About a Girl

Waking up lazily the next morning, I stayed in bed for a good forty-five minutes staring up at the ceiling and thinking. Thinking about my lack of art pastels. Making rent. The dirty dishes bombarding the kitchen sink. And the fact that Kurt was snoozing away on the living room couch.

After some tough mental persuasion I pulled myself out of my warm sheets, preparing to face the day; it was always the hardest part of mornings.

Peaking out of my bedroom door, I saw an empty sofa. The only signs that it had held a person's dream-ridden head for the night was a patchwork blanket blundled into a heap of rainbow, and an acoustic guitar propped carefully against the wall.

Slightly disappointed, I hopped into the shower and let the gentle water loosen my body. It helped to unwind the kinks in my spine.

The whole bathroom was steamed up by the time I was done. Wiping down the mirror with my towel, I stared back at my reflection in the mirror. Maybelline shadowed under my sea-green eyes, running out of control. I scrutinized myself, almost squinting, believing it might reveal what had changed. I looked different; I still had the same long brown hair, cupid-bow lips, and rounded cheeks,but something was off.

I looked happy.

I hadn’t felt truly happy in such a long time that I was beginning to forget what it felt like.

Dressing in another pair of comfortable ripped jeans and a T-shirt, I walked out into the empty living room.

My first duty was always brewing a fresh pot of coffee, so I sat down with a fresh mug. It had me perking up, and inspired me to start the drawing of the lake adventure with Kurt from memory. My goal was getting every detail right leaving nothing out.

I drew Kurt standing tall and bold with a stone in his hand. The water from the lake rippled slightly with a few twists of my wrist. The trees around the whole scene bent, protecting Kurt with their spiny branches. Last, the stars shone brilliantly above, using a color technique I had learned from my high school art teacher.

For a moment all I did was smile at the finished product. Usually I filed my art away for a rainy day to look at, but I thought this piece actually deserved displaying.

The guitar caught my attention again once my creative mood dimmed a little. I leaned over the side of the sofa, feeling the arm pushing back against me, and plucked the strings gently. Faint notes rang out through the quiet room, a mixture of keys blending.

The door to the apartment rattled and opened; it was Kurt.

As his eyes travelled to me and my hand on the guitar, I coudn't help feeling like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

“Do you play?”

“I wish. I can only play the flute.” I paused for a second, confused, “How’d you get in here?”

Kurt dangled a set of silver keys from his hand. “Heidi gave them to me. For 'anytime' use.”

“Ah.” I said, averting my eyes to her open bedroom door. A pile of clothes and a hastily made bed was all I could make out of that disaster zone. “And where is she?”

He shrugged, indifferentially to the matter. “She said something about being late for a job interview. I dunno that much… Honestly, I was half asleep when she was talking to me about it.”

“Hmm… I didn’t know she had a job interview.” I commented sitting up.

Maybe Heidi would start paying her own rent, I thought, and stop having her parents bail her out when times got tough. A twinge of something I recognized as jealousy ran through me; my parents didn't give a damn about helping me out. Anyway, I hadn't wanted their help in a very long time.

“But I come bearing gifts.” He told me, holding up a cup of Styrofoam coffee cup. Marker writing, or coffeehouse graffiti as I called it, decorated the side. “I drank mine on the way here. It's getting pretty cold outside.”

I laughed, "Let's not start talking about the weather just yet."

"That's for old couples, right?"

"No, just people with nothing else to say." I sighed, “Anyway, I appreciate the thought, but I just made some coffee.”

“Well, this is tea. Green tea actually.” He walked over to me, handing me the steaming cup. “Drink up; it’s good for you.” Shaking my head, I smiled and drank. “You know, I could teach you how to play.” Kurt said quietly, staring wistfully away.

“Play what?”

“Guitar.”

I halfway smiled. “Could you?”

“Sure.”

“If you teach me guitar, I’ll teach you to play the flute. Under one condition...”

“What’s that?” Kurt asked, slightly amused.

“Just don’t go turning Nirvana into Jethro Tull.”

He laughed loudly for a few moments. “Deal; you have my word.”

I shook his hand. “Good.”

Kurt reached over my body and grabbed the guitar in his hands. Goosebumps rose on my skin when his arm brushed me. I cleared my throat and focused on how he held his guitar. It looked so natural in his grip.

He held it as he would a lover.

I recognized him playing the beginning notes to a known song, though I couldn't place the name. Blonde strands of hair fell over his face, partially covering his closed eyes. After a moment, he stopped and turned his electric blue eyes on me.

“Your turn.” Kurt handed me the guitar.

It felt so foreign in my fingers. I knew I looked awkward trying to hold it.

“Uh… like this?” I asked unsure.

Kurt laughed, and didn't hold back. “No, no. That’s wrong. You're not holding a baby; it's a guitar.”

I sighed loudly. "I don't want to break it."

That made him laugh again.

“I’ll help you.” He scooted closer to me. "Put the guitar like this.”

He fixed its position by moving the neck's position. His lips were close to my ear when he spoke, and I could feel my face get pink.

I took a breath in, willing my emotions pull themselves back in.

“Okay.”

Kurt reached farther around me. “Have your left hand here. And your right hand here.” He touched my hand and moved it up the strings.

I turned to look at him; his face was only inches from mine. “And now?” I asked softly.

“Strum.” Kurt instructed quietly.

I guided my fingers across the strings and a chord played. I smiled widely, getting excited. “I didn’t think I could do it. It sounded pretty bad, but it's a start.”

“It was pretty good.”

“Don’t lie.” I laughed.

“It was.” He assured. “And now for that flute lesson. Now this might turn out terribly.”

Rolling my eyes playfully, I said, "Let's get started then."

Standing up, I put some safe space between us. Looking into his eyes, I knew I was in trouble; my body was still tingling from the earlier innocent brushes of our skin.