Before

by KE Payne

  “Whichever.” I put my guitar down by my feet. “Both will sound amazing, I think.”

  I picked up my piece of paper with notes and scribbles across it and drew my knees up to my chest, resting the paper on my thighs. I pulled my pencil out from behind my ear and crossed out a line, adding Alex’s name and a question mark next to it.

  “Let me see?” she asked, holding her hand out for the paper.

  “I added you here.” I tapped the end of my pencil on the paper then handed it to her.

  We sat on the floor, our backs resting against the sofa, and looked at my notes together.

  “I like this line.” Alex smiled over to me. “And when you’re lonely, just close your eyes and let me come to you,” she read. “It’s lovely.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You write such beautiful lyrics.”

  My shyness at my own work, never too far away, came to the surface. But like all good shy people, instead of answering her I chose to ignore her comment. Instead, I took the paper from her and said, “I’m not too sure about this bit, though.”

  “Which bit?” Alex leant closer.

  “This. My thoughts won’t leave me alone, even though I try so hard. You said you loved me but it wasn’t enough. You said you cared but what did I do? And now the hauntings in my mind follow me around…”

  Alex reached over and tapped her finger on the paper. “This?” she said. “Beautiful. Just beautiful.” She looked at me. “Why aren’t you sure about it?”

  “Would it work with the chords we’ve written?” I asked.

  “Make it work,” Alex said. “You can’t take a line like that out.”

  “I guess I could slow it down a little.”

  Alex tilted her head to one side and studied me. “You should have more faith in your abilities, you know.”

  “Yeah.” I laughed. “Maybe.”

  “Totally.”

  “Says the girl who on our first day in the studio together told me I was pitchy.” I don’t know why I said that. But I was kind of glad I had.

  “Tal. Seriously?” Alex shoulder-bumped me. “Haven’t I apologized like a thousand times for that?”

  “You can keep apologizing for it.” I laughed and pushed her back, then bowed my head back over my piece of paper. “Line five,” I asked. “What do you think?”

  Alex leant over again and looked. Her hair tickled the skin on my upper arm, making it goosebump. She didn’t answer, and I was suddenly acutely aware of the silence that had filled the room. All I could hear was our breathing. All I could sense was Alex’s closeness to me, her hair tickling my arm, her hip and thigh pressed up against mine, her warmth seeping in through the material of my jeans, joining my own increasingly warm skin. My breathing became shallow and I had the sudden crazy notion that I shouldn’t breathe on her, so I started to breathe softly through my mouth. That sounded odd though, so I breathed through my nose again, feeling more and more anxious with every breath. Finally, to my relief, Alex leant away again. I shifted my position on the floor, shuffling myself an inch or so away from her.

  “Maybe use some extension chords,” she said, “rather than basic triads.”

  I scribbled out some lines, grateful for the distraction.

  “Sing it?” Alex asked.

  I sang the lines, pleased when Alex nodded and gave a small clap.

  “Nice.” She looked over to me, our eyes meeting at the same time. “Really nice,” she added quietly.

  I pulled my eyes away, feeling my face grow hot again. I needed to concentrate, I knew. This was about writing a song for Nicole, to let her know. Alex had no idea about the meaning behind the words, and I wanted it to stay that way.

  “This bit here,” I said, tapping the end of my pencil on the paper, “should be stripped back in the middle eight so it’s just strings, I thought.” I stared down at the paper. “I thought violins would give it a more haunting sound.”

  “That’s a shift in direction.” Alex nodded, I hoped, in approval. “I think that could work.”

  “I’d have to run it past Robyn and Brooke, of course,” I said, “but I think they’d be okay with it.”

  I stretched my legs out in front of me, suddenly stiff from sitting on the floor.

  “I think violas and cellos,” Alex said. “And here too.” She shuffled closer to me again, took the pencil from my hand, and put an X next to a line of written music. “Lower than violins and more unusual. More mellow too.” She scratched her chin with the pencil. “And it’ll make the bass more prominent,” she added with a grin. “It’ll sound immense, bet you.”

  “Sounds good,” I said. “Could we add it again later?”

  “It needs a line like”—Alex looked up to the ceiling and puffed out her cheeks—“love can hurt, but can’t you see? The things I did, you’ll never understand. Then back to that awesome line you did before, And now the hauntings in my mind follow me around, but this time add the strings.”

  “Love it.” I snagged the pencil back from Alex and wrote it down.

  “And a countermelody on the cellos and violas.” Alex gave me a small shove. “It’ll complement your writing beautifully.”

  I wrote down countermelody on my paper.

  “Thank you.” I tucked the pencil back behind my ear. “For all of this.”

  Alex stretched her arms up, locking her hands above her head. “Writing music,” she said with a yawn, “is what it’s all about, just as much as performing.” She let her arms flop back down to her lap and drew her knees up to her chest. “It’s a good way of getting thoughts out too,” she added, resting her head back against the sofa. “All those innermost thoughts that you can’t speak,” she murmured.

  I didn’t reply.

  “So who are you writing ‘Perspectives’ about?” Alex suddenly asked. She rolled her head and gazed at me. “Who’s in your innermost thoughts that you have to write about them?”

  “No one.” Even to my own ears, I sounded sharp. “Why does there have to be someone?”

  “You see,” Alex said with a laugh, “I was only kidding with you until you said that last bit.” She held my gaze. “But the way you answered makes me think perhaps I was right.”

  “You’re not.” I scrambled clumsily to my feet, my pencil dropping from behind my ear as I stood. “Drink?” I asked.

  I walked to the kitchen, not waiting to hear Alex’s reply. Once in the kitchen, I gripped the side of the cupboard, annoyed with myself. I could have laughed it off. I could have just joked with Alex. But no. I had to act all brittle and sensitive. I tossed a look over my shoulder, back to Alex still sitting on the floor. She didn’t have to know anything about the song, or about Nicole. My reasons for writing it in the first place. Nothing.

  “You didn’t answer,” I called back to her. “Drink?”

  “You got a Dr Pepper there?” she called back.

  I pulled two Dr Peppers from the fridge and went back to her, handing her a can as I scooted past her and wiggled down on the sofa behind her.

  “Try a sus four here.” Alex held the paper up to me. “I think it could work.”

  “With the guitars?”

  “Yup.” Alex opened her can. She took a drink then said, “It’s important to you, this. Isn’t it?”

  “‘Perspectives’?” I replied. “Of course. All my songs are important to me.”

  “But there’s something about this one,” Alex said, “that seems different.”

  “Nah.” I opened my can. “It’s no different.”

  “Mm.”

  I could tell Alex wasn’t convinced.

  We drank our Dr Peppers in silence for a while. I watched Alex, her head bent over her lap as she studied the now slightly dog-eared piece of paper with the draft of “Perspectives” written on it, occasionally quietly humming a line to herself.

  “Okay, so I wrote it about someone I know,” I suddenly said. “‘Perspectives,’ I mean.” I grimaced. Obviously.

  “I know.” Al
ex carried on humming again. “See this bit here?” She hoisted the paper up over her head again and shot a look to me. “Should go up at the end, I think.”

  She sang the line and was absolutely right. It sounded beautiful.

  “Change it,” I said.

  “Yeah?”

  “Do it.” Instinctively I squeezed Alex’s arm. “It sounds lovely like that.”

  I watched over Alex’s shoulder as she rubbed out the music and changed it.

  “You think they’ll like it?” she asked.

  “Who?”

  “The person you wrote this for.”

  “I didn’t write it for someone,” I said. “I wrote it about someone.”

  “Same thing, isn’t it?” Alex suggested.

  “It’s not like that,” I said.

  I watched as Alex put her can down next to her, then moved slightly as she shuffled herself up onto the sofa beside me. She sat sideways looking at me, one leg tucked under the other.

  “So what is it like, then?” she asked. “Are you harbouring feelings for someone?” I saw the mischievousness that danced behind her eyes and immediately felt uncomfortable. “Are you trying to tell someone something?”

  My unease escalated.

  “Well it’s not Josh—what was his name? Year Ten Josh.” Alex smiled. “You said it was like kissing a vacuum cleaner, or something like that.”

  “Stop it, Alex.”

  “So is it the girl you kissed?” Alex’s playful eyes shimmered. “Or another one you’re not telling me about?”

  “You’ve got no idea.” I shook my head. “So stop teasing.”

  I saw Nicole in my mind’s eye, smirking. I knew what she’d be saying and her voice in my head was crystal clear.

  You think you can make everything okay by writing a song about it all? You think that’ll ease the guilt? Whatever. If it makes you sleep easier, Tally…

  “It is, isn’t it?” Alex laughed. Her laugh pushed me over the edge.

  “Christ, Alex. You’ve absolutely no idea about any of this.” I stood up, kicking over Alex’s can of Dr Pepper as I did so and swearing loudly as its contents splashed out across the carpet.

  “Shit.” Alex sprang to her feet. “I’m sorry. Wait. Let me—”

  “It’s fine.” I brushed her away and strode to the kitchen. I grabbed a cloth and came back into the lounge, then dabbed at the black, sticky mess as it still bubbled and frothed on the carpet, the tears that had been threatening all day filling my eyes.

  “I’ll go,” Alex said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

  “No,” I said, reaching up for her arm. “I’m sorry too. Don’t go.”

  The last thing I wanted was for Alex to leave. Not like that. Not under a cloud after we’d had such an awesome day together.

  I looked around for Nicole, but she’d gone.

  My hand was still on Alex’s arm. While I looked up at her, she put her hand over mine and smiled down at me.

  “If you’re sure?”

  My smile matched hers. “I’m sure,” I said.

  *

  “It’s going to stain, isn’t it?” Alex said, looking down at the carpet. “Tal, I’m really sorry.”

  “I’ll ask Ed to get someone in.” I followed Alex’s gaze down to the carpet. “Place could do with a spring clean anyway.”

  “It’s August.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  We were sitting back on the sofa, Dr Pepper cans safely placed away back in the kitchen.

  “You think it’ll come off?” Alex asked.

  The stain. All we could talk about was the stain, like Alex was afraid to speak about “Perspectives” again in case I went off on one like I’d just done.

  “Yeah, it’ll come off.”

  The words I wanted to say to Alex about Nicole were just under the surface, just another breath away. Just another long, awkward silence, or another look. But I still couldn’t tell her. I knew why, though. I didn’t want Alex to feel about me how I felt about myself.

  But I also did want to tell her. My mind raced.

  “Nicole,” I finally blurted out. “I wrote ‘Perspectives’ with her in mind.”

  “Okay.” Alex drew the word out. “Because?”

  I chewed at the inside of my cheek. “Remember I told you once before I kissed a girl?”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  “It was Nicole,” I said. “She was my first kiss, and my only kiss with a girl.”

  “Was this when you were in the band together?” Alex asked.

  I nodded. “About nine months ago.”

  “Did you…date?” Alex asked. “Did Robyn and Brooke know?”

  “No, we never dated,” I said, “but Robyn and Brooke knew something had happened between us.” I drew in a deep breath. Time to confess. “Nicole wanted to be with me, you know? Like a couple.”

  “And you?”

  I shook my head. “When we kissed, it took me totally by surprise, and I did really like it at the time,” I said, “but that didn’t mean to say I wanted to be with her.”

  “You didn’t fancy her?”

  “It was Nicole.” I sighed. “She was my best mate,” I said, frowning. “She was my bandmate. How could I?”

  “You didn’t answer my question, though,” Alex said. “Did you fancy her?”

  “I don’t know.” I shrugged. “I genuinely don’t know.” I shot Alex a look. “How do you know if you’re into a girl?”

  “Oh, you know.” Alex smiled. “She’ll be all you can think about. You’ll go to bed thinking about her, wake up thinking about her. Probably dream about her when you’re asleep too.” She stretched her legs out in front of her. “You’ll do anything to please her. Hang on her every word. If you ever make her laugh? You’ll be on cloud nine for hours afterwards.”

  I shifted in my seat. I remembered the first time I’d made Alex laugh. I also remembered the feeling of triumph that had accompanied it, and which had stayed with me for a long time afterwards. That had never happened with Nicole. I’d certainly never thought about her all the time either. Never dreamt about her. That had to mean something, surely.

  “When did you know?” I asked. “That you liked girls, I mean.”

  “Laura Whitworth.” Alex chuckled. “I figured I couldn’t feel that strongly about a girl and not be gay.” She looked at me. “Then, when I met my first girlfriend, it felt so right, you know?”

  “But you’re not out?”

  “I’m not in either,” Alex said. “My parents and brothers know, and that’s all that matters to me.” She shrugged. “It’s nothing to do with anyone else, who I see in my private life.”

  “I guess not.” I looked at her. “So did you tell your parents, or…?”

  “My mum had already worked it out,” Alex said. “We had the mum chat, and it was the single most embarrassing experience of my life. I was talking to my girlfriend at the time online, you see, and my mum came in on the pretext of asking me if I wanted any laundry doing and then just kind of hung around by my bed while I was having online sex.”

  “No way!”

  “Way.” Alex groaned. “She started going on about confusion and the music industry being a hotbed of sexualization and told me to make sure I was comfortable with my sexuality,” she said, “and I swear to God I died inside.”

  “But she was okay with it?” I asked.

  “Oh, totally.” Alex rested her head back. “My parents are cool like that.”

  I thought of my own parents. Would they be as cool about it as Alex’s? I kind of thought they would be.

  “So Nicole liked you, right?” Alex asked, pulling my thoughts away from my parents.

  “Yeah.”

  “Must have been tough for her.” Alex paused. “Wait,” she said, “is that why she left?”

  “We danced around each other for about three months after we’d kissed,” I said, “Nicole always hoping I might…” The words caught in my throat. “When I told her I didn’t thin
k I wanted to be with her, she, well, she sort of went off the rails a little.”

  “When Ed approached me to join Be4,” Alex said, “he told me Nicole had left to do some solo work.”

  “She fell in with some people,” I said carefully. “Did some stuff.”

  “Drugs,” Alex said.

  She made it sound like a declaration rather than a question, but I nodded anyway.

  “This is to go no further,” I said. “Only a few people know. If the press ever got hold of it…”

  “It’ll go no further.”

  I trusted her.

  “So where is she now?” Alex asked.

  “Croft House,” I said, “and two months into her rehab.”

  “I’ve heard of it.” I saw Alex frown. “A boy from Sing talked about it once.”

  “You know, Ed wouldn’t even tell me where she was at first,” I said. “I just woke up one day and she was gone. Like she’d never existed.” I laid my head back and stared up at a crack on the ceiling. “That was the worst thing. My best mate, just…gone.” I rolled my head and looked at Alex. “Whatever had gone on between us, Nicole was still my soul mate.”

  “You must miss her.”

  “I do.” I looked back up at the ceiling. “The other awful thing is knowing it was me that put her in Croft House in the first place.”

  “You can’t think like that, Tal,” Alex said.

  “That’s not what she told me yesterday.”

  “You’ve seen her?” Alex sounded surprised.

  “I felt like I needed to,” I said. “We were told we couldn’t see her at first. When I found out I could, I was straight over there.”

  “I see.” Alex paused. “And?”

  “And she hates me.” I gave a small laugh. “Still.”

  “Can’t put a Rizla paper between love and hate,” Alex murmured.

  “Oh, her love for me fizzled out a long time ago, I think,” I said. “Now all she feels is resentment that I was the one who put her in rehab.”

  “Those were her words?”

  “Yup,” I said. “She said she only started taking drugs because she was so cut up about me.”

  “That’s really unfair.”

  “Maybe,” I said, “but it’s probably true.”