Stories In Scars

Ryan comes in with three mugs of steaming hot Starbuck’s coffee. He goes back to get the creamer and sugar.

Spencer smiles as he takes a sip. “This stuff is so much better than the shit at Common Grounds.”

“That’s because it’s Starbucks. Duh!” Ryan explains. Hehe... I think I’ll get along with these boys well.

We talk about useless stuff for a while, then Ryan asks me about my music.

“Do you write? Like lyrics and stuff?”

“Um, yeah. Do you want to hear them? Since I have my guitar and all...”

“Sure!” they exclaim in unison, again.

We move to the living room. I’m sitting on the sofa next to Ryan, and Spencer is on the chair right by us.

“I’m not exactly sure if this is how I want it to go... And I’m going to mess up. Just giving y’all fair warning.”

I start to play and sing, and finish a few minutes later. They just look at me in awe.

“What?” I say to their staring.

“Uh, nothing. It was just really quite amazing,” Ryan says.

I smile. “Thanks. It’s about.... Well, you guys really don’t care.”

“Yeah, we do. Or at any rate, I do,” says Spencer.

“Well, it’s when I was really depressed, when I was about sixteen. I was really suicidal, and this was my note. You know, suicide note.”

They say nothing.

“Shit. I really shouldn’t have said anything. Now you think I’m a pill-popping suicidal whacko,” I stammer.

“No. I was in that same place. I wrote my suicide out in a song. So I actually didn’t do it. If that makes any sense...” Ryan explains.

“Perfect sense,” I tell him.

Spencer looks at the clock. “Wow, it’s getting late. It’s almost two in the morning. I’m gonna go. Night Ryan. Bye Grey. Great to meet you.”

We exchanged numbers. Then Ryan and I looked around. It was only us left.