Art & Soul

  Dad just nodded once and kind of smiled, which felt like a giant hug.

  “If it’s okay with your parents, Lance and I set up a celebration party back at our place with a ridiculous amount of music, art, and pizza!” Daisy offered. Aria and I whined at the idea of Daisy’s pizza; it was probably made out of dirt, or would at least taste like it was. Daisy laughed knowingly. “Don’t worry, it’s not vegan. I figured you all might like those disgusting genetically modified organisms that are filled with deadly chemicals and poisons that are slowly but surely leading to the end of mankind as we know it.”

  “Ohmygosh, I hope you got pepperoni,” Aria joked. She turned to her parents to ask if she could go to Lance and Daisy’s.

  After a small bit of hesitation, Simon jumped into the conversation. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure Aria’s on her best behavior.”

  “Just make sure to stay off of your feet,” Mrs. Watson ordered her daughter.

  “And call me if you need a ride home,” her dad said, stepping near her and kissing her forehead. Her eyes widened at her dad’s action. He placed his hand on her shoulder. “You were fantastic tonight.”

  Tears formed in Aria’s eyes as she thanked him.

  Simon and Abigail agreed to meet us at Soulful Things after they stopped by their houses. I was pretty sure it was just an excuse to make out some more.

  36 Aria

  “You were amazing, tonight,” I told Levi. I’d never heard him play like that, free and raw.

  “You weren’t half bad yourself,” he said as we stepped into Soulful Things after Lance and Daisy dropped Kent back at home with the nurse. Daisy had music playing throughout the space and there were tables set up with pizza and snacks. We spent the next hour talking about the showcase. We laughed about how Connor’s paintings had ended up looking like awkward penises, we were impressed that Ms. Jameson had finally decided to shave her beard, and we were not in the least bit surprised that Mr. Harper had gone on a long monologue about his past love with Leonardo da Vinci.

  “I’m gonna miss that class,” Levi said, sitting against the floor with his legs wrapped around a bongo that he banged every now and then.

  “Me too.” Mostly I would miss working with my partner each day. Next semester meant the start of homeschooling for the remainder of the year. I was going to miss the best Abigail quotes during lunch, and sitting on the dirty bus next to Simon, but mostly I would miss kicking invisible rocks with those blue Chucks each morning at the bus stop.

  “Where exactly are Simon and Abigail?” Levi asked, ripping me away from my thoughts, which were getting a little too sad. “They said they would be here thirty minutes ago.”

  Just like magic, Abigail opened the front door of Soulful Things. Her eyes were wide, and she was panting as if she’d run all the way from her house. Her hands landed on her hips as she bent forward, trying to catch her breath. “Simon’s in a terrible mood.”

  “What? Because you two had to stop kissing?” I joked.

  “No.” She shook her head. “Much worse than that—although that was pretty awful, too. I tried to calm him down by saying, ‘You have power over your mind—not outside events. Realize this, and you will find strength.’ Do you know who said that?”

  “Marcus Aurelius,” Levi replied without thought.

  She arched an eyebrow. “How did you know that?”

  “Lucky guess,” he said, winking my way.

  “This wasn’t the plan!” Simon came barging into the shop. “I can’t believe they would do this to me!” he shouted, his breaths heavy while his fingers were wrapped around a piece of paper.

  “Who exactly is doing what to you?” I questioned.

  “My parents! This wasn’t a part of the plan, we weren’t supposed to leave!”

  My throat tightened. “What?”

  “My dad was offered a job promotion,” he explained. “I found the paperwork on the living room table. They didn’t even tell me about it!”

  “What’s wrong with a promotion?” Levi wondered out loud, his eyes narrowed.

  “It’s in Washington.” Simon sighed, removing his glasses and rubbing the palms of his hands against his eyes.

  Washington?

  Washington?!

  “When I confronted them about it they said we wouldn’t be moving until the summer, after I finished my semester of school and after the baby came. Why didn’t they tell me, though?! It’s as if they already made up their minds! It’s not fair.” He kept complaining, but my thoughts were still going over and over the word Washington.

  Keira and Paul wanted an open adoption; I wanted an open adoption. I wanted to watch the baby being raised in a happy, loving family. That couldn’t happen if I was in Wisconsin and they were in Washington.

  My eyes kept blinking, my chest feeling tight as the baby flipped and kicked in my stomach. This wasn’t part of the plan.

  * * *

  “Well, this is the most depressing damn party I’ve ever seen,” Lance complained as he walked down the stairs from his apartment. Everyone was lying on the floor not talking as the music played on the loudspeakers. “Seriously, people. You suck at partying.”

  “We’re depressed,” Simon explained.

  “You’re too young to be depressed, unless you have gonorrhea. That shit is a buzz kill.” Lance snickered, until he realized none of us were laughing with him. “Come on, guys! Gonorrhea jokes are always good!”

  No one replied.

  “Okay. Well, since you are all so teenage-angst right now, how about we move to the rooftop for the awesome game that Daisy has set up for you.”

  “No thanks,” Simon said.

  “Too depressed,” I agreed.

  Lance crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. “Now listen, you little buttheads, Daisy went out of her way to create this next activity for you all, and you are going to walk your lazy bums up to the rooftop, maybe get a little frostbite, and have fun.” We all stared blankly at him before he raised his voice. “NOW!”

  * * *

  Set up on the rooftop were two guitars, a huge canvas, and baskets with water balloons. There were four markers sitting beside the baskets, and for the life of me I couldn’t figure out what was happening. Daisy was standing with her bright-as-always smile. “All right, you guys. In honor of Levi and Aria’s epic night of art, Lance and I thought it would be cool to have you explode in color. The balloons are filled with different paint colors, and the markers are for you to write down things that you’re feeling. Everything. The good, the bad, and the ugly parts. That’s what will make it beautiful. Plus, there will be music, brought to you by Lance and yours truly.” She walked over to the guitar and picked it up while Lance grabbed the other one. “Get messy.”

  The four of us went for the paint balloons and started writing down the words that we were feeling in that moment. Words that we loved. Words that we hated. Words, words, words.

  Simon wrote Washington and threw it at the canvas, making the balloon burst with a vibrant blue. Even though he hated Washington, the way the paint exploded on the canvas made him smile. “That’s actually really freaking cool.”

  Words that were written and exploded against the canvas:

  healthy

  baby

  adoption

  long distance

  music

  art

  pain

  tears

  kicks

  death

  cancer

  laughter

  sadness

  you

  me

  us

  All the colors bled against the canvas, splattered paint everywhere. By the end of our masterpiece, the four of us had learned to laugh again as our hands managed to become covered in paint. Levi ran his fingers against my cheeks, painting my face with purple. I giggled and dressed his cheeks with greens. He picked up the last balloon and stood close to me. So close that I was certain he was going to kiss me, but he didn’t. Instead, he took his marker and wrote
one word on the final balloon.

  There were over six hundred thousand words in the Oxford Dictionary. That meant there were six hundred thousand definitions of different words with a million and one meanings. Some words were silly while others were heartbreaking. Some words were happy while others were angry. So many different letters came together in different ways to form those different words, those unique meanings.

  So many words, but at the end of the day there was only one word that stood out among the rest. One word that somehow meant both heaven and hell, the sunny days and the rainy days, the good, the bad, and the ugly. It was the one word that made sense when everything else around you was messy, painful, and unapologetic.

  Love.

  With a smile, I wrapped my pinkie around his and said, “I love you.”

  It might not have been right for us to feel the way we did, but it was our feelings, our way. My heart exploded when his lips met my forehead, and I listened to him whisper, “I love you, too.”

  37 Aria

  The next day Keira and Paul sat in our living room explaining to Mom, Dad, and me how the job offer wasn’t something they’d planned. “I didn’t even know I was up for the promotion,” Paul said quietly. “And I’m so sorry you found out that way, Aria. Simon shouldn’t have told you.”

  I shrugged. “I would’ve found out regardless, I guess.”

  Keira placed her hands in her lap, giving me a wary smile. “I know this isn’t what we agreed on, and if it’s not something you’re comfortable with, Paul will pass on the promotion.”

  “Yeah, one hundred percent.” Paul agreed. “Even though it would make us ten times more financially stable, bringing us out of years of debt and struggle.”

  Keira pinched his arm, making him cringe. “But it’s not about the money. It’s about you feeling comfortable.”

  I glanced at Dad and Mom, wanting them to speak up for me, to erase all of the issues and make the decisions, but I knew it was my responsibility.

  Mike walked into the house laughing with James, and they paused when they saw use all sitting. Mike groaned. “Not another deep emotional baby talk.”

  James’ stare shot to me, worry filling his brown eyes. “What’s going on with the baby? Is he okay?” The hitch and level of concern in his voice was alarming.

  I glanced around, making sure no one had noticed his urgency before I answered. “The baby’s fine. We’re just celebrating Paul’s new job promotion in Washington.”

  Keira’s hands fell to her chest and she took a breath. “We are?”

  I picked at my fingernails and nodded. “Yes. Congratulations, you guys.”

  James stepped closer into the room, running his fingers through his hair. “So, the baby goes to Washington? Aren’t you going to miss it, Aria? Didn’t you want it close to home?”

  He was starting to sweat as he wiped his hands against his jeans. Dad turned to James and cleared his throat. “Sorry, James. This is kind of a private conversation.”

  With a few blinks, James apologized. “I didn’t mean to cross any lines.”

  Lines were definitely being crossed and blurred.

  * * *

  “You can’t seriously be letting them take the baby to Washington!” James barged into my room uninvited. He’d probably been sitting in Mike’s room waiting for a decent amount of time to pass before he announced his trip to the bathroom, which apparently happened to look remarkably like my bedroom. “You should’ve talked to me about this.”

  I cocked an eyebrow. “Why would I have talked to you? It’s none of your business.”

  “None of my…” His jaw dropped before he rolled his hand over his mouth, flabbergasted. “He’s my kid, too!”

  I dashed from my bed to close my bedroom door. “Do you want to say that a little louder? I don’t think they heard you in Canada!”

  He squeezed the bridge of his nose and pushed the soles of his shoes back and forth across the room, leaving zigzags throughout the carpeted floor. “Sorry,” he murmured. “I don’t know what I’m doing.” He opened the door and left with his head lowered.

  I sat down on my chair and rubbed my hands over my growing stomach. At least James and I had that in common; he didn’t have a clue what he was doing, and neither did I.

  38 Levi

  I received a call from Denise and she spoke words I’d never wanted to hear. “Your mom’s in the hospital.”

  “What do you mean she’s in the hospital?”

  Denise’s voice was low, almost mute. “She had a bad reaction to one of her new medications and tripped down a few steps in the clinic. The doctors aren’t giving me all the details yet.” She was crying into the receiver, her words getting tangled up with her thoughts. “She was doing so well, Levi.”

  She went on to tell me how scared she was for Mom, but she knew nothing about being afraid.

  Being afraid was currently being eight hundred miles away from your injured mother, feeling a million miles away from your dying father, and not having any idea what you should do next.

  * * *

  Music was what resided in my mom’s soul. Every day before she and I would have our violin lessons, she would quote Friedrich Nietzsche, saying, “Without music, life would be a mistake.” It didn’t matter how she was with her mental stability. When she was mentally all with me, she would quote Nietzsche. When she was so far away in her own mind, she would still quote Nietzsche.

  Even when her mind had taken her to the darkest places inside of her soul, music was still there for her, her medicine, her life support.

  On Christmas Eve I found myself standing inside Soulful Things, unsure what my next move should be. Lance sat in a chair behind me, not making a sound. I’d never heard Soulful Things so silent. After I filled him in on what had happened with Mom, he said, “Why do the most bullshit things happen to the best kinds of people?” He apologized multiple times until no words were left to be spoken.

  “How do I choose?” I whispered, my hand rolling over my neck repeatedly as my mind raced. “How do I choose which parent to be there for?” Did I stay with my father who I’d never had a chance to get to know, who was currently living the last days of his life? Or did I go home to my mom who was struggling from her accident and needed me by her side?

  How do you choose which need is more important?

  How do you choose which parent to stand by when they both need your support?

  Lance pushed himself up from the chair and moved into the storage room. He reentered with a case wrapped with a red bow. “I was going to give this to you tomorrow, but I think you might need it tonight.”

  I opened the case to find a brand new violin. It wasn’t just any new violin, it was the Karl Willhelm Model 64, the same one I’d been eyeing in his shop since I’d arrived there. “Jesus, I can’t take this. It was over three thousand dollars.”

  “Paid in full. I went ahead and set it up for you, too. It’s yours.” He smiled.

  I picked up the violin and stared at it in my hands for a moment before bringing it to my nose to smell. For a musician, smelling a new violin was the equivalent of a reader smelling a new novel. It was a homelike scent that made you realize that the world wasn’t a completely terrible place, that there was still beauty that existed.

  “Get lost, Levi,” Lance said in the most caring way possible.

  “Thank you,” I murmured, to Lance, to music, to my soul.

  I fine-tuned the strings. I messed around with the bow.

  Lance turned and walked upstairs. The moment he disappeared, I shut off the lights, filling the space with darkness.

  Everything was exactly the same, but somehow completely different.

  Colder.

  Sadder.

  Lonelier.

  This feels right.

  My fingers discovered the sounds of apologies that the violin offered me. The strings cried for me. Music understood me when I didn’t understand myself. It was my blanket of protection from every real fear that e
xisted. I rocked back and forth as I traveled down the road of pure escapism. I became lost in the moment, forgetting all of my surroundings, all of my pain, all of my hurt.

  I played until my fingers ached.

  And then I played some more.

  I played until my body shook.

  And then I played some more.

  I played until my heart broke.

  And then I played some more.

  My fingers ripped the bow away from the violin. My hands were pale as ghosts from my intense playing. My body shook with nerves and a clouded mind, but I knew the answer to the question.

  I knew who I had to chose, and it broke my heart.

  Hold it together, Levi.

  I needed to calm myself, to control my panicked breaths. I wondered if what I was feeling was what it always felt like for Mom. Were the panic attacks so painful that they traveled from her toes to the tip of her head? Did she feel the walls screaming at her? Was it always this ugly and terrifying for her?

  I needed to find a place of peace.

  But I wasn’t sure how.

  The truth was that Mom was my peace. From day one, she’d been there for me. Even when she was battling the ugliest of wars, she was still my stillness. I was the hurricane and she was somehow the eye of the storm. She comforted me when Dad’s cards stopped showing up. She held me when he said he didn’t want to see me anymore. She’d been there from day one, and I’d left her.

  What’s wrong with me?

  How could I have ever hated her?

  She was sick, and I walked away.

  She begged me to come home, and I ignored her.

  She was my true music. Not the kind of music that I played in a darkened space. Not the kind of sounds that the shadows applauded. She was the colors that found the strings. She was the purples and blues, the yellows and reds that bled love from the vibrations of sound.