Page 67 of Hard Rock Muse
“No,” I said. “This is important. This is a part of Julian’s past.”
And he’d never told me.
Why?
I didn’t know how to bring it up. How did I just blurt out to Julian that I wanted him to tell me about his childhood? I didn’t want to push him or pry, but the thought that he had kept something important from me hurt.
Julian knew almost everything about my struggles with my single mom, trying to put Abby through school, working multiple part-time jobs to help with the rent, always wondering if I was doing the right thing by going for my dreams, always worrying I was being selfish. He had been the one to reassure me that I wasn’t selfish, that I was allowed to live my own life.
I wanted to be that person for him. I wanted to reassure him and comfort him. But he’d never told me about his family. Never told me he’d been passed from home to home. Was that why he was always so reluctant to show his feelings?
All of a sudden I had a much greater insight into Julian than I ever had.
And I wanted to know more.
The problem was, how did I get him talking about it without spooking him?
I waited until we were alone together at my apartment, after Abby had gone to a study group. Since we’d worked on the song all week and made some good progress we celebrated by spending some time relaxing on the sofa and sharing a pizza.
I decided the best way forward was to bring up my own family. That was a safe enough topic.
“Abby’s having a fun time at college,” I said after we’d each had two slices. “She’s a bit introverted so I was worried for a while, but she seems to have hit her stride. She’s joined some study groups and even goes out for coffee with friends sometimes.”
“She always was a quiet one,” Julian said. “At least compared to you.”
“Look who’s calling who quiet,” I chuckled.
“I’m not quiet,” he said.
“No?” I asked, teasing. “Then what are you?”
“I’m mysterious and smoldering.”
“I won’t argue with that,” I said. “When I first met you I had no idea what to make of you.” That was a good enough segue, wasn’t it? “You were just this shy emo kid who dressed all in black.”
Julian’s eye twitched. “Calling me emo again?”
I nudged him with my shoulder.
“When I saw you in front of that keyboard at that music store I worked at, I thought you’d play something depressing,” I said.
“I’m not that much of a stereotype,” he replied.
“I was really surprised when you ended up playing Ode to Joy.”
“It’s a good song,” he said.
“Still. You gave off this kind of melancholy vibe. You rarely smiled, until I got to know you better. I had always wondered…” I trailed off, pausing, wondering whether to say it. I took a steadying breath. “I always wondered what made you so sad.”
“I wasn’t sad,” Julian said immediately.
“Maybe sad isn’t the right word.” I put down my plate with the pizza and turned to face him, curling my leg under me. “There was just something about you. Like you were keeping so much inside of you. Like you wanted to shout from the rooftops but couldn’t.”
Julian shifted on the sofa, looking uncomfortable. “You know I’ve never been good with words.”
“But why?” I asked softly. “What happened?”
“Nothing happened,” he said. “I’m just not a talkative person.”
