Our Harmony Page 7

  I felt the storm clouds rumbling overhead. Fuck my life.

  “No, obviously. Shit. Shit, shit, shit.”

  Preston eyed me and then handed the order sheet back. “You wanna double check this and make sure it’s right?”

  I looked over the order sheet. Fuck, why didn’t I read the order back to them? I always read the order back! “One order of spicy tonkotsu ramen, one maximum miso with extra…” I flinched and quickly scribbled out “Melany” and wrote “chashu.” Had he ordered something else? The creamy tuna croquette? Or had he said he didn’t want one? No, he had wanted the croquette.

  I scribbled an order for a creamy tuna croquette and handed the sheet to Preston. “There.”

  He gave me a look and retreated back to the line. When I went back out to the floor, I made sure to be as attentive as I could. I hurried around, grinning so stupidly it felt like my mouth was going to come off, making sure to loudly recall all the menu recommendations and pairing information so that Brandon Miyaguchi could hear just how on point I was.

  “Alright, folks,” I said, returning with their order, my stupid smile still plastered on my face. “I’ve got a spicy tonkotsu ramen for the gentleman, a maximum miso with extra chashu for the lady, and an order of the creamy tuna croquette.”

  “Tuna croquette,” he repeated, looking at it.

  “Yes, sir,” I said.

  He looked up at me and smiled. “Okay. Thank you.”

  “Anything else for you both?”

  “That will be all.”

  “Wonderful. Just let me know if you need anything at all. Enjoy your meals.” I hurried away, wishing this shift would just be over.

  Why, to go to Shadetree?

  No, I wasn’t going to do that.

  And yet, the idea continued to burn in my mind. I could go just to see the show. It would be interesting to see the musicians playing there. I could chat with Melany—or even just ignore her.

  But maybe I want to chat with her.

  It wasn’t like anything had to happen. We could just talk and then go our separate ways. Maybe we could be friends? Friends couldn’t hurt me in the same way that Max had.

  But would I be able to see her as just a friend? After what we’d done together?

  I peeked into Herschel’s office to ask whether or not I should give Brandon Miyaguchi and his wife a bill, and he told me to continue treating them as if they were normal customers. I went back out to clear away their bowls and offer them dessert, and noticed the croquette still sitting untouched.

  “Did you want me to box this up for you?” I asked.

  “No, that’s fine,” he said.

  “Oh,” I said nervously. “Was there a problem?”

  “Well, I ordered a crab croquette.”

  Shit.

  “Oh, my goodness,” I said. “I’m so sorry. This was a tuna one, wasn’t it? I can go replace it for you right now…”

  “That won’t be necessary. Thank you, though. We’ll take the check now.”

  I stood there trying to find some way to fix what I’d done, but it was too late. I’d screwed up.

  “Yes, sir, Mr. Miyaguchi. Again, I’m so sorry about that.”

  I hurried away, wanting nothing more than to disappear forever.

  “Turn me into sushi,” I groaned to Preston. “Just take that giant knife and turn me into sushi.” I explained what had happened.

  “It could’ve been worse,” he offered. “You could’ve dropped the food all over them.”

  I watched from the kitchen as Herschel saw Brandon and his wife out the door. They were chatting, and I wondered if maybe Brandon was telling him how terrible a server I was. Yeah, there were storm clouds overhead, and I could smell the rain coming. I kept my head down the rest of my shift. Herschel never said anything to me. In fact, it felt like he was avoiding me.

  After work, I sat in my car in the parking lot and stared at the steering wheel. For once, my mind wasn’t occupied with Melany—instead I was repeating my screw-up over and over and over, scrutinizing every moment, wondering if maybe, just maybe, I’d been polite enough for Mr. Miyaguchi to forgive how badly I’d fucked up.

  God. Not only had I messed up the order, I wasn’t even paying attention to him. I’d blanked on the tuna source question and had completely made up my answer, and he definitely would’ve known it. He was testing me, after all.

  My chest was so tight with anxiety it felt like I couldn’t breathe.

  “Fuck everything,” I said to nobody. I was trying not to cry.

  I pulled my car out of the lot and drove for home. About halfway there, I remembered the little rectangle of paper that was still stuffed in my pocket. The event had only just started, I realized. I could go right now.

  I gritted my teeth, tightened my grip on the wheel, and diverted my course to take me to Shadetree.

  The place was surprisingly lively, with a crowd of people milling around outside the front snacking on hors d’oeuvres. The atmosphere felt almost festival-like, with the crowd and drinks and the food trucks. I wandered through the building and went out back to where the majority of the crowd was. There was a small performance area set up, complete with lighting and sound amplification. There was a drum kit, and in front of it someone was playing the cello. Wooden slats had been set up all around and were lined with student illustrations, ranging from commercial graphics, to movie style concept art, to fully rendered life drawings. I made my way through, half checking out the artwork, but mostly just keeping an eye out for Melany. Then I spotted her.

  She was chatting with a young woman around my age, the two of them sipping from clear plastic cups of red wine. Melany leaned in and said something, and the girl tossed her head back and laughed, and then nodded in agreement.

  A sharp twinge inside painfully brought me back in time seven months. I gritted my teeth, not wanting to look. I thought about just leaving.

  Why am I jealous? Don’t be crazy.

  I hurried over to the catering bar and ordered a wine, sneaking glances over my shoulder at Melany and the mystery girl. Why are they getting along so well?

  I reminded myself that this was probably the normal Melany. I’d known that from the start, that she was a flirty, smooth playgirl who probably treated me the way she treated every woman she wanted to bang. Why had I forgotten that now? Why was this getting to me?

  Gulping down my wine in one go, I asked the bartender for another. Then, I saw another girl join the conversation. She came up to the mystery girl and wrapped her arm around her waist and gave her a quick kiss in greeting. I felt my body relax.

  Jesus, Kendra. You’re being ridiculous right now.

  Gathering my courage, I headed straight over. The mystery girl looked over at me as I came up to them, which made Melany turn around to see who was there. When she saw me, her eyes widened, and her lips pulled back into the brightest smile I’d possibly ever seen.

  “Kendra! You came.”

  I smiled sheepishly. “Hey,” I said.

  She pulled me into the group, putting her hand on the small of my back. I shivered, remembering how she’d touched me there the first night, when we’d first met.

  “Kendra, this is Kaitlyn. She was the one who invited me to this thing. And this is… I'm sorry, we hadn’t been introduced yet.”

  “Emily, pleased to meet you.”

  I greeted them both, shaking their hands.

  “Your girlfriend?” she asked Melany, and I felt my face go molten hot.

  “Oh, no,” Melany laughed. “Just a friend. Actually, Kendra is the drummer that I mentioned to you.”

  “No way!” said Kaitlyn.

  “Kaitlyn is playing tonight with her street performance group,” Melany said. “Guitar, violin, and a drummer.”

  “Melany told me that you do street drumming,” Kaitlyn said to me. “At the Riverwalk?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Only just recently.”

  “Cool. That’s where we play too, I’m surprised we have
n’t seen you yet.”

  “Oh, I’ve only been at it for a week,” I said.

  “Do you play a normal drum set, or like, a bucket kit?”

  I nodded. “Buckets, pots, those kinds of things, yeah. Though I played a normal kit before that. I used to be a music student at Beasley.”

  “My music partner is a Beasley student,” Kaitlyn said. “Violin major. They’ve got a good program, I’ve heard. So, you must be classically trained, and all that? Can play lots of styles?”

  “Basically anything,” I laughed. “Though I haven’t played on a normal kit in a while.”

  “Oh, really?”

  I started to shift my weight nervously from foot to foot. “Yeah. Bit of a creative block…”

  Kaitlyn nodded. “Well, sometimes it’s good to step away and do something different.”

  “Hey,” Melany said, touching my arm. It felt like a shock of electricity to my system. “Kendra, you haven’t had a chance to take a look at the art yet, have you?”

  “Not yet,” I said.

  “There are some really cool ones in the main gallery. Want to go check them out?”

  “Sure.”

  “We’ll be back for your set,” Melany said to Kaitlyn. “How long?”

  Kaitlyn looked at her phone. “Twenty minutes. After the cellist.”

  Melany and I strolled back inside together. “I’m not usually into the whole gallery thing,” she told me. “This place is pretty badass, though.”

  “It is,” I said, nodding. “I’ve never been before. It’s pretty great that this was all set up by a Beasley professor.”

  I finished the rest of my second wine, and Melany drained hers too. “Refill?” she asked, and I nodded gratefully.

  “To be honest,” she said as we took two new cups from the catering table, “I don’t know how cool the art in here actually is. I just wanted to talk to you alone.”

  My heart did a flip.

  “I’m glad you came,” she said. “I’ve been thinking about you all week, actually. I’ve been wanting to talk to you.”

  “You have my number,” I said. “If you wanted to talk to me, why didn’t you just text?”

  She looked embarrassed. “I didn’t think you would respond.”

  I shrugged. “Yeah, you’re right, I probably wouldn’t have.”

  “This is all a little weird to me,” she said. “I’m not used to this.”

  “To what?”

  “How I feel about you.”

  I looked at her, and her gray eyes gazed back at me so intensely that a shiver ran through my body. “What are you talking about?” I said, my heart racing. Hearing that from her thrilled me, but it made me want to run. “Melany, I told you…”

  “I know, I know. Friends. One-time thing. But, fuck, Kendra. I just can’t get you out of my head, and this has never happened to me before. I just want to know the honest truth—you don’t feel the same way at all? There’s nothing? Because it wasn’t the sex that made me feel this way. You’re different.”

  I felt scared—scared to admit the feelings that were so plainly running through my body. “Right,” I said. “I’m sure you say that to every girl you bring to your house. Why me, Melany? You already fucked me. What else do you want? Just get another girl. Rosebridge is filled with them.”

  She looked hurt, and I regretted what I said immediately. “This is the honest truth, Kendra. I’m not going to pretend and say you’re the only woman I’ve been with, because yeah, I’ve had a lot of partners. But I do feel differently about you. From that first evening just talking with you, I realized that you’re different from anyone I’ve ever met. It’s been fucking killing me this past week, trying to understand it. All I know is that you’re special. So tell me—is there really nothing?”

  I shook my head. “I-I don’t know. I can’t… There’s just too much for me to handle, and it scares me. I’m still all fucked up from my ex, and I can’t even be sure what I feel anymore. I’m just fucking broken, Melany.”

  I hung my head down. I felt so small, and I just wanted to disappear. Then I felt Melany’s arms reaching around me, pulling me into a tight hug. “It’s okay,” she said. “I’m sorry. I should’ve realized. I know you’re still dealing with some rough shit right now. Take it slow. I can wait.”

  The knot in my chest slowly began to loosen. “Okay.”

  She rubbed my arm. “For tonight, let’s just enjoy the event. How does that sound?”

  I nodded. I felt horrible for unloading on her, but I was scared. These feelings were bubbling up so quickly and so strongly that I didn’t know what to do with them. I didn’t know how to address them. I wanted to trust Melany, but to take that leap of faith felt like the most difficult thing in my life. Even more difficult than playing the drums again. No, that felt easy compared to this.

  Maybe I just need to… let go.

  Just let go of everything. Every fear, every worry, everything.

  Could I do that? Could I live like how I felt when I played the drums? Completely and entirely in the present?

  I need to stop being afraid. I can’t let the fear ruin my life.

  We walked around the gallery and looked at all the illustrations on display. Melany threw out the occasional “Oh, this is nice,” or “This is a pretty interesting looking one.” I tried my best to forget about things and just enjoy the night out, but it was difficult. There was a lot that I wanted to know.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “If this were music I’d have something more interesting to say.”

  I shook my head. “No, I’m sorry. I’m not being very fun right now.” I drained my wine and suggested we go back for more. It felt somewhat pathetic to rely on alcohol to loosen my tongue, but I needed it, and Melany also seemed to be happy to drink more.

  “I have a question,” I said, as we stared up at a large, gold-framed illustration of a pink duck wearing a tuxedo.

  “Would I hang this in my house? The answer is yes.”

  We both laughed, and I felt a little more at ease asking what was on my mind. “No… I wanted to know, what was your last relationship like? I told you all about mine, but you never talked about yours.”

  “My last relationship,” she said, trailing off. “My last relationship. Well, I had a boyfriend for a month in high school.”

  “A boyfriend,” I repeated, surprised.

  “Yeah. I think it’s obvious why that didn’t work out. After that… I dated around in college. Never anything serious.”

  “Seriously? So, you’ve never been in a real relationship before?”

  “No, I suppose not,” she said.

  “Why not?” Normally I wouldn’t have prodded, but the wine was definitely loosening me up.

  “Well… success has always been the most important thing in my life. I put making my fortune above everything, and sacrificed a lot for it.”

  “I see,” I said. “What is success? To you, I mean.”

  “Greatness,” she said without a moment’s thought. “Greatness in anything you do will always lead to money. And money is my end goal.”

  “So, having a lot of money is what you want?”

  “That is a priority of mine, yeah.”

  Greatness. That was the idea I’d been chasing after too, with my drumming. It was what I aspired to, and what I thought could bring me fulfillment. I’d wanted perfection. Now? Now I didn’t know. I guess all I wanted now was to be happy again.

  “So, when will you know when you’re there?” I asked. “When will you be successful? I mean, I look at you and think, damn, this girl has her shit together. So where is that line?”

  She looked at me with a puzzled expression, like she’d never considered the question before. “I… don’t know,” she said. She was quiet for a for a moment, lost in thought. “I’ve been questioning it all lately. I’ve charged after that goal like a horse with blinders on for so many years, never thinking about what I was doing until now.”

  Melany, who’d seemed l
ike she’d never lack in self-confidence, suddenly looked embarrassed. She rubbed the back of her neck and chewed on her bottom lip. “The truth is that my business is not doing well. I knew my apps wouldn’t be profitable forever; that’s just not a realistic expectation. But I was certain that when that time came, I’d just have something new out making money. I had that confidence in my skills. Now, I’m not so sure. So, I wonder—what happens if I lose everything I have? Everything that’s made me, me?