Dirt

Things between Matt and I had become a little easier after the party. It really was like having a piece of home around all the time. I could really be myself around him and it put me at ease. I learned that even though Matt was my friend, he was still around to do his job. We had been at a small show, and the crowd got too rowdy afterwards, and Matt was right there to make sure everyone gave me enough space to breath. He didn't immediately whisk me away after the show, but he did make sure that the people who approached me after did so in a polite and orderly fashion. I had to admit to him later that night, that he was pretty good at his job. He told me he was just glad he actually got to do something he was getting paid for doing.

I talked to the label, and they wanted to put on a major show in a month or so to promote a new tour, so the band and I had decided to practice in earnest. We spent most of our time at the rehearsal space working on the music and getting an idea for a set list in mind. We spent anywhere between twelve to sixteen hours at the warehouse, which is what we called it, trying to get out shit on point. I think that was what brought it on. I was working really hard, staying up late, and not really taking care of myself.

I woke up that morning feeling slightly achy, and my throat was kind of sore. I knew what was happening, I just didn't want to admit it, so I threw the thought out of my head as I quickly got dressed. Matt and I made our way to the warehouse, and after warming up, I sat down in a chair to relax and wait for everyone else. I was still pretty sleepy, which surprised me. I shook it off and watched as Oscar and Travis discussed some new riff and beat they wanted to try out.

"Ashlynn, would you sing that part in the song? Just start from the second chorus and jump into the bridge, I wanna try this out," Oscar asked me, and I nodded. I sang along softly like they asked, but had to stop abruptly to cough. They both eyed me warily. I started over again with what they wanted and managed to make it through. I liked the new input and told them so. Oscar was still watching me, though. "You know, you don't look so hot. You feeling okay?"

Everyone stopped at that point to look at me. A sick singer when you're trying to get ready for a major show was not something anyone wanted. "I'm good. Just a little tired today. I guess I didn't sleep well last night." I just wanted everyone to get back to what they were doing. Then I sneezed. Then I sneezed again. "Shit." I had everyone's attention once again. "Okay, maybe not. We may have a 'Code Milky Green' here folks."

"A what?!" Gabby asked.

"It's a reference from Big Bang Theory," Matt told her calmly. "It's one of her favorite shows. She's getting sick."

"Well, shit," Gabby said. "How early have you caught it?"

I stood there assessing the damage. "Pretty early, I think. Okay, I'm gonna go home and quarantine myself for a few days, and we'll see how it goes." I gathered my stuff up and headed for the door. "Wish me luck everyone. Miss me while I'm gone."

Matt drove us back to the apartment and stopped at a drug store on the way. After I had stocked up on every cold medicine and cough drop known to man, we drove back to the apartment. "I think I'm gonna take some of this stuff," I held up my giant plastic bag of medicine to Matt, "and try and take a nap." I took two pills as was directed on the box, then took some liquid nighttime medicine. I drifted off to sleep shortly after.

I woke up later, not quite sure how much later, and realized I was starving. I left my room in a pair of cozy plaid pj bottoms and an oversized, long sleeve t-shirt that I couldn't remember where I'd gotten it. Matt was sitting in the living room watching TV and smiled when I plopped down next to him. "Are you hungry?" He was. "Cool. I want to make something...but then I don't. I feel like being lazy and just ordering out."

"Do you want me to make something?" he offered.

I shook my head. "Nah, I'll just get us something quick. After getting off the phone with the one Italian restaurant in town that delivers, and ordering enough food to feed an army, I sat back down next to Matt. He had a notebook in his hands and he wasn't really paying attention to what was on the television. I knew this for a fact since it was tuned to Bridezillas. I giggled and he turned to me, asking what was so funny. "You're so engrossed that you haven't even noticed that," I gestured to the TV just as some bitchy bride slammed her hand down on a wedding cake, effectively ruining it. "Wow. She's got balls."

"That's no way to plan a wedding," Matt said sternly. "You catch more flies with honey than you do with vinegar. Although, I would agree with you. She's got a ballsy way of dealing with things. Only women could get away with shit like that, though. If I put my hand through a wedding cake at a tasting, or whatever the fuck she's doing, I'd be arrested."

I chuckled at him. "Probably. So what are you working on anyway?" He seemed instantly embarrassed and told me he didn't want to say. "Come on, just tell me. We're friends now. I'm not gonna make fun of you or anything. You can trust me, Matty."

We both froze over the old nickname I used to call him. It just slipped out. I hadn't even been thinking when I did it. He recovered first and cleared his throat. "Okay, I'll tell you. But you have to promise you won't laugh." I crossed my heart. He handed over the notebook. "It's just some stuff I've been playing around with. Nothing serious."

I looked it over. It was a really good poem. I had no idea Matt did poetry. "Were you always into this stuff or is this something fairly new?" Fairly new, he told me. It really was a beautiful poem. There was a lot about his past, and how his parents used to fight. He told me once while we were dating that there was a brief period in his parents' relationship where they almost divorced. He said it had always stuck with him. I got a sense of what that was like for him as a kid, and it pulled on my heartstrings. But even with all of that, there was an undercurrent of love. I was extremely impressed with it, and told him so. "You know, if you tweaked the placement of some of the lines, this would make a bad ass song."

"You think so?" I nodded and told him for sure. "Well...okay, then let's do it." I was confused. "I want to watch you do what you do. Let's make that a song."

I must have grinned incredibly wide because Matt was soon grinning himself. "If you don't mind me messing with this, then I'd be honored." He told me he didn't mind. "Okay, then let me get prepared. This shit doesn't just pop out of my ass, you know." I hustled around the apartment doing my usual writing preparations. I was already in comfortable clothes, so that worked, then I lit a bunch of candles and turned off the overhead light in the living room. After that I grabbed my guitar from my bedroom and sat down on some pillows I had thrown on the floor. I put Matt's notebook in front of me and tapped a pencil against my chin as I thought. "Okay, so the first thing that sticks out at me is this line here. The one about being the exception to the rule." He agreed and we were off and running.

About an hour later and I was almost happy with the way the lyrics had turned out. Matt thought they were brilliant, but I wasn't sure. I never really was, though, until I heard them actually sung out with a melody. I picked up my guitar and strummed around on it a bit. Eventually I found a rhythm I like, so I played around with a couple chord progressions until I found one I really liked. I played for a long time while I tried to find a melody I thought was fitting. Matt just watched me with rapt attention while I did all this and stayed silent. I looked to him. "I'm not sure if I want this to be more dark and kind of angsty, or just simple and straight to the point." I hummed two different melodies to him and asked him what he thought.

"I like both of them," he told me, "but I'm not sure I'm really the person to be asking. I know what I like on the radio. I don't really know anything about writing a song."

"That's actually kind of helpful. If both melodies came on the radio, which one would you turn the station away from faster?"

Matt smiled. "Neither, since I know they're your songs. But if I had to choose one, I'd change the first one faster."

I thanked him, and started making notes in the notebook about the melody. Eventually, I had a rough draft of the song, so I picked up the guitar and started to play it. Matt's face was priceless. He was thrilled with the song. I knew, of course, that there was still a long way to go with it, and that I needed to adjust some of the melody and maybe some of the phrasing, but I also knew that I had a really good song. I had to let the band hear it. I finished awkwardly, and grinned at Matt. He told me it was the coolest thing he'd ever seen, or heard. "You're only biased because you essentially wrote the song. I just fined tuned some stuff." Matt asked me to play it one more time for him, and after I did, I slipped off to bed with a big smile. It gave me a warm feeling right in the center of my chest to make Matt that happy. Oh, wait....fuck.

The next morning, despite taking a bunch of medicine, I was worse than the day before. The cold had actually come and punched me in the face. I woke up with a stuffed up nose, and my voice sounded funny. So I did what I always do, which is get my blanket and set up shop on the couch while I watch horrible day time talk shows. Matt came out of his room a while later and asked how I was feeling. "Pretty crappy," I told him. "I'm pretty sure I'm dying."

"I highly doubt that, but I'm sorry you're sick." He picked up my feet from the end of the couch, and placed them back in his lap once he sat down. "You want me to go get you something?"

I thought about it. "I dunno. Maybe. Some soup might be nice."

"I can do that. Any particular kind?" I shook my head and told him to surprise me. Matt put on some shoes and was out the door.

While he was gone, it gave me some time to think about the song we had written. There was really something special about it, but maybe I had been biased. I needed a second opinion, so I hopped on my computer and messaged the band that we needed to Skype. Within minutes, the five of us were all staring at each other.

"Yeah, you're sick," Gabby stated once she got a look at me.

"Thanks a lot," I said sarcastically.

"You don't look that bad," Tyler offered. "I could come over and keep you company if you want."

I held in my sigh. "Thanks, but that's okay. Matt's here, so I'm not alone. I really wanted to talk to you guys about a new song." They were excited to hear it, so I quickly grabbed the guitar and started to quietly play it.

"That's really fucking good," Oscar told me after I had finished. "Like, really good. I don't want to jinx anything, but that sounds like a single."

"Right?" I asked. "I thought maybe I was biased, but I really think I'm on to something here. I want to work on this with you guys, but I don't want to do it at the warehouse." Of course, they wanted to know why not. "I dunno. I feel like since we share the space sometimes, that there's always prying eyes...or ears. Whatever. Either way, this song is really pure and I don't want to muck it up just yet."

"I can understand that, I think," Travis said, "but what are we supposed to do? Practice over the web like this?"

"It worked in that movie, 'The Rocker'," Gabby laughed.

"I'm not practicing naked from the waist down," Travis informed the group, which we were all grateful for.

I convinced everyone that this was the best way to practice, since until I was feeling better, I wouldn't be out of the house anyway. I signed off with everyone just as Matt came through the door with two bags full of food. "Are those groceries?" He nodded. "You didn't have to shop."

"It's cool. I had decided that homemade soup was better than store bought, and I have this pretty kick ass recipe from my mom, so I'm gonna make you something."

I just smiled at him from the couch. Matt was trying really hard to be nice, and I had the urge to do the same. Oh, well there it was again. Hell.