Resist Me

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Linc

Kai: You’ll make West blush like a little girl if you ask him to the team dinner. He’ll be a dick about it, but he’ll secretly love it.

Great. Kai was giving me West advice now. I had to admit that it was helpful, though. He was harder to read than a half-faded ancient Greek tablet. One second, he was fun and bubbly, then he was angry and prone to throwing hands, then suddenly he’d be soft and sweet. He was like a damn sour patch kid.

I did want to invite him to the dinner, to go with me. It wasn’t that I hadn’t thought about it. I just kept going back and forth. Going public with him didn’t bother me, even though I hated having the amount of attention on me that would garner. It was more that I was afraid we’d do all of that, then he’d bail.

West was flighty- a self-sabotager who was afraid of deep emotions. He didn’t have an issue with loving people. He did that deeply and unapologetically. It was letting people love him in return that made him freak out. I’d seen it even when I did simple things like tell him I want to lie in bed with him instead of practice. It was a different kind of vulnerability to be on the receiving end of love because there was danger in getting too comfortable.

My heart constricted when I thought about it. He knew firsthand that love could be taken away. If the person who should have loved him more unconditionally than anyone else could so forcefully withdraw it, how could he not question every bit of affection, every touch, every kind word? It made me feel more angry than I’d expected.

I’d ask him this week. If he got weird about it, I’d just have to drop it. Then, I’d bring it up an hour later. Eventually, his attitude would chill out enough to let him say yes. Maybe I’d have to do it after we had sex, but I only had about a thirty second window before he became a pain in the ass again.

God, I’d never had to work so hard for something before, and we weren’t even dating.

Should we be dating? I guess that depended on his stance on the dinner. There was no reason to overthink it right now. It wouldn’t help and I had other things to do. For one, I needed to play this song for what might’ve been the twentieth time tonight. Every time I did it, I thought about West’s words from the diner.

Running my fingers over the keys, I closed my eyes and just let myself play. The notes were the ones my mom had once arranged. Just playing the first few bars made me feel better. My body was more relaxed and I felt the music within me, rather than something on the outside that I had to listen to critically. This didn’t need to be perfected because it existed just as it was meant to. As long as I felt connected to it, it would sound right.

Maybe he did have a point. I could nail La Campanella and watch the professors nod appreciatively. Maybe they’d clap. In the end, though, what the hell did it matter? I wasn’t going to perform for anyone as a career and I didn’t even really like the composition. It was all over the place. If you asked me, it would’ve been better left as a violin piece. Let them worry about that trainwreck.

When I finished the song, I sat there for a moment in silence. It had only been half a day since I’d seen him, but I found myself wishing West was here. Maybe I just wanted to share this feeling with someone. And that right there was enough to convince me that this was the right piece to play. Feeling it, like he’d said .

Moving to the couch, I pulled out my phone to call my grandma. They were coming to the team dinner, which added another reason for West to get weird. I might have to put a leash on him so he couldn’t run away when they inevitably got introduced.

“Hey, kid,” a deep, gruff voice answered.

“Your voice sounds off, gran. How do I know you’re not the big bad wolf who ate her?”

My grandpa laughed, making me smile. “Grandma is busy fighting with a roux right now.”

“Ah, can’t leave that alone for a second. It’ll get all lumpy.”

“She’d be furious and take it out on me. How’s the song coming?”

“Well, that’s one of the things I wanted to talk about. Can you put it on speaker?”

I could hear him fumble with the phone, probably trying to figure it out. My grandma had a better grasp of these things, but my grandpa was old school. He liked his desktop computer and a flip phone, which he only used for calls.

“What’s going on, honey?” Grandma asked loudly. “I told you that you’re being too hard on yourself.”

“It’s not that. Actually, I was thinking about playing something else instead. Mom’s song, the one she used for their wedding.”

“Oh, that one is so beautiful. I remember she started that her junior year in high school and she spent so long adjusting it, making it exactly what she wanted.”

I smiled as I sat on the edge of the bed. “It really is beautiful. It’s just…”

“What is it, kid?” Grandpa prompted. “Think you can’t do it justice?”

“No, I can play it just fine. There’s emotion behind it and I think it’ll really make a difference. Part of me just feels like I’m using her hard work to secure my place in the program. I don’t know if it cheapens the meaning of the song.”

“Lincoln Porter,” Grandma said in her scolding voice. “If your mom was here, she’d be in that room and she would be so proud to hear you play. I reckon she’d be crying, even though she’d try to hide it. Not only would she be proud; she’d be honored that you chose it as the piece you want to use to reach your dreams. It doesn’t cheapen the song. It gives it memory. ”

Grandpa cleared his throat. “You know, your mother played for local theater productions while she was in college and she did other events to pay her way. She caught the eye of someone in the Broadway scene while she was playing that song. It jump-started her career and, if you ask me, it’s only fitting that it does the same for you.”

“I forgot about that,” I admitted.

My grandparents were right, but especially about one thing in particular. The piece had memory. If I played it during my audition and any time after that, it would continue to mean more to me. I’d been worried that attaching my own memorable moments to it would drown out hers, but maybe it made them all more powerful as a whole.

Many times, I’d thought about the title she gave the composition, and it hadn’t made much sense to me. Elysium At Midnight . When I was younger, I told her that the sun didn’t set in Elysium, to which she’d laughed and told me I was thinking about it too literally. It wasn’t something seen or perceived in front of you; it was an ideal, something that existed within you, a world of your own creation. To her, midnight in Elysium would be more paradisiacal than endless daylight. Maybe it was her happy place where she stored all of the good things and retreated to when her spirit was tired.

“Anything else on your mind?” Grandma asked.

“Uh, yeah. I might be going to the team dinner with a guy.”

“Oh my goodness. How serious is it?”

I laughed and took a moment to think about it. “I like him a lot. He’s just a pain in the ass. But he’s important, I think. I hope.”

“We can’t wait to meet him, Lincoln. If he’s grabbed your attention, he must be very special.”

*****

The audition and the dinner happened to be on the same weekend, which was both annoying and nice because I could get them both over with. Next Saturday at six, I’d sit in front of the piano with five sets of eyes on me while I showed them the inner workings of my soul. If all went according to plan, it would move them and my parents would smile from wherever they still existed in the universe.

I was getting sentimental. Usually, I didn’t think about these things all that much. I liked to live in the present so that I didn’t miss out on what was going on around me. It was March fifteenth, though; the one day I let myself feel it.

Most years, I gave myself the day off. Sometimes, I drank. It wasn’t some ‘woe is me, my parents died’ sort of thing. Grief wasn’t something I drowned myself in. This was the day my parents had died, but I also used it as a release from anything that was going on in my life. I tried to be a positive person, so I had to leave my shit at the door most of the time. Ergo, I had a day where I allowed myself to be a problem- within the confines of my own home, of course. Whether it was anger, sadness, or any other emotion, I let it consume me, then I moved on.

I didn’t know if it was technically a healthy thing to do, but it worked for me. My dad did something similar by taking a camping trip by himself once a year. He didn’t talk to a single person, even me and my mom, and he simply allowed himself to exist in the world without society, responsibilities, or commitments.

Bringing a beer to my lips, I looked down at the text I’d received.

West: I’m bored and my sister is avoiding me.

Can you come over?

I wasn’t sure how to respond. It wasn’t like I had an obligation to be part of the real world today, but… No, it was one day.

Lincoln: Not today. How about a movie tomorrow?

West: Oh. Ok.

He’d be fine. Maybe I’d show up in the morning with food fit for a child given free reign at the grocery store. Food and sex were surefire ways to make him smile.

I tapped my nail on the bottle slowly. ‘ Oh. Ok. ’ Was that the West equivalent of ‘ K ’? Would taking a day to myself activate his fear of abandonment? I grabbed the phone again, unable to stand the idea of that happening.

Lincoln: I miss you. It’s just not a good day.

West: I can make it better. Need me to kill someone? I’ve got you, polpetta .

Lincoln: … Do I want to know?

West: Look it up. I can’t do everything for you.

After plugging the word into Google, I chuckled. The funny endearments didn’t seem to be ending anytime soon. It was my own fault for starting it.

Lincoln: See you tomorrow, cucciolo.

West: I’m not a puppy.

Lincoln: But you’re so cute and you yap when you don’t get enough attention.

He sent a long string of emojis to let me know he didn’t appreciate that. Briefly, I contemplated going over there but decided against it since I was on my third beer. After I finished it, I tossed it into the recycle bin and shut off the light. I didn’t have any desire to mope or drink. Instead, I’d take a long shower and go to bed early.

Self-care, right? It might also be because I intended to wake up pretty damn early. I prided myself on being a sweet, caring boyfriend-ish person.