The Mixtape

Emery smiled, and I thought about kissing her. Leaning over, wrapping her in my arms, and tasting her lips against mine. “Well, we’re just trying to get me to cry now, aren’t we?” she joked, pushing the deck of cards my way. “You go before the tears flow.”

I picked up a club. First song that I noticed on my playlist: “Tha Crossroads,” by Bone Thugs-n-Harmony. I couldn’t hear that song without vibing to it. Clearly Emery couldn’t, either, because she tossed her hands in the air and started dancing to the beat.

“My dad introduced me and my brother to Bone Thugs when we were around ten. This was the first song, and still, it gets me.”

“Gosh, it’s a classic, that’s for sure. My parents would never let me play this music, though. Honestly, if they heard me listening to this, they would’ve flipped the house upside down and brought out the holy water. Funny how different we were raised.”

“My dad always thought music was a way to teach. Every song had a story—good or bad—and he thought that was a good way to teach us about human nature.”

“You officially have the coolest father.”

She wasn’t wrong.

We pulled more cards, and the realization hit that so many of our favorite songs were the same. Yet, the ones I didn’t know, I was happy to learn from her. “Two Ghosts,” by Harry Styles, for example. Worth the listen. When she brought up Jhené Aiko and HER, I knew I liked her more than words. My favorite thing about Emery was how diverse her playlist was. It went from Frank Sinatra to Erykah Badu without a moment of hesitation. You couldn’t box Emery Taylor. If you tried to, she’d just break out of the restraints.

Great personality, and great music choices.

“Spades,” she sighed, laying the card in front of me. “Wishes and hopes, eh? I’m going to mix it up and go with my country heart. ‘My Wish,’ by Rascal Flatts.”

“What’s a rascal flats?”

Her mouth dropped open and she swatted my arm. “Are you joking? Only one of the best country bands of the early 2000s. My sister was in love with them. When we would sneak in listening to music, she would always play this song or ‘God Bless the Broken Road.’”

I wrinkled up my nose. “A little too country for me.”

“It will grow on you, just wait and see.” She yawned, and it was clear that we were getting to the end of the game as true exhaustion began to settle into both of us.

“One more for me, and then our questions,” I said, reaching for the card. Diamonds. I’d been pretty lucky to avoid the emotional card for most of the game, but there we were on the last song of the evening.

Emery sat up straighter as she listened to the first chords of the song. “Oh, what is this?”

“It’s called ‘Godspeed,’ by James Blake.” I rubbed the back of my neck as I tried to keep my emotions in check. “My brother and I would share a song with one another every single day, no matter what. This was the last song he shared with me.”

Her eyes watered over, and she didn’t even try to keep the tears from falling. Her hand landed against mine, and she squeezed it lightly. “I’m so sorry, Oliver. I know you hear that a lot from so many people, but I am so deeply sorry.”

I gave her a tight grin and shrugged. “It’s all right.”

“No. It’s not.”

She was right.

She closed her eyes as she listened to the song, and the tears kept streaming down her cheeks as she felt it. I saw it happening—she wasn’t just listening to the words; she was feeling them. They were being imprinted on her soul, the same way she was being imprinted on mine.

When the song came to an end, she opened her beautiful eyes and took both of my hands into hers. “Can you play it again?”

And I did.

It was crazy how life worked. For the past few months, I hadn’t been able to play that song without feeling as if my heart was being ripped out of my chest. But having someone to listen to it with me, having Emery there to experience the song, the lyrics, the story behind its meaning to me, made it hurt a little less. As if she was sharing the burden of it with me.

When I was with her, I felt less confused, less sad. Less lonely.

“Thank you for sharing that, Oliver. It means a lot to me.”

“Thank you for listening.”

She wiped her emotions away from her eyes and cleared her throat. “So question time? Should I go first?”

“Yes.”

“Why do you keep your mirrors covered?”

I grimaced and shifted a bit, but I didn’t drop my hold of her hands. I wouldn’t dare drop her touch. “It’s hard to look in mirrors. Because it feels like I’m looking at my brother.”