Another Reason To Live (Watty Awards 2014)

Chapter 3

I kept staring at him as he switched on his turn signal and stopped at a red light. "Gerard," I said, slowly. "I've heard music before. I don't actually live under a rock."

"You've probably never heard music before, though." When I gave him a weird look, he continued, "You have to properly listen, and you have to let yourself get lost in it. It takes the right kind of music, too."

He turned to me, and grinned a bit wider before staring back at the road and putting the car in motion again. I just leaned my head against my hand, propping my elbow up on the windowsill of the car. What had I gotten myself into? Two weeks of figuring out Gerard and two weeks of Gerard figuring me out.

I thought back to when he said that he'd been in my situation before. I couldn't help but believe him. If he'd been depressed and now has such a positive outlook on life, maybe there's hope for me.

My head slipped off of my hand and lurched forward as the car came to an abrupt stop. "Sorry," Gerard apologized hurriedly, putting the car in park. Man, that guy was excited. The music shop was probably like a second home to him.

He opened his door to get out, but paused and turned back to me. "Do you play an instrument, Scar?" he asked. "Or sing?"

I shook my head slowly. I'd never gotten into that kind of thing. I was too afraid of rejection. Being put down for everything you do doesn't exactly leave you with much confidence. I'd always wanted to try it out though.

"Do you?" I asked, opening the car door and stepping out. I closed it, careful not to slam it, and looked over the top of the car at Gerard. I was met by the sight of him shrugging, as we both walked over to meet each other at the back of the car.

"I own a guitar and a keyboard, but I can't play them too well." Gerard chuckled and scratched his head, causing his black tufts to tousle and shift on his head. They still formed a somewhat messy raven's nest, but the more you looked at it, the more fitting it seemed. I don't think the word neat could ever fit Gerard.

"I'm more of a singer, myself," he said, looking up at the shop sign as we approached it. "My uh...my grandmother taught me." His reluctance to mention his grandmother made me curious, but there was a pained to look in his eyes that told me not to pry.

I nodded, "I've just never tried it." Gerard raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Instead, he pushed open the glass door, and gestured with his arm for me to go in.

As soon as we stepped in, the young man behind the counter called out enthusiastically, "Welcome to The Boombox! CDs are buy one, get one half off and all Vinyl is only $1.99! Feel free to tell me if you need any assistance!"

"Thanks, Frank, but you don't need to be so formal every goddamn time," Gerard said with a laugh, walking over and fist-bumping this Frank kid. He was rather short, making him look fourteen. I doubted that was his actual age though, since, legally, you needed to be at least sixteen to get a job.

I observed the store as Gerard and Frank conversed. The first things I noticed were the shiny, new guitars hanging on the wall. They looked so prim and perfect, that they were almost mesmerizing. Acoustic guitars, electric guitars, Fenders, Les Pauls, and they were in almost every color I could think of, it seemed. On the opposite wall, there were the Bass Guitars that were just as beautiful. If you looked to the farthest wall, you could see the classical instruments, like violins, and flutes. There was the occasional ukulele on the shelves and percussion equipment in the corners of the room. Guitar picks and harmonicas were scattered in bowls next to the cash register, with tiny signs that named the prices.

There were the regular aisles with CDs categorized by name and genre, and on a table by the left side, boxes of old school records and cassette tapes were lined up. A few of the more famous records that were in perfect condition were framed and on display on the walls or even the ceiling. Near the classical instruments were rows of sheet music and instruction books, starting from the beginners' level and ending at philharmonic level music. And finally, in the far right side, there were tables pressed against the wall, and on those tables were stations for checking out the music, complete with a CD player and headphones.