“We used to hang out and play together a lot before that but… After I saw him play, I just… I couldn’t get enough time with him. My mom convinced Gael’s parents to let me go to his practices from time to time. She thought it was so cool that I was interested in music like that.” I pursed my lips when I remembered the way my mother reacted. “I mean, she probably just wanted another thing to show off with, but it felt nice to hear something encouraging. We finally convinced dad to get me drum lessons by the time I turned eleven. It took months to get him to think it might be worth it.”
“So your feelings for Gael started out as admiration, not love?” She observed, her voice flat and routine now that I’d deviated to talking about my parents. I bit the inside of my lip, frustrated by her fickle interest.
“Yes.” I couldn’t imagine my affections starting any other way.
“I’m surprised that you started with drums… Don’t you play a bass in your band?” She started clicking her pen again, the incessant noise collecting in my ears like unwanted rainwater in a bucket.
“Yeah. I learned bass later on.”
“What inspired you to change to the bass?”
I smiled at the memories that woke. “I was thirteen and I had a crush on this bassist, right…”
***
My bedroom is full of posters of Cyrus Blake, one of my first crushes, holding his bass. He wore a vest and his black hair tumbled down his shoulders, creating an image that managed to be both provocative and cool at the same time. A dreamy sigh escaped my lips. He’s so sexy.
I sat against my bedroom wall on my bed, my cheek pressed against the image of him while I held my new bass in my hands. I plucked at the strings, but the instrument didn’t make pretty sounds. There was a smile on my face, dreaming about how cool it would be when I finally mastered the instrument as Cyrus did. I remembered the concert video I’d watched the other night when my parents went to sleep, how the sweat rolled down his bare chest, his hands perfectly plucking and sliding across the strings. While it was shocking at first, I quickly grew comfortable with the arousal that I felt just by looking at him. I remember biting my lips as he tossed his sweat-dampened hair. I was starting to grow mine out, to be just like him. I had to stop thinking about it, now. I didn’t want to be aroused in front of Gael. He walked into the room and I lifted my head. He had that curious look he got sometimes, his thin eyebrows furrowing a bit when he looked at my new bass. I jumped from the bed with a giddy smile and thrust it towards him.
“Look what my dad got me! I can’t wait to learn how to play it! I want to be just as good as Cyrus…”
I looked back up at my posters, giving myself just one more moment to sigh at Cyrus’ beauty. Gael gave me an amused smile, gently taking the instrument by the neck. I let it go and he sat down with it on my bed, encouraging me to sit beside him without so much as a glance. I initially felt nervous that he’d break it, but there was relief when I noticed how confidently he tested the instrument.
“When did you learn the bass?” I asked. He knew so many instruments now, it was hard to keep track.
“Last year. I wanted to get back at my dad. He found sheet music for a rock song in my room and had a meltdown, so I asked my tutor to show me between my violin and piano lessons.” Gael laughed gently. “Dad was livid when he found out.”
I joined in his laughter, imagining his father’s face when he discovered Gael’s skill. My parents could be strange about my hobbies, but Gael’s father would rather die than see his son play ‘unrefined’ music. He wanted his son to play classical music but compromised when his son was offered a seat on the Kampton Symphony, a rock orchestra, as their youngest member. He thought it would open doors to a ‘real symphony’ in the future.
I remembered the muffled sound of his parent’s argument when Gael’s contract with the symphony expired last month. His mother didn’t want to force him to renew it, but his father wanted to push him as hard as he could to be the musician he wanted his son to be. Gael never got to have a say, so we usually hid in his room when his parents were at it.
Finally, I noticed the music that he made, dragging me back into the moment.
“You’re pretty good,” I observed. Gael smiled again, a subtle and refined kind of smile. His eyes, though, were always as cold as a winter storm.
When I realized that I’d been staring at him, I tore my eyes away. Gael looked up from the bass and my face, unexpectedly, felt hot.
“I could teach you to play, you know. You already know how to read music, so it shouldn’t be too hard.” He handed it back to me, already placing my fingers on certain strings. There was an odd tingling where he touched my hands. “You’ll hold it like this, to start. I’ve got your fingers positioned for a pretty common chord.” I tilted my hand to look at my fingers and he let me, even though I could tell it frustrated him that I couldn’t just feel the note the way he could. I took a deep breath, draining the heat from my face, and I opened my mind to learn.
A few hours a week, Gael returned to my room to teach me bass. My mind kept returning to those moments. I recalled Gael’s hands on mine while he taught me my first set of notes. His calm voice soothed me when he instructed me on how to move my hands. I took note of the way his curls slid across his forehead when he nodded in approval, and the clearness of his eyes as he focused on my finger placements. The way he looked at me stirred something within me. I saw things about him I didn’t see before. I made the excuse to look over some sheet music with him, resting the bass over my lap to hide the evidence of a dirty thought. I experienced a strange feeling, then: Shock mixed with disgust. How could I become aroused by my best friend? It seemed immoral to even imagine blurring the lines we‘d drawn over the years.
While his parents kept him in his room for lessons, I often practiced alone. I’d learn new notes for the songs I’d write, many full of feelings I didn’t yet understand. They became secret vulnerabilities that I hid beneath my mattress. When I wasn’t poring myself out in the rows of black dots, I was leaning on the wall beneath my window, listening to Gael’s practices.
His father was always giving him new challenges to conquer. It seemed that every day, he was studying a new musical instrument or genre, so long as it appealed to his father’s tastes. Once in a while, he’d pick up a skill on his own. Gael learned the mandolin at some point, as his father thought it would divert his interest in rock music to inspire interest in classical Asian music. For a few weeks, I could hear opera soaring out of Gael’s room. I couldn’t be sure if Gael was listening to placate his father or out of genuine interest. It was always hard to tell. He loved such a variety of music.
Those days, it was like Gael had become my world. When he was with me, he had my full attention. When he was away, my mind had gone with him. I spread the sheet music I’d written in front of me. I pulled my legs to my chest, staring at the crescent of white papers. Every word, every note, was written in tribute to Gael. I pushed the music beneath my bed. I wouldn’t believe that I felt anything more than mere admiration for him. I bit my lip and buried my forehead into my knees. The opera music invaded my ears. I wouldn’t believe that I loved him.
***
“So you felt that your feelings for Gael were wrong.” Dr. Paege noted aloud.
“I mean, back then he was nothing more than a friend. Suddenly, I had fantasies about him. It was hard to admit that I had a crush on him. I denied it for years.”
“I see.”
***
Opera music floated into my bedroom, my window wide open so I could catch the notes that came on the summer breeze with the scent of my mother’s garden. Absinthe and I were playing a fighting game on my small TV, and she always destroyed me with combo moves I could never perform myself. She made it look easy, but when I picked up the controller, the buttons didn’t obey. Today was even worse.
I woke up that morning to a bed wet from the aftermath of a dirty dream. The dream wasn‘t my first, but this one disturbed me. I dreamed that Gael was on top of me, kissing me and whispering things into my ear. When his hand slid down from my hip, I woke with a jolt, staring forward into the darkness with eyes full of horror and shock.
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Ashamed, I’d held my head in my hands. At school, I learned that confusing dreams were just one of many products of puberty. Was that one of them?
The sight of my character, bloodied at Absinthe’s hand, brought me back.
“You really blow at this today.” Absinthe commented.
Her fingers effortlessly pushed the buttons of her controller, kicking my virtual ass.
“I know. I… I have a lot on my mind. But I don’t know…” I pressed three buttons at once, a desperate attempt to copy the combo she used on me. The button presses looked the same as when she did it, but my character just flailed stupidly on the screen. Her character lifted mine overhead, snapping his spine over her knee. I stared blankly at the screen, too used to losing to feel raw about it.
Absinthe set her controller down and took mine from my hands. I met her eyes, strikingly green against the brown of her hair and skin.
“Tell me what’s on your mind. I’ll listen,” She said, facing me completely to give me her full attention. I looked down at my lap, ashamed.
“I… I don’t know how to explain it…” I couldn’t meet her eyes. What would she think if I told her I’d had a dream about Gael? Wouldn’t she think I was weird?
“Try your best. I have all night,” Absinthe said, relaxing back on the palms of her hands and prodding me with her feet. The more comfortable she looked, the wilder the butterflies in my stomach became.
“I, uh… I had a dream last night. Gael was in it.”
“You and Gael are in my dreams all the time, Asya. What’s wrong with that?” She cocked her head to the side slightly.
“No, no… It was… It was like a…” I floundered for the words, my face growing impossibly hotter as the truth formed on my tongue. “A dirty dream.”
“Oh…” She was quiet for a moment and I could feel the judgment coming. Shame flooded my body like a chemical. “Well, you already knew you were into guys. What’s wrong with having a dream about Gael? He’s attractive.”
My eyes snapped up to meet hers, astonished. “But he’s my best friend! That’s so weird…” I held myself, avoiding her gaze again. Absinthe touched my shoulder, and I became more aware of my tension.
“That doesn’t mean that you can’t become attracted to him. Maybe you’re having feelings for him.”
“But that’s so…” I shuddered. “I don’t know, Absinthe.”
“Well, if it was just one dream, it might be a fluke.” She shrugged.
“Well… That’s true, but…”
“But what?”
“Well. He uh… When I… You know…”
Her eyes narrowed at my scrambling. “When you what?”
My legs squeezed together, and I buried my face in my knees.
“When I uh… Touch myself.”
“I see.” Her tone is strangely comfortable, as if I’d revealed the answer to a math problem instead of a personal secret.
I continue, “He pops into my head and… It shocks me, but strangely it works to fantasize about him. Then it feels wrong again when I finish…”
“It wouldn’t be odd if you like him.”
My chest pounded like it was preparing to explode
“I don’t know. Maybe he looks like Cyrus, a little...” The excuse fell flat the moment it hit the air. Absinthe huffed in frustration as she disappeared from my sight, sitting behind my leg barrier again.
“I don’t agree, Asya. You haven’t gushed over him lately. I think your crush on Cyrus died weeks ago.”
Again, I imagined Gael’s hands on the bass. The look Gael made when he concentrated had power. Cyrus’ sexy bedroom eyes, however, had grown dull.
I shook my head.
“No… I can’t like Gael. I can’t.” I muttered into my jeans.
Absinthe sighed. “There’s no reason to be embarrassed. It’s okay.” She placed a hand on my knee.
“Please, Absinthe…” I started, “Don’t tell anyone…” I pleaded softly from within the cage I’d made out of my body. Her hand slid away from me, the comforting warmth of it disappeared.
“I promise. This secret will stay between us.”
***
“So you were in denial, then.” Dr. Paege parroted.
“I kept trying to bury it down. I focused on my bass playing and I taught Absinthe how to play the drums. She was an excuse to spend less time with Gael when the feelings got too overwhelming. For two years, I failed to accept my feelings.” I laughed in hindsight, at how pointless the struggle seemed.
“You never once told Gael about this?” She prodded.
“No.”
“So instead of facing these problems as they manifested, you buried them underneath distractions?”
I nodded.
“You never resolved these issues?” Judgment loaded her gaze.
“No.” I flicked my gaze away, hiding the shame with a pathetic curve of my lips.
“Well…” She wrote something down, leaving me to wither in a moment of sober silence.
“So,” Her voice changed, suddenly fresh, “Did you ever think to use music as a coping mechanism?”
“Sometimes. I spent a lot of time practicing by myself, but I enjoyed it the most when I played with Gael and Absinthe.”
“Was it easier to deny your feelings, when you spent time with him this way?”
“I mean, obviously that shoved them into my face. Whenever I saw him, my heart would flutter and fantasies filled my head. It became impossible to push them aside.”
“Do you remember when you finally admitted your feelings for Gael to yourself?”
“Yeah. I was fifteen, just before we started the band…”
***
Absinthe, Gael, and I were at Gael’s house, in the music room that his parents made. Chunks of acoustic foam, instruments and pieces of equipment dotted the walls. A line of instructional posters rimmed the ceiling. More equipment was on a large storage shelf to one side, beneath a photo of Gael with the Kampton Symphony as a child. We came here more often in the past year when his parents divorced. Gael’s father wasn’t around to stop his mom from having us over.
She loved to be around during practice, bringing snacks and gushing over our music whenever she ‘accidentally’ happened by. A month earlier, she learned about our aspirations to make it in the music industry. The news thrilled her. She‘d insisted that we play in the music room. Seeing her excitement stirred jealousy within me. The pure joy she radiated was more than my selfish, ambitious mother ever could.
Gael was a little off after the divorce, but he confessed that it wasn’t all bad. His father couldn’t stand in the way of his dreams anymore. Before every practice, he smiled so sweetly that I always felt warmth in his presence. Now that he was free, Gael was alight.
For months, we enjoyed a blissful summer, experimenting with our music.
One day, everything changed. Gael strummed his guitar while we set up our equipment, looking up at us from time to time. He wanted to say something, but curiously, he waited. After we set up and got into position to play, he walked to the microphone, taking it gently into his hand.
“I think we should start a real band together.” He spoke casually, stealing our attention away from our instruments.
There was a brief silence.
“YEAH!” I shouted, pumping my fist into the air. Old fantasies of bright stage lights came back to life inside of me. Absinthe stared hesitantly at her drumsticks, stunting the excitement.
“I don’t know…” She muttered.
“Please, Absinthe! It’ll be so cool!” I begged.
“You’re good with the drums, Abby. Imagine all the girls that’ll like you.”
She blushed.
“But it’ll be so embarrassing…” She insisted, but a small smile betrayed the hesitance in her demeanor.
“You’re skilled and attractive,” Gael started.
“And you make this cool, brooding face when you play. I can imagine the fans whispering about how cool you are.” I added.
“Imagine showing off that drumstick trick you do, all the girls squealing about how amazing you are,” Gael spoke with intensity. He knew where to strike.
She covered her face with her drumsticks, shaking her head, but that strange grin remained on her face.
“Okay, okay… But if the band gets too big, I’ll quit,” she said.
Gael and I both grinned, sharing a victorious glance with each other.
“You’re the best!” I ran around her drum set to hug her.
Gael’s serious face was back when the hug ended. He picked up sheet music from the letter-box by the door.
“Let’s play a song I wrote the other day.”
My hands quivered as we got into our positions. For the first time, we played as a real band.
***
For a few weeks, Gael went on about how the group needed a fourth member, mumbling about musical variety and dynamics. Resourceful as he was, it took no time to fill the space.
Digitalis entered the music room, her red hair flowing down her shoulder on one side, the other shaved in a way that shouldn’t have looked so elegant. When we picked up our instruments, my palms sweated. We’d never played in front of anyone, except for Gael‘s mom. To make matters worse, Gael was the only one familiar with Digitalis. He’d known her from talent shows they attended in their childhood. Her singing voice got her national recognition as a child star. Knowing only those things, her presence daunted me. Unlike me, she’d proven her talent.
We played Gael’s song, which we’d practiced for the past few weeks. The song used to sound off, but when Digitalis played the rhythm guitar and sang with Gael, the holes filled in. The song had become so amazing. My insecurities faded and I couldn’t wait to get up on stage.
Halfway through the song, Gael’s vocal solo started. With the second guitar, the solo had transformed.
It hit me all at once: the sound of his voice and the way his hair swayed as he danced by the microphone. Gael played perfectly, even while he sang. The experience transformed me, and the crush I’d denied until now exploded within me. The shapes his lips made when he formed each word captivated me. I couldn’t help but imagine them against mine. Worse still, exploring further...
I struggled to focus, to keep my eyes off of him. It was impossible. Still, there was more than raw lust. At that moment, I fell in love with him.
When the song ended, the room buzzed with excitement. The song was amazing, but I couldn‘t celebrate it.
During the buzz, I slipped away to the bathroom. I needed solitude. I was sure I’d fallen for Gael.
***