just told me he was researching some leads and would tell me what was going on as soon as he had something concrete. Gwen has been just as secretive, tapping away on the laptop at the kitchen table and changing the subject when I ask her if there’s anything new.
I know there’s something they’re not telling me, and it pisses me off that they think they need to keep it from me.
The door to Brady’s room clicks opens a few minutes later, and he pauses in the doorway when he sees me, my fingers immediately stilling on the strings. He gently closes the door behind him and walks over to the edge of the bed.
“When did you learn how to play?” he asks as he climbs up onto the bed and faces me, mirroring my position by pulling his legs up in front of him.
I stare at his face for a few minutes, wondering if I have the courage to ask him what he’s doing with me. Finn’s words have gotten to me, even though I swore I wouldn’t let them. Is he really doing whatever this is with me out of misplaced guilt? Does he feel like if he solves this stalker case and I’m safe it will make up for all the bad things that have happened in his life? And what then? He just goes back to his life and I go back to mine?
I look down at my guitar and I can’t help but think about my father. I wonder if he felt guilty when he walked out the door nine years ago.
“My father taught me when I was little. We used to go down into the recording studio, just the two of us, every single day after school. It was my absolute favorite time of the day,” I quietly admit to Brady as I run the palm of my right hand down the top of the guitar, feeling all of the nicks and scratches from years of use, each one reminding me of happier times.
Placing my the fingers of my left hand on the proper frets, I strum my right hand down the strings, quickly moving my left hand as I play the notes for the song that has been in my head all evening. The fact that I stood on a stage in front of strangers and played when I’d done nothing but hold this guitar in my arms for almost ten years makes me feel almost invincible. The song I play now is an original; it’s the first time I’ve ever played one for anyone, and the fact that I’m fully opening myself up to Brady and not afraid to do so speaks volumes. I’ve never played a single note of one of my original songs on this guitar, no matter how many words I’ve written that I know would be perfect for it. Regardless of the confusion I’m feeling about Brady and his feelings for me, I still trust him. I trust him enough to show him this part of me.
Brady doesn’t speak as I open my mouth and let the words softly build while I play. It’s a song I wrote during one of the darkest times in my life, when I thought ending it all was the only option I had to be free. I close my eyes and let the music flow through me. I strum the guitar slowly, and my words match my playing as I gently sing about the story of my life.
I put everything I have into this song and show him who I really am. I want him to see me, I want him to hear me, and I want him to finally understand me. I’m opening up my heart and soul to him here on this bed, and part of me doesn’t care if he’s with me because he feels guilty. As long as he’s here, I’ll take what I can get.