Crescendo

FOUR

LEILA DIDN'T KNOW HOW to break it to him that she was as unskilled as a potato. Her fingers fumbled over the chords, hastenly trying to find the right placement before she could attempt a good strum. Not like she didn't know the chords, but sometimes her hands betrayed her. She pretended he wasn't there and transported her mind to her room, where she could play in private. But the wince on her face gave out her struggle, and he reached to stop her before she could start strumming.

"Do you know how to play at all?"

The question punctured her heart and left her bleeding. She envisioned the gaping hole in her chest as she evened her breath before she could scream for help. Her fingers shook over the chords, pressing against them as if they were the only thing to steady her.

"Um..." Leila stammered. "I know some."

She couldn't kid herself. She tried and tried to play, but her fingers fumbled every time. And when she could strum a chord correctly, Mr. Harlow would then make her train her ear for it, and she went back to square one. She took one baby step forward, and then a regular footstep back.

Progress didn't agree with her.

"How long have you been taking lessons?" Neil continued questioning. She looked up into his molten brown eyes and flushed.

"Two years," she whispered. Neil whistled and sat back on his ripped up chair. His guitar leaned against his chest as his expression went blank. "I try, but I can never get it. It seems like I keep going into a stupid dead end every time."

He cleared his throat. "That was two years with Charles, right?" Leila nodded. "You poor thing. No wonder you never learned well."

Leila frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Charles...is not good," Neil pointed out. He absentmindedly strummed a few strings, and Leila was grateful for the background music between them. It was much better than the sad ballad from Mr. Harlow that played in the back of her head. "He was always here when I was a kid, but I learned from Mr. Pierce. He moved away when I was nine, so I had to take Charles. I only lasted a lesson and got the hell out."

She sat back and stared out into the eggshell white walls. The one constant thing that grounded her into reality.

"Leila, was it?" He asked, placing his guitar on the floor. She nodded. "I'm going to teach you everything Charles couldn't. You're going to be a good guitarist by the end of this."

She raised an eyebrow. "You seem mighty confident. How am I supposed to learn from someone who's basically my age?"

Neil grinned, sat back, and spread his arms beside him as if he was presenting himself to her. "They don't call me the best guitarist to ever come out of Hillbourne for nothing, but I bet you already knew that." He ended with a wink.

Leila scoffed. "You're full of it."

"Hey, if you want someone with lots of age to teach you, that's totally fine," Neil held up his hands in surrender, "but don't forget you already had that with Charles for two years and it got you nowhere."

She pursed her lips, staring down at her beat up guitar. Its smooth light-colored wood contrasted with her deeper skin tone, and she recalled how it felt to hold it for the first time. It was like she had found the right instrument that could be an extension of her soul. Just another tool to show to the world who she was. Opportunities glimmered behind her vision as she threw the pawn shop owner all of her savings onto their counter.

But now...Leila believed that the guitar didn't want to cooperate with her soul. It pulled in another direction as she went the other. No matter how much she tried to make them collide into one, it never happened.

So she suffered in silence as the songs of the world boomed into her head, wishing she could let them out on her instrument.

"Give this a chance, Leila," Neil said. His small smile surprised her as he leaned towards her. He moved her fingers on top of the guitar strings to form a C chord. She was too shocked to tell him that she knew basic chords. Mr. Harlow taught her enough.

"Okay, now strum," he said.

Leila sighed and strummed. The robotic motion made her want to stop. Mr. Harlow made her do those chords every single time, but that wasn't going to help her do anything. She struggled with a few, her short fingers could only do so much, but she had memorized every chord for their shape and sound.

Neil clapped. "There, you're getting it."

"Yeah, Mr. Harlow taught me chords, Neil," Leila snapped. "How is this going to actually teach me? You don't even know me or what I need from lessons. You just waltz in here taking charge. Honestly, I prefer Mr. Harlow."

He blinked at that, and smothered his disbelief with a breathy chuckle. He bent down to retrieve his red Gibson, propping it over his knee and sat straight. He didn't respond to her, but went on to strum a complicated melody. She caught sight of an A chord before it all jumbled into a mess of fingers from her viewpoint.

The soft melody reminded her of a ballad, sad but a little hopeful. It pulled at her soul, and she had to look away before she fell victim to his music crutches.

"Tell me, Leila," Neil said as he stopped his strumming. "What do you know already?"

She swallowed and gazed down at the neck of her guitar. "Basic chords."

"And?"

"And what?" She retorted.

"Is that all you know?"

The pang in her chest ached and spread all over her body down to her toes. She clutched at her guitar like it was her anchor.

"Listen, I know Charles isn't the best teacher," Neil said, scratching his forehead with his right hand. "He's one of those old dudes that's like: 'just feel it, man!' But then he won't really teach you how to really play."

Her cheeks flushed, and she recalled many lessons where Mr. Harlow literally yelled at her to feel it within her. She never understood what he meant. But when she tried to play, nothing ever came out right. Her playing was a jumble of noise that attempted to weave together to create pleasant music, but it got distorted.

"I've been there before," he admitted. "Granted, I was like nine, but I picked it up fast. I'll teach you how to play the guitar like never before."

"You're awfully confident," Leila noted.

"Well, I'm not the best guitarist in Hillbourne for nothing." He winked. "Now, let's see if you can play me a scale."

Her heart hammered as she glanced down at her guitar. That was going to be a long lesson.