“Maybe I deserve that...”
“Maybe?”she repeats, planting her hands on her hips.
My hands find my hair, pressing my fingers into the part and pushing it back a couple times.
“Okay, you’re right.I could have handled myself better, and I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings.I should have stopped it before it went...there.”
Her mouth cracks into a smile, and from this close, I can see small freckles dusting her lips that are normally buried behind color and gloss.
“Tate really messed you up, didn’t she?”
I move to take a seat on the stool next to hers.“I don’t know if she messed me up or helped put me back together, but I’m working on picking up the pieces.Are we good?”
“Yeah, we’re good.I’m not sure what that was about.I guess I felt threatened.Like, what if you win and all I have to keep is the memories of these last three months.”Her whole body deflates, her shoulders tugging her chest down an inch.
“I’ve thought about it...”
“Really?You?I feel like from day one you knew you were going to win.”
“That was just stubbornness.I think no matter what, Gabriella, you’re talented and something good will come your way.”
“Whoa.Who are you and what did you do with Levi Johnson?”Her smile is bright and genuine.I laugh and admit to calling my therapist.She listens as I tell her the microwaveable version of why I am the way I am, and it feels good.Freeing.I’ve spent the past five plus years pretending everything was perfect, pretending I’m perfect.What a waste.I tell her about my dad, church, my mom, and when I’m done it feels like I just took off a huge, weighted vest.
“You’re really not so bad,” she says, tipping her head to rest on my shoulder.The sky outside has dimmed even further, making the lights of the studio seem that much brighter.
“Thanks, Gabriella.You’re okay too.”I kick my foot out, balancing my leg on the edge of my heel.“So, were you hiding from me in here or were you working on your final song?”
She stands, moving from the chair to the mic, switching it off.“Both.I wanted to try out a couple that I have sung in the past, but nothing feels right.What about you?Have you picked your song?”
A big sigh falls from my mouth.“No, not yet...Maybe we can help each other?”
“What do you mean, like, I pick yours, you pick mine?”
“No, but if you give me your top three, maybe I can help you narrow it down?”
She stares at me, narrowing her eyes in suspicion before a large smile blooms across her face.“Or...how do you feel about giving Jan a taste of her own medicine?”
“In what way?”I ask.
“What if we both do a duet?”
“Huh?”
“You and I sing together.Twice!”
“Okay, how does that mess with Jan?And doesn’t that kinda enlarge our problem?Learning two songs in two days?”
“We will pick songs we both know.Maybe you can even pull out the guitar.And if we both play together...maybe we can both win together?”Her smile is small.Hopeful.
“I...I don’t know.Won’t we just be judged independently like we were in our group competition?”
Her lips twist up.“Maybe, but it doesn’t hurt.”
I stare at her, considering.“Let’s do it!But we better start tonight.I saw a coffee maker in the kitchen.I’ll get that going while you research duets.”
––––––––
About four-ish hoursand two coffees later—mine black, hers with a bunch of stuff in it—we are one song down.For Gabriella’s song, we’re going to perform “Over and Over” by Nelly, featuring Tim McGraw.
