Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
STEVIE
Opening the door to my apartment, I find the living room empty, as it has been for the past week and a half. I enter quietly since it’s eleven p.m. on a Wednesday, and Levi is most definitely home, if his present daily jacket is any indication.
This past week has been absolutely insane when it comes to classes, assignments, and trying to figure out where to start with my list. Making my way to the bathroom to get ready for bed, I close the door, ensuring privacy.
I’ve barely spoken or seen Levi recently, but it’s not out of avoidance. I simply haven’t had time.
All right, maybe I’m avoiding him a little.
The idea of facing him after last weekend is not a pleasant thought.
I do not want to discuss the details with him yet, especially after the last few days.
It wasn’t very pleasant finding out that all my friends were only ever Andrew’s.
Which was another thing I confirmed this week because… well, I spied…a lot.
I’ve never done it and am not quite proud of it.
At the time, it seemed like a good idea.
When I tried to stand idly by until someone from the group “passed by me” so we could have a little conversation, I casually brought the subject of King’s Wolf up, and they immediately got defensive.
Needless to say, I ran because what was I supposed to say once they started stammering loud enough for the entire hall to hear?
After that, I suspected that what Tiffany said was true, but she also lied to me for months, and I needed further confirmation.
So, I did what any other girl who’s been driven to the brink of insanity would do: I found Tiffany’s best friend, followed her to the library, and hid under a desk near where most of his friends were sitting.
After doing what I consider to be the most unlikely thing for me to do, I got all the information I needed.
Yes, they kept King’s Wolf and other bars they went to from me because Andrew and Tiffany asked them to.
Yes, Andrew has been going since the end of the spring semester last year.
Yes, they all knew about Andrew and Tiffany and still laugh behind my back about it.
But the absolute worst part? I found out they started sleeping together a month after I was diagnosed.
It just happened to be around the same time my libido disappeared due to the tests and medications.
Andrew always said he never blamed me for our sex life diminishing and that he’d stick by me no matter what.
I know he did it due to something I couldn’t control, and none of it was my fault, but hell if that doesn’t feel like a bullet to the chest.
Tears spring to my eyes, and when I look in the mirror, I see a face I barely recognize. I was getting better. Even when I was spending time with Levi and his friends, I felt like my old self—a bit more confident, even, but of course, Andrew had to ruin it.
Spying on them and this obsession I’ve had with his friend group this week has taken so much of my time, and now that I know the truth, I have to stop. I’ve always minded my own business, but Andrew changed something in me. I think he changed something in me a while ago.
My lowest point was when I hid under that desk to hear them confirm what I already knew.
And when I heard that it started while I was in and out of doctors’ offices, I knew I needed to do something more than ignore the problem.
Of course, I thought I’d already come to that conclusion last weekend when I made the list. Still, it seemed as if I needed to get all of this out of my system to take the first step in my fresh-start plan.
The question is, where do I start?
Luckily, I’ve been getting enough sleep and have been forcing myself to eat. If I don’t, my seizures might make a little appearance, and I won’t let what happened with Andrew affect my health that way again.
I pick my toothbrush up, and the moment it lands on my teeth, I can hear Levi playing guitar through the wall. Oh, he’s awake. I shouldn’t be too surprised—it isn’t late, and he’s a part-time guitar teacher and a music major.
Is it weird that I kind of missed him this week? Maybe it’s because he’s my only friend here…or I think he’s my friend.
I’m about thirty seconds into brushing, hearing Levi play “Iris” by the Goo Goo Dolls, a classic I also love.
After he finishes the first cover perfectly, he starts to strum some unfamiliar notes, stops, and starts up again.
I wonder if he’s learning something new and is unfamiliar with the song.
It’s not one that I’ve heard before. Then again, even though I have vast knowledge of music, I don’t know every song out there.
A raspy, almost guttural voice comes from behind the mirror, making me jump. It sounds like a tortured soul, and the lyrics about betrayal sit heavy on my chest. They’re completely relatable and unlike anything I’ve ever heard before, and that’s when realization hits.
Holy crap on a stick, Levi can sing. Not only can he sing, but he composes his own music and writes his own lyrics.
Immediately, I think of the third and fourth things on my list. Without a second thought, I run out of the bathroom and knock on his door.
After the tenth knock, he answers wide-eyed and panicked, his chest heaving.
I’m still too stunned by what I heard because he looks at every inch of my body, and it barely fazes me.
“What the fuck, Stevie? I thought something happened to you.”
“You can sing,” I say around my toothbrush.
His chest rises and falls as he tries to calm his breathing. “What?”
“You can sing,” I repeat.
This time, he points to his mouth.
Right, the toothbrush. Taking it out, I repeat my statement one last time. “You. Can. Sing.”
His cheeks instantly turn pink, and his entire demeanor changes, causing my excitement to diminish slightly. “I didn’t know you were home. The doors barely creaked.”
“Levi, when were you going to tell me you could sing and compose and write and oh my God.” I run to rinse my mouth, Levi following not too far behind.
“Stevie, I—”
“Your voice and those lyrics, they’re great. I knew that you played, but I thought it was for money or to teach in the future. Now I know it’s because you want to become a musician and—”
“Stevie.” He puts a hand over my mouth, and my eyes widen. His chest is moving quicker than usual, and he doesn’t seem bothered by my mouth being slightly wet. “I’m sorry, it’s just…” He looks me right in the eye. “I never play my music for anyone, it’s strictly for me.”
I nod in understanding, but my shoulders slump in disappointment at what I was planning to ask him. He removes his hand from my mouth, and before I lose the nerve I had only a minute ago, I blurt out the question.
“Will you help me write a song?”
He looks at me, baffled, and huffs a laugh. “You’re kidding, right? Did you not hear what I said?”
“Yes, I heard every word, but this would be different.” I run to my room and come back with the notebook I wrote in over a week ago.
It’s messy, but my handwriting is still neater than most. “Here’s a list of things I want to do before the semester ends.
One of them is to write a song and audition for one of the upcoming musicals.
The people who get a callback need to sing an original song. ” I wave the list excitedly.
This thing took me so damned long to make. The ping-pong battle in my brain drove me insane, especially given my stage fright.
Even though I am a theater major, I’ve always managed to remain behind the scenes, whether in the costume or makeup department, because I’m a goddamn coward.
However, this year I decided to take a more hands-on approach by finally signing up for the acting classes I need to graduate.
Next semester, I’ll start musical theater classes, but if I practice now, I might be able to get a part in one of the upcoming musicals.
The one that caught my eye is currently off Broadway and very popular.
It’s set in a high school and has a Groundhog Day theme.
The next step in my plan was to look for some help.
Free help, preferably, since I’m strapped for cash, and Levi would be perfect. I’ve started to trust him.
“I don’t have much money, but I can cook us more food or help you with any science classes you’re taking. I always do well in science-related courses. Name it and I’ll do it.”
Levi stares at me, not bothering to glance at my list. He takes a step back toward his room, and says, “I’ll think about it, but I don’t write for anyone but myself, Stevie.
It’d be up to you to come up with the lyrics.
As a fellow artist, I hope you understand where I’m coming from.
” And with that, he quietly shuts his door, leaving me with the unsaid answer.
He’s going to say no, and it’s the second time this week that I feel a slight, sad tug in my chest.
Tears spring to my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. I mumble a curse and run to my room, not bothering to keep quiet when I slam my door, not caring if it sounds like I’m throwing a small tantrum. Screw that.
Even though I’ve been avoiding Levi lately and we haven’t known each other long, I still consider him a friend.
He seemed like someone who would want to help, but maybe my being so busy this week pushed him away.
He might’ve taken it personally. Little does he know how much it meant to me that he introduced me to his closest friends.
Maybe he thought I was rude. Sure, I’m being careful with who I make friends with, but I don’t know, he seemed different. We got along almost right away.
It hits me then that I don’t have any other friends at Driscoll. I only have one person I can truly trust, and that person is a two-and-a-half-hour plane ride away. I kick my door in frustration and wonder how the fuck I got here.
No, I refuse to pity myself like I did last summer. It’s time to make things happen, or else I’ll dig myself into a hole that will be harder to get out of than last time.
My epilepsy has made me feel limited, like a burden to some and an obligation to others. I can and will do this alone, most of it anyway. I do need some lessons since I haven’t touched a piano in months, but other than that, it’s up to me.
So, I stand tall, message my father asking for a favor, take my nightly pills, and sleep. It’s only when my alarm rings at nine a.m. that I know today is the day I start over alone.