Scar Tissue [2Doc]

//18//

The chirping of the cicadas in the late afternoon sun filled the entire apartment. It was the first time this summer I even acknowledged their existence. The wonderment of how much of the summer those loud bugs have been around for quickly filled the myriad thoughts bouncing around in my mind.

The look of plead coming from the blue bird's face pulled some strings in my heart, however I'm not completely sure which kind. It pulled the kind where your heart begins to race uncomfortably fast and your face begins to feel uncomfortably hot.

"Do you... Want to play something?"

The words coming out of my mouth feel almost unreal. As if I almost can't believe this present moment is happening. In front of me stands a person whom I thought I had completely lost to time, with the horrible addition of drugs. He had stood in front of me as silent as can be this entire time we've spent together. He was no better than a husk, an empty shell of a person.

But his silence now screams a million unspoken words.

"Yea. I think I do."

His slightly raspy, soft spoken words make it unbelievable that underneath that he can create a sweet, sweet song.

After he breaks his eyes away from me, he assesses the room around him and sits on the floor by the couch. He leans against the wall as he plugs in the keyboard into an outlet. I watch him silently as he studies the instrument in front of him. His hands hover above the keys, visibly shaking. He seems nervous to play a note.

As a couple minutes go by without any movement from him, I conclude that he doesn't have the confidence to start without a push. So I stand from my spot at the kitchen island and claim a new one right in front of him. He becomes tense as I do.

"Go on. I know you can do it. Remember anything?"

He looks up at me with unsure eyes. His hovering hands drop to his sides to be wiped against his pants.

"Oh man, I don't know... What was I thinking? Maybe I shouldn't play, this was a bad idea."

As he finishes his sentence he begins to stand from his spot to leave, but I quickly take hold of his wrist and sit him back down.

"It's not a bad idea dents. It's amazing that you had the will to want to play again, that means you have to remember something."

I pause for a brief moment. "Do you want me to play with you?"

"...okay."

I smile at his agreement and lean my body over to reach for my bass leaning against the couch. I don't bother to turn on the amp because I want the sound of the keyboard to be prominent. I want to hear him play again.

"Wanna play one of our old songs? Something new? What's best for you?"

My questions seems to overwhelm him as his face turns sour. I hold back my sigh of frustration. I look down at my fingers pressed against the strings of the bass, ready to play something. Many memories flood into my head at the sight. It's crazy how just looking at my hand and bass locked together bring back every scenario where I've done so before.

Dun DunDun Duun Dun~

Dun DunDun Duun Dun~

My fingers begin to move on their own, and before I know it, I begin playing Clint Eastwood. A simple, easy riff. I notice from the corner of my eyes 2D's head perk up at the sound of the bass. And it no time at all, the clicking of the keys begins to accompany my low hum and the sounds of a keyboard's many notes float through the air, making music.

"I ain't happy, I'm feeling glad, I got sunshine in a bag, I'm useless but not for long, the future is comin' on."

Unexpected.