Page 19 of The Other Brother

“Ryan just taught me to surf, and after lunch I’m teaching Ryan how to play the guitar,” Cody says.

“You’regoing to learn to play the guitar?” Mel looks at me, her eyebrows rocketing off on a journey to the moon.

“What’s wrong with that?” I say defensively.

“No offence, Ryan, but you’re one of the least musical people I know. Remember how in preschool you couldn’t even clap in time properly?”

I fold my arms across my chest. “I have progressed since kindergarten, you know.”

Mel snorts. “That’s up for debate.”

“I’m really hoping that Ryan is completely tone deaf so I can show off my amazing teaching skills,” Cody says.

I turn my attention to him. “You need something else to feel good about?”

Cody shrugs. “Any boost to the ego.”

“I’m always up to help you find ways to stroke your… ego.” I flick him a wink.

I’m trying to freak him out, gain back the upper hand after our conversation on the beach, but Cody just laughs while Mel rolls her eyes.

“What are you doing?” I ask when it occurs to me that Mel is looking far more dressed up than a lazy day at the beach requires. Her hair is in a topknot, and she’s wearing a white shirt and navy blue skirt.

“I’ve decided to do a course this summer,” she says.

“What kind of course?”

“Design.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “How does that go with law?”

Mel shrugs. “It’s just something I want to try. It’s being run by the polytech, so I’ll be commuting back into the city most days.”

“That’s fine. We don’t need to be babysat,” I say.

Mel snorts. “That’s another matter up for debate.”

Both Cody and I roll our eyes at that.

Mel departs soon after lunch, leaving the house to Cody, me, and the painters.

I’m trying to gulp down my apprehension as I follow Cody into the living room and he hands me his guitar.

It feels foreign and awkward in my hands. The way Cody handles it, it’s like it’s a friendly dog. I’m treating it like it’s a rabid porcupine that will attack at any moment.

I adopt my best who-gives-a-shit face. It’s one I’ve perfected over the years for times like this when I’m out of my comfort zone.

“Okay.” Cody clears his throat. “The first thing I’ll do is teach youGchord. So, it’s in the second fret and third fret.”

It occurs to me that Cody is nervous about this too. And that relaxes me as I try to follow his instructions.

It’s not quite the train wreck I was envisioning. Instead, it’s more like a narrow avoidance of a collision between two trains but with the full noise of shrieking brakes and angry yelling.

I’ve never really contemplated the width of my fingers before. But it turns out my fingers are quite broad, which makes it more difficult to pin down one string and not brush up against the others.

Luckily, Cody is a patient teacher. His face lights up when I’m finally able to get the chord correct. He shows me a few other chords, and I manage not to mangle them too badly.

“Man, those strings really bite your fingers.” I shake out my hand.