I may have told him it was good practice “in case of an emergency.”
Okay, I absolutely made that up on the spot.
But it worked because he stopped arguing.
He steps onto my balcony.His gaze lands on the shoebox I set in one of the chairs.
“Is that the thing with the letters you mentioned last night?”
“Yep.I’ve only read two of them.”
He sits beside the vinyl box instead, handing me a cassette.“I finished this today.But obviously this is just the beginning.”
“The beginning?”I ask, amused.
“Your music education,” he says solemnly, like he’s about to knight me.“You’ve survived without it, but it’s time.”
A laugh bursts out of me.“I know music, Mr.Snob.”
“It’s not snobbery,” he says.“It’s having great taste.”
“You call it great taste,” I say, “but you rolled your eyes at my aunt’s White Lion album.”
“That’s because White Lion had talent, but zero cohesion.It was like listening to a genius getting interrupted every thirty seconds.”
“They were good,” I insist.
He stares at me, horrified.“We’re going to have to have a long conversation about your choices.”
“Oh, please.You’re the one who said your Echo & The Bunnymen album ‘spoke to your soul.’”
His ears actually turn pink.“They’re brilliant and misunderstood.”
“You said it changed your life.”
“I never went that far.An album that changed my life would be Led Zeppelin IV.Bonham taught half of us how to breathe behind a kit.Or Who’s Next.Keith Moon made drums feel like a living thing.He rewired my brain.”
I lift a brow.“So now we’re talking about breathing lessons?”
He scoffs.“It’s called musical education.Something you clearly missed while listening to your aunt’s ...what was it?White Lion?”
“You’re still offended?”
“I’m not offended.”He crosses his arms.“I’m just saying, if you want to understand greatness, you don’t start with glam bands who wrote lyrics like they were filling out a Valentine’s Day card.”
“Oh, please,” I say.“You’re the one who said Echo & The Bunnymen rewired your emotional DNA.”
“I never said DNA.”
“You implied it.”
“I implied nothing.”
“You stared at the ceiling for a full minute afterward.”
“That was—” His jaw clenches.“Fine.Maybe I was thinking about something.”
“Something,” I repeat, grinning.“Like your soul speaking?”
