Tuning the Guitar Player
[13]
Fuck Nadia! Fuck Beverly! Fuck that black suit-wearing bitch face slyly controlling motherfucker Beatrice told me about! Who else deserves a fuck?! I have plenty to fucking go around!
Bless Beatrice. She did what she could. Parsley immediately brightened up with her around. Spirits, souls, ghosts or whatever supernatural stuff, if any of it could help, I gladly welcome it.
I was glad to be rid of Beverly, even though the version that we took back was so very different from the one I had to push through the opening. She demurely asked my aunts for some bus money to get back to the University and she was long gone by the time the others were shoved out of the ether and onto the floor of the bedroom. I appreciated the lack of questions from my relatives about people suddenly appearing in my room, even though they gave me some concerned looks.
I could only worry about Parsley. And do my best not to dwell on the crap that Nadia said about her short life. She soon looked the same as normal, even though her hands were bitterly cold and trembling. I warmed them up with no trouble. And I passed along the only good advice that this suspicious character gave me about overcoming tricky spirits with a long song inside our heads. Unfortunately, I was bereft of tunes to sing to Parsley, which would make her feel all the way better.
Connor and Zach looked really cute together. Never really would’ve thought of them as a couple, but it worked. My aunts were on board with realizing whatever romantic fantasies. They even presented the idea of marrying me and Parsley. That would’ve been weird. Although, my girl beamed and delighted when I did my best to describe the concept to her. Others took up educating her with images from the Internet and so many colorful notions. She soon resolved that we were different, reiterating mother and daughter, along with so many other beautiful things that floated through her thoughts.
Getting all five of us into my aunts’ car was an ordeal. Parsley offered to ride in the trunk, but none of us were having that. Zach practically provided backseat airbags for the entire group as a balance to the overcrowding. I got the opportunity to chat with her a little and we both riffed on boobs, with Connor providing extra teases.
Finding out that the three of them destroyed all of the “magical” stuff because of the slavery of trapped spirits tangled a few different emotions inside my head. On the one hand, what Beatrice was able to do for Parsley likely wouldn’t have happened without it. On every other hand I could imagine, the possibilities of those tools, from the switch to the altered flashlight to the admin flashlight, didn’t just include me. I couldn’t avoid imagining that maybe… Just maybe… Something for Parsley could’ve existed in all that. But this was what we had.
I don’t care whether they called me Anthony or Celestina… So long as Parsley was here. My heartbeat pressed against my ears as we drove on the freeway and the pavement played dribble games with all the strapped-down flesh orbs. The nearest recorder and registrar’s office was only a couple miles down the road. They had to make an appointment ahead of time through the Internet in blocks of an hour. Fortunately, there was one open in about 90 minutes. It felt more like we were speed-running this thing, but Parsley and I were along for the ride. Giving her an exciting and involving experience.
The official offices were next to a massive performing arts plaza and a recently constructed shopping center. Fortuitously, a bride and groom clothing shop was right on the edge of that center. And I was nervously sweaty. The humidity was hitting, and it wasn’t even lunchtime yet. Parsley had a radiant sheen to her when we got out of the car.
My aunts and Connor went ahead to deal with arranging everything that needed it while Parsley, Beatrice, Trisha, and I scoped out the store. It was apparently the first time going clothes shopping like this for Trisha and Beatrice. The two of them hung back with reserved curiosity. Not that it took long for them to really start browsing. Parsley was so polite and attentively diligent, looking through the racks and putting back what she was finished with. That’s my girl!
Just a day ago, it would’ve been an absurd joke to have our group looking at and giggling over frilly dresses and floral prints. So much to process, always too much to process. The impending tidal wave horror of every precious moment waning from Parsley was impossible to think about, even though it clung to my brain every few seconds. Don’t waste the now on fear of the future, I scolded myself. Nothing I could do would change what might be coming down the road. When it arrived, I’d figure it out.
The veils looked cute on everyone, especially Parsley, even though their utility eluded her. Zach considered clip-on earrings along with some decoration, like a laurel for her hair. The clerks were immensely helpful despite how peculiar we probably seemed to the lot of them with our strange, whispered in-jokes and bizarre knowledge gaps. Everyone at least tried on something, even though it was mostly a gray bridesmaid dress for me.
When Connor returned to join in, the halcyon prospects receded to the vivid reality that we were a bunch of poor college kids and none of this stuff was going to be in our price range. Although, my aunts pointedly hinted at the idea of a wedding gift for the blushing couple. They were already paying for the registration and ceremonial fees though.
It wasn’t long before the concentration of geeky brains brought up the topic of different sci-fi weddings. Connor smirked about a Betazoid one. A Klingon one definitely came up, along with the question of whether those or the Vulcan ones were more violent. We were such nerds.
Ultimately, a lacy, fluffy white feathered thing and some silver beads sufficed for head adornment for the couple. Parsley noticed the theater complex behind the civic offices, and I gave her a general idea of what theater was. Since nothing was running at the moment, I supplemented her imagination by pulling out my frail phone to share clips of drama performances. She was absolutely into every single one of them. Vibrant glee washed over me with every one of her smiles.
The ceremony itself was performed by one of the regular clerks with authority. A lot of official scripts and careful signatures, along with me and Beatrice signing as witnesses. The girls were able to offer up their own words of commitment, beyond the required statements. The shakes in Zach’s legs were not unexpected, but even Zach was surprised to see that Connor needed to take a few breaths before beginning.
“I swear to make sure we always share the load, and the XP drops, level up together through the happiest days and the saddest ones, and always be there for one another through every silly argument about which movies and series are the best. No matter what physical, emotional, and spiritual twists and turns and unexpected fates may come our way, I swear to share my life with you for as long as I can.” Poor Trisha had streams of tears as she listened. And she wasn’t the only one. Connor‘s eyes also got a little glassy.
Zach’s vows included references to a certain, magical ring, even though they both decided that rings would have to come later. She even managed some Ghostbuster-style Keymaster/Gatekeeper nods I found amusing. She finished with hope, hope to guide them both through whatever lay times ahead so that, even though they may someday be apart, they will always be there for one another. I looked to Parsley and kissed her on the forehead.
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It felt surreal when the ceremony was complete. They decided on Campbell-Monroe legally and officially, even though Trisha was rather partial to using Patrisha Campbell while lamenting that Riona Monroe didn’t naturally flow. They not only sealed it with kisses but buried all moments in them.
After that, it felt like time to get back to the campus. I learned from the others that there were so many frantic efforts by the administration to make things seem normal again and get back to regular classes. I couldn’t give a flying fuck. I would be taking several days off from school for Parsley and, if they had a fucking problem with that, then I was done with college.
The trip back to my dorm room was surreal. It was the same space, the same building, with a different name and an entirely different mood to everything. We took the elevator since Parsley seemed wobbly on the stairs. The first immediate shocker was the tanned, clearly Jewish girl wearing Drew’s style of white polo shirt but with the unexpected flair of a fluttery, gray skirt. She beamed brightly and wrapped me up in a sudden hug.
The cadence of her words and overall slang were enough alone to convince me that this was Drew, even though she wore a playful grin at the prospect of getting me to guess who she was. I just marveled at the fact that she had both arms and was standing, no, literally bouncing on her heels with exuberance. She had energy to match Pars's.
At some point in her trek, she experienced much that I did. Thwarted by the fact I guessed her identity right off the bat, she then poked around on her phone and then presented me with a worrisome snapshot. In it, she was covered in a dried, thick red substance with obvious bruises and flashing a menacing scowl. She responded, laughing at her own joke too quickly, “I got my money back!”
Rather than the implication of real fisticuffs, it was obvious that she had put her drama major chops into practice and helped out with a theatrical situation. I enjoyed the story, but my brain was at a place miles away. It was amazing to see her dashing everywhere with unstoppable energy between exercising and kicking out her legs with perilous results, nearly knocking over a lamp. Parsley crouched in time with her before they had even been properly introduced.
After Drew, now known as Dalia, it wasn’t hard to catch up with Josh. His prior maturity and scruffy stoutness had blossomed into a fantastical, mature woman. Her wild hair, with all its feathered twists and poofs, looked intentionally planned and her thick glasses lent her a mischievous but still experienced air. She preempted me from any quips by saluting her massive mamwiches and laying out a freestyle rap. ‘Tiblee wiblees’ came out at some point, and I couldn’t hold my laughter in. Her name was Jeanine now.
Now she wasn’t the biggest, Zach still took the chest cake there, but her new shape presented immense possibilities for humor. Aside from the flourishes, the mood of the room felt about the same with discussions of movie night, James Bond, and firing out some popcorn. I kept matters related to Parsley quiet. She was just a friend who would be staying with me.
The ensemble was complete, and boobs seemed to be giganormously ganging up on me as Patrick’s balding features had been replaced with enough dirty blond hair to make Riona jealous and just as much in the chest department, so that it was not just a department but an entire wing. Credit to Jeanine for that one. I did not envy her tight, uncomfortable jeans, but it was her thing.
Despite the fact the loose language in the room was a little looser than I would’ve preferred, I urged Parsley to listen in and make efforts at chatting with the others. She was still learning but also picking it up so swiftly. Clothes became the common language beyond all of the differences. I wanted no part in all their crazy, dress-up fantasies, but I didn’t have a whole lot of say in the matter. At least all the things I tried on made Parsley fall over with uproarious laughter to the point she started hiccupping and making suspicious melodies with the wiggles and wriggles of her legs.
We were all aficionados of music in our separate genres and special ways, and it was easy to deluge Parsley with harmonies she never quite felt this way. It was the frantic, tireless exposure of so many beautiful experiences into a life, like the briefest candle burning through precious joys. I had so many things to show her, and I knew she had so many things to show me. She deserved to see the world, even though the prospect of it left her dumbfounded. A growing list flooded my thoughts. Don’t call it bucket. Call it essential experiences that we absolutely needed to do. Concert of some type, joyous jam session, see the stars as they’re meant to be seen, experience animals, art and history, and at least see the ocean, if I can’t take her around the world.
Every heartbeat echo in my head was a ticking clock marking off a moment I would never have again. But, for her, I couldn’t let that get me down. For her, she needed to feel and adore as many things as possible.
What we had around the room would have to suffice for the meanwhile as plans for greater things percolated in my thoughts. No matter how much we changed, we were all eager for a video game competition. I traded off with Parsley between turns, and she cheered me on.
I grabbed lunch for us with credits on my card, and Parsley enjoyed walking with me to the other end of campus, even though she stumbled once, remarking that her left leg suddenly felt tired. If I had the strength, I would’ve carried her the entire way, but she enjoyed walking with me providing occasional support. The people everywhere, despite the fact there were so many, really too many, energized her. Her thoughts and dreams danced through the possibilities of attending a school like this and learning things she never could’ve imagined before. On the other side of campus, I filed for an emergency absence.
I couldn’t tell them how long it would be, but it looked like they had run into several cases like mine lately. Students that weren’t sure if they could continue because of what happened to them. I didn’t really lean on that as much as explain that my family situation had been changed by what happened. It was difficult to express in a write-up to apply for it, but I still didn’t give a fuck. Class didn’t matter; my girl did. This was just a fucking courtesy to them. I was approved for the rest of the week but advised to contact my instructors virtually about materials. Whatever.
Along the trek, as I kept my eye on Parsley for signs of returning weakness, I probed her for possibilities of what she wanted to see and experience. The idea of a theme park puzzled her perceptions, but she was cautiously curious. Zoos and museums fired her up though. Little snippets of videos collected on YouTube gave her vague impressions and copious hopes.
Working through everything, I was able to prioritize those things within a reasonable travel distance and available in the next few days. It was a list both intimidatingly long and yet heartbreakingly short for the whole of human experience. No skydiving or anything else where we might look mortality too close in the face.
But we had a starting point.