Starting A Club And (maybe) A Long-lasting Relationship

5. I accidentally make Luke famous

5
I sat down by my laptop the longest that night. It wasn't until I heard brids chirp outside that I realized I'd been up all night. I hadn't even eaten or showered since I got back because all I could think about was how to play the bass.

I searched countless sites for people who could sell them second hand because I didn't really have enough money to afford a new one. I'd also need an amp, picks, a strap...

And I still don't know how to play. What if I buy all that and I end up giving up on it like I did with animation and girl scouts and basketball and my first aid classes?

I seached for tutorials next-- I think by midnight-- and learnt the parts of a guitar. I learnt about the frets, tabs, the strings and their corresponding notes, the tuning. I learnt basically everything I needed to know to learn the bass. By two in the morning, I was practicing with an air guitar, although slow, but I was confident I would learn in no time if I only had a bass--

"A guitar?" Cheza asked me when I'd told her about it during breakfast.

"A bass," I clarify, emptying a spoonful of cereal into my mouth.

"I thought a bass was a guitar."

"It is but there's a difference."

"I'm not understanding." Cheza noisily slurps at the rest of the milk in her cereal bowl. "There's a difference between a guitar and a bass but a bass is still a guitar?"

"I don't know! Just... forget it. Sorry."

"No Viz, don't take it back. I'm just trying to understand. You never speak about things you like. I'm just surprised you'd want a guitar of all things. You don't seem the type."

"Well, I'd like to try something new for once and bass looks fun." I shrug, something I do to convince myself I'm saying something that deosn't bother me but in fact, it bothers me so much that it makes me want to vomit because for the longest, I've avoided sharing stuff about myself with my family. Heck, being in family photos is a rare occurence because I hate looking at family photos and seeing how different I look compared to everyone. I'm used to hiding in the very back, invisible. Now, I'm revealing things. I'm taking my clothes off-- figuratively of course. "Did you know that Marceline played bass too?-- the Marceline from that one show I loved. I hadn't realized till now that I practically wanted to be her. Even her hairstyle and clothes were the coolest."

Cheza looks at me and I mean really looks. She's even put down the bowl she's slurping from just to give me one gutt-wrenching suspenseful look. I subconsciously scratch my elbow and bite my lip. It only becomes a conscious action when it starts to hurt.

"I'll help you find one then," she says, relieving my pain.

"Really?"

"Yeah. If you really want one, why not?"

"Oh. Okay. Er, thanks."

She smiles and it's the kind of smile I wasn't really expecting. We tease each other a lot and usually when she's genuinely happy, it's because she's teased me to the point where I'm speechless (in a sibling-love kind of way). I always envied how open she was about her hobbies and interests and felt almost drowned out by her but it's not her fault. I don't know why I just grew up preferring not to share things because that meant questions and questions meant answers and answers meant I had to talk and talking meant I had to worry about whether my teeth were yellow or if my breath stank or if I was too loud or stuttered or practically everyhting that could go wrong when a normal functioning human being opened their mouth to let words out of their dumb mouth.

Sometimes, I think my brain talks way too much. Like now. But that's, like, a given. Talking to yourself is much easier.

I never bothered calling Luke again by the way. He's been texting though. I've been answering as best I could. Sometimes he'd send a message and I wouldn't know what to say so I'd send a thumbs up emoji and call it a day. I don't think he minds.