Page 63 of The Drummer

I curb the urgency and try to be as understanding as I can. “Look, I don’t want to pressure you, I just really want to see it.”

“But it’s not even finished!”

“So what? I know how the process works.”

“Dude, she says she doesn’t want to show you. Let it go.” Luke cuts a hard look at me.

I flinch and sink back as the budding hope wilts around me. I just want them to see. I need someone on this journey with me. I’m so tired and alone and?—

“No, it’s fine. Sorry. Here,” Callie says suddenly, handing me the book. “But like I said, don’t expect too much.”

Her gaze brushes mine, and I see the apology there. As usual, somehow she knows this is about more than poetry to me. Somehow she understands the secrets I may never be able to share.

I turn back to the notebook and voraciously skim the words.

“I think he likes it,” Luke jokes.

“Hell yeah, I like it.”

I read through a few more poems before circling back to the mirror one.

Melodies are already forming with urgent clarity I haven’t had in a long time. I need to get them out. I have to.

“Dude, where’s your guitar?” I shoot at Luke. His scowl returns, but I don’t have time for that. “Come on, man, not now.”

He gives me a hard look. “You know I don’t play anymore.”

“Yeah, and I also know you don’t go anywhere without that piece of junk. Just get it for me and then you can sulk all you want.”

Even the Sultan of Sulk cracks a smile. “It needs new strings. I haven’t touched it in forever.”

“You think I care about that right now? I’m not gonna play a show in the lobby, I just want to try something. Come on! Don’t be a dick for once.Please.”

He hesitates for a fraction of a second before accepting the inevitable. He knows what’s happening right now and doesn’t have the energy to fight me on it. The infection has taken hold. Better he just gets me the damn guitar and leaves me to my illness.

While Luke heads back to his room, I return to the poem.

It’s the chorus that’s gnawing at my head. It will continue to torture me until I can form it into something tangible. A verse melody worms its way in. Another line of the chorus.

Where’s Luke? What’s taking him so long?

He finally returns with Percy, his guitar, and I grab it from him as soon as he’s within range.

I already know it will have to be tuned, so I impatiently take care of that beneath Luke’s silent humor. He’s seen this a thousand times. He knows the manic artist I become when the music strikes.

Luke is mumbling something as he shuffles back out of the room, but I’m not listening.

Once I get the tuning as good as it can be under the circumstances, I work out the tempo in my head. I try a few keys with single strum progressions, humming the tentative melody until it finally feels right. Focusing back on the notebook beside me, I test out some melodies to solidify the line.

After a few more experiments, I finally feel ready to make a real pass at a full chorus. I have no idea what’s going to happen, but it’s been a long time since I’ve felt this kind of excitement. The buzz that comes with being on the verge of something. It’s almost more addictive than when you find it.

I play and sing for a while. Stopping, starting, testing and adjusting. The chorus, especially, is turning into something worth pursuing. The verse, not quite yet, but I get completely lost in the adventure.

Movement in my periphery grabs my attention, and I remember Callie.

Right.

Callie.

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