Page 21 of Counterpoint and Harmony

After we end the call, I sit and stare at the ceiling for a minute, not certain how to feel about that conversation, especially the end. When I texted her last week, I hadn’t really thought about how I expected that to play out. But I never expected us to start communicating more, checking in daily, just little things about how the day is going. Sharing victories and frustrations. Reconnecting.

Talking on the phone will only make that connection more solid.

But is that smart?

I push my glasses up my forehead and rub my hands over my face. Sighing, I sit forward again and lean down to pick up my cello. I don’t know if talking to Charlie is a good idea or not, but I’ve never been able to resist her. Which is why I wouldn’t answer her calls or texts when I was so mad at her before. I knew I’d break down and let it all go the minute I heard her voice again.

Now I’ve had time and space to process, and I can see where she was coming from. But even if I get her reasons, even if I’ve decided to forgive her for her deception, I can’t get past the idea that getting sucked into her orbit again can’t end well for me.

I’m a nerdy cello player from Spokane. She’s a superstar.

We’re from different planets. With incompatible atmospheres.

Shaking my head at myself, I start in on the Bach suite I was working on when her text came in, hoping the immutable notes will center me, ground me, keep me from deciding to fly off into outer space to chase after her.

“Hey, you busy?” Charlie’s voice over the phone makes me smile.

I close the book I’m slogging through for my English class and set it next to me on the couch so I can talk to her. Capping my highlighter, I toss it on the coffee table and prop my feet up. “Just doing some homework, but I’m happy to take a break. What’s up?”

“Are you at home?”

“Uh, yeah. Why?”

“Oh, well, I kind of have a surprise for you. Lauren’s going to swing by to pick you up and take you to it.”

I sit up straighter, putting my feet on the floor. “What kind of surprise? And why can’t I just drive myself?”

“One that I hope you’ll like. And because that would ruin the surprise.” Her voice has that veneer of bravado I’ve come to recognize as an indication that she’s not quite sure of herself. When we were talking about her meeting with the label exec beforehand, she’d sound like this a lot. Like she’s trying to convince herself of her own confidence. It’s cute.

“Okay, I’ll go along. When’s Lauren going to be here?”

“In about ten minutes. Put on your shoes and be ready when she gets there.”

“Do I need anything else?”

“Nope. Just you.” Excitement fills her voice now, and I smile as I stand up from the couch.

“Alright. I’m getting my shoes on now so I’m ready when Lauren gets here. Are you going to stay on the phone with me the whole time until I get to the surprise?”

She laughs, and I go all gooey inside. I’ve gotten addicted to her laugh again since we started talking on the phone the other day. It’s amazing how quickly she’s become a fixture in my life again. First the daily texts that have now graduated to daily phone calls. Even if we only chat for a few minutes, it always makes my day that much better.

“No. I’m going to hang up now. We’ll talk again when you get to where your surprise is.”

She says goodbye and ends the call. Bemused and curious, I get my shoes on, then grab my coat, wallet, and keys before sitting back on the couch to read some more while I wait for Lauren.

I don’t get through very much, though. Distracted by trying to figure out what this surprise could be, I end up reading the same page four times. When I finally give up and toss the book on the coffee table, the doorbell rings.

Lauren greets me with a smile when I open the door. “Ready?”

“I guess so. Any hints about where we’re going or what’s going on?”

She laughs and shakes her head. “Nope. Charlie was very clear that I’m not to drop even the slightest hint. Come on.”

Locking the door behind me, I follow her to her car. She chatters away about classes and orchestra while she drives, and I try to engage in the conversation, but I’m more concerned about where we’re going. Downtown, from the looks of it.

She stops in front of the main entrance to Davenport Towers and puts the car in park. Holding out a room key, she smiles. “Room 608. Have fun.”

I give her a questioning look, but she just smiles wider and presses the card into my hand. “Go. It’s good. I promise.”

---