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I winced at the word, immediately repulsed by it. “No. I mean, yeah, there was that too. But this was like...more. Like...I don’t even know. A wish. A hope. A...” The right word failed me until I blurted, “A possibility. Like I suddenly wanted to try something I’d never had before.”
“A pretty little Latino girl?” he whispered, looking almost hurt.
I blinked, confused. “Huh?”
He picked the sheet up off the floor and pointed to the lyrics. “That’s what you called her...in the song.”
“I did? Oh yeah, right. But, no, that’s not what I’m talking about at all. It had nothing to do with looks, though she was gorgeous. This was more like...a feeling. A warmth. Like right there, watching her sing, was where I belonged in the universe. Like I’d just found my place. Everything...fit.”
Remy’s mouth had fallen open. Realizing I’d once again shared more than I wanted to, I cleared my throat and scrubbed at the back of my head. “Anyway, like I said, it was stupid. Just a momentary blip on my crazy radar. I’ll never cross paths with her again, and she’ll probably be better off for it.”
When I laughed at the joke against myself, Sticks didn’t join in. Instead, he became a sudden flurry of motion, stuffing documents back into the box as he blurted, “I have to go.”
“Uh...” I glanced around, startled by his abrupt announcement. “Okay.” Now I really felt awkward for telling him so much. Shit. Had I scared him out of the band because I’d unloaded a ton of my personal drama on him?
“You sure it’s okay if I take this whole box?” He didn’t make eye contact as he asked. It was as if he were suddenly too afraid to look me in the eye, which made me feel incredibly self-conscious.
“Yeah, it’s fine,” I said. “Everything...okay?”
“What?” He zipped his gaze up, his brown eyes wide and far from okay. “Yeah, sure. Sorry, I just...I remembered I have to be somewhere. Like right now. Excuse me, I gotta...”
“Go,” I finished for him.
“Right.” Pointing to me gratefully for supplying the word he’d been searching for, he surged up from the floor where he’d been crouching. When he plowed forward to flee, he almost bumped the box he was toting right into my gut, so I leapt a step back to give him room, and he finally seemed to realize I was right there.
“Shit, sorry. Uh...” He looked into my eyes again, and I think he saw how worried I was, because he blew out a breath, and his shoulders slumped. “It’s not your fault, you know.”
I squinted, not sure what he was talking about. Not my fault that I’d brought a whole boatload of uncomfortable into our conversation, making him in such a hurry to leave? Or not my fault that—
“That she died,” he clarified. “Your mom. Seriously, just think up every scenario of everything you could’ve done that day. You know she still would’ve ended up...where she did. The only thing that might’ve changed was that you could’ve died with her.”
I took a step back at those words. I’d thought up different scenarios before, and in every alternate reality I’d created in my head, I’d been able to save her. But maybe Sticks was right. In all actuality, I probably wouldn’t have been able to keep her alive. Realizing that stunned me.
Sticks blew out a breath. “I really have to go. See you Monday? At practice?”
I nodded, distracted by the thoughts he’d just put in my head. “Yeah. Sure. See you then.”
I didn’t notice him leave. I slumped onto the nightstand, both my hands buried deep in my hair, and I wondered...was Remy right? Had my mother’s death been inevitable? Maybe I hadn’t been as culpable as I’d always worried.
I burst inside my apartment, the official Non-Castrato box cradled in my arms, unable to get my mind to stop spinning from everything I’d learned during band practice today...or rather everything I’d learned after practice.
Hearing about Asher’s childhood and his parents was enough to blow my mind. But then I’d spotted that song. That dreadful, amazing, life-altering song.
Ten hadn’t been on crack after all. A Non-Castrato song I’d never heard of before really, honestly, truly existed. And I knew why Asher refused to ever play it again. It was so personal, so revealing, so...
About me.
Well, maybe about me. Maybe not. I couldn’t be sure. Except all the details fit. Por Dios, how well the details fit.
Thoughts scattered into millions of pieces, I plopped the box on the side table where I always tossed my keys and purse, vaguely aware of Jodi on the couch watching television.
For all I noticed, she might’ve even greeted me hello. I have no idea if I replied. I was too busy digging back into the box to retrieve that song. Once I found it, the page trembled in my grasp as I reread the lyrics. Everything seemed right. And yet...I couldn’t believe it. The idea that Asher might’ve seen me once and been so overwhelmed by the encounter that he’d written a...a love song about me, fantasizing about an entire future full of what-ifs that could happen between us, was more than I could take.
“Jodi,” I started, still staring at Asher’s handwritten dreams, as I marched in front of her until I was between her and the television.
“Shh...” She waved me out of her way so she could continue watching the screen. “Check this out.” She motioned toward...holy guacamole, was she actually watching the news?
Who was this woman and what had she done with my roommate?
