As the lights dimmed, he said, “I wanted to continue the French theme, and I briefly debated screening a pretentious art film with subtitles, but that’s really not me. So instead, I went with this.”
I laughed delightedly when the opening scene of Ratatouille appeared on the big screen in front of us. “Excellent. You definitely made the right call.”
We ate our snacks and laughed our way through the animated film. It was light and fun and perfect for a date. When it ended, I got up and started to collect my containers, but he said, “Let’s leave the clean-up for tomorrow. We still need to finish our date.”
“What’s left?”
“The part where I walk you home.”
He took my hand and kept holding it as we left the theater and climbed the stairs to the third floor. Then he stopped at the door to my room and smiled at me as he said, “I had fun tonight. Thanks for going out with me.”
“I had fun, too. Thank you for everything. This was a night I’ll never forget.”
“Will you please go out with me again next week?”
“Absolutely.”
“Excellent. Good night, Jasper.” Our tender kiss was interrupted by my huge smile.
Then I stepped back and said, “Good night, Micah.”
He winked at me and whispered, “See you in a minute,” before turning and heading back down the hallway. I couldn’t stop smiling.
Once I got ready for bed, I went to his room and paused in the doorway. He was sitting cross-legged on his bed, dressed in nothing but a pair of black pajama bottoms, and he was playing one of his songs on the acoustic guitar from his abandoned fourth floor studio.
“I did my homework like you asked me to, and I realized something,” he said, as I climbed onto the mattress and propped myself up with some pillows. “There’s only one thing I’ve ever wanted to do, and that’s make music. It was almost ruined for me when fame and all that pressure tore my brother and me apart. I never want to go back to touring or life in the spotlight, but I’m going to start playing again. Not performing, just playing.”
“I think that’s wonderful,” I said.
He grinned at me, then dropped his gaze to his fingers as they moved across the strings. “I’d wondered if I still knew how to do this.”
“Of course you do. It’s a part of you.”
“It really is. For the last seventeen years, it felt like a piece of me was missing. As soon as I started playing again, it became so obvious. It’s impossible for me to feel whole unless I’m making music.”
“I’m so happy for you, Micah,” I said. “This feels like a big moment.”
“It is. It feels like a rebirth in a way, and I have you to thank for it.”
I dismissed that with a wave of my hand. “I didn’t do anything.”
“Yes, you did. You led by example when you went to that class tonight, even though it scared you. You also encouraged me to take a look at my life and think about what would make me happy.”
“Well, I’m glad I could help, even if it was just by giving you the tiniest push in the right direction.”
“I guess that’s all I needed,” he said, “a little push, and someone holding me accountable. You might have been joking when you assigned me homework, but I took it seriously because I didn’t want to let you down.”
“How could you possibly let me down, Micah?”
“By being a coward and a hypocrite. Here I was, trying to encourage you to pursue art school, and meanwhile I was too afraid to pick up a guitar and see if I still knew how to play.” Throughout this conversation, his fingers kept moving across the strings, producing a beautiful melody.
“There must be a lot of negative memories associated with playing music,” I said. “No wonder you were hesitant to pick it up again.”
“You’re right, but now I’m realizing there are a lot of good ones, too. This guitar pulled me out of poverty and changed my life. I bought it at a pawn shop when I was in high school, and I taught myself to play with books from the library. They were meant for little kids, and they were really embarrassing. Arlen used to tease me about them. One had a cartoon bunny that walked you through the steps.
“That was all I had, though. I couldn’t afford lessons. I was working after school at a fast food restaurant, but most of the money I made went to helping my dad keep a roof over our heads and food on the table. Without this guitar, I don’t know what would have become of me.”
“You’re an inspiration, Micah,” I said.
“Nah. Right now, I’m just a has-been who needs to get his shit together. You know what I was thinking, though? That I’d really like to give free guitar lessons to disadvantaged teens. That would have meant so much to me when I was their age, and it might make a difference in their lives. Even if they don’t want to make a career out of it, it’s still a great creative outlet.” The light in his eyes dimmed, and he muttered, “But that’s probably a dumb idea. I’m much more of a cautionary tale than a role model. Who’s going to let me teach kids?”