Page 77 of Dark Verse

“You too, Carl,” I say, stepping into the elevator and pressing the fourth floor button.

As I step into my apartment, I drop my keys in the bowl by the door and kick off my shoes, glad to be flat-footed after hours in heels. I keep moving through the space, pulling off my light jacket and hanging both that and my purse on the wall hooks. The kitchen is directly off the hallway, so I step in, taking my food over to the counter and placing the bag beside the giant vase of flowers that were delivered to my apartment three days ago.

They look as beautiful as the first bouquet that was delivered my first full day back to California. I lean into the flowers and bury my nose in them, taking in the sweet scent of bird of paradise blooms and orchid flowers. It’s a lush tropical smell. I’m not sure when I told Knox that bird of paradise is my favorite flower, but he remembered that little detail from some conversation.

Deciding I want to eat and keep enjoying his thoughtful gift, I pull over a nearby bar stool and grab a fork. I take that first bite of the chicken pot pie, steam rising from the dish where I speared it with my fork. I take a big bite of the meal, savoring the flavors. Five bites later, my phone rings beside me, and I glance down to see who it is.

I answer with video.

“Hi honey,” I say in a sing-song voice when our phones connect, and Knox’s face appears.

“Hi sweetheart.” His smile widens. “How are you? How was your day?”

I pause before saying, “I’m good. My day was productive.”

“Yeah, did you meet with Alice like you talked about last night? What did she have to say?”

“The thing about Alice is, if you present her with a convincing argument, 8 times out of 10, she’ll go with it.”

“So she went with the idea?”

“Yeah, actually,” I smile.

Just a few months ago, the idea of slowing down my work schedule and career plan for any reason would have seemed like a death knell in my professional path. Now, however, I feel my needs shifting. It’s not just the idea of wanting to spend more physical time with Knox. Being with him has reminded me of how much I’ve missed playing music myself. My first night back, he called me, and we talked for hours. At the end of that call, Knox asked me if I would play something for him on my little electric keyboard. So I did.

The next night he made the same request, so I played a longer piece with two movements. Playing for just him these last two weeks has eased much of the tension I’ve felt when playing for others. I know when he says he doesn’t care if I miss a note, he is telling the truth. He just wants to hear me play, and he actually means it. I’m nowhere near being able to play in front of paying attendees yet. Still, the idea of sitting in front of a piano in a bus station or public square and playing a few pieces for strangers passing by doesn’t bring on a low-grade panic.

Slowing down a little at work and focusing my efforts are our current venues, means I can have more opportunities to play for real audiences again.

“How was your day?” I ask Knox.

He shrugs.

“I’ve had worse,” he says.

“Well, that doesn’t sound like a great day,” I tease.

“It wasn’t a bad day, but I did spend like an hour of my time playing whack-a-mole with some bot accounts today.”

“Yeah, what happened?”

“Nothing really, just some nasty comments left on some old posts followed by some DMs from three different accounts.”

“What were they saying?” I ask, curious.

Knox shrugs. “Doesn’t matter, honestly. They are always different but somehow boil down to do things how I like it or else.”

“Hmm…” I muse aloud.

I take another bite of my pot pie.

“Two of the accounts were probably bots but…I don’t know, one of them might have been a real person.”

“Why do you think that?”

Knox looks away from the camera in thought. “I don’t know. It got kind of specific. They said I look better with a longer beard.”

He scratches his chin, proving that it’s quite short at the moment.