See

by Jamie Magee

  Heat burned my cheeks. I felt suffocated by him, but I knew that if I didn’t answer there would be a knock on my door sometime in the next few hours, and the last thing I wanted was to take away the balance that I’d found.

  I texted back: ‘Paranoid?’

  Instantly, he responded: ‘Of losing you – yes.’

  ‘You can’t lose something you never had’ I texted back.

  ‘You know that’s not true –’ was his reply.

  Angry tears came to the corners of my eyes – what was with this guy? What was I to him?

  ‘Home now sweet dreams’ was all I could think to say.

  ‘I’m going to call you I want to hear your voice’ was his response.

  ‘No, the house echoes Kara will hear – trying to keep a balance’

  ‘am I on that scale?’

  ‘Just me’ I texted, feeling the confidence behind those words.

  ‘I have patience precious’

  ‘That makes one of us’ I texted back, then threw the phone on the table, uninterested in any response he would have.

  I heard it vibrate again, but I didn’t answer; I just hummed myself to sleep along with the sound of the guitar.

  I was rattled out of my sleep by a vibrating phone. I squinted my eyes and moaned, prepared to tell Britain to just leave me alone and go to sleep, but when I sat up and saw the sunlight coming over the short wall in my room, I knew it was morning. I reached for my phone and pulled it loose from the charger. It wasn’t a text; it was ringing, and the Caller ID said ‘Mom’.

  I slid the bar on the screen to answer. “Hi,” I whispered, not finding my voice so early.

  “Still sleeping?” I heard her say.

  I looked at the clock; on my screen, it was eleven – and a singe of adrenaline raced down my spine as I realized that Draven would be here in an hour.

  “Not now,” I said, sitting up and rubbing the sleep out of my eyes.

  “Did you have fun?” she asked.

  “A lot of fun… good music,” I said, smiling and thinking of hearing my song live, Draven’s voice echoing all around me, and the crowd rocking to their perfect rhythm.

  “Did you see Draven play?” she asked.

  I felt the heat flush my cheeks. I wondered if that was why she’d let me go: because she knew they were going to be there – it was like she trusted him. I found that odd, she didn’t trust anyone.

  “I did. I met him, too; Kara let us get breakfast after the bands played.”

  There was a silence, then I heard her sigh. “She told me,” Mom said quietly.

  “Were you just trying to get a confession?” I asked, trying not to sound sarcastic. I was really just embarrassed that they were talking about me.

  “No, just judging the sound of your voice. Kara said you looked happy. I wanted to hear it.”

  I tilted my head and furrowed my eyebrows, trying to understand what I could have said or done to make Kara think I was happy. I was quite sure I hadn’t acted any different, at least on the outside.

  “It was a lot of fun. Thanks for letting me go – and thanks for my phone,” I said, getting up and looking through my closet for something to wear.

  “Did you get a chance to play any?” she asked curiously.

  My heart started to race as I realized she wasn’t going to let the idea of me playing for her fade.

  I thought of those few precious moments in the studio after she left, as well as the sound I could still hear all around me in the background, and found a way to calm my racing heart.

  “Little bit. Draven said he’d help me. He should be here soon.”

  “Good...,” she said quietly.

  As she said the words, the guitar that had been lingering in the background grew louder, as if to rejoice. I smiled slightly; I swear, it felt like my dad was here.

  “I talked to Evan this morning…he said Draven seemed happy when he came home, too.”

  I blushed as the idea of my mom talking to Evan about me surfaced in my thoughts.

  “I didn’t realize you talked to him so much,” I mumbled.

  “Every day for twenty years,” she said quietly, as if I should know that. I furrowed my eyebrows, knowing that there was no way the two of them were a couple – the idea just seemed so out of place to me. “I was hoping you could spend some time around him, too, but he had to fly out to the UK this morning.”

  “I hope Draven didn’t stay here just to help me with the guitar lessons,” I said in the most believable tone I could manage.

  She was quiet for a few seconds. “Evan just went home to look into a few things…Salem is the only place Draven wants to be right now.”

  “I think it’s the only place I want to be right now, too,” I said before I could stop myself. I squinted my eyes as I waited for her to say something.

  “I’m starting to think we should have just driven home sooner…it seems to be making you stronger.”

  “I don’t feel any stronger…just more confused.”

  “You’re going to be fine,” she promised in the most convincing tone she could manage. “I’m sure you need to get ready. I just have one strange question before I let you go...,” she said in a concerned tone.

  “Alright?” I said in a shaky voice, almost afraid of what she may call ‘strange’.

  “Did Bianca move?” she asked.

  I felt the bottom of my stomach fall out. I swear, this woman always knew when something was faintly off; every time I had the slightest notion of hiding something from her or walking down the wrong path, she’d say or do something just in time to stop me.

  “Um...not sure...why?” I asked, trying to sound surprised.

  “Well, she’d left a few things at the apartment, so I told Rosa to take them to her. She said when she got to the building, the doorman told her that no one by that name lived there and that the apartment number she had was of one that had been going through remodels for almost a year.”

  “Really? Maybe Rosa just went to the wrong building. I’ve been inside before, and there was no construction.”

  “I thought the same thing, so I called the number I had to talk to her dad; I figured I could at least see how that case was going, but that number doesn’t belong to him anymore. I can’t even find a number for his offices downtown – it’s just really strange, like they vanished the second you left town.”

  “I don’t know, mom; I’m sure they have a lot of places to live.”

  “OK. Well, Rosa has her stuff if she asks you for it.”

  I tried to change the subject before she found the words to lecture me on how my choice of friends was all wrong. “When are you flying out? How long are you staying again?”

  “I’m at the airport now. I’m just going to see how everything is working out with the opening. If everything is good, I might just come and stay with you and Kara for a few days. I can work from the house.”

  I held my breath, feeling the stress of having her here at the same time Britain and Bianca were supposed to be here. I knew she was waiting to judge my response.

  “Well, maybe I can learn a few chords before you get here,” was all I could think to say.

  “Right…your teacher should be there soon. I’ll let you go – love you.”

  “Love you,” I said quietly before I hit ‘End’ and pushed the ‘Sleep’ button on my phone.

  I threw it on my bed, then rushed to the bathroom to get ready. As I brushed my teeth and hair, I tried to understand the woman my mother was. I tried to remember a time when we weren’t strangers, but I couldn’t - it seemed like Bianca and Britain had caused us to fall further apart, and I hated that.

  I went to my closet and pulled out a pair of black Capri leggings. I put on a long white tank top, then covered it with a black lace shirt that had short sleeves. I looked through my bag of shoes and found my black and white Sketchers. I slid them on, leaving the short laces loose. I checked the mirror in the bathroom to make sure this outfit had come together righ
t. I didn’t bother putting on makeup; I just put a touch of perfume on my wrist and neck.

  I heard my phone vibrating again; another call was coming in. Thinking it was mom, I rushed to my bed and fumbled with the covers to find it; Bianca’s name was on the ID. I sighed and slid the bar and answered.

  “Since when is your apartment under construction?” I asked shortly.

  “What?!” she asked, surprised.

  “My mom’s housekeeper tried to take some stuff of yours to you, but no luck – under construction.”

  “Rosa’s lost her marbles. I’ll go by there today,” she said in a flat tone.

  “My mom was looking for your dad ,too.”

  “Really?” she said, trying to hold the excitement out of her voice. “She changed her mind – Cancun, do I hear you calling Charlie’s name?”

  “No… not at all. I think she wanted to ask about the case – is that true? How did that work out? You said you gave that stuff to us.”

  “Charlie, Charlie, my sweet Charlie. What I gave you should have just relaxed you – not sent you into some kind of wicked trip. That was legit - that delivery guy had bad intentions, for sure.”

  “Lucky you,” I said as I started to make my bed up.

  “Good alibi, anyways. I still can’t believe she sent you to your sister’s – a little overprotective of you, don’t you think?”

  “It’s not so bad.”

  “Then why are you telling me to stay away? Do you not love me anymore? Sad, sad,” she teased.

  “Not bad for me – for you, yes. I can entertain myself without a sea of department stores,” I rebutted.

  “I’m sure whatever you’re up to will be fun; interesting, at least.”

  I didn’t say anything; I just threw the last pillow on my bed and sat on the edge.

  “Why didn’t you tell me about your dad?” she asked softly.

  “What about him?” I asked, feeling my cheeks blush.

  “Who he was? How he died?”

  “How do you know about that?” I asked shortly, knowing I’d never said anything to her about my father.

  “I Googled your name and Salem so I could see how close the house Britain had was to you – you have his name… Charlie Myers, adored musician, taken in a tragic accident, survived by his beautiful wife, Nichole Myers, and their unborn child.”

  Tears glassed over my eyes. I’d read the article she’d found before. It went on to say how he touched countless lives with his divine gift of music. It was obvious that the writer was a devoted fan to each member of my father’s band - he described them all so perfectly, you felt like you knew them.

  “It’s not something that comes up in passing conversation,” I answered quietly.

  “Charlie, I don’t make many close friends – you know that. It hurts when you don’t let me in.”

  The only close friend I knew of her having was Britain. They said they’d been friends since they were kids, and you could feel an odd bond between them. It was hard to say who was the most dominant one out of the two of them; my gut was telling me it was Britain, but that didn’t balance with the emotion I had to protect him.

  “Listen...I need space – I just wanna be alone.”

  “Because I’m your friend, I’m not gonna let you be alone; if anything, I should be around you more – I was the one that messed you up, apparently – therefore, I should un ‘mess’ you up,” she said in a bleak tone.

  “Bianca...”

  “We’ll just talk about it when I get there tomorrow,” she said calmly.

  Her words infuriated me. How could I possibly be clearer?

  “My mom is coming here then, too – seriously, it’s not a good idea.”

  “We’ll figure it out. You have a car now. Just tell her you’re going on a drive.”

  “ I can’t see you,” I said firmly.

  I could hear Kara talking to someone downstairs, and warm goosebumps covered my body; I was sure Draven was here by now. “I gotta go.”

  I didn’t say goodbye; I just hung up the phone. I then looked to the table at Britain’s phone, sure he would text me any second; they always seemed to follow conversations with me closely, as if to make their presence more defined. I stood and reached for it.

  The last text he sent was around three this morning. It just said: ‘go to sleep, my sleeping beauty’.

  I hit the ‘Sleep’ button and turned it face down. I heard a gentle knock and turned to see Draven standing at the top of my stairs. I lost the ability to breathe for a second. He was wearing dark jeans with worn holes in the pockets, and his black T-shirt seemed to amplify his emerald green eyes. I smiled shyly and told myself to calm down; I couldn’t feel this way about him –it was too dangerous right now.

  “Are you alright?” he asked, looking over me.

  I nodded and tried to smile.

  “Did you dream?” he asked, looking at my made bed.

  I shook my head no. “I forgot to hold fast to the one I never had, but that was a good line. Is it in a song?” I asked.

  “Not yet,” he said as a nervous smile came across his face.

  I nodded, knowing that musicians are always writing, even when they’re nowhere near their instruments.

  “Um...we have to go up one more,” I said, walking to the short staircase on the other side of my room.

  He started to follow me. As I stepped on the first step, I heard the phone on the table vibrate. The feeling of being suffocated - almost trapped - by Bianca and Britain started to move through me.

  “You wannna get that?” Draven asked, looking intently down at me.

  “I don’t hear anything,” I answered holding my arm out for him to go up the stairs.

  A confident smile spread across his face as he started to climb them. I clinched the rail, wanting just to run, from him, from them, from everything that was weighing down on me. The sound of the guitar grew louder as it echoed around me…I found my breath, then found the courage to follow him into my father’s studio.

  As I reached the top of the stairs, I could see him across the room, staring out the window, moving perfectly with the sound I was hearing. My whole body felt numb...so numb...weightless. I didn’t understand the sound; it didn’t make sense that he could hear it, but Kara and Madison couldn’t.

  He looked over his shoulder and smiled shyly, then motioned for me to come to him. I walked past the guitar stand and the black leather couch and went to his side. He smiled slightly and pointed out the window. My eyes followed in the direction he was pointing, and in the distance I could clearly see the top floor of his house. It was facing mine; it almost looked like what I could see was the side of it. It sat below mine and was surrounded by trees. The oval peaks of the house that gave the castle element to it were in clear view from here.

  “That’s where we write,” he whispered, then smiled slightly. “When I play – it doesn’t matter if it’s the dead of night or the middle of the day; I always seem to look in this direction, at this floor. I know it’s good if the lights in this room turn on, and then off.”

  I looked up at him like he was crazy. I knew his house was far enough away that even if Kara was up here, she wouldn’t be able to hear it. Beyond that, I was more than positive that she only really used two rooms in this house: hers and the kitchen.

  I rubbed my hands slowly across my arms. “You’re giving me chills,” I said quietly, wishing I’d put one of my hoodies on so I could hide behind it.

  “I’m sorry…right now…it’s hard for me to judge what you see.” He turned to me, and as he looked into my eyes I could see he was searching for words. “I want to show you how to see…but I don’t think you’re ready.”

  I bit my bottom lip, looking for a way to let him see me, who I really was somewhere deep inside. “You’re my teacher,” I said, turning to walk to the couch his guitar was on. It was a second or two before I heard his footsteps following me.

  As I reached for his guitar, his hand rested on mine as
if to stop me. I dared to look into his eyes, which were just inches from my face. “I’ll use this one,” he said, nodding in the direction of the guitar stand. I swallowed and held my breath as I moved my hand from beneath his. I then walked to the stand and reached for the guitar I’d played yesterday. “Not that one,” he said quietly.

  I looked back. He followed me to the stand, then carefully reached for one of the electric ones; it was dark gray with smoky black lines running across the body. To say the least, this guitar looked intimidating, like only a skilled musician could handle it.

  “I don’t think I’m ready for this one – beginner, remember,” I said in the most confident tone I could manage.

  “Well,” he said, reaching to hand it to me, “don’t think like that.”

  I angled my eyes up at him and let the sly smile I always hid behind come across my lips. As I reached for the neck, I swear I could feel the vibration coming from it, like what’s being played on stage in front of thousands of screaming people; the guitar sound around us seemed to echo what this instrument was capable of. “See,” Draven said, trying to suppress a confident smile.

  “Tell me you how you hear that,” I said, letting my smile fall.

  “Just listen to what the music is saying, and you’ll hear what you need to…when you need to,” he said quietly.

  I looked down at the guitar in my hand, then let my fingers grip the neck, feeling the audacity of playing such a beautiful instrument come over me. “If I play this – will you show me what you see? Do you see more than I do in this room?” I asked timidly.

  He didn’t answer me; he just smiled tenderly, then leaned down, took the cord from the amp, and led it to the couch. He took his guitar out of the case and moved it so I could sit next him. As I watched him put the strap around himself and adjust his fingers against the strings, I lost the ability to breathe again. I had no idea what I’d do if he decided to sing; at this point, I think my heart would finally succumb to the stress I was putting on it - and I’d just die.