7. Opal
SEVEN
Opal
“ W hat are you always writing in there anyway?”
I peek up from the journal balancing on my thighs to see Alex’s green eyes staring at me from a few feet away.
He’s started coming over to my house almost every afternoon. He claims it’s because his house is boring, he says his dad is either at work or just sits around drinking all the time. That made me sad to hear. I know what it’s like to have an absent parent, but it must be just as hard having a parent that’s physically there but still ignores you.
I shrug. “Words.”
One of his brows lifts curiously. “What kind of words?”
“I don’t know, they’re just words that pop into my brain.” My eyes flick back to the page and I try not to lose the last thought that I was about to jot down.
I like that we can sit around and do what we’d normally do alone–together. He’ll bring his guitar and strum it while I write in my notebook. It’s kind of nice that we don’t have to talk all the time. I don’t have any other friends that enjoy just sitting around and doing nothing like this. I love Maisie to death, but she’s a busybody that constantly needs entertainment.
“Can I read them?” He asks after a couple of minutes pass.
I grasp my pen tighter and stare down at the page. “No,” I say.
“That’s cool. I was just asking.”
Usually I just write about my day, but sometimes I put my deepest and most visceral emotions on a page. I don’t know if I’d ever feel comfortable sharing that stuff with anyone.
“I write stuff too,” he says as he picks lazily at his guitar strings.
“You do?”
“Yeah, I’ve written a couple of songs. I guess you could call them songs,” he chuckles. “They’re not very good.”
“No way!” I close the notebook and set it on the small table beside me. “I want to hear one.”
He glances up at me for a second before looking down at the guitar again. “Not really fair, is it? If you won’t show me yours.”
I guess he has a point, but I have a feeling his writing is a lot more eloquent than mine. He seems to be good at everything he does. “Okay, fine, I can show you something in there. It’s really not even interesting, you’re going to be disappointed.”
“I bet it is interesting.” His voice is low and sincere, and it sends a prickle of excitement through me.
“You go first.”
He sighs. “Right now?”
“Yes? Why not?”
He flicks his eyes over to my front door expectantly, and then back at me.
“My mom is at work, and my grandma is watching tv in her room. She has the volume so high on that thing I promise she won’t hear you, I can hardly hear myself think when I’m in there.”
He chuckles and glances down at the guitar. “Alright,” he plays a couple of chords. “Don’t laugh. I told you it wasn’t good, that’s your only warning.”
I roll my eyes and cross my legs beneath me in the wicker chair I’m sitting on. The afternoon sun is starting to set, and the orange rays are filtering onto the porch.
He plays a simple progression of chords, it sounds sort of country-ish, but with a soft Americana vibe. It sounds really nice.
Don’t say he didn’t care, don’t say he didn’t love me
That man was my brother he put no one else above me
Don’t you dare call him a coward, he was too brave for his own good
I couldn’t do it for him, but god I wish I could
His face is pinched, his eyes closed. A lump forms in my throat, and I feel tears prick at the back of my eyes. There’s so much emotion and pain in his words, it makes me feel like the silly words I write are just meaningless ramblings.
Alex never talks about his brother. The couple times he has mentioned him, he didn’t give any details about his death. Sometimes it almost seems like he tries to pretend he never died.
He plays the last note and I’m breathless, unsure what to say. “Wow, Alex, that was…really good.” It’s an understatement, but I’m too stunned to come up with anything clever, and I don’t want to embarrass him.
He smiles and sets the guitar down beside him, he looks to be out of breath too, like singing the song took a lot out of him.
“It needs more work.”
He’s always modest, but I think deep down he knows how good he is. I don’t know many guitar players…okay, I don’t know any other guitar players, but it’s pretty obvious that he has a natural talent for music that most people don’t have.
“So, you gonna show me something you wrote now?” He smirks.
My heart beats faster, and I feel a tiny bead of sweat form on my brow. I’ve never showed anyone anything I’ve written, minus school essays. Teachers have always complimented my writing. In elementary school I even won an award for a short story I wrote, but I don’t know if that translates to me being a good writer or just being able to follow directions well.
I sigh and pick up my journal, flipping through it to try and find something that isn’t totally embarrassing. It isn’t lost on me that at least a few of these pages are things I’ve written about Alex specifically. Definitely not showing him those.
After a minute or so I realize I’m going to be embarrassed no matter which one he reads, so I just pick one.
“It’s dumb, but here.” I hand him the journal. “Don’t read any of the others.”
I have your eyes, I have your hair,
But I look around, you’re never there.
There’s a hole in my chest where you would go,
But the person you are I’ll never know.
His eyes thoughtfully graze over the page several times. “Is it about your dad?”
I shrug. “I don’t know, I guess.” Obviously it is, but I don’t want to say that.
“I like it. Do you ever think about writing songs?” he asks before handing back my journal.
Shaking my head, a small laugh escapes me. “I can’t sing.”
“That doesn’t matter. I could sing them for you.”
The idea instantly makes me smile, but also I don’t feel like my writing is good enough for that. “I don’t know. That seems hard.”
“You should try it. We could be a team.”
The fact that he wants to do anything like that with me sends a thrill through my body. “Maybe.”
He grins. “Thanks for showing me, best friend.”
He started calling me his best friend a few months ago, and it makes me smile every time. I’m surprised that he doesn’t have a huge group of friends by now. I’ll never understand why he chose me to be his friend out of all the people, especially girls, that try to get his attention.
But I’m glad he did.