Page 18 of These Secret Years

It’s the kind of question people were asking around the bonfire. I wonder if we should go back. Five more minutes will likely go unnoticed, though. We’re in a bubble right now, and the second we move, it bursts. My life will be consumed by football, and his—I still don’t know anything about him.

“Why music?” I ask instead of answering his question.

This time he answers without argument. “It’s what I’m good at.”

“What part of music are you good at?”

“All of it.”

“Meaning what?”

“Meaning it makes sense to me. I found a shitty working violin in an antique store when I was seven and convinced my mom to get it for me. She couldn’t afford lessons, so I taught myself how to play it.”

“That’s cool.”

“It took three days,” he says.

“What did?”

“Learning the violin. But I didn’t know how to read music at the time, so I was just playing along with songs on the classical station.”

“Damn. I bet your mom found a way to get you lessons then, huh?”

“No. She was pregnant, and my dad was… He was going through a lot of shit, so no lessons. I watched a lot of YouTube. Finally saw a score for one of the songs I liked, and it all clicked.”

“Wait.” I back up from him slightly. “Are you like—a prodigy?”

“I don’t know if I’d say that. Music just makes sense to me.”

“So…yes.”

He shrugs. “I assume football makes sense to you.”

“Lots of things make sense to me, but I didn’t learn how to run a play in three days. Or teach myself anything.”

“It’s just a thing I know how to do,” he says.

“So, what do you want to do with that?” I ask.

“I like making the music. Playing it feels good, and it’s something I definitely enjoy, especially violin, but finding new ways to put the notes together and play with cadences and other instrumentation…that’s what I came here to study.”

“Okay, Mozart.”

He smiles. “I’m not Mozart.”

“That’s really cool.”

“We’ll see. Composing isn’t exactly an easy field to get into. It’s a lot about who you know. Luck.”

“And talent,” I add.

“We’ll see if I actually have any. We should get back.”

I nod, knowing he’s right but wishing this part of the night could go on forever. It’s not like I think Sullivan is the love of my life or anything, but he is the first person who’s seen a part of me I’ve had to hide since I realized I was gay as a kid—around the same time he found his violin. I’m not sure why I decided to share that secret with him, but I’m glad I did.

“Yeah,” I say, and it comes out as a whisper.

“I won’t say anything,” he tells me before I have to make my little speech.