It’s been a good week. Finally. I’ve stayed at Sydney’s the last few nights, and honestly…I don’t want to leave. I love sleeping next to her. I love waking up next to her. I love doing absolutely nothing with her. But I also know that this is a very new relationship that already seems to be moving at warp speed, so the last thing we need to do is live together.
Tomorrow night will be the last night I stay here before going back to my own apartment. I’m bummed because I’d much rather be here with Syd than in an apartment with Warren and Bridgette. But that’s what’s going to happen because I’m not speeding this relationship up even faster. Once we move in together, we’ll live together forever. I want to wait until Sydney has experienced life on her own before making that kind of commitment.
I finish brushing my teeth, and then head to the living room. Sydney is on the couch with her computer in her lap. She sees me walk into the room, and she makes room for me on the couch next to her. Like a fluid dance, I sit and she moves and then we’re effortlessly situated in what’s become our standard positions on the couch this week. Me in a half-seated, half-lying pose against the arm of the couch while she lays with her back against my chest and my arm wrapped around her.
We can’t communicate this way very well since we aren’t facing each other, so we usually chat on messenger. Her with her laptop, me using my phone. It feels natural, though. And I like it in the evenings when we spend time together like this because she wears headphones and listens to music on her laptop while we chat. I like it when she listens to music. I like watching her feet sway with the music. I like feeling her voice against my chest when she sings along to some of the lyrics. She’s singing right now as she scrolls through iTunes on her computer. She has the newest Sounds of Cedar album pulled up. They released it as an indie album a couple of weeks after Sydney moved in with us, so none of the stuff she helped me write is on the album she’s browsing. The songs I wrote with Sydney haven’t officially been released yet.
That’s not to say none of the songs on the album she’s browsing were inspired by her. She just doesn’t know that. I watch as she opens her
messenger app and types me a message.
Sydney: Can I ask you a question?
Ridge: Didn’t I tell you once to never propose a question by asking if you can propose a question?
Sydney: I just called you a dickhead out loud.
I laugh.
Sydney: The song called “Blind.” Did you write that about Maggie?
I look away from my phone and down at her. She tilts her head and looks back at me, her eyes full of genuine curiosity. I nod and look back down at my phone, not really wanting to discuss the songs I wrote about Maggie.
Ridge: Yes.
Sydney: Did it make her mad? Ridge: I don’t think so. Why?
Sydney: The lyrics. Specifically the part you wrote that says, “A hundred reasons for the pain and only one on my mind. When did looking out for you make me go blind?”
Sydney: I just feel like if she listened to that, she would have understood what you meant by it and it might have hurt her feelings.
Sometimes I think Sydney understands my lyrics better than I do.
Ridge: If Maggie took those lyrics literally, she never made it seem that way. I write very honestly. You know that. But I don’t think Maggie knows that. She didn’t think everything I wrote was really how I felt. Even though it is, in some form or another.
Sydney: Is that going to be an issue going forward with us? Because I’ll be dissecting every single word of every lyric. Just so you know.
I laugh at her comment.
Ridge: That’s the beauty of lyrics. They can be interpreted many different ways. I could write a song and you might not even know it was inspired by you.
She shakes her head.
Sydney: I would know.
I smile. Because she’s wrong.
Ridge: Play the third song on that album called “For a Little While.”
Sydney presses play on the song and then sends me a message.
Sydney: I know this song by heart.
Ridge: And you think you know what it’s about?
Sydney: Yes. It’s about you wanting to escape for a little while with Maggie. Like maybe it’s a song about her illness and how you wish you could get her away from it all.
Ridge: You’re wrong. This song was inspired by you.
She pauses and then tilts her head, looking up at me. She looks confused, and rightfully so. This song was released shortly after she moved in with me, which probably made her think none of these songs were related to her in any way. Her fingers start tapping at her keyboard as she writes a response.
Sydney: How is this song about me? You would have had to have written it before I even moved in with you. They were already cutting this album when I moved in.
Ridge: Technically, the song isn’t about you. It was just inspired by you. The song is more about me, and how sometimes being outside on that balcony, playing music for the girl across the courtyard, was my escape. It was the little bit of time I got every day where I didn’t feel so stressed. Or worried. I didn’t know you. You didn’t know me. But we were both helping each other escape our worlds for a little while every night. That’s what the song is about.
Sydney immediately stops the song and restarts it from the beginning. She pulls up the lyrics on Google and reads along as the song plays.
For A Little While
I don’t know what you want but you do If you told me I would make it true Oh, for a little while
Oh, for a little while
Something changes when the sunlight shines Shadows fall out of my worried mind
Things go right and then I feel just fine You and me will be just one tonight Oh, for a little while
Oh, for a little while
You know for a little while Oh, for a little while
For a little while I feel okay For a little while I float away For a little while I can stay
For a little while I’m on my way
For a little while I’ll be alright For a little while I’ll be outside For a little while I’ll be okay I’ll be okay
For a little while For a little while For a little while
When the song ends, she closes out the lyrics and lifts a hand to her eyes, presumably to wipe away a tear. I stroke her hair with my fingers while she types.
Sydney: Why have you never told me this song is about us?
I inhale a breath and release it, pulling my hand from her hair so I can respond to her.
Ridge: It’s the first song that was inspired by you while I was still with Maggie. It was innocent between us because we had never even spoken at the time, but the sentiment still made me feel guilty. This song was my truth and I think I tried to hide it, even from myself.
Sydney: I can understand that. In a way, the song kind of makes me sad for you. Like you were living a life you needed a break from.
Ridge: Almost everyone needs a break from their real life every now and then. I was content with my life before I met you. You know that.
Sydney: Are you still content with your life?
Ridge: No. I was content before I met you. But now I’m deliriously happy with my life.
I lean forward and press a kiss into Sydney’s hair. She leans back and gives me access to her lips, but from an upside-down angle. I kiss her, and she laughs against my mouth before lifting her head and returning her attention back to her keyboard.
Sydney: My father used to say, “A life of mediocrity is a waste of a life.” I used to hate that he would say that because he only said it to prove a point to me about how he didn’t think I should become a music teacher. But I think I get it now. I’ll be content with becoming a music teacher. But he wanted me to be passionate about my career. I always thought that was enough—to just be content. But now I’m scared it’s not.
Ridge: Are you thinking about changing your major?
Sydney nods, but she doesn’t type her response.
Ridge: To what?
Sydney: I’ve been thinking lately about going into psychology. Or counseling of some form. I’m just so far into my degree that I would practically have to start over.
Ridge: People’s passions change. It happens. I think if you really see yourself in a different line of work other than being a music teacher, it’s better it happens now than ten years into the future. And…for what it’s worth…I think you would be an amazing psychologist. You’re good with music, no doubt. But you’re incredible with people. You could even combine the two majors and do music therapy.
Sydney: Thank you. But I don’t know. Starting over just seems so daunting, especially because I’ll need to get my master’s degree. Which means I’ll be struggling financially for another five years. Which will become your issue, too, if we ever move in together. I won’t have much money to contribute to the bills. It’s just a lot to think about. If I stick with my current major, I’ll be done in less than a year.
Ridge: We don’t need much to get by. I think it’s more important that you do what your heart is telling you to do. As long as you’re doing what you really want to do, I’ll do whatever I need in order to help you see it through to the end. Whether that’s next year with a teaching degree or ten years and a doctorate from now.
Sydney: I’m adding that to my “Things Ridge says” folder. In case I have to revert back to it in the future. Because if I change majors, I’m going to be really broke. So broke, I won’t even be able to buy new clothes. I’ll be wearing this same shirt five years from now.
Ridge: Even if your clothes are faded, they’ll always look new on you.
I feel her laugh.
Sydney: Oh, that’s a good line. You should put that line in a song. Ridge: I will. I promise.
She slides her laptop off her lap and flips over, climbing up me. She kisses me.“Do you want some ice cream? I want dessert.”
I shake my head. “I’ll just take a bite of yours.”
She kisses me again and then stands and walks to the kitchen. I readjust
myself on the couch and open up a text to Warren.
Ridge: What time are we leaving tomorrow?
Warren: I dunno. Let me open up a group text and ask Maggie. Warren: Maggot, what time are we leaving for the caves tomorrow?
Maggie: Call me that again and I’ll use all the hot water tonight. I don’t know. It’ll be after lunch. Jake can’t be here until noon.
Ridge: Are we doing lunch on the way or should we eat before?
Maggie: Let’s eat on the way. I’ll feel bad if he gets here and hasn’t eaten.
Warren: Okay. Lunch. Be hungry. Got it. Ridge, you and Syd meeting us here or do we need to pick you up?
Ridge: We can meet you guys there.
Maggie: Can I ask a favor? And this is mostly of Warren.
Warren: I’M GOING TO BE NICE TO HIM! STOP WORRYING, MAGGIE!
Maggie: I know you’ll be nice. I don’t worry about that. I worry about you being completely inappropriate.
Warren: Oh. Well, yeah. You should definitely worry about that.
I laugh and set my phone down because Sydney is walking back to the couch with a spoonful of ice cream in her mouth, and I don’t want to think about anything else right now. As if she can see my thoughts, she grins a little, pulling the spoon out of her mouth.
“You want a bite?” I nod.
She doesn’t sit next to me on the couch to share it with me. She straddles me, holding the bowl of ice cream between us as she adjusts her legs on either side of me. She scoops a small spoon of the ice cream and gives me a bite. I swallow it, and then she dips her head and kisses me. Her mouth tastes like vanilla. Her tongue is cold as it slides against mine.
I pull her closer, but the bowl of ice cream between us is hindering me. I grab the bowl and set it aside on the table next to her and then pull her to me. I kiss her as I slowly lower her to the couch.
She’s about to melt, just like her bowl of ice cream.
