Page 40 of Only You

Washington, D.C.

Dani and Jones were friends.

That was a reality that was easy to swallow as she sent him memes and videos throughout the weeks following their run-in at the library.

They talked about the random shows they caught on TV.

Sometimes, she just called him to say a quick ‘hi’ or with a random story.

It was an escape – which made it not romantic.

Jones had read enough books to know that escapism is not a good way to start a relationship and, considering that she had stopped talking about their shared past, he was pretty sure she was on a similar wavelength.

After all, he understood that they couldn’t avoid each other – the universe had other plans – so therefore, they had to settle for friendship.

At least, that’s what he chose to believe despite the satisfaction that he felt every time she laughed at one of his bad jokes or any time she mentioned something cool she discovered through her research unrelated to them.

If he were lucky, she would play a bit of cello, showing him a glimpse of what she was practising.

He had only seen her play a few times, but he hoped one day she would invite him to a concert to fully experience her skill.

Today was not one of those days but he still listened attentively to her explain the solo she had been practising for weeks.

‘So, what’s the plan now?’ Jones asked.

‘Panic while running in a circle, SpongeBob style,’ she said.

‘This is the cello solo of a lifetime. There’s no way I can actually learn to play Prokofiev’s Sinfonia Concertante, Op.

125 in four months. To call the piece a solo is somewhat a disservice.

It’s basically me featuring everyone else.

Professional cellists can barely pull it off and they literally have nothing else to do.

The only favour Dr Carver is granting me is that we’re only playing the allegro giusto . ’

‘You can do it,’ Jones said without missing a beat.

‘How do you know?’ Dani asked. ‘You’ve never seen me play.’

‘Funny you say that considering your fifteen minutes of fame a while back,’ he mentioned with a smirk.

‘Oh, God no.’ He could practically see her covering her face in embarrassment.

While intended only for her friend’s class, the video spread like wildfire across the internet.

The video was fun at first, inspiring quite a few re-creations but after a while they wore out the song and the videos became less funny.

While he did get a lovely royalty cheque from the song’s brief boost in popularity, he and Dani were more than happy when everyone moved on.

‘It was a good rendition,’ Jones said.

‘I guess you would know,’ she said and he could picture her smirking.

She was probably remembering his reluctant admission that he was the producer of the song on one of their earlier phone calls.

Another thing that bonded them together, even if it was just on the internet.

Jones chuckled but said nothing else, the line becoming silent as they both fell into their own worlds.

It was almost scary how easy it was to spend time doing nothing with her, letting the day go by…

Not that you have many left.

The thought was chilling and unfortunately common.

He had come to terms with dying a while ago, deciding that all he could do was live his life doing what he wanted.

He had his music, his friends, and time to have his own little adventures if he wanted.

He finally had the freedom that he longed for in all his other lives and it was enough.

Then, Dani showed up and it felt like every time he talked to her, something was different.

He felt himself lingering on the thought that maybe, maybe, this life would be different.

‘You’ll do a good job,’ Jones said suddenly, remembering to focus on the conversation and not a mere possibility.

‘What?’

‘The solo,’ Jones clarified. ‘Carver doesn’t challenge you for the hell of it. He already knows you can do it. So, just trust him.’

‘You would know,’ she said quietly. After a pause, ‘This is getting too dangerous.’

‘How?’ Jones asked, his voice becoming alert. He hoped she wouldn’t suggest that they didn’t see each other again.

‘You’re like a sedative,’ she told him. ‘You calm everything down. It’s so unfair and is gonna make me go to sleep.’

He felt a flutter in his chest, one that had been lingering there for months as he thought back to Dani’s curious eyes when they first met.

If he were braver, he would tell her that she left him a little off balance, making him wonder about things he had given up on a long time ago.

That he loved how she didn’t just accept what was happening with them, that she was fighting and made him want to, too.

He had been a goner from the moment they met.

‘That will come in handy for our bass lesson tomorrow,’ he said instead. ‘I doubt you’re a “go with the flow” type of learner.’

‘I’m that type of learner’s worse nightmare,’ she teased.

‘Perfectionist.’

‘Hippie,’ she shot back before giggling.

There were noises in the background suddenly and Dani was saying something away from the speaker. ‘I gotta go,’ Dani said. ‘Going to a concert with my friends tonight.’

‘Same time, next season?’ he said, referencing a quote from The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air , one of her guilty pleasure shows.

‘Same time, next week,’ she said, alluding to one of his favourites, In Treatment .

‘Have fun.’ Too soon, Dani’s voice was gone.

Jones stared at his phone screen, already longing for the next time he would talk to her.

He turned on his back, staring at the ceiling as music filled his head.

That too had also been happening lately.

As the days passed, he craved to create again, notes haunting him after every conversation, begging to bring to life all the things he couldn’t say yet.

He got up from the floor and went to his room to grab an electric guitar he had been gravitating towards for the last few days.

He wanted a sound that couldn’t help but fill up the room, brighten even the darkest corners of his mind.

He played until the sun disappeared below the horizon, doing everything he could to breathe so much life into the piece that it created a small bit of alchemy.

If not to get them to live, then at least to help remember.

Jones’s apartment reminded Dani of an old neo soul music video, with the muted green walls and the wicker chair in the corner that stood out from all the other brown or jewel-toned furniture.

It was cosy and a bit overcrowded with the vinyl records piled up around the piano, TV and on the bookshelves.

A couple of abstract pieces hung on the living room wall that made Dani think of stormy seas.

While they had talked on the phone every day, whether texting or calling, it took a while for her to find time to visit as her next concert loomed closer.

Fortunately, Dr Carver had to leave early that day, resulting in a half day of practice.

There was a part of her that knew it would be much more productive to book a practice room, but the thought was quickly pushed aside when she saw the random meme Jones sent the night before.

After all, she would be no good if she overworked herself and novelty was necessary for creativity.

Maybe the excuses were flimsy, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care.

She touched the leaf of one of the plants on the windowsill and figured this was what hipsters strived for but could never quite capture. They wanted to look effortlessly cool, but it always felt too clean to Dani, a tad too organised. Jones’s place felt… authentic. Lived in.

‘What do you think?’ Jones asked.

‘You have very good taste,’ Dani said. ‘Although, I do expect Maxwell to come out of your guest room asking if he got any mail today.’

‘I’ll let you know if he stops by,’ he said, handing her a glass of water. ‘How was the concert?’

‘Good but tiring. My friends wanted to go to a hookah bar after and since I’ve been a bit grouchy lately, I gave in.

The fun almost makes up for the exhaustion,’ she said.

She took a sip, the drink refreshing after hours of practice.

She contemplated the drink as she sat down on the floor in front of his coffee table.

‘You know, one good thing about our connection is that you can’t kill me without karma taking you with me,’ she said.

He huffed out a small laugh, sitting down in front of the couch. ‘I figured it would at least get dark outside before the intrusive thoughts came out.’

‘I’m just saying,’ she said. ‘But let’s switch topics. What’s your favourite colour?’

She expected him to answer the question after a quick but knowing laugh. Instead, his brows raised in concern, and he asked, ‘Are you okay?’ She closed her eyes at the question, sighing.

Her first instinct was to tell Jones how much she was struggling, maybe even ask for his help, but she liked the middle ground they’d struck.

They didn’t ignore their past lives, nor did they go out of their way to bring them up.

They walked the conversational middle ground, and she would be damned if she broke it first.

Yet, looking at his expression, the worry in his eyes that he did his best to hide behind an upbeat smile, it felt cruel to leave him out completely.

‘Jones…’ He put his hands up in defence.

‘I’m not talking about it. I’m just asking if you’re okay,’ he said. ‘But you know, you can talk to me about it even if you haven’t found anything.’

‘I know.’ Her nails clinked against the glass as she searched for the right words, feeling more tongue-tied than usual. ‘It’s easier in a way and harder in another. I’m looking into Mali. There’s a thread there, I know there is. I just need to figure out what it is.’