I boot up my laptop and open a new Word doc. “The topic is—what drives the human spirit. I figure it might be easier if you talk and I transcribe.”
This way, he can completely focus on what he wants to say without having to worry about typing it.
He exhales slowly. “I don’t think I can answer that because it’s different for everyone,” he starts as my fingers tap the keys.
“It depends on their intellect, emotions, fears, the shit they’ve been through…what they truly want and need. I only know what drives mine.” His eyes squeeze shut. “For me…it’s music. Creating.”
He’s so candid right now. So raw. I feel like I’m getting a glimpse at the real him under the mask.
I have to remind myself to keep typing as he continues.
“When I get lost in music, nothing else matters…because all the bad shit has been stripped away, and I become a brand-new canvas. One that turns me into whatever the notes, chords, and lyrics need me to be. It’s like a spell has been cast, and I’m no longer human. I’m no longer matter taking up space…I’m sheer energy. A vessel for magic I can’t even begin to explain. All I know is those sparks of magic…it’s the best feeling in the world. It’s what I live and breathe for. It’s what drives me.”
His eyes open and lock with mine. “Whenever I’m singing or playing, I’m the most authentic version of myself. It’s the only time I don’t want to be anyone else.”
My heart squeezes as I finish typing up his words. “That was…wow.”
I don’t think Mrs. Herman will have a problem with this one bit.
Far from it. She’ll want to get close to the sun.
After clicking save on the document, I email it to him so he can turn it in. The clock on the right-hand corner of my laptop reads twelve-fifteen. Which means we still have some time before I have to go.
“My curfew is one now.” Not wanting to come off desperate, I quickly add. “But if you’re tired, you can drop me off early.”
With a humorless laugh, he takes a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and lights one. “Must be nice having parents who give a shit.” Before I can ask what he means, he grits out, “Living in that nice, big house with plenty of food and whatever else you fucking want.”
The smoke from the lit cigarette hanging out of his mouth wafts through the air, and his upper lip curls in contempt. “Bet they always say how proud they are of their sweet, innocent little girl.”
I’m not sure where all this is coming from, but his cruel words feel like a punch to the rib cage.
“It’s parent. Not parents.” Confusion spreads across his face as I stand up. “And I have no idea if my mom would be proud of me because she died a few minutes after I was born.” I gather my things. “She’s never been anything more than a ghost whose death broke my dad’s heart.” A missing piece I can never get back. “But by all means, keep telling me how great my life is.”
“Lennon.”
Ignoring him, I march toward the garage door.
I know he doesn’t live in a nice house and his family struggles financially, but that doesn’t give him a right to make assumptions about me and my life.
Especially when he has something I’ll never have.
Something I’d kill for.
I feel a sharp tug on my wrist before he spins me around.
“I was a dick.” His ragged breath fans my face. “I’m sorry, okay?”
His earnest expression tells me he means it.
But what he said still hurt.
“It’s fine.” I fetch my phone out of my pocket with my free hand. “I’m gonna get an Uber.”
Instead of backing off, the grip on my wrist tightens. “No. I can drive you.” He visibly swallows and his voice lowers…like whatever he’s going to say next physically pains him. “I don’t have a mom either.”
This is news to me.
Then again, it turns out…I don’t really know Phoenix after all.
“Your mom died, too?”
“Worse,” he bites out. “She left.”
Oh, God. That’s horrible. My mom didn’t desert me on purpose…the choice was completely out of her hands.
Being intentionally abandoned by your parent must hurt like hell.
“How old were you?”
“Seven.”
Dealing with that at any age is awful…but he was so young when it happened.
We’re both quiet for what feels like an eternity before I break the silence.