“Did it work?” Dr. Angelini asked.
“I don’t know,” I answered honestly, shaking my head back and forth. “I never really pursued it.”
“I think you should.”
“Excuse me?” I asked.
“I thinkyou should find a coffee house or a karaoke bar or even a street corner and perform. Just once, to see how it feels. In fact, that’s your assignment before you come back to see me.”
“You’re giving me homework?” I asked, incredulous. “You’re my shrink, not my professor.”
Dr. Angelini smiled placidly. “Your time for today is up, Brooklyn. I look forward to hearing all about your musical debut at our next session.“ She stood and ushered me into the hallway, closing the door firmly behind me. I stared back at her closed door, my mouth hanging open in shock.
This was going to be a disaster.
I wasn’t sure if my time at therapy was helping or not, but for once in my life I had someone I could discuss my problems and my twisted history with. I could talk freely because it was confidential and Dr. Angelini wasn’t a friend – she was just doing her job. I didn’t burden her and she didn’t judge me.
And while I was dreading getting up on a stage and singing in front of a crowd, I knew Dr. Angelini wouldn’t have recommended doing itunless it served a real purpose. Shockingly, I trusted her.
Our discussion of relationships had me thinking about sex as I drove home from my appointment. It had been months since my last random hookup, far longer than I typically lasted between boy-binges. Sex was the ultimate mind-numbing escape, reserved for situations where tequila alone couldn't block out my emotions.
I couldn't help but wonder if my sudden prudish tendencies had something to do with a certain new malefriend, who sang like an angel and told jokes any five year old could top. I dismissed that unwelcome thought, pulled into a nearby liquor store parking lot, and began making plans for a much-needed Friday night out with Lexi.
***
“Lex?” I called, walking into our apartment and dumping two grocery bags full of ingredients onto the kitchen island. I could hear music thumping from her speakers, an auto-tuned pop track I’d never heard before. Lexi and I didn’t exactly share the same taste in artists.
She emerged from her room, hips gyrating in time to the beat as she crooned the lyrics into a hairbrush.
“Could you be any more cliché?” I asked, giggling at her as I removed several bottles of tequila, margarita mix, and two fresh limes from the grocery bags.
“Margarita night?” Lexi squealed, dropping her pseudo-microphone and pulling the blender down from a cabinet.
“Yeah, I was thinking we could head over to The Blue Note in a little bit.”
“The karaoke bar?” Lexi asked,her nose wrinkling in confusion. “But you don’t ever want to go there.”
“I thought we could change it up tonight, try somewhere new.”
“Works for me,” Lexi said, always agreeable to a night of debauchery. She was firing up the blender with our first round of margaritas in two minutes flat.
After a brief cheers, Ileft the kitchen and headed into my room to prepare for the night. Picking an outfit was the least of my worries; I somehow had to convince myself that singing onstage in front of a crowd of random strangers wasn’t going to be a total train wreck. Sipping my margarita, I hoped a bit of liquid courage would keep me from backing out at the last minute.
Finn’s jacket still hung on the hook by my closet – he must’ve left it here after the night of the flower delivery. Before I could talk myself out of it, I crossed the room, grasped the supple leather in my hands, and held it up against my face. Inhaling, I could detect the faintest aroma of falling leaves and crisp apples – that uniquely autumnal, masculine scent Finn seemed to carry everywhere he went. Ignoring the pang in my chest, I dropped the jacket onto my bedspread and scolded myself for acting like such a girl.
The truth was, I missed him.I’d gotten used to him being around, and not seeing him for over a week was a slow form of torture. I wouldn’t seek him out, though. It wasn’t in my nature to chase after anyone’s affection.
After changing into a sparkly fitted grey blouse, dark skinny jeans, and a pair of blackhigh-heeled leather boots, I pulled my guitar from a long-neglected back corner of my closet. It was out of tune; it had been months since I’d last played.
After making some adjustments, Istrummed a few chords experimentally. For an old guitar, it had a nice sound. I smiled as I began to play the opening melody of one of my favorite songs, singing under my breath as I reached the chorus. Enthusiastic applause greeted me as soon as I trailed off; Lexi was standing in my doorway, watching with rapt attention.
“Does this mean you’re going to play tonight?” She squealed, clearly excited by the prospect.
“I was thinking about it.” I didn’t mention Dr. Angelini’s assignment, as that would’ve required me to tell Lexi that I was seeing a psychiatrist.
“Ohmigod! Brooklyn, I don’t know what inspired this but I’m so happy you’re going to play! I’ve been telling you for years, you could be a professional with pipes like yours.”
“I don’t know about that,” I said, strumming softly. “My mom was a singer, you know.”