been thinking lately about going into psychology. Or counseling of
some form. I’m just so far into my degree that I would practically have to start over.
Ridge: People’s passions change. It happens. I think if you really see yourself in a different line of work other than being a music teacher, it’s better it happens now than ten years into the future. And…for what it’s worth…I think you would be an amazing psychologist. You’re good with music, no doubt. But you’re incredible with people. You could even combine the two majors and do music therapy.
Sydney: Thank you. But I don’t know. Starting over just seems so daunting, especially because I’ll need to get my master’s degree. Which means I’ll be struggling financially for another five years. Which will become your issue, too, if we ever move in together. I won’t have much money to contribute to the bills. It’s just a lot to think about. If I stick with my current major, I’ll be done in less than a year.
Ridge: We don’t need much to get by. I think it’s more important that you do what your heart is telling you to do. As long as you’re doing what you really want to do, I’ll do whatever I need in order to help you see it through to the end. Whether that’s next year with a teaching degree or ten years and a doctorate from now.
Sydney: I’m adding that to my “Things Ridge says” folder. In case I have to revert back to it in the future. Because if I change majors, I’m going to be really broke. So broke, I won’t even be able to buy new clothes. I’ll be wearing this same shirt five years from now.
Ridge: Even if your clothes are faded, they’ll always look new on you.
I feel her laugh.
Sydney: Oh, that’s a good line. You should put that line in a song.
Ridge: I will. I promise.
She slides her laptop off her lap and flips over, climbing up me. She kisses me.“Do you want some ice cream? I want dessert.”
I shake my head. “I’ll just take a bite of yours.”
She kisses me again and then stands and walks to the kitchen. I readjust myself on the couch and open up a text to Warren.
Ridge: What time are we leaving tomorrow?
Warren: I dunno. Let me open up a group text and ask Maggie.
Warren: Maggot, what time are we leaving for the caves tomorrow?
Maggie: Call me that again and I’ll use all the hot water tonight. I don’t know. It’ll be after lunch. Jake can’t be here until noon.
Ridge: Are we doing lunch on the way or should we eat before?
Maggie: Let’s eat on the way. I’ll feel bad if he gets here and hasn’t eaten.
Warren: Okay. Lunch. Be hungry. Got it. Ridge, you and Syd meeting us here or do we need to pick you up?
Ridge: We can meet you guys there.
Maggie: Can I ask a favor? And this is mostly of Warren.
Warren: I’M GOING TO BE NICE TO HIM! STOP WORRYING, MAGGIE!
Maggie: I know you’ll be nice. I don’t worry about that. I worry about you being completely inappropriate.
Warren: Oh. Well, yeah. You should definitely worry about that.
I laugh and set my phone down because Sydney is walking back to the couch with a spoonful of ice cream in her mouth, and I don’t want to think about anything else right now. As if she can see my thoughts, she grins a little, pulling the spoon out of her mouth.
“You want a bite?”
I nod.
She doesn’t sit next to me on the couch to share it with me. She straddles me, holding the bowl of ice cream between us as she adjusts her legs on either side of me. She scoops a small spoon of the ice cream and gives me a bite. I swallow it, and then she dips her head and kisses me. Her mouth tastes like vanilla. Her tongue is cold as it slides against mine.
I pull her closer, but the bowl of ice cream between us is hindering me. I grab the bowl and set it aside on the table next to her and then pull her to me. I kiss her as I slowly lower her to the couch.
She’s about to melt, just like her bowl of ice cream.
Last night I dreamt Jake showed up with a date. A tall redhead with a French accent and black Louboutin heels.
Who goes to explore caves in high heels?
Or…better yet…who shows up for a date with a date?
I was covered in sweat when I woke up, but I’m not sure if it was because Jake showed up in my dream with a date or because Warren and Bridgette shared one body with two heads. Both aspects of my dream were equally disturbing.
I don’t know if it’s my dream that has me so shaken, or if it’s the fact that I’ve yet to have a conversation with Jake about the dynamics of our group, but I’m standing at the bathroom sink trying to brush my teeth, and my hand is visibly shaking.
I want to be able to talk to Jake before he meets everyone, but he’ll be here in half an hour, and I can’t very well call him minutes before he arrives and say, “Oh, by the way, you’re about to hang out with my ex-boyfriend today. Both my ex-boyfriends, actually. It’ll be fun!”
I should have cancelled.
I almost did when I woke up after the nightmare I had last night. I had an excuse all typed out in a text to him about why I needed to cancel, but I was too scared to send it. He’d see right through it. I’ve been unreliable one too many times with him, and pushing him away again would probably be the last contact he’d have with me. Besides, in our conversation last night, he said he wants consistency. I don’t want our consistency to be me pushing him away. I want it to be me following through with him. I just have to get him alone somehow before he meets Warren or Ridge. He deserves to know what he’s getting into before he walks into this apartment.
If I could get him from the front door to my bedroom without him meeting anyone, it would give us a few minutes alone to reacquaint ourselves without standing in the danger zone that is the communal living room of this apartment.
That’s what I’ll do. I’ll somehow drag him to my room before introductions.
As soon as I finish brushing my teeth, I dry my mouth with a hand towel and stare at my reflection. Other than the absolute fear in my eyes, I look like I usually do. I return my toothbrush to my toiletry bag, just as Bridgette swings open the bathroom door that leads to their room. She pauses when she sees me. I pause when I see her.
It’s always been awkward between us, but we’ve never had to share a bathroom before, so the fact that she’s in her barely there underwear takes awkward to a whole new level. For me, anyway. She doesn’t seem bothered that I’m seeing her nearly nude, because she walks straight to the toilet and pulls down her panties to pee.
She’s just as uninhibited as Warren.
“So,” Bridgette says, unrolling toilet paper into her hand. “Does this guy realize what he’s getting into?”
“What do you mean?”
She waves a hand in a circle. “You know. This whole group he’s about to spend the day with. Does he know the history?”
I close my eyes for a second, breathing in steadily. “Not yet,” I say, exhaling.
Bridgette does something she rarely does. She grins.
No…she smiles. A huge, excited smile that reveals all her perfect white teeth. She should smile more often. She has a great smile, although it’s appearing at an odd moment.
“Why do you look so happy?” I ask with caution.
“It’s just been so long since I’ve been this excited about something.”
I look away from her without responding and glance back at my own reflection. I look pale. I can’t tell if it’s because I’m nervous or if my blood sugar levels are off. Sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference between low blood sugar, high blood sugar, or the onset of a panic attack.
I leave the bathroom and walk to the kitchen. My purse is on the counter, so I dig through it until I find my glucose monitor kit. I lean against the counter while I check my blood sugar. As soon as I insert the test strip into the monitor, the front door begins to open.
Ridge and Sydney walk into the apartment, hand in hand. Sydney greets me and Ridge nods, then signs to Sydney that he’s going to shower. On his way to his
bedroom, though, he does a double take when he sees the testing kit in my hands. His forehead naturally creases with worry.
“I’m fine,” I sign. “Just wanted to check it before we leave to be safe.”
Relief floods his expression. “How long before we leave?”
I shrug. “No rush. Jake isn’t even here yet.”
He nods and heads to his bedroom. Sydney sets her purse on the bar next to mine and opens a cabinet, grabbing a bag of tortilla chips.
My glucose levels are in the normal range. I sigh, relieved, then put the kit back in my purse. I grab my phone and open up my texts with Jake. We had a quick conversation this morning. I sent him the address to our apartment, and half an hour later he responded with a text that said, Conference over. On my way.
That was almost an hour ago. Which means he’ll be knocking on the door any minute now.
“You okay?” Sydney asks.
I look up from my phone. She’s leaning against the counter, staring at me with concern as she munches on chips. “You look a little nervous,” she adds.
Is it that obvious? “I do?”
She nods softly, as if she’s trying not to offend me with her observation.
I wasn’t even this nervous when I woke up this morning from my nightmare. But as the hours progress, so does my regret. I wring my hands together as I glance toward Ridge’s and Warren’s bedroom doors to make sure they’re closed. I look back at Sydney once I’m positive she’s the only one in my vicinity. “I’ve picked up my phone to cancel at least three times this morning, but I was never able to hit send on the texts. I just know there’s no way he could possibly enjoy today. I don’t even know why I invited him. I was so flustered when he called back yesterday that I didn’t think any of this through.”
Maybe Now (Maybe #2) Page 23
