Louder than Words

Chapter Two

Let's meet up for coffee.

The text comes from Thunder, the name I gave Rachel in my contacts.

NO, I text back. I think I have more caffeine in me than blood at the moment. I can't even bear to read the word.

Why the hell not? You got a problem with me or something?

No! Just anything but coffee. If I drink one more cup I'm gonna have a seizure.

Dang, what have you been up to?

Writing lyrics, since a certain someone didn't specify when she wanted her song done.

Hey, I've heard writers perform best under pressure. I knew giving you a tight deadline would get better results. So are they finished?

I text yes, delete it, then text not yet, only to delete it too. I'm not completely satisfied with the quality of the lyrics, but then again, I never am. Reluctantly I text, Yeah, I guess so.

Great! So I've got two questions: 1.) Do you know where Murphy's Park is and 2.) Are you available at 3?

Yes and yes, but why? We could just meet up at The Bookmark.

Because that place is too quiet for me. Besides, you seem like you need more fresh air and sunshine in your life.

That's coming from someone who's paler than a vampire.

No response.

Rachel seems like the type who enjoys playful teasing, but what if I'm wrong?

I'm in the middle of texting an apology when she replies, I'll admit I'm more of the nightlife variety, but at least I have a life. Not sure if you can say the same. Tacked alongside the message is a emoji playfully sticking out its tongue, reassuring me that the message is not meant to be taken seriously.

With a sigh of relief I delete the apology, then text, Hardy har har. You better watch what you say to me, lest these lyrics undergo an untimely accident.

And you better shut up and stop arguing with your client, lest you undergo an untimely injury. So are we meeting at the park or what?

Sure, where at?

At the swingset. G2G, the boss has been sending me dirty looks.

Alright, I'll see you later then.

As I toss aside my phone my stomach begins to tie itself into knots. What if she doesn't like the song, or I do something to embarrass myself? What if she's wrong about me?

At first I tried to distract myself with choosing what to wear, but that only made me self-conscious of my appearance, which caused another flood of negative thoughts. Then I tried listening to music, but even the songs blasting from my headphones couldn't drown out my anxiety.

There's only one solution. I lock myself in the shower and turn up the heat as hot as I can without melting my skin.

As steam surrounds me, the pelting water muffling any outside noise, I find the confidence to do what I refuse to do in front of anyone else. I sing. I don't have a stellar voice, I know that, but I'd like to think it's not a bad one, either. I just don't want to give anyone the chance to prove me wrong.

I test out the lyrics I wrote for Rachel, trying to find the perfect tune for the song. I get lost in the music, making what should have been a fifteen minute shower into a half hour one. Not that I'm complaining. Nothing relaxes me more than a good shower.