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“I knew you wouldn’t understand.” I twist to get up. With my back to her, I ask, “What do you want? You must have come because you need something from me.”
“I…” Her hand lands on my shoulder. “What I need isn’t important. I’m sorry. I was insensitive.” She circles me until she faces the distress I can no longer hide on my face. “Cam, please help me understand.”
“Imagine waking up one day and seeing a sheet of music, but instead of trebles and clefs you see a language you’ve never seen or heard. On top of that, you start to sweat, your heart pumps like mad, and your body physically repels away from it. Would you be able to understand the torment then?”
“Oh, Cam.” Khadijah wraps me in her arms and I hide my face between her neck and shoulder. “This isn’t the first time this has happened, is it?”
My body stiffens at her perceptive question.
“I wish you had told me.”
I pull away from her. “I did. You trivialized it whenever I brought it up.”
“Do you blame me? Scratch that, this isn’t about me.” She sniffs and a tear runs down her cheek. “I’m here now and finally listening. What do you need from me? An ear? Solutions? Please, I want to know how I can help.”
“If I knew, we wouldn’t be here right now.”
“Do you know what you want?”
I glance at the set up, a garage band’s dream. “I need to feel passionate about music again. I hate this fear that stops me from playing the basest beat or…”
“Or what?”
“Playing Kenya’s melody. You know she suggested I write it down. The fear that froze my heart still hasn’t thawed. I’m desperate to write it for her but as hard as I try, I can’t!” I pull away from my sister to pace the confines again.
“Do you feel this way when you talk about songs you’ve written or played? You know, without expecting to play or sit and write?”
“Just talk?” I pause mid-stride to think about her suggestion.
“Yeah, like when we first played Dreams Full of Wishes for the first time. If we talked about that, will you feel the same as when you’re forcing yourself to write or play?” She turns me so that I’m walking backward as I consider her suggestion.
“No…I’ve talked to Kenya about our songs before. I felt nostalgic then.”
“Good. Why don’t you give it a shot with me?” Deej pushes me onto a stool. “Remember you wrote it after a break up?”
“Yeah, it was so bad, I’m surprised we landed a record deal because of it. Good thing we never recorded it.” My body relaxes the longer we talk about our first days recording for our label.
The hours pass with Deej and I talking until the my tensed muscles and anxious nerves relax. The laughter she inspires helps. When she checks her phone for the fifth time I squeeze her hand in silent thanks.
“Sorry, I’m not being subtle, am I?” She pockets her phone.
“Hot date?”
“As if. However, I do have to meet someone.” She hugs me. All her concern and love are in her touch. “By the way, I think I’ll stop by more often from now on for more talks like this. They might help.”
“You think?”
As she walks out, I turn to follow her with my gaze. “Considering where you are, yeah, I think you’ll make progress.” She shuts the door and I ponder what her last words mean.
When my understanding clicks, I wait for the sweaty panic and elevated heart rate to overtake me. My pulse thuds a little faster, but nothing like it used to. The difference settles me and I stand. I still can’t touch the drums, but realizing that I’ve been sitting on the stool in front of my drums for hours without a reaction allows me to share in Deej’s optimism.
Maybe progress is within my grasp after all. Soon, I will not only sit at the drums but play for Kenya while she draws me. I cross my fingers hoping the day will come sooner rather than later.
* * *
It’sSaturday and the nerves I’ve held at bay until now have freed themselves in my stomach. Unlike yesterday, what I’m feeling has nothing to do with music, thanks to Khadijah’s visit earlier this afternoon.
Today istheday, rather night. Date night. Every day for the past week since Onyx proposed this date has been a test of my forbearance, not helped by Kenya’s demands to give me a blow job whenever we are alone. Between one anxiety and this, it’s a miracle that I’m able to project any semblance of calm.
