On Solid Ground: Sequel to in Too Deep (5 page)

We went back and forth with a couple more questions when my eyes started to droop. The sun was up, but it was still so early. I tried to sleep, but the sex tapes, my nightmares, and the thought of going it alone hung over my head as I tossed and turned. Knowing how deeply our souls were connected, I couldn’t picture myself telling Jake I needed time to heal before I could focus on our relationship.

The thought of what images could be on the sex tapes at Sigma Chi made me nauseated. The guilt I carried because my dreams took me to Noah when I was sharing a bed with Jake was, at times, unbearable. But the thought of walking away from this beautiful soul squeezed my chest with panic. I shook all the unpleasant thoughts from my mind in an attempt to sleep.

There was no time constraint to leaving Jake’s bed. I looked up at the man I loved more than life itself and fell asleep once more in the most peaceful place I knew...Jake’s arms.

Six

Jake

I let the hot water run down over my body as I tried to relax. It was summer; we had no schedule or anything pressing to worry about for the next couple months, but I couldn’t ignore the fact that we would soon be starting our senior year. Career searches, applications, interviews, and the possibility of relocating were all just around the corner.

I had been in college for three full years and still didn’t know what I wanted to do. A degree in Business Management could take me a zillion different directions, and I had no clue which way to go. When I picked my major, it seemed like a good idea to choose something that could open up a vast array of possibilities on the job front. But as graduation day loomed, I worried the number of choices could be overwhelming.

And when I was deciding my major, I certainly wasn’t thinking about the stress that might come along with trying to secure a job based on where my future girlfriend’s job prospects were.

I dated a lot in high school. I was captain of the soccer team and always had a girl on my arm. But none were ever serious enough to consider when I was deciding where my future was headed.

Since Gracie’s breakup with Noah, we hadn’t talked much about our future together. For me, it was a given. I was done looking. In my mind, I had us married with kids.

I mindlessly spread soap across my body and scrubbed my hair as I let my mind wander. I pictured Gracie as a mom, the mother of my children. I had never even pictured a future past college with Jessica. And now, I pictured myself with knee-high people greeting me in the driveway. I tried to picture what kind of job I left before pulling into my imaginary home, but it was useless. I wasn’t concerned about finding a job or providing for Gracie and me. Business Management would open more than a few doors for me, but I wanted to enjoy my work.

I watched my dad trudge home every day from a job he hated. He was good at sales, and he made a decent living, but he wasn’t fulfilled by spending his days trying to talk people into buying something he wasn’t really passionate about. He’d chosen a vague career, sales. Throughout my eighteen years at home, he’d sold cars, real estate, pharmaceuticals, and even insurance. But none of those things were passions for him, and looking back, I know he wasn’t happy with his career choice. He was a happy guy, always joking and fun, but he wasn’t fulfilled. He and my mom split up my senior year of high school, which left her with an empty nest when I headed to UTK.

When Gracie told stories about the kids she worked with during various hands-on opportunities within her major, she glowed. I could see her soul floating when she was writing. She knew passion. I guess I just had to find mine.

Something crinkled under my foot when I stepped off the bathmat and wrapped the towel around my waist. I bent over to pick up what looked like a hand-written note from Gracie.

“Feeling the heat of your skin

brushing next to mine

Others there have been,

but I found home this time.

Just having you here

and looking into your eyes,

there’s no more fear

and I fear no more lies.

You are the one

my heart beats for every day.

Thanks for all you’ve done

And all that’s left to say.

Loving you daily

is the least I could do.

These things happen rarely

I’m just glad I could happen to you.”

There was a light knock on the door. “Jake?”

I slowly opened and peered around it. Anxious anticipation spread across Gracie’s features.

“Gracie, this is beautiful.”

She giggled. “Jake, you’re already sleeping with me, you don’t need to gush.”

“Look at me.” I lifted her chin and made sure she was listening. “I’m not capable of putting the depth of our connection into words. But you did. Do you know how incredibly hard that is?”

“It wasn’t that big of deal. It just poured out of me. And it’s just the first draft.” Her eyes darted around my face as she seemingly tried to own the compliment.

“But that’s the thing. If it just poured out of you like that...you’ve got an amazing talent. Don’t stop writing.” I put a hand on either side of her face and squeezed her cheeks so her mouth pushed out into an exaggerated pucker. I kissed her loud and sloppy. “So, what do you want to do today?”

I headed to the bedroom to get dressed.

“Could we go look at guitars?” She skipped back into the bedroom, and the look on her face was priceless, like a little girl asking to go to the candy store. I was so glad we played Buckshot and triggered her memory with something she once loved to do. Something she didn’t do for anyone but herself.

“At The Garage? Sure.” I’d have taken her to the moon if she’d asked.

The Garage was within walking distance of our apartment building. Gracie and I had been in it a couple times with Becki and Shawn. Shawn was a wannabe rock star, so he got all his accessories there. It was an old bus garage converted into a store, which was what made it so cool. It really had that garage band feel to it. Two guys with goofy names ran the place. They were always so laid back and chill, I assumed they got stoned when no one was around. They certainly were more into talking music than making a sale. I was positive Gracie itched to pick up a guitar again, and I couldn’t wait to see it.

****

When we walked in, I watched her body relax, contrary to what most would typically do when they walked into a darkened room and saw pierced, tatted-up guys behind the counter, bouncing their heads to “Enter Sandman.” I could see how the space and atmosphere might be conducive for inspiration. I absolutely loved the creativity that ran through Gracie’s blood. I once walked into her apartment while she was in the shower. Unaware anyone was there, she sang at the top of her lungs. The hair on my arms stood straight up. Her voice was unbelievable, but she apparently didn’t have the confidence to pursue that talent. She never knew I’d heard her.

She was standing by a drum set, and her fingers were tapping out the beats of “Enter Sandman.” One of the guys came out from the back and walked toward us. He stood in front of her and smiled. That’s when I realized her eyes were closed and she was completely under the spell of the music.

“Gracie?” My voice startled her and her eyes flew open to the messy-haired guy with huge gages in his ears standing in front of us.

He smiled. Gracie smiled back and took a deep breath as though she needed to explain her dazed state.

“Just vibin’ on some tunes, yeah?” He spoke in a raspy tone.

“Yeah, something like that.” She smiled, realizing he totally
got
her reaction to the store.

“Cool. I’m Yaz. Give me a shout if you need my assistance.”

He said the last two words like he was wearing a tux and carrying a silver platter. She giggled and nodded. I just nodded.

She turned and faced me, “Jake. It’s...I...this place...I...”

I gave her a moment to stammer while she made sense of what she was trying to tell me.

“Jake, it’s like I can feel my soul waft out of my body, tangle itself around the music, and dance back into me as one perfect sensation. The second I felt it, it brought a comfort I wasn’t expecting. I could stay here all day.”

Her use of writing to heal herself definitely helped her put words to abstract thoughts and feelings. I was no professional, but I assumed that skill would help her sort out all the baggage Noah left her with.

“Let’s look around.” I took her hand.

We started at the front of the store and worked our way around. We flipped through sheet music, I plucked a couple strings on a ukulele hanging on the wall, and she touched every guitar strap like there could be one there made just for her. At one point, I glanced up and caught Yaz watching her. He smiled and nodded. He saw it. He knew.

We watched him finish tuning an acoustic guitar from the stool behind the counter. He slowly placed it across his lap and closed his eyes. He put his fingers on the frets and took a pick from behind his ear. He began to strum, and I watched his body become the music he was playing. He leaned into the guitar and cocked his head to the side when he plucked certain strings, he bobbed his head when the rhythm sped up, and he began to sing the most beautiful rendition of “Breaking the Girl” by the Red Hot Chili Peppers. That’s when I realized it was also playing on the iPod. He was so adept at playing he just jumped on board the next song on his playlist to double check his tuning. That level of talent amazed me. Sure, I could crunch numbers with the best of them, but music was a talent reserved for deeply sensitive souls. My Gracie was one of those souls.

“Think it’s good, man.” Yaz handed the guitar to the guy waiting on our side of the counter.

Gracie turned and was immediately drawn to the wall of guitars. I assumed watching Yaz bring that guitar to life made her fingers itch.

“You can play any of them,” Yaz called, and she nodded.

She lifted a beautiful guitar off its hooks and sat back on a stool. The quality of craftsmanship she held in her hands was incredible.

“This is a Martin,” she whispered wide-eyed.

Her hands instinctively went where they were being called, and she strummed out a rusty, simplified version of a Goo Goo Dolls style chord progression. She sighed and strummed the same tune again. And again. And again. And she was lost. Lost in the music. Lost in the wave of what helped hold her together for the past two years. The music.

It was an amazing thing to witness, I was stunned by this girl who held my heart as she poured out her own through her music. Absolutely stunning. The sounds her fingers pulled from the instrument came from her soul. She played for a long time.

We stayed and talked to Yaz and his buddy, Van, until a couple Rasta guys came in looking for bongos. We waved and headed out into the sun.

“Wow! I got a better education in those two hours than I did in all the guitar lessons I had.” She shook her head. She was beaming. There was a smile on her face I hadn’t seen in a while. She was slowly peeking out of the shell Noah had kept her in.

“So, is all that moving a musician thing?” I grabbed her hand.

“Huh?” She looked at me, puzzled.

“Your body was as much playing that guitar as your hands were. It was unbelievably sexy.”

She laughed out loud. “Jake, you’re so freaking adorable. I hadn’t even noticed.”

“Gracie. I saw something in you in there that I’ve never seen before. I saw a passion that took my breath away. You need to start playing again.”

“It felt so good, Jake.”

“I could see that. I’m sure they give lessons. You should call.”

“Yeah, maybe I will.”

“So, that’s the third thing on your To-Do list for this week.”

“My To-Do list?”

“Yep. Number one, you’re calling Student Health about scheduling a counseling session. Number two, you’re going to keep writing. Number three, you’re going to start guitar lessons.”

“Thank you, Jake.” Her sweet smile was filled with love.

“For giving you a To-Do list?”

“No. For not forgetting the old me. You help me remember who I used to be.”

“I’ve always seen that girl. Never let her out of my sight. It’s
you
who has to remember.”

Holy hell, I was so in love with Gracie. I would do whatever it took to help her find herself again. Anything.

Seven

Gracie

“So, tell me a little bit about yourself, Gracie.”

It was a beautiful Tuesday morning. I could be at home sleeping in with Jake, but I was sitting in counseling for the first time. If Jake hadn’t mentioned the Honey-Do list, I would have put off making the appointment. I was scared to death to spill my guts to anyone, especially someone I didn’t know.

The woman who sat across from me appeared too slick and put together. Her black, pin-striped, rayon pants rippled at her ankles as she walked toward the wingback chair across from me. The room was calm and inviting. I would never have guessed this peaceful atmosphere could exist in the Student Health building. The main part of the building was like a clinic, and the students filing in and out were like cattle. The building was old, and it had that sterile, we-sprayed-this-because-someone-just-puked smell.

As I made my way through the building, I saw people who were obviously in some form of discomfort. Some were sleeping across chairs, some were hunched over, clutching their guts, and there were even a few who were holding a blood-stained compress on an appendage. I navigated through the throng of the broken and wished that was all that was wrong with me. I wished I could stop the bleeding with a compress. It would be so much easier if I just had a sore throat instead of worrying about the scavenger hunt I was about to embark on to try to find the old me.

Dr. Sylvia Watts had a neat-as-a-pin, tight bun that sat at the nape of her neck. As she took her seat in the wingback chair positioned across from me, I let my eyes scan the room and was in awe of how tidy it was. Everything was so put together, and I walked in shattered. It was enough of a juxtaposition to make me more than a little uncomfortable. I couldn’t help but wonder how much she really knew about the human condition. Wouldn’t she be the first to figure out that such a neat room would be so glaringly opposite of the emotionally ransacked state of her clients that it might make them...us...feel worse about ourselves?