he still hadn’t been home, and therefore, hadn’t had a chance to shower off the events of the night before. If my parents noticed, they didn’t let on.
Dad grabbed the guitar from beside the tree and handed it to Everett. “Merry Christmas. Now you’ll have your own to fuss over.”
Everett’s mouth fell open, his throat bobbing as he looked from the guitar to my dad. “You’re joking,” he breathed, and my heart pinched.
“I’m not.” Dad chuckled. “And don’t look too shocked. It didn’t cost that much. It’s secondhand.”
Finally, Everett took the guitar, holding it so carefully as though he were meeting a baby for the first time. “But…” He blinked at it. “I can’t just…” Eyes closing, he lowered his head.
Dad reached over to clap him on the shoulder, and Mom started singing to Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas is You” when it came on the TV that sat above the fireplace.
“Hendrix, help him tune it and then clean up this paper. Ma and Pa will be here soon,” Dad said, leaving the room.
“He knows how to tune it better than I do, and it wasn’t just me who unwrapped presents. That’s not fair.”
Seeing Everett brush his thumb over the strings of his Gibson caused tears to gather fast and strong, so I started cleaning up to hide them.
I couldn’t help but peek at his face every few minutes.
If Everett noticed I hadn’t turned the page in my book in more than ten minutes, he didn’t let on.
His pen left indents in the paper of his journal, pressing the lyrics deep into the page. Unable to read them even if I wanted to, I could only glance at him when I felt it was safe.
Sometimes, his head bobbed to an invisible beat, and every now and then, I’d hear his feet shift beneath the table as if they too were helping to create something only he could see.
I knew he could be doing many other things during the short window of time he spent sitting with me. He could watch TV, hang out with friends, or play. He always found time to practice, but as if it was some new routine of his, he made sure to sit in the same room as me first.
In his company, whether he remained silent, I began to watch him too much, and my chest began to fill with flutters. I felt like my presence was needed—as though it comforted him in some way—and I liked that. To make someone smile, especially him, brought something inside me dancing to the surface. But to make someone feel at ease was rare, and I didn’t want to walk away from it or take that unspoken trust for granted.
“What makes you unhappy?”
Dumbfounded, I breathed out a laugh. “Why would you ask that?”
“You can tell a lot about a person by finding out what they don’t like.” Scratching at some of the hair on his cheek, he lifted his head. “And you don’t tend to make a lot of noise about that stuff.”
“About stuff I don’t like?” He nodded. “There are things I don’t like.”
He sat, waiting, as if he didn’t believe me.
I frowned, trying to think of what to say as his steady gaze drilled into mine, and my stomach continued to jump. “Celery,” I blurted.
“Celery?” He repeated on a gruff breath, his lashes rising to his lowering brows. “Really? That’s all you’ve got?”
Nodding, I tried to ignore the embarrassment creeping up my neck. “Celery is for suckers; can you write a song about that?”
A short bout of laughter and then, after eyeing me a moment, he nodded again. “For you, I can probably write something.”
“About celery?” I asked, nerves straining my voice.
He tipped up a shoulder, tapping his fingers on the table. “About whatever I want. What else don’t you like?”
Caught off guard, it took me a moment to answer. “Crowds.” I forced a shiver. “I need space.”
“Fresh air?”
“Any open space.” Growing more confident, I said, “What about you? What don’t you like?”
Seeming taken aback, he slouched in his chair. “Not many things.”
That kind of surprised me. Given his quiet, solemn nature, I thought he’d answer differently. “Such as?”
With a smile tipping the corner of his mouth, he huffed. “You really want to know?”
Frowning, I said, “I really do.”
“Fine. Sirens and royalty.”
“Is that it?”
Another half shrug. “Pretty much.”
“Royalty?” I repeated.
He hummed in confirmation, giving nothing else away.
We stared, the drumbeat in my chest increasing with each second. I wanted to ask why. Desperately.