35
Iwoke up the next morning with a pounding headache. It wasn't a hangover. I hadn't had enough to drink for that. It was from all the worrying and thinking and fretting. I'd barely made it home before dawn, having spent most of the night at Walt's.
Natalie had left soon after saying her piece, leaving me to absorb her words by myself. She no doubt sensed I wanted to be alone, so she hadn't stayed. She'd simply patted me on the back and wished me a good night.
A good night. I wouldn't have called the rest of my nightgood,but I hadn't wallowed in complete misery the entire time, so that was something.
When I slid out of bed and reached for my phone, I saw a dozen missed messages. Most were from Gael, but a handful were from Julian, along with a couple from Nathan and Seth. They were all variations on the same question.
Are you okay?
I didn't answer any of them. I didn't know how to answer them.Yeswould have been a lie, although a reassuring one. But I didn't feel as emotionally destroyed as I'd felt the night before.
Natalie had given me lots to think over.
I'd just come out of the shower and pulled on some clothes when my phone flashed with a missed message notification. My heart jumped, wondering if it was Liam. He hadn't sent me a single message after I'd gotten into that taxi and left him.
But when I checked, I saw it was from Morris.
Meet me at the youth center,was all it said.
It had only been sent minutes before. I didn't bother asking what time.
I debated internally with myself. Morris could have wanted to talk about any number of things, and I didn't think I was up to any of them.
But after what Natalie had told me last night, I did want to see him.
Morris is so full of pain and anger and grief. Just like you.
I grabbed my bag and headed out.
When I got to the center, I knew exactly where to go. I found Morris in the music room, behind a drum set. The room was soundproof, but as I opened the door I was assaulted with heavy beats and crashes.
The music halted as I stepped in. Morris stood up. He nodded in greeting. Despite the painful aching in my heart, that small quirk of his lips made me smile in return.
"Sorry," he said. "I know this is last minute."
"I wasn't doing anything else."
That technically wasn't true. I was supposed to be at rehearsal. After the previous night Gael was probably half-expecting me to skip out anyway. I deserved one day off.
"Should I bother guessing what this is about?" I asked.
"You don't have to," Morris began.
"No," I cut him off with a shake of my head. "I think it's a good idea. That song. I want to write it. With you. About him."
"About Harper." The pain in Morris's voice matched the pain in my chest as he said the name out loud. "Thank you."
"No. I should thank you. You're right. It's a good idea. Maybe with this, I can finally deal with—" I paused. "Everything. Deal with all that shit I've been pushing aside for years."
"Me, too," Morris said quietly.
"I'll probably be rusty. I haven't composed with anyone else in years."
"It's like riding a bike," Morris said.
"Maybe."
