The Music of Love

by Sandine Tomas

  Surprised, Julian turned his head, looking up over his shoulder. “Yeah… who’s—” Oh.

  Legs moved closer until Julian could make out the fine weave of an expensive pair of slate-gray slacks. A hand reached down as if to help Julian up. He stared at it stupidly, mouth slightly open, eyes locked on a shiny leather belt.

  Timothy Harrison looked around the file room. “So. You’re working… here… instead of at the courthouse today?” The words were tinged with disappointment.

  Julian felt defensiveness stir. “Yeah. I know you all have it covered. So, I thought I’d—” He pointed vaguely to the files he’d been sorting. “What happened?” Julian asked, wondering why the managing partner was back from the courthouse.

  He got a dismissive hand wave for an answer. “They called a short recess, and I needed to pick up something. To be honest, I was wondering where you were. But now we’ll have a chance to chat. Why didn’t you go to court?” Timothy asked again.

  Standing and worrying if this was the sort of chat that needed to be conducted across a desk rather than a file room, Julian stammered, “Um. Everyone else went.”

  “You didn’t.”

  “They didn’t need me. Not a lawyer.”

  Timothy nodded. “Julian, tell me, why are you working here?”

  “It’s a good job.” Julian hated the defensiveness in his voice. “And you just promoted me to manager.” Heart thumping, Julian prepared himself to hear he wasn’t good enough.

  “You know, when he graduates, I plan to bring Zach in as an associate.”

  “Yeah? That’s great.” Julian suspected that already, given how amazing at his job Zachary was, not to mention his top grades in school. Folding his arms across his chest, he waited for the shoe to drop.

  “Julian, I think you know that we all value you so much. You have an excellent mind. Why don’t you consider law school yourself as a next step?”

  “Law school?” Julian’s lungs contracted as the air whooshed out of his body—because of all the scary things he expected to hear, somehow those words shivered over his skin like a snake’s hiss.

  “It’s a natural choice. All the other paralegals are law students, aren’t they? And you are more than capable.”

  Julian heard the underlying sincerity in the other man’s tone. Yet the urge to cry built behind his eyes like a flash flood. A lawyer? It was Zachary who lived and breathed the law, believed in Lady Justice, lit up when he entered the courtroom. That was Zachary’s life, his dream. But it wasn’t Julian’s.

  “The first thing is for you to take the LSATs,” Timothy said, assuming that Julian thought favorably on the idea. “And I wager Zachary would approve. I think he’d be happy that you decided to take that vital next step in your life, especially now that you’re settling down.”

  Afraid to speak, Julian kept his head down and watched a satisfied Timothy say he had to get back to court. “We’ll talk again,” the older man promised.

  After a few paralyzed seconds, Julian fled the constricting file room. The workday was not yet over, but everything about the office was choking him, from the yellow-white lights to the nubby carpet to the ever-present dust of paper.

  Tense and defensive, he walked around the incessantly busy business district with an internal argument playing on a loop with each stride. On the one hand, it was a good job managing the office like he did.

  Why don’t you consider law school yourself as a next step?

  The next step to what—to a desk job?

  And exactly what kind of job did he have now?

  Except, that was different, wasn’t it? It was to pay the bills. It didn’t mean that was his life. He reached in his pocket for his anxiety medicine and popped a pill dry.

  Shit, it had been over a year since he’d played with The Last Cowboys. Why was that? Shame at what had happened that last time? It’s not like Zachary ever said he shouldn’t play with them. There just was never any time. But that didn’t mean Zachary didn’t understand what music meant to Julian.

  I wager Zachary would approve. I think he’d be happy that you decided to take that vital next step in your life, especially now that you’re settling down.

  No, Zachary wasn’t thinking that, was he? Marc’s and Timothy’s words swirled like a dervish—plan for the future, settle down. They didn’t care if he never saw another song again. Why would they? That was weird, not what regular, responsible people did. He couldn’t actually recall the last time he and Zachary had discussed Julian’s music. They spent most of their time discussing work, but that was because of circumstance—there was a case. When wasn’t there a case?

  His aimless footsteps eventually took him to the streets that led toward home. He didn’t know if he’d achieved anything with all his brooding, but he did acknowledge one truth. The idea of law school felt like defeat, like loss. And the darkness of that abyss was rooting itself deeper by the second.

  As Julian let himself in the front door, Zachary pounced on him like an overgrown puppy, praising Timothy’s oratory skills and Brian’s case-building savvy and Rhonda’s sharklike drive to win. Julian wished he could share Zachary’s good mood. After all, the plaintiff was a deserving woman, and he believed in justice, just not as much as Zachary. And really, deep down, where truth lived, he didn’t give a fuck about any of it.

  And it was surrounding him like an alligator-filled moat.

  When he’d stopped bouncing in excitement, Zachary went to kiss him, and Julian responded tepidly, still mired in Timothy’s bizarre suggestion. He sensed Zachary’s confusion and brushed a hand over his jaw before staring an indeterminate moment at his dusty guitar case leaning against the wall.

  Zachary’s gaze followed his, catching on. “Jules… I know we jumped from Peterson straight to Stuart and—”

  “You think?”

  “Yeah, I know, but the case is—”

  Frustration bubbled over. “I haven’t played a note, Zach. Not one. Fuck, I haven’t seen anything. Been fucking hollow!”

  “Jules—” Holding his arms palms out, Zachary regarded him as one might a rabid dog, with reserved caution. Great—first he deceived, then annoyed, and now scared his man away.

  Julian couldn’t remember the last time he’d raised his voice like that. “I’m sorry I yelled. I’m just in a mood. It’s not you.” Frustration surged, and he also couldn’t get Timothy’s words out of his head.

  He’d hoped the long walk would bring a semblance of clarity. He didn’t know what the hell had happened to him. How this discontent had festered, unknown, for so long.

  Tidy stacks of labeled files peppered his coffee table, spilling onto the floor. He did this job well. Wasn’t ego. Just fact. And he always did well in school. Came easy. So Timothy’s absurd suggestion of law school wasn’t impossible. He could join the rest of the world and come out of his fog. The predictable order of his time in the office could extend over all aspects of his life. Crisp. Clean. Neat. No mess. No drama. Just endless striations of gray.

  Normal.

  “Julian.” Julian looked up startled. “How come you weren’t in court today?”

  “Didn’t need me.”

  “That’s not true.” Zachary frowned, then walked into their kitchen and pulled out some Chinese leftovers, quietly placing the contents into microwavable dishes and getting dinner started. After filling up two plates, Zachary gazed unhappily at the full coffee table and settled for standing by the kitchen counter to eat instead. Julian approached and picked at the food, absently chewing while his thoughts continued to race.

  “I don’t understand, Jules. Why would you think we didn’t need you in court? You’ve been invaluable. Hell, you’ve got this freakish photographic memory. You think I never noticed that? You’re the smartest person I know. You know as much about the law as I do.”

  “Yeah, maybe I should go to law school,” Julian bit back.

  “What?”

  Something about Zachary’s considering look made Julian as
k again, “Do you think I should go to law school?” Julian twirled his lo mein, as if trying to strangle his fork. Timothy had to be wrong. Zachary will say no. Laugh at me. He doesn’t really want Marc’s version of the perfect wind-up boyfriend—sociable and predictable. All set up with a five-year plan. Fucking normal.

  The silence went on way too long as Zachary gave him a look that Julian could not recognize. “Sure. Why not? If you wanted.”

  Silver mercury slithered along his veins, poisonous and slow. Betrayal, disgust, bitter disenchantment, bludgeoned each heartbeat till he felt bile rising. He dumped the food in the trash bin and grabbed his guitar case.

  “Where are you—”

  “Going to Gabe’s for a while.” Thinking longer on it, he said, “Might spend the night.”

  “What the hell?” Zachary disposed of his own dinner and blocked his path. “You’re leaving?” Brows drawing together, Zachary said, “What’s wrong? Talk to me.”

  Julian fought off a bitter laugh. “We did talk. Now—” He lifted the case as explanation. “I just want to play.”

  Having a conversation about law school with Zachary would definitely make him say things he’d regret. Despite the doubts, he really hadn’t expected Zachary to agree with the idea. That punch still stung, and all he wanted was a safe space to pour music back into his soul.

  “Jules, this MO of yours to run away to Gabe’s is getting old.”

  “I’m not running away,” Julian defended, even though he knew it was a lie. Caving he said, “Fine. I’m running away. Maybe that’s what I do.” God, it hurt to even think it. “Maybe nobody has ever left me. Maybe it’s always me who runs.”

  “What the hell does that mean? What are we even arguing about? I put up with a lot of your shit, because I know you can’t help all of it, and anxiety makes you say things—”

  “Nope. This isn’t my mental illness. It’s just me, Zach. Or what’s left of me. And if I don’t leave just the fuck now, I don’t even know what’s going to be left.”

  Zachary reddened in anger, voice flat and hard as tar. “Fine. Go then, and when you remember you’re in a relationship, I might be here to talk to.”

  The guitar weight felt like the only thing grounding him because this wasn’t the way it went—falling in love was supposed to be enough. If his brain was a well, it felt poisoned.

  He shut the door quietly behind himself, but it felt like it set off a sonic boom.

  At the doorway to Gabe’s apartment he just said, “Hey, can I stay a while?” Not waiting for a reply, he passed by his friend and pulled out his guitar, fingers running over the frets. He was ensconced on the sofa, playing, before Gabe got to say a word.

  Gabe looked at him and silently got out his own guitar, and they played together, chords blending and snaking each other. The words worked his lips, but he didn’t sing. Just let the music fill him. How had he not noticed how low his fuel had gotten? How long had he run on empty that it felt normal to be this thin, this hungry?

  He missed a note and struck the strings harshly. It broke the air like the slash of a knife. He turned to Gabe’s open-eyed stare. “What the fuck am I doing?”

  “What’s up?” Gabe asked with concern.

  Julian carefully put the guitar down, leaning against the sofa next to him. “Zach knows what he wants. Always has. He’s going to law school and will get this great job when he graduates and save up enough money so he can take on the kind of cases he wants. It’s all mapped out and planned. And I’m just on the side.” He huffed out a nasty laugh. “Like fucking salad dressing.”

  “Thousand Island or Italian?”

  “Funny.”

  Putting down his guitar, Gabe leaned sideways on the sofa and squeezed Julian’s bicep. “Hey, what’s going on?”

  “Do you believe in muses?”

  Standing, Gabe went to grab the whiskey and two glasses. “If this is going to be about fucking David again—”

  Julian flushed. “It’s not that, well not that exactly. I don’t miss him or believe that he’s the reason I was writing so much back then. But I’m also—I feel lost, like I’m falling and there’s no bottom. Just now was the first time I played in months.”

  “I can’t say I didn’t notice, but you always seem so busy. The new job takes all your time, doesn’t it?”

  “I want to do a good job.”

  The low timbre of Gabe’s voice felt like a vibration through the air. “In Portland you had time. David was a controlling freak—but moving in with him also meant you didn’t have to work at anything other than your songs. But, Jules, he was bad news, the price for that artistic freedom—”

  Julian shuddered, remembered how when he was in David’s bubble he’d not noticed how isolated he’d become, how he barely saw his friends or spoke to his family. He’d been manipulated into an unhealthy level of dependence. But the music, it had flowed like honey, all the songs he’d written, breathed, seen… while David took care of him. That quiet Zen Julian fell into when he got lost in his inner space and let the music talk. “I know,” he answered Gabe. “The price was too high. But now, it’s like a pendulum and I feel shut out of—” It was too painful to finish, to even describe. How did he explain to Gabe that suddenly in that file room he’d opened his eyes to a black-and-white world?

  Gabe swallowed down the remainder of his drink in one quick gulp. He eyed Julian before continuing. “You want to know if I believe in muses? Fuck no, because it was always you. Imma say this once, and deny it if anyone asks.” He gave another dramatic pause and eye roll. “You’re fucking special, lost in your head, seeing colors and sounds. David was a touched-in-the-head motherfucker that wanted you like someone wants a rare artifact. That’s not love.”

  Nodding, Julian picked up the whiskey bottle and fiddled with the label, tugging at it with his fingernail. He didn’t disagree with Gabe. It was different with Zachary and he was happy, felt safe. Except, “They asked me at work to consider law school, you know, to make something of my life.”

  Gabe’s eyes got comically wide. “Law school, you have to be shitting me—just how long has it been since you seen music?”

  Julian bit his lip hard, saw his fingers strumming strings, caressing the sounds, watching the tones somersault in the air in synchronized practice, his soul on display as it dissolved in rainbow motes. “There’s been nothing. I had a glimpse, back in Texas, visiting Zach’s family, but it vanished.” The drama, he thought now. The crowded, busy, never-letting-anything-marinate overwhelmingness of it all. He added, “Even Zach thought law school was a good idea.”

  Gabe looked skeptical. “Does Zach know how you work, how the songs come to you?”

  Julian stared at Gabe. Did Zachary know how the songs spoke to him? Danced for him? Did Zachary know who he was? “Yes,” he answered. “He’s known for a long time.”

  Surprisingly, Gabe looked sad at that, and in that instant, Julian felt as if a knife had plunged into him because that made it even worse, because if Zach knew, then it meant he just didn’t care. Yet, “Zach loves me.”

  “Of course he does,” Gabe said. “You’re the only one who thinks it’s hard to love you. That part’s easy. The harder part is letting you be you.” The glass made a crisp clunk when Gabe placed it on his coffee table. “Where’s this law degree business coming from? I mean, you can’t be serious?”

  “My boss—well the head of the firm—brought it up. And it just, I’ve been spiraling all day. I mean I need my music. Law school—Fuck, I’d rather die!”

  “You said yourself that Zach knows you. No matter what he said about law school, I don’t believe he—”

  “I know that. But sometimes I feel like everyone wants me to be something I’m not.”

  Gabe squeezed his bicep. “Jules, what do you want to be?”

  “God, I don’t know. Just. It tipped too far. I let it—gotta get back to the music. Before the colors all go away.” He paused for a long time, toying with a loose thread on his jeans a
nd lightly fingering the frets on his guitar. “Oh God, Gabe, I don’t want to be a settled married man. I don’t want to file briefs. I don’t want to be a fucking lawyer. It’s like I stopped listening to myself, to the part of me that makes me who I am. It’s just—I really do love him, so much. Oh shit, I don’t know what to do.”

  That touched Gabe. Julian saw a mix of pain and fear flicker behind his friend’s eyes. “You don’t even have to ask, you know that. Invitation’s always open to tour with us. We haven’t found a guitarist yet that could hold a candle to you, and we’re leaving in a couple of weeks. Just say the word.”

  Julian looked at his best friend, heart filling and tight in his chest. “I have to talk to Zachary.”

  Gabe looked sad. “Yeah.” He looked down and then back up. “You need me, I’m here.”

  Julian met Gabe’s sapphire stare. He knew Gabe would always be there for him; it was one of the blessings of his life. Without asking, Gabe picked back up his guitar and indicated that Julian should do the same. They played until Julian’s fingers ached and his heart beat in the rhythm that reminded him of smoky bars and friends jamming and the kind of pleasure that burrowed itself deep under his skin.

  THE NEXT morning Julian went straight to the office, leaving Brian a message about meeting later and diving into the day’s work. It was quiet with everyone in court. The case was going well, and Brian had volunteered that the gang was going out for drinks after court. He’d been surprised when Julian said he wouldn’t be joining them but hadn’t pushed the issue. Perhaps Zachary had said they’d been arguing. Kid couldn’t keep anything to himself.

  Timing to what he knew was a typical recess time, he rang Zachary but it went to voicemail. By the end of the day, he’d not heard back from Zachary but couldn’t say he was surprised given how angry Zachary had been with him last night. In retrospect, he knew he hadn’t been fair. Zachary was always willing to hash things out and found Julian’s tendency to run away from problems as a cop-out. Yet another way he failed at relationships.

  After a final check in with Brian, he headed home.