Part 34 (1/2)

”You'll come o-over t-tomorrow and that's sssssomething hhhhappy.”

I didn't have to see her face. I could hear her smile in her voice. ”I meant something in the past, Elliott.” I bet she rolled her eyes too. ”Like, I've never had a sibling. What is that like?”

I swallowed hard, trying to force down the instant panic. My body and mind both nearly broke in that moment.

”Did you and your brother have fun together? Did you, like, play with Legos or whatever?”

Involuntarily I squeezed her hand as my stomach tightened, suddenly inhibiting proper digestion of the food Sophie had made, and I was overcome with waves of nausea.

I felt sick.

I tried closing my eyes, but that made it worse.

Sophie was still waiting for an answer, so I shook my head.

”What's his name? Have you told me?”

I couldn't honestly remember if I had, but I ventured that I probably hadn't.

She got up to look at me, and I could do nothing to stop her.

”Elliott?”

I looked at her, but didn't really see her.

”I asked what your brother's...Ow!”

I was shocked when I saw her sudden expression of pain and followed her gaze to where our hands were connected. My brain wasn't functioning properly because I had no idea what could have been causing her pain.

”s.h.i.+t, Elliott, let go.”

It was then when I realized I was gripping her hand incredibly tightly; much, much too tightly for her delicate fingers to tolerate. I couldn't seem to let go, but was thankful when she managed to wrench free. I knew with my broken bones and barely scabbed-over cuts, I should have been hurting, but I felt nothing.

Finally, my brain, body, and mouth caught up to each other.

”Ssssssorry!” I got off her bed quickly, fists pressed into my thighs as I looked at everything but Sophie. ”I sssssshould g-g-g-g-g-go.”

I risked a glance at her.

”Go?” she said as she eyed me cautiously, cradling her left hand with her right as my teeth clenched when I thought about how I'd caused her pain. ”It's only eight. Tom's gone until morning.”

I was wound tight and felt on the verge of having a real panic attack. I didn't want Sophie to witness that, so I had to do my best to remain calm while extracting myself from my present situation. I couldn't answer her verbally, so I shook my head.

I got nervous and my muscles shook with tension as she got up off of her bed to stand next to me. She didn't touch me, but her eyes never left me and that worried me. ”You can stay,” she whispered.

I wanted to stay but I couldn't, because if I did, Sophie would never see me the same way again, and there was no way that she would continue to want to spend time with me if she really saw my defects. I was incredibly uncomfortable. I didn't want to talk about my brother, and I had hurt Sophie because of it. Now I could barely breathe.

”I hhhhhave t-t-t-to gggg-g-g-go.”

She looked at me quizzically, cautiously extending her hand. I had to remember how to breathe before she touched me.

But it never happened. She stopped and then cradled it. ”Okay,” she said softly. ”Will you message me later?”

I nodded, almost overjoyed that she was letting me off the hook and allowing me to escape.

I drove home very carefully and actually had to pull over for about a half an hour until I calmed down enough to operate the car. My muscles were coiled. When I finally made it home, I ignored everyone and went straight to my room.

I wanted Jane, not even to talk really, but just to sit with me because she always knew how to help me without me having to say anything.

But she was busy, and so I was alone with my thoughts.

On Wednesday, we had a two-hour school delay because of ice and snow. David woke us up at the regular time and he was practically salivating to get to school because he had some kind of presentation to give in his History cla.s.s. He always looked forward to getting up in front of people. I thought it might be because it was a fresh chance to wow them and once again earn their acceptance and love.

So while David was impatiently going over his speech notes, Jane and I spent a little time together. Even though we didn't talk about anything more than our English a.s.signment and the vocabulary quiz, it was comforting just to be around her. She made me feel more like myself, and I didn't have to worry about everything.

Jane liked me. I knew that she did with every fiber of my being. She was connected to me instantly, and I never had to struggle with her. Everything had always been so easy between us.

Just sitting in the same room as she was, listening to her talk, was so very soothing to me.

When I finally saw Sophie, she never mentioned my mini-panic attack from the night before, and we went through our day as usual.

That night, Sophie and her father were over for dinner and a session with Robin. Sophie made meatloaf and she had me make roast potatoes and Brussels sprouts. As soon as dinner was over and Sophie and her father were behind closed doors with Robin, I put on my headphones and listened to music as I worked on my math homework.

I didn't want to find out things about Sophie by simply overhearing them. That wasn't fair. I didn't want to know things that she didn't want me to know.

Thursday and Friday went fine as well, until Sophie and I returned to my house for therapy. She had to wait downstairs until after I met my new counselor. I sat very quietly and didn't look at him. Robin was in the room while the introductions were made, but then stepped out, letting me know that she'd be close if I needed her. The doctor, who introduced himself as Dr. Benjamin Emmanuel, seemed like he thought Robin shouldn't have said that.

While I a.s.sumed he would start off by asking me something important, or telling me what our time together was going to be like, he surprised me when he said, ”My favorite composer is Chopin. He had music published by the time he was eight years old and is considered to be one of the most influential composers to have ever lived, but he would lock himself in a room for days, destroying things as he tried to figure out how to put what was in his head down on paper. Typically, after weeks of isolation and desperation, he reverted back to the first version.”

Composers were temperamental, like any artist or creative person, I supposed.

”Beethoven was a highly gifted child, like Chopin and Mozart, but his father would parade him around town all night long, forcing him to play at tavern after tavern, as he cried because he was so exhausted. His father was an alcoholic who made him practice over and over, punis.h.i.+ng him each time he made a mistake.”

I didn't want to hear anymore.

”So what do you think, Elliott?”

I looked up at him when he said my name.

”Do you think if Beethoven had a loving father, and Chopin hadn't been so emotionally distraught while writing, that their work would be as famous as it is today? Do you think that these things helped them define themselves as creators? Would they have even gotten involved in music in the first place?”

I didn't know, and I didn't want to answer. I didn't want to be in this room, and I didn't want to think about Beethoven being beaten for making a mistake. I also didn't want to answer Dr. Emmanuel verbally, so I shrugged.

”I understand that you weren't exposed to music until you were twelve. Is that correct?”

I felt heavy while my mind felt light and airy and removed, even though my thoughts were dark.

It wasn't true. I'd heard music before then, so I shook my head.

”When were you first exposed to music?”