Chapter 10
10
Brock
A few nights later, I'm still riding high, powered by Schapelle's thank you kiss. It's hard to put into words, but I feel like I'm turning a corner. Something's shifting in me, like I'm waking up from a long, deep sleep. I'm starting to become the man I used to be. The man I want to be.
"Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap!"
I glance across to the dining table. Schapelle scrunches up another piece of paper and tosses it onto the table, along with all the others.
She's hit a block in her writing and has not been a happy little camper all day.
"Everything okay over there?" I call out from the safety of the living room.
Over dinner, she mentioned that we wouldn't be able to watch our show—er, I mean, her show—because she needed to work. Even though I can't help out with character motivation or series continuity, I want her to know that I'm here for her, even if it's just to use as a sounding board.
"I've just finished plotting, and the beginning is always the hardest." She shakes her hair out, like she's trying to release some pent-up frustration. "I haven't even gotten to the midpoint which always drives me crazy. Oh, and don't even get me started on the ending."
"Have you ever thought about pursuing a different career?"
She frowns at me. "Why on earth would I do that? I love writing."
"Right." I swallow my grin. "What are you stuck on, specifically?"
"The heroine," she says, collapsing into the seat and scrubbing her hands down her face. "I still can't find her."
"Find her?"
"Yeah. I visualize all my characters. I need to see them in my mind. I can't even settle on a name for her. Nothing fits. Hey, which one do you like?" She sits up. "Maddie, Noni, Teegan?"
Uh…I have no idea how any of this works, but I'm pretty sure a character's name is a big deal. I don't want to say the wrong thing. "They're all great."
She grimaces, shakes her head, and sinks back into the seat. "Sorry. I shouldn't be putting this on you."
"I don't mind. I just don't want to steer you in the wrong direction and mess up your book."
"Don't worry, I'm doing a good job of that all on my own."
I hate seeing her like this. Glancing down at the pad I've been making notes in since dinner, I decide to give it a try. I'm nowhere ready yet, but I have to do something .
"Stay there," I say, getting up.
I fetch the guitar from my bedroom, pick up my notepad off the coffee table, then sit down next to her in the dining nook. My head bobs a few times as I work myself up to get ready. And then, reading my music notes, I begin to strum.
It doesn't take Schapelle long to recognize the melody, and out of the corner of my eye, I can see the moment she does. Her hand flies to her mouth. "Oh my goodness, Brock ."
I keep playing, working my fingers over the strings, muscle memory infusing me with a subtle message to let go of the past to make room for my future.
I hit the part of the song I'm not sure of, stop, then try to restart, but it's a bit wonky. Schapelle shuffles closer to me and starts singing the words. I hear the melody and pick up where I left off, guided by her voice. Together, she sees me through to the end of the theme song to Dawson's Creek.
"I was wondering what you were writing in your notepad."
"Still have some work to do, clearly," I say, resting my hand on the top of the guitar.
"No." She cups the side of my face with her soft hands. "It was perfect. Just what I needed. Thank you."
That's my cue.
I make a zippy-lip gesture and arch an eyebrow.
She laughs. "You're not going to say you're welcome are you?"
I unzip my lips. "Never."
"Fine. Looks like I'll have to kiss you again."
"Was hoping you'd say that."
Her lips touch mine, sending a surge of heat though my body. Time grinds to a halt, like it always does when we kiss, and I close my eyes, committing every single second of this experience to memory, like I always do when we kiss—her soft lips, the sweet taste of her tongue, the warmth of her body so close to mine. I wish this moment would last forev?—
" Ohmygosh ! I've got it," she cries, pulling back abruptly.
I blink a few times. "Got what?"
"My heroine's name—Paula."
"Paula?"
"After the singer of the theme song. Paula Cole."
I had no idea who sang the song, but I'm thrilled that Schapelle made a breakthrough. "That's awesome."
"You're the best!" She gives me a quick peck then slides back over to her notes and starts scribbling away furiously.
I watch her for a while, marveling at her dedication to her craft. I scoop up my notepad and retreat to the living room to work on the section I messed up. I've had this sappy song stuck in my head for days since we watch the show so much. And not just the melody, but the lyrics, too. They're about not waiting until the end of your life to start truly living. That really hits close to home, because isn't that exactly what I've been doing?
Another line resonates, too— Will it be yes or will it be sorry?
Maybe I'm interpreting it incorrectly, but to me, that's about taking a risk and laying it all on the line. That it's better to know for sure than be haunted by what-ifs .
That's what Schapelle does. It's how she lives her life, so that at the end of it all, she won't look back and have any regrets.
Maybe it's about time I took a page out of her book and did the same.