Page 52 of Septembers

Theo forced a half-assed grin. “You know me.”

“Yeah.” He turned away. “Which is why I worry.”

Haunting Melodies, Burnt Cheese, and an Announcement

Rob ended up being Handsy Booth Guy, which Theo wasn’t crazy about in the first place, so when his texting turned boring, Theo told him he was becoming a priest and called it a day.

The weekend ticked by slowly. He couldn’t concentrate on homework, and not even a movie night with Jordan could hold his focus. She was in her fifth year because she’d switched her major again, insisting hospitality was seriously it this time.

Her new apartment off campus was the classic student experience: a bachelor that was so tiny, she had to put her couch directly beside the bed, creating one giant, amalgamous cushiony surface.

They were snuggled under a fuzzy blanket, straining their vision to watch her tiny laptop. She nudged him a few times, telling him to pay attention to ‘the best part,’ of which there were many, but it didn’t work.

“What’s wrong?”

“With me?” He struck an unconvincing pose. “Nothing, ever.”

She threw a piece of chocolate in the air, missing her mouth by a lot. “Where are your boys this weekend?”

“Dates. Well, not Dae.”

“Never Dae.”

Theo huffed. “What does that mean? He had a girlfriend.”

“Oh right.” She shook her head, slightly dumbfounded, as if the idea of Dae with a girlfriend was unfathomable. “I barely see Jacinda around anymore.”

“They broke up over the summer.”

She gasped, twisting her body to face him, gossip mode activated. “Why?”

“I don’t know.” And it killed him. “They didn’t tell me.”

“Huh…” She disappeared inside herself for a moment, then nodded. “Good for her.”

Theo let out a pffffttt. “What makes you think it was Dae’s fault?”

She levelled him with a stare that he refused to interpret as anything other than her own broken heart. Becks had messed with her for years, coming in and out of her life when she wanted a pick-me-up, but always, always leaving again.

“What about you?” Perfect deflection. “When are you getting back out there?”

“I’m not ready.” She put on a dramatic pout. “My heart is broken. Mend it, please?”

“I don’t know the first thing about mending broken hearts. I’m usually the cause.”

Her eye-rolls were the stuff of legend: exaggerated to the point of physical comedy. “I’ll do us both a favour and pretend you didn’t just say that.” They stared at each other, thinking, then at the same time said, “Ice cream?”

“That would require us venturing into the outside world, though.”

“Ugh, hard pass.” She leaned over the side of the couch to get her guitar, Dottie Hinson, which was never far out of reach (not that there was room in her apartment for anything to be out of reach). She often strummed as they chatted, though something about this moment felt different, her attention more focused as she softly hummed a melody. Theo had a sense that magic was about to happen, so he stealthily got out his phone to record.

She sang one of her songs, slower than the original, and a thousand times more devastating, changing key in the bridge, and bringing it home with a sad, powerful ending.

She was breathless, her cheeks flushed and expression free, like she wasn’t in the room anymore, instead floating in some alternate reality made of pure sound. When she finally came back, she blinked at him, then clicked her tongue. “Theodore!”

He’d forgotten he was holding the phone. Forgotten where he was. The song had touched some part of his soul that needed to be touched. He ended the video and launched himself at her, careful to hug around the guitar. She would bludgeon him to death if he harmed Dottie.

“Jordan, that was— It was like you— How did…”