I clench my jaw in frustration. If I were writing this, it would be easy, but it’s so difficult to find the right words when I’m speaking out loud. “It’s like every time I need to talk to someone who doesn’t deeply, truly know me—and there aren’t a lot of these people—it’s like someone has thrown a weighted blanket over me, but not a good kind, like a way too heavy kind, and everything is harder because I have to put on this mask. And at the same time, it’s like my mind becomes all foggy and I can’t think straight, so whatever I say comes out as gibberish.”
I stop to take a breath, then finally look into Logan’s eyes. “And … I deal with it. I go to therapy. All the stuff you’re supposed to do. But for some reason this entire year, it feels like it’s gotten worse, and now this anxiety is creeping into my creative work, and then I got dumped on top of everything else, plus my dad—” I stop mid-sentence.
Logan cocks his head sideways. “What about your dad?”
Dread crawls through my chest like vines. This is one part of my life I’m not ready to share with anyone yet. Not even my former best friend. “Oh, he’s just, I don’t know … but anyway, like I said, I manage. It’s not as bad as it seems.” Except it is.
Before Logan can reply, Judith is back with our drinks. I nearly snatch it from her before she can place it on the table. I take a big sip from the pink straw. It’s good.
Logan takes a sip of his own beer, then places his forearms on the table to lean against it. “You should have told me before. We could have gone to an activity with fewer people.”
“No, I actually like going out where there’s people,” I stammer. “And that’s why I deal with it. Because I need that social interaction. I like going out and feeling the hum of people. It’s just … I need to recover after, if that makes sense.”
If it was so simple as avoiding social interactions, I’d just become a hermit and move as far away from the city as possible. But I’d get lonely too quickly. “Plus, this place is pretty cool. It’s exactly the kind of spot I’d choose if I were on my own.”
Logan’s shoulders seem to relax. He looks relieved. “Okay. That’s good to know. But you can tell me if it’s becoming too much and then we can leave. I’m okay with that.”
“Okay.”
“And you know you don’t have to act like anyone but yourself around me,” he reminds me with a crooked smile.
I look down shyly. “I know.”
Before either of us can say anything else, an old man walking by our booth stops with a big smile.
“Logan!” the man exclaims right before giving Logan a big tap on the shoulder. “I didn’t even know you were here! How come we haven’t heard you at the piano yet?”
Logan’s cheeks go red. “Oh, well, I’m with someone, so I didn’t think to?—”
“Wait,” I interrupt, suddenly feeling giddy. “You play piano?” This is new. Back when we were kids, doing anything creative for him felt like pulling teeth. And he sang like a strangled cat.
Although, playing an instrument can also be a technical feat, so I shouldn’t be surprised at what he’s capable of.
The old man beams and slaps his hands down on the table, making me jump. “Oh, does he ever! He always plays for us folks here. Dontcha, Logan?”
A lady two tables across from our booth joins the conversation:
“Yes, go play! I’ve been waiting for you to go! Don’t disappoint us!”
“How are you shy all of a sudden?” the old man asks Logan, whose face looks like it’s going to spontaneously combust. “Is it because of this beautiful little lady here?” Now it’s my turn to blush. “Are we interrupting a date?”
“Huh? No, no,” Logan reassures the old man before standing from the booth. He shoots me an uncertain smile. “Yeah, I play. Do you mind if I go do a song or two to appease these guys?”
Trying to ignore my self-consciousness from the old man’s comments, I nod with enthusiasm. “Absolutely not, I don’t mind. I can’t wait to hear you play. Go, go.” I shoo him off with my hands and give him a toothy grin.
Satisfied he got my permission, Logan makes his way to the piano by the bar. It’s an old, rustic thing that’s probably been here as long as this building, but it’s part of what makes this place so cozy. I don’t take my eyes off him for a second while he sits at the bench, stretches his fingers a bit, and finally begins to play.
When I recognize the opening notes ofAll of Meby John Legend, my entire body freezes with shock. My favourite song. This can’t be a coincidence, can it? I try to remember if I mentioned this was my favourite song during any of our conversations over the past few days … but I can’t recall mentioning it at all.
The notes are crystal clear, perfectly executed, and the restaurant has gone still. I’m not the only one enthralled by the music, but I think I’m the only one who cannot—even for a single microsecond—look away from Logan as his fingers dance on the keyboard with grace.
There’s something unfurling in my chest, like a small flower blooming and spreading its petals against my sternum. Suddenly, there’s nothing but Logan and the music, and the restaurant fades away. My vision tunnels straight into him.
His playing is beautiful.Heis beautiful.
A wave of emotion washes through me, and I have to bite my lip to keep my eyes from watering. The last thing I want is to embarrass myself and take the attention away from him. But it’s so hard not to let this wave completely overtake me. I don’t think I’ve ever felt something quite as powerful as this.
Even though I don’t want to look away, I close my eyes just for a moment. And that’s when I realize it’s gone.
