Drumbeats into My Heart

59. Seth Improves

Teaching myself to drum is equal parts frustrating and amazing. It's amazing because I can feel myself gradually getting better, but the number of times I've had to rewind the same video to examine the sequence of hand movements is excruciating.

I've just flubbed the rhythm yet again when my door jerks open and my mother pokes her head in. "It's been a week of this racket. When is this... phase going to end?"

I regard her with wide eyes. I knew it was just a matter of time before these repetitive practice sessions frayed her last nerve. I'm actually surprised she let it go on this long without complaining. But I guess I was far too fixated on my mission to care.

Now is probably the time to care.

I attempt to lighten the mood. "I'm getting better, don't you think?"

It doesn't work. She opens the door wider and folds her arms.

My heart quickens its pace as that familiar specter of intimidation creeps up my spine. If I clam up and agree to stop, then she'll leave, and I'll be safe.

But then I'm back to behaving like the sad little yes-man I was before. Plus, she doesn't hit me anymore. If she can change, then so can I.

I push the specter back and lift my chin. "It's not a phase."

She tilts her head, as if curious about this version of her son who is somehow daring to speak up.

I hold my breath, eyes unblinking, waiting for her to yell at me.

She presses her lips together.

I brace for impact.

She sighs with resignation. "I suppose if this is what you're into... all right. At least you're home now. Maybe you can find a way to keep it down?"

I stare at her, stunned. She didn't yell at me.

I manage to find my breath. "Uh, right! Okay. I'll, uh, I'll think of something." I give her a shaky smile.

She opens her mouth to say something else but seems to think better of it and nods instead. Without another word, she backs out of my room and closes the door.

I stare at the door for a full minute. Did that just happen? Did I really speak up and not get chewed out for it?

I slump back into my chair, letting the air whoosh out of me like a deflating balloon as my body finally recognizes that I'm not in danger. That went shockingly well. What's changed? Am I braver? Or is she mellower? Maybe a little of both?

I fix my gaze on the drum, lightly tapping the edge of the head, which had probably once been white. It's now various shades of grey, with light brown clouding the most often-struck surfaces. I need to somehow practice more quietly. But how? It's not like this thing has a volume knob.

Maybe I can go somewhere else to practice, like a park or school playground. That could work. Then I think about all the strangers staring at me, the weirdo banging on a drum in public for no apparent reason. More importantly, I'd still need the instructional videos to guide me, and playing them on my phone away from a Wi-Fi connection would burn through my limited data plan pretty fast.

No, staying home is my best option. I just need to find some do-it-yourself sound dampening solutions. I push the drum aside and open a new browser on my laptop to search for ideas.

An hour later, I rub my eyes and call Tai.

"What's up, bro? You surviving okay?" he asks with his usual laid-back charm.

"More or less. Hey, your dad works in construction, right? Does he ever bring home, like, two-by-fours and stuff?

"Dude, have you seen my yard? It's like a Home Depot hurricane back there."

I grin at the phone. "Can I come over? I've got a project."

***

It takes several days, but it's finally done. With help from Tai, his dad, and their mishmash of leftover construction materials, we've managed to build six noise reduction panels nearly as tall as I am. And now for my next trick: getting them all home.

"We can ask my dad," Tai suggests as he chomps on a turkey sandwich. "He's got a truck."

"No, I don't want to ask him any more favors." I toy with the corner of my chip bag. "I think I might have pissed him off already."

Tai swallows and takes a swig of juice. "Nah. He's cool. Just... maybe don't insist that the fabric is crooked next time?"

"But it was."

"You made him straighten it like three times. On each panel."

"Okay, fine." I concede and pop a chip into my mouth. "I might have been a bit exacting. Next time I'll just staple it myself."

"Dude, I don't know if I want you holding a staple gun anywhere near me."

I laugh and throw a chip at him. "Shut up. That was a one-time accident."

"I could've lost an eye."

"You'd look good in an eyepatch."

Tai thoughtfully rubs his chin. "I would, wouldn't I?"

Our solution to the transportation problem is to stack the panels on top of Tai's car and each of us sticking arm out the window to hold down our respective sides.

"You know this is a bad idea, right?" Tai brakes at a stop sign, causing the panels above us to shift forward.

"Just don't take the corners fast. Or brake hard. Or accelerate quickly."

Tai sighs and eases the car forward. The panels shift back slightly. A red car zooms past, its driver shouting, "Move aside, grandma!"

It takes three trips, but we eventually transport all the panels to my house. We mount one behind my door and the rest on the walls that connect my room to the rest of the house. Two of them are crooked, but I decide against mentioning it to Tai.

"It sounds different in here now," I remark, noticing how everything seems quieter, more hushed. "Like, no echoes at all."

"I feel like I'm in a library," Tai concurs.

"This is awesome. These things really work! Let me show you the drum." I slide it out from under my desk and wave my hand in a voila gesture.

"I think it's cool," Tai says, examining the glittering purple drum. "This'll match your Hello Kitty backpack."

I shove my friend aside and settle in front of the drum. "I've been practicing this one the most." I begin to play, concentrating on keeping the rhythm and tones consistent.

When I finish, Tai raise his eyebrows. "Not bad, man. Not bad."

"You think it's good?"

"Well... I wouldn't know if it's good, but it doesn't suck."

I chuckle at him. "I'll take it."

Tai scoots back on the bed and leans against the wall. "So, are you going to serenade her or what?"

"Uh." I scratch the back of my head. Shamefully, the thought hadn't actually occurred to me. "I don't know. I don't think she wants to see me. She won't even answer my calls."

Tai shrugs like we're talking about onion rings. "Then you find some other way."

*starts drumming on the vote button*