Page 11 of Resonance

A second later, just like the slump of his shoulders, it was gone.

I’d turned down plenty of applicants in my time. But I’d called him back the next day.

Ru nudged me. “I’m gonna go sit with Quinn. Thanks for coming out.” He picked up his beer and ambled off.

A detached sense of envy stirred in my chest, unsettling me. Quinn sitting there with an unwavering I-love-you gaze fixed on Ru. The stage where I’d once sat, the quarter-sized hole in one of the floorboards that all of the musicians knew to look out for when they were placing their chairs or stools. The crowd swaying to Ru’s low-crooned rendition of “(Sittin’ On) the Dock of the Bay” once he took the stage again.

I didn’t give much thought to loneliness on a day-to-day basis. There were any number of ways to solve that. Temporarily at least. Long term, well, there were sales slips, and orders, inventory and employee schedules, payroll. A hundred smaller tasks that filled the hours fine between me and my right hand.

But I found myself searching the crowd over the course of the night, eyeing the men and women who populated the bar alongside me, straining to find something that’d spark interest inside me, soothe the slow burn heat that felt like it’d been simmering in my gut for weeks.

Then I went home alone.

* * *

Jezebel meowed disapprovingly asI trudged through the door, pausing to leave my boots outside after a sudden rain shower had muddied up the driveway. She wove between my legs, rubbing against my jeans as I opened a can of food and mixed it in with the kibble already in her bowl. That she was getting spoiled in her old age was all my fault.

I’d brought her home with me years ago after catching her hanging around the back of the shop for weeks, a stringy little thing with clumped, matted fur. I’d taken her to one of the local rescues the next morning, fully intending to leave her there to be rehomed. But I’d called in to check on her after she was spayed, and the next thing I knew, I was driving back to pick her up.

“Losing your figure, gal,” I told her fondly, as I opened the fridge and scrounged around for something to eat. I didn’t feel like cooking, but there was some pasta salad from the night before. When I turned around, Jez shot me what I interpreted as an accusing cat glare and began cleaning herself. “Was just an observation. Don’t worry. I’ll be there sooner than I probably think.”

I carried the bowl of pasta with me to the couch in the den and flicked the tracking pad of the laptop on the coffee table as I sat down. The screen blinked to life, the email I’d left open that morning greeting me again.

My teeth dug into the tender insides of my lips as I reread it. I’d thought giving it a full day before even considering a response would’ve helped me cool off. It hadn’t. That same fire I’d felt this morning chapped my ass again, and I finally typed out a reply just to be done with it.

And because I couldn’t not.

There were places on a person that would always be soft, no matter how much time tried to harden them. I’d gotten good at keeping them from being poked. But not perfect.

Once I’d tapped out my message, I hit Send before I’d be tempted to reread what I’d written. Didn’t even sign off with my name. Didn’t need to.

I figured all involved parties knew the score where manners were concerned.

After washing the dishes, I returned to the couch, flipping through channels and glancing over at the Martin hanging on the wall. We had these little staring contests on occasion. Occasionally the old guitar even won. But not tonight.

I rested my head back, shut my eyes, listening to the laugh track of some sitcom and wondering how it was possible to be so damn busy and so damn bored at the same time.

When my phone vibrated on the table, Jez hissed, arching her back grumpily as I opened my eyes and reached for it.

Aiden:Can you spot me 300, D?

I set the phone down on my thigh and rubbed my eyes. My brother was the reason the term “lost cause” was invented.

Dan:Money’s tight. I can give you 150. You owe me in two weeks.

Aiden:I’ll pay you back, promise.

Dan:What you said last time. Bank account still sad.

I tossed the phone aside, stretched my legs out again, and shoved Aiden out of my mind in favor of that display I needed to fix.

But Owen kept drifting into the noise of the TV, threading through dozing half-dreams, images of his fingers spinning webs made of wheat until I jumped myself awake as my head rolled to my chest, and I rose creakily from the couch and went to bed.

Aural Addiction, Episode #10 transcript:

Owen:You should take a sip of water or clear your throat. You’ve got a little growl-gurgle thing happening. Like a trapped panther. Or a frog.

Dan:There’s a world of damn difference between a panther and a frog.