The Song You Choose

60 days after

Jason

“SAMANTHA! YOU DIDN’T!”

The crazed cackling of Carrie Bradshaw and crew retelling their latest male misadventure woke Jason from what was a fitful sleep anyway.

“C’mon Sophie,” he whispered, “Let’s get you to bed.” He scooped her rag doll body from a corner of their mother’s bed. Dark hair and sweat tattooed curlicues on his sister’s perfect baby round cheeks.

“It shouldn’t be like this,” he said out loud, looking at his mother spread across the bed. He’d taken to talking to himself these days, since there was really no one else to listen. He stepped over a glass of spilt wine just under where her hand hung off the corner of the mattress. She stopped putting sheets on the bed months ago, and the plastic covering she used in its place was spattered with deep purple stains, some from his dad’s blood, but most from nights like tonight when she’d binge watch Sex in the City and drink herself into unconsciousness.

The clock told him it was 5:00 am, but he didn’t want to believe it. Everything hurt. He was jealous of his mom. It must be great to pour glass after glass and get away from it all.

“Dad was a warrior,” he said to himself and walked to the bathroom to get ready for school. Pulling a sleeve over his hand, he wiped what seemed like years of neglect off the bathroom mirror and repeated his mantra. “Dad was a warrior.”

His reflection startled him. The full lips and large eyes that half a year ago seemed misplaced on his face now added a handsome softness to an angular nose and strong jaw. His two-day beard gave him a rugged, rather than unkempt, look. Dark circles around the eyes and the emptiness in them told a tale far beyond his 15 years, but added a much-deserved maturity. He pondered his face for a moment, hoping foolishly to find his father somewhere.

“Shit.”

Stuffing the pain down just low enough that it didn’t paralyze him, he fumbled with his music player.

“Would you hold my hand

If I saw you in heaven?

Would you help me stand

If I saw you in heaven?

I'll find my way through night and day

'Cause I know I just can't stay here in heaven”

He closed his eyes and swallowed hard. One deep breath then another, he took one last look in the mirror and then ran the shower so hot the room filled with steam almost instantly. Kicking half empty shampoo bottles to the side, he stepped into the stream and let tears wash his face and then flow into the drain.

“Dad was a warrior[LR1] .”

High school is never easy for anyone, but it had been a particularly hard year for Jason. Being fifteen and a Junior was rough. Only now was he shedding the little boy look that gave him away in every class. He’d been an A student since first grade. He drowned himself in literature, designed computer programs and built robots for fun, and was a brilliant violinist; but since his dad died, nothing held his interest. He’d just have to do going through the motions. His GPA was high enough that he could coast this semester. That’s about as far ahead as he could think. Breathe in. Breathe out. AP Physics, AP English, AP Calculus, AP World History, Orchestra, Lunch, AP Spanish, Biotechnology. One class to the next. Get through the day.

“Hey Jason!”

He shuddered. Why was she the only person that didn’t get his “Fuck off” vibe?

Mandy Thompson slid into the desk in front of him.

“The Turn About Dance is coming up.” She fumbled through her giant size pink purse for a bit, then came up for air. “Don’t you think that’s just the stupidest thing?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “Wanting the girl to ask the boy? I suppose I would if I knew the boy was going to say yes. But how’s a girl to know?” This time she did wait. “Any sort of sign I guess that he wants to go with me.”

Her voice had this awful sing song quality that put Jason more on edge than he already had been.

“Mozart’s Eine Kleine Nachtmusik,” he mumbled. He’d developed the habit of playing music in his mind whenever he “checked out”. His latest love affair was with Mozart. On the rare occasion he felt alive, he’d sit in his room for hours, fiddling wildly at his violin. Actually playing the music kept him in the present. Imagining it in his mind helped him escape.

“What?” She curled her eyebrows and nose both to the center of her face. Then she giggled. “You’re an odd duck, Jason Martin.”

“You are an odd duck Jason.”

Before he could react, he felt strong hands on his back shoving him almost into Mandy. It was his best friend, Scott. Jason met Scott in 5^th grade, when he transitioned from 3^rd grade and homeschooled to a “big kid” in public school way too fast. Scott had taken him under his wing, and they’d been sort of inseparable ever since.

“Shut the fuck up, man.” Jason sat up in his chair. “What you been up to, man? I’m so tired. My mom had a pretty bad night.”

“Sorry to hear that, bro,” Scott started, but what he said after, Jason would never know. He watched Scott’s forearms flex as he turned the chair around backwards and straddled it. Scott’s deep blue eyes were so different than Jason’s. His confident smile and irreverent humor were fascinating. Scott’s words drifted in the air, but all Jason could manage was watching his lips form the words, turned up in a crooked smile while he spoke. “So what do you say, man? You down?”

“Ya. Of course.”

Scott thought Jason was the most forgetful person ever. Jason was always agreeing to plans he never heard.

“Great!”

Scott had a 1000 megawatt smile and this maddening habit of turning it on just as he ran his hand through his longish wavy dark blonde hair. There were hundreds of these signature Scott moves to pick from, but Jason thought this habit alone had girls standing in line to catch a glimpse.

Maybe not just girls….

90 days after

Cyndi

She woke up that morning knowing something was different. She’d fallen asleep in drunken tears, listening to the storm outside. For the past three months, the only place she found peace was the bottom of a bottle of Reisling. The last glass always brought blessed sleep. Like clockwork, she’d wake after four hours- head throbbing, soul aching, tears she didn’t even notice streaming down her face. Time for the next dose.

That morning, the first thing she noticed was the smell of spring in the air. Her son must have opened the window. Winter was over. The sun painted bright stripes across her room. The rain must have scrubbed away all the winter’s pain and darkness, because the fresh smell of hope and life was all that came through her window that day.

She waited expectantly for the wave of nausea and stabbing behind her eyes…nothing. She took in a deep breath of new beginning and swung her legs over the edge of her bed. She curled her toes in the plush carpet, savoring the feeling. It was the closest to touch she’d known in a long while.

She looked back to her bed and marveled at the sight of her children sleeping. Her son- tall, strong and brown- held her cherub-like daughter to his chest. They looked a little like the yin yan, his dark skin contrasted her fair complexion. Shocks of dark, curly hair crowned their heads, and she was mesmerized by the rhythm of their breathing.

“9:00,” she said to herself as she glanced at the clock on her wall. She wondered how much school they’d missed this winter while she was in hibernation. Truth be told, she didn’t know if it was a weekend or a school day.

Shit! How did this happen?

She moved the mouse on her desktop to check the date.

Tuesday. Wow…

“Jason,” she whispered and gently shook his shoulder, coaxing him into awake,

He resisted, moaning for just a moment before his eyes burst open in panic.

Her breath caught in her chest. He’d grown so much. His dark eyes, framed by impossibly long, thick lashes, told the story of suffering well beyond his years. Stubble and chiseled cheekbones and chin had ?disguised? her baby boy as a young man.

When did he grow up so much?

“The alarm! I didn’t hear it!” His deep voice interrupted her trance, but only sharpened the sting. Last she remembered, his voice was cracking.

“It’s okay, baby,” she stroked his thick curls. “I’m going to call the school to get you excused.”

She caught the confusion in his eyes.

She wanted to tell him “mama’s back”, but she knew it wasn’t completely true, and knew it would take a lot more than words to convince him.

She struggled to remember the last three months. Sitting in a closet, drinking bottle after bottle of drug store wine. Her best friend, Candace, crawling in the closet with her, hugging her, joining her in drink and tears. Candace saying it was all going to be okay, even though she didn’t believe it herself. Waking up confused and in pain when Ginger dragged her crying and threw her into the shower and turned the water on her.

“You can’t do this! You have kids! You stink, you’re drunk, you’re killing yourself and those babies”

Maybe I’ll drown

Drinking, dreaming of him- well again, and young. Laughing with him in the car. Those nights were the best- when she met him in her dreams, in another time and place and he took her for a long ride, blasting music. Alternating singing at the top of his lungs, talking about everything and nothing at all- and laughing.

People say it’s easy to romanticize someone once they’re gone, but even when he was alive, she knew they had something special. They had their problems, of course- serious ones- but she had never known of another couple that laughed nearly as much as they had. Beside anything else, they had fun together. He was her best friend. He made her happy and he made her laugh. Her heart ached for that laughter.

The best nights came with dreams of him laughing.

“Ma!” Jason’s eyes were full of hurt and confusion. He shook his head and got out of bed.

“What do you need, baby?” she asked. Without waiting for an answer she asked, “Wanna go to breakfast?”

“Breakfast?” Sophie perked up as of awakened by Prince Charming’s kiss. Jason smiled reluctantly.

“Breakfast would be cool”

Sophie jumped on the bed, grabbing Jason’s hands and pulling his arms to make him dance (or sort of).

“Chocolate chip pancakes!” she sang “chocolate chip pancakes!”

They all laughed. The sound was foreign to her. They hadn’t laughed in months. Her soul floated then shattered. His[LR2] laugh was missing from the chord. It wasn’t music without him.

110 days after

Christopher

The world had long seemed a dark place for him, and meaningless. One day would pass into the next and the routine of “work, eat, sleep, drink, repeat” had lulled him into a coma. He was young enough and smart enough to have a brilliant future, but it seemed life had another plan for him. He worked relentlessly at a thankless job. He dated frequently, but really only found refuge in time by himself. He’d had several relationships with sweet girls in the past few years, but didn’t connect with them or, if he were being honest with himself, he used that as an excuse to keep them at arm’s length. More than anything, he enjoyed late night walks with his best friend- the dog he had loved since childhood. The fates are merciless, though, and last night he’d made the heartbreaking decision to say goodbye to his friend. He couldn’t bear to watch the suffering any longer. And now, as he sat in his empty home, scotch in hand, he let himself cry for the first time in years. He cried for his dog, and he wept over the cold hand destiny dealt him. He’d worked hard. He was a decent guy, and kind. Yet, life had shown him no such kindness. He took a greedy gulp of his drink, so accustomed to it by now he didn’t flinch.

He’d dared to hope not so long ago. He stopped drinking, hit the gym every day, went to work with a smile and filled out job applications and posted resumes at night. A late night Nancy Napier infomercial challenged him to practice conscious living, and maybe delirious from exhaustion and hopelessness he had accepted. Now, he was filled with more despair than ever. Months of “conscious living” yielded not even meager results, and to top it off he’d lost his best friend. He was disconnected, discontent… disinterested.

He took one more swig of Johnny Walker red and turned off the TV.

“Fuck this!” he said aloud, just so he could hear his voice and be reminded of himself. “Fuck… this…” He grabbed his coat.

The Buzz didn’t really live up to its name. Still it was a bar, and it was cheap and comfortable. More than anything, it was not home. He could have easily drowned himself in Johnny Walker. If that’s how the night went, he didn’t want to be by himself- though he suspected even a room filled with people, even friends, he’d be alone.

“Christopher?” a female voice from the booth around the corner called his name.

“Yup! That’s Christopher.” Another woman’s voice.

He hadn’t really been in the mood to be social, but The Buzz was a safe haven for a lot of people Christopher knew. Still, he wasn’t expecting to see Cyndi. The last thing he needed was to spend the night consoling a grieving widow.

How long had it been since her husband passed?

“How are you? I haven’t seen you in forever! What’s new?” She jumped from her seat and gave him a hug. It was obvious she’d already been drinking quite a bit, but her good mood was contagious. “Are you meeting someone here? Sit with us.”

He laughed at the barrage of questions and slid into the booth across from her.

“Hey loser!” Leslie teased as she moved over to make room for him. “What’ve you been up to?”

“Whoa whoa,” he joked, “Not without a drink first.”

One drink turned into many, and though each started with sad stories and condolences, at 2 am when the bar closed, it was smiles all around.

Her smile was great, in fact. Overall, she was somethin’ else. Somethin’ else all buttoned up, except for the one button she fastened and unfastened as she spoke. So far as nervous habits go, it was cute. He’d always thought she was sorta cute. Sorta cute and very married. He’d heard from mutual friends her husband passed away a while ago. He hadn’t expected to see her out. She looked older and more tired for sure… but it looked good on her. At least he thought so. She looked stronger. All smiles with tired eyes that still had a touch of playfulness. He felt good about getting out. It was a good night.

Maybe he imagined it, and maybe it was the liquor… but when Cyndi said goodbye, he thought her hug lingered a little too long.

“Get over here, you drunk!” Leslie laughed, looping her arm through Cyndi’s.

“See you soon! Text me!” she shouted over her shoulder.

He stood smiling, watching them walk to their car.

“I will!” he answered, too late and too quietly for them to hear across the parking lot. “I will.”

That night he met her for the first time, the girl he’d known for years, and something changed. He just wasn’t sure what.

150 days after

Cyndi

“That’s why they call me Slim Shady.” Cyndi bopped somewhat off beat to her hip hop Pandora station as she towel dried her hair. She flipped her head upside down, continuing her best effort at Eminem.

“You are such a dork!” Jason laughed.

She stuck her tongue out at him like a child.

The smile still looked wrong on her face, even to herself.

“Up or down?” she asked, twisting the hair off her neck, examining herself closely in the mirror, and then letting it fall again. She turned, but Jason was already gone, probably hiding out in his room. With an exaggerated exhale, she repeated the process and then decided down would just be easier.

At one time, she may have been cute… pretty even. The last few years, and especially the last few months, had taken their toll. Her eyes- now puffy from too much sleep, alcohol, and crying- had once been impossibly big and bright with mischief. A steady diet of coffee and red wine had dulled her teeth and her skin.

“Nothing to be done about that,” she shrugged, giving herself one more glance at the mirror. “But what to wear… we can work something out there.”

“That’s why Jason talks to himself, ma,” Sophie chided. “Because you do too.”

“I…,” Cyndi paused for effect walking over to her insanely tiny 8 year old daughter, “was talking to you, my little fashionista.”

“Are you going out with Christopher?” Sophie almost sang the question.

“Ya. He’s getting together with some friends from work and invited me.” She held a pink t-shirt up to her body, then a grey lacey tank top, then the pink tee again. “I just like to look nice when I’m meeting new people.”

“Why can’t Jason and I come with you? I like going out with Christopher. He’s so much fun.” She slipped into a whine.

“I’m sorry. It’s late, baby girl. And some places don’t let babies in. Next time, baby. We’ll try next time.”

Sophie pouted for a second. She really had such fun every time Mommy took her out with Christopher.

“Which one?” Cyndi placed one top, then the other, in front of her for Sophie to judge.

“You like Christopher!” Sophie giggled. “Mama and Chris, sitting in a tree….”

“Gross!” Jason interrupted. “Ma, can you sign this?” He held up a half sheet.

“What am I signing?” she asked, already scribbling her name on the line.

“It’s just for a talent contest. I’m going to do a music number.” Jason beamed every time he talked about music. “I’m not sure whether I’ll do guitar or violin…. Or classical or pop.” He furrowed his brow. “But I still need you to sign.”

“Done!” Cyndi rustled his hair. “Whatever you do, baby, you’ll do great.”

Jason smiled shyly. As much as he denied it, he still lived for his mom’s approval.

“If you like him, wear the grey.” He paused, a little weirded out by the thought of his mom with anyone other than his dad. “You look great in the grey.”

“Thanks, baby.”

Cyndi took his advice, went with a grey tank top, dark jean leggings and high heeled open toe sandals.

Did she like him? What did that mean?

A shocking ache hit her in the chest. She put down the lid of the commode, rested her elbows on her knees, cradled her head and sobbed.

How is it possible? She had it on good authority she’d never love again. The better part of her heart was always going to belong to her husband… But if that were true, why had she spent better than an hour getting herself ready?

She spent the night overly aware of how she reacted to him. She noticed her breath catch when he smiled. Her stomach dropped just a little if he leaned over to let someone pass and their arms touched. Every now and again, he’d hold her gaze a little longer than is polite, and embarrassment or lust (likely both) slapped her cheeks, leaving them pink and hot. Maybe he noticed, because just when she was sure she was making a fool of herself she felt his hand on her lower back. She inhaled deeply, savoring the warmth and gentle pressure of his hand.

“Do you want to dance?”

She looked at the dance floor. Couples’ bodies were tangled- their eyes glazed with booze and affection. Dozens of gorgeous happy couples were smiling, laughing, and magically gliding across the room.

“I haven’t danced in such a long time.” She pretended to resist, but he had already taken her hand and was leading her to the dance floor.

These feelings won't go away.

They've been knockin me sideways.

They've been knockin me out late

whenever you come around me.

Santana and Citizen Cope…perfect.

It may have been the music, the drinks, the smell of his cologne… but she lost herself in that dance. His hand on her waist made her swoon. Her hand, almost of its own will, moved from his shoulder to the back of his neck, and soon her fingers were wrapping themselves in his thick curls. She was high on something… and the crash was going to be hard.

They danced, they talked, they drank, and soon she was back in his car. She lost herself in the cadence of his words. He spoke of books and movies and ideas, and it all struck her as brilliant. He was brooding and somewhat dark and deep, and she felt herself falling into him and finding parts of herself she thought were buried forever- falling into him, and coming alive again.

160 days after

Leslie

She didn’t know what to say. She’d sat at The Buzz drinking with Christopher a million times before just shooting the shit. Now, her eyes moved from the pink neon “The Buzz” sign over the bar, to the wall mounted TV, and back to pink neon sign. There wasn’t much to look at. Random pictures of athletes and jerseys hung on the walls, but The Buzz’s charm wasn’t the décor or the crowd (mostly upper middle agers, down and out on their luck). It was cheap and the food was good. The stretch of silence had gone long past awkward.

“Can I have another?” Christopher flagged down a waitress.

“Look. You’re an ok guy,” Leslie started up again. “But she’s just starting to be herself again. Don’t be irresponsible.”

He took a sip of his beer and exhaled. “What are you askin’ me or tellin’ me?” Christopher was visibly aggravated.

Leslie and Cyndi had been friends for 15 years. In the time her husband battled cancer, Leslie had become closer to Cyndi than ever, and she felt protective. After he died, she watched her friend slip as close to death as anyone still drawing breath could. Five months later, her friend was becoming Cyndi again. She worried about anything that would send her spiraling again.

“I’m asking you if your feelings toward Cyndi have grown beyond friendship. And I’m asking you to think about Jason and Sophie. Don’t be selfish. Think about what she’s been through…what they’ve all been through.”

Christopher smirked. “You think I haven’t?”

Well?”

“Well, what?” He took another swig and made it a point to meet Leslie’s eyes. “There’s nothing to tell. You’ve seen the entire highlight reel. We’re friends. I care about her, too. And I love those kids. And my feelings for her? Well I guess that’s not your business.”

“It is my business because she’s my friend. I worry about her. And I think you’re being stupid.”

The truth was nothing about his feelings were friendly, but all the issues Leslie had mentioned were big enough on their own. Taken together, it was probably too much. He had decided several times over the past few months just to be a good friend to Cyndi. Time after time, he dropped Cyndi off at home after an amazing time with her and wondered if he should take the risk and lean over to kiss her. So many times, he considered telling her how he was feeling. But so far as issues go, hers were mountains. Cyndi’s kids were incredible, but Jason was already starting to give him looks. What would it be like for a 15 year old? He just lost his dad and some other guy starts coming around? And Sophie. Sophie was starting to get real attached, running to hug him whenever he stopped by, and crawling on his lap to watch TV. Leslie was right. It was a lot to think about, and he had. Still it pissed him off that Leslie thought she was Cyndi’s keeper. Shit… add that to the list of issues. All of her friends thought Cyndi needed a babysitter.

Leslie continued. “It may be fun and cute and you think it’s a game. But she’s vulnerable. Don’t take advantage of that.”

She’d noticed something in his eyes before the aggravation had set in. When she mentioned the kids maybe, or maybe it was all of it. Before he got angry, she thought she saw the same concern she had. Maybe he really did care about Cyndi and the kids. Cyndi was happier and drinking less since hanging out with Chris. She tried to remember when Cyndi started exercising again. It might have been right after they bumped into him a few months back. She was getting herself back together, picking up the pieces. Maybe Chris was to thank for some of that. Who knew? But if he hurt her, it was going to be bad. It’s easier to destroy a heart that’s broken to begin with. She wasn’t sure how to help her friend, but she was very worried.

This could be great for her, or it could be disaster.

175 days after

Jason

He was soaring. The arrangement was perfect. He couldn’t wait to play it for Scott. It was the perfect marriage of classical and contemporary. The second movement of Mozart’s Eine Kleine Nachtmusik was often called Romance. It lent itself perfectly to a potpourri of love songs.

No you don’t know the one

Who dreams of you at night

And longs to kiss your lips

Longs to hold you tight

Oh I am just a friend

That's all I've ever been

Cause you don't know me

He rushed to homeroom, dying to tell Scott he finished the arrangement and set up a time to play it for him.

From down the hallway, Jason could see Scott, sitting on a desk, charming everyone around him. He flashed the smile, laughed freely… and there is was… the hand through the hair. Jason felt a warmth in his belly. Scott was sort of stunning. And so funny and smart. People really never noticed that about Scott… how well-read he was, and how deeply thoughtful. His heart raced as he got closer to the classroom. Was your best friend supposed to give you butterflies?

“Butterflies that wear army boots,” he muttered to himself. Butterflies sounded entirely too pleasant to describe the excited anxiety Jason sometimes felt around Scott.

Ugh. He’s talking to Brody.

Brody Tyler was the quintessential jock. Dumb as rocks and an asshole. Jason never understood why Scott spent so much time with him. In fact, he’d heard Brody refer to Scott as his best friend. It made Jason ill.

Scott looked up and smiled. All was right in the world.

“Jason! Where you been man? I thought you drowned in your sheet music,” he pat Jason on the back. “I was planning a rescue mission.”

Jason laughed nervously. He really didn’t want to talk about his music in front of Brody.

“We should cut AP English anyway,” Brody announced. “All this unrecorded love poetry shit.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “It’s unrequited, Brody. And it’s going to be on the midterm and the AP exam.”

“It’s gonna be on the AP exam,” Brody repeated in a mocking tone, using his hand as a puppet.

“Don’t be a jackass.” Scott had a way of disciplining with his eyes.

Jason had watched Scott’s cold disapproval put many a jerk in line. Most of the time, it was defending him. He chuckled to himself. Damsel in distress. Even with his frequent slips, he was able to keep that thought quiet.

“It is going to be on the test.” Scott paused and turned to Jason. “Dude, did you see in the anthology they were talking about music and the composers in the Romantic Period? They said Verdi, so I looked it up. Beautiful shit man… I bet you can use it for the competition.”

“Aw. How cute…” Brody mocked. “You’re helping him with his homework.”

Jason ignored him. “I’ll check it out… but I do have at least a rough run through if you want to hear it.”

“Of course man,” Scott beamed. “I can’t wait!”

“I’m outta here. You guys act like a bunch of queers.” Brody laughed at his own joke, grabbed his books and turned to leave.

Don’t react. Don’t react. Don’t react.

But Jason hadn’t quite mastered the poker face. His face burnt red and fought tears.

“You didn’t like that joke, Jason?” Brody moved behind Jason. He burst into laughter. “I should have known it! Always riding Scott’s jock. A fuckin’ fag.”

Scott was quick to his feet.

“Apologize,” he demanded.

“What? Little girl can’t fight his own battles?”

Scott shoved him.

“I said apologize!”

“It’s okay Scott. I gotta go.” Jason hoped no one took it seriously, coming from Brody. He scrambled to gather his books and slung his violin case over his arm. A quick leg out by Brody, and Jason crashed to the ground, violin knocking him squarely on the head.

*****************************************************************************Day 0

Rivers of tears and mucus ran from Jason’s face and soaked the neck of his tee shirt. He held his dad’s right hand and his mom held his left.

“It was always so important to me,” his dad struggled to speak, “to marry a strong woman.” His dad squeezed her hand. “Make sure you are all happy. That’s all I ever wanted.

He turned to Jason.

“Take care of your mom. She’ll need you. Work hard. Make me proud. Be a man.” His dad’s smile was so kind and so proud. “Be a man, Son.”

All of my life I have watched you

Climbing mountains, chasing dreams

All of my life you gave me everything

But you don't have to give the world to me

Just say you love me as I am, say you want me as I am

Say I'm someone in your eyes, that's all I want it to be

Oh, just let me go, I know one day if I'm allowed

If I'm allowed, one day I'll make you proud

*****************************************************************************

When Jason regained consciousness, he was in the nurse’s office, and he heard Scott arguing with the dean of discipline.

“He tripped him on purpose, Sir… And I shouldn’t have gone at him like I did, but Jason’s like my little brother… and the…” he paused, carefully choosing his words. “The JERK,” he said through clenched teeth, “deserved it.”

“Never mind that, Scott. Your actions are inexcusable. No one is corroborating your story that it was intentional. You have put your participation in all school sports in jeopardy. I will have to take this all under advisement.”

Jason groaned.

“Well look who’s awake!”

Did all school nurses have Southern accents?

“You’re gonna be fine, sweetie.” She changed the ice pack on his head. “I called your momma, and she’s in class. But she’s sending….” She rolled her chair to the nearby desk and read off a post-it note. “She’s sending Mr. Christopher Nolan for you.”

Jason groaned again, but before he could protest he heard the principal’s voice.

“He’s in here Mr. Nolan.”

The principal guided Christopher to the nurse’s office, and Jason stuffed down his anger and shame. Why him?

“I just gotta go to my locker.” Jason tried his best to be short with Chris. He didn’t want Chris treating him like a poor kid that just lost his dad and needed a male figure in his life. His dad was the prototype for the perfect man, the perfect dad. He’d spend his life trying to push back everything in him that wasn’t his dad to try to live up to the man his dad was and wanted Jason to be.

“Ya, sure,” Chris walked over to the bed where Jason had been resting. “You okay? You need help?”

“Nah, I’m good.” Jason jumped off the bed, and the room spun a bit. “Walk with me, my locker is right this way.”

If the room had spun before, the school was a tornado now.

His locker had been emptied, his books, papers, and manuscripts on the ground. FAG was written across a 4x6 he had hanging of himself and Scott. Had Scott seen this? He scurried to gather his books and papers and stuff them in the locker. Without a word, Christopher got to his knees to help.

Suddenly, Jason burst into tears.

FAG FAG FAG FAG was written all over his manuscript. In the middle of the page, someone had circled a passage.

It's so good

what we got.

you and me,

we love alot.

we’re just friends,

simple as that.

I dont want it to end..

but I’m falling in love

with the best friend I got.

“Has Scott seen this?” was scrawled in the margin.

“Shit!” Jason sobbed, “Why do I have to be here with you?”

Christopher nodded. “Let’s get out of here.”

Jason went to a school for the gifted and talented, so it was a forty minute ride back home. Forty minutes with a near stranger he was hell bent on disliking. Still, the silence was too much too long even for Jason.

“I thought I could tie it in with our study on The Romantics. Unrequited Love. I thought all the songs tied in so well. I worked so hard. And now they all know, and I can never play it.”

“Does you mom know?” It had taken Christopher a while to catch up. Jason was a quiet kid, and going through so much. He’d never figured for this.

Jason laughed angrily. “My mom?! You think she needs this? You know what my dad’s last words to me were? ‘Be a man, son’. I could never tell her this.”

Christopher shook his head thoughtfully. “How long were you working on that piece? I’ve heard you play. You’re really good. You gonna do something with music?”

He didn’t know why, but he needed to tell someone.

“I’d love to… but I’m going to be an architect, like my dad.”

“An architect? Wow. That’s great.” He lowered the radio. “You like Math? Like Geometry and stuff?”

“I get A’s,” Jason answered.

“Okay,” Christopher almost thought about dropping it. “You know what I knew of your dad? And I didn’t know him all that well, but what I did know of him? And what I know from your mom?”

Jason didn’t say anything, but turned toward Christopher.

“He loved you guys over the top. That was being a man. He worked his ass off and was proud of his work. That’s being a man. He had no quit in him. That’s being a man.”

The dam had already exploded, and now Jason’s tears were unstoppable.

“I don’t know how,” he sobbed.

“I know you can probably play a hundred arrangements and kick ass. And maybe you should play something else, I don’t know. But I also don’t know about hiding because you’re afraid. I think that puts a target on your back. I think if you go out there and play like I’ve heard you playing, they’re going to know they can’t scare you. Some kids will talk shit, and it may be really hard at first. Scott may freak out, and you may lose a friend. Or he may be flattered, and you’ll be friends like you’ve always been. Who knows? But it’s up to you now. The ball’s in your court. For what it’s worth, I think being honest about your feelings- that’s brave. Putting it all out there, that takes balls.”

Jason laughed, a real laugh this time.

“What?”

“You gonna ask my mom out?”

“Ha!” the laugh escaped in spite of himself. “Ask your mom out?”

“I’m never going to like you,” Jason started, “but my mom does. But maybe it’s all too much. You know, putting it all out there, that takes balls.”

“Touché,” Christopher smiled. The kid’s kinda smart.

They pulled up to the house.

“You coming in?” Jason asked.

“Nah,” Chris answered. “I got some stuff to work out.”

“What happens now?” Jason hoped there was a real answer.

“I guess it all depends on the song you choose.”