Page 71 of Finding a Melody
I sighed and got out, quickly getting dressed before going into my music room. I found the headphones I used when I was recording music and put them on. I curled up on the small couch I kept in there, letting the music room act as my comfort space. Once I was comfortable, I turned on my MP3 player to my favorite soundtrack, one I kept nearby since it was created by my dad. Hearing his voice so soon after reading his letter created all kinds of emotions within me. I closed my eyes, and did as Paxon suggested. I let the music wash over me, allowed myself to truly feel it. Slowly, the question I had been holding back came forward and I had no choice but to face it.
For how long had Lindie been keeping me from my dad?
Chapter Twenty-Two
When I finally came out of the music isolation I had wrapped myself in, I went back downstairs to get some hot tea. I paused in the living room as soon as the sound of the TV reminded me of what I had totally forgotten about.
Paxon was still on the couch, watching the screen intently, his phone in his lap, screen lit up.
“You’re still here,” I whispered, still feeling a bit dazed.
“Of course. Feel better?”
I nodded. “That helped. A lot.”
Paxon smiled big. “I’m glad. Join me?”
“Give me a moment. I need a drink.”
I brewed a pot of tea, using that time to straighten out all my thoughts. I felt a little fuzzy, maybe even dazed, after that little music therapy. And I felt good too. Safe.
Paxon hadn’t moved when I came back. I went over to the other end of the couch, tucking one leg underneath me as I sat down, taking a sip of my hot green tea with some honey to help soothe my throat.
I stared at him and watched as he fought not to give in to his paranoia to look at me.
The end of his mouth twitched. “What?”
“Can I ask a personal question?”
“You know, we’re friends right? Being friends means personal questions are always going to be tossed out there. Only strangers ask that.”
He made a good point. It was like putting up an automatic wall when I asked that question.
“Fine. When was the last time you talked to your mom?”
Definitely not the question he was expecting by the way his eyebrows rose and his mouth opened. “Oh. Wow. Hmm. Good question.” It took him a moment to think about. “The last any of us heard from her was beginning of summer. I was supposed to go with Calvin to visit, but that was quickly canceled. Calvin had originally said he was okay with doing it, but as the time got closer, he began shutting down, having nightmares again. So my dad canceled and kept us here all summer.”
“You didn’t want to go.”
Paxon shrugged and looked away from me. “That woman hasn’t been my mother for a very long time. She left us. Has another family now too. For all I care, she’s they’re problem now.”
I wondered if he really meant that or not.
“And before that?”
“Around Christmas. She called briefly. I ended it when she tried to make promises she never tries to keep.”
“Oh.”
“Why do you ask?”
“My dad sent me a letter.” I reached for my tea and used that to distract me.
Paxon didn’t say anything until I put it down after taking a sip, the heat from it warming my face.
“And I’m assuming he’s never reached out to you before.”
“That’s what I thought,” I said in a soft voice. “I thought that when he walked out of my life, he never tried to come back. That he wanted nothing to do with me. That he tossed me out. That he was out there somewhere, having his own life, happy without me.”