Sketch

51 - Sam

Dedicated to taylormarietom!  I really appreciate all the votes and comments guys. I'm thinking about entering this into the Watty awards instead of my short story, just depends whether I'll get it finished by October.  If the amazing support keeps up and I carry on posting every day then Sketch could be finished by the end of September.  Thanks again guys :)

Tanya’s gone by the time I get back from Kevin’s.  His advice is still circling my head as I pour myself a glass of water.  I glance at Ollie over the rim of my cup.  His phone is next to him on the sofa and I instantly wonder how his conversation with Emmy went.  I don’t ask though, instead heading to my room.

I’m lead down on my bed, my notebook open as I scrawl angry words into lyrics, when there’s a knock on the door.  I glance up from the song I’m writing to call a quick ‘come in’.

Ollie steps into my room, a careful expression on his face that soon gives way to a smile when he realises I’m not in a fit of hysterics.

“What?”

“She doesn’t hate you, you know.  She just needs time.”

I want to smile but I don’t.  It still doesn’t feel right to be happy when Emmy’s not here.  When I made her not be here.  I still blame myself.  I still hurt and my thoughts are still shoulder-barging each other for space in my head.  I stare down at my notebook, my eyes running over the angry words that are aimed at myself.  They make me feel numb and useless.

“Don’t you care?”

His question reminds me of Tanya’s words from earlier.  “Of course I do.”

“Then stop writing angry lyrics and get in here so we can practise Emmy’s song.”

“It won’t be the same.”

“She won’t be gone forever,” Ollie assures me.  “She loves this band too much.  She wants to make this work for all of us.  Besides, when did you become such a mopey shit?”

I frown at his words. “I’m not moping.”

“Then why are you shut away in here by yourself?  I’m surprised you’re not playing some break-up soundtrack.”

I throw my notebook down beside me on my bed.  “Oh yeah?”

Ollie straightens.  “Yeah.  You never used to be this way.  You didn’t even sulk this bad when Michelle left.”

“I just shagged all our so called fans instead,” I remind him.  “And Emmy isn’t Michelle.”  I wouldn’t do that to her.

He smiles and I realise what I’ve just said.  “Exactly what I’ve been trying to convince you.”

I bite my lip, running a hand back through my dark hair.  My fingertips don’t raise goosebumps like Emmy’s do.  “You really think she’ll come back?”

Ollie steps back from the door, sweeping a hand in front of himself as a gesture for me to pass him.  I stay on the bed, waiting for his answer.  He rolls his blue eyes. “Not if we don’t do her song justice, she won’t.”

Playing the guitar helps me to focus, my hands fingering the strings with a purpose that creates the music that’s becoming familiar to me now.  It’s when I start singing Emmy’s lyrics that I think of her.  She’s always there in my mind but now she’s in the foreground, wearing her adorable smile and blinking those blue eyes at me.  It helps me to sing better and play harder, feeling every single word that I’m saying and injecting as much emotion into my voice as I can.

“Wow,” Ollie says when we finish our first run-through.

Vince nods, reaching for the can of soda he keeps by his drum-kit during rehearsals.  He takes  a long swig. “Totally.  Why can’t you crush a girl every week?”