Max

Today sucks. Actually, the whole last few months have been this jumbled mess of high and low. Let me just sum this up for you, I spent the last nine and a half years of my life without knowing who my dad was. Just a few short months ago, he and I both learned the truth.

And in some Hollywood movie-like reality, my parents realized they never stopped loving each other. But also in movie fashion, the other shoe had to drop. While watching my parents get married this past summer should have been an epic highlight, it carried something darker.

Principal Dillion pulled me from school earlier this week, and it took all of one look from her to know why she was rushing to the yard to get me.

I glance across at my grandparents sitting silent in the living room. It's a heavy day. A shitty day. I don't want to be in this house. I don't want to be anywhere my mom is not.

Mom's guitar rests beside the door. She hasn't been playing it lately. My dad took it out when we got the news of hope. But it still sits unplayed. It shouldn't. It shouldn't be silenced. It should be played.

In a few frantic strides, I reach for it, pulling it from the wall and breaking free from the suffocating walls of my house. I can't just sit around and wait for the news. News that can either allow me to breathe again or steal every ounce of air I have left.

Somehow, I find myself at the lake. It's peaceful here, usually somewhat quiet. That's all I really want right now. A bit of the quiet.

I make my way to the water, in desperate need of sitting along the dock. Thinking about all the times I sat there with my mom, the place I found out my dad was my dad. I just need a bit of comfort. A place where I can feel them both still here beside me. Hold onto the slight chance that I'll get to sit there between the two of them again.

When I make my way down the sand, I notice that the dock is already occupied, and a small let down falls on my chest. But then I notice the brown hair slowly picking up in the breeze and I continue.

I can't quite see what Olivia is doing. Her head is down and her hand appears to be moving. I try to get a closer look with no luck. Instead, I walk right up and plop myself beside her.

She's writing.

"Holy crap, Max!" She jumps at my sudden appearance, slamming her notebook closed.

My eyes raise from the book to hers, a small smile gracing my face. One that I didn't know I'd be capable of today.

"What are you writing?" I ask.

"I little bit of none-ya," she smirks, sliding it to her side opposite of where I'm sitting.

"None-ya?"

"Yes, none-ya business. Haven't you heard that written words are private?"

My eyebrows pull together. "Haven't you heard of books?" I counter.

There's a smile finding her lips now. I like her smile, it's pretty and it doesn't seem like it's a usual fixture for her. It should be though.

"You're witty. I like it," she says now, grabbing the book and placing it back in her lap. "I um...writing is kind of a new thing for me," she admits.

I glance back down at the notebook. A few corners are folded down indicating important passages maybe? I'd like to know, but something tells me her lips are sealed on this one.

"What kind of things do you write about?" I'm curious now, and I'm hoping for even just a glimpse into that walled up mind of hers. It's actually the first time today I've allowed something to distract me.

She lingers for a moment, her eyes looking out on the water before meeting mine again. Her eyes are a peculiar color. Brown at first glance, but being this close to her I see that they're actually more green than brown. A halo of green if you will. One that's only noticeable up close.

"I write about the things that go bump in the night," she says quietly, without her usual sarcasm. There's a different look in her eye now. She looks scared, like her thoughts have transferred somewhere else entirely.

"What's with the guitar?" she quickly changes the subject, nodding her head to the large instrument I lugged with me.

I slowly swing it around, taking the hint of her need to switch topics.

"It's my mom's," I say, letting my fingers rest on the chords. I can feel the build up of tears, the same ones I've been fighting all day. They're heavy and hot.

"She's dying, isn't she?" she asks.

My eyes fly up to hers. She's not scared by that question. There's no judgment or pity laced behind her words. I don't know how she's pieced it together or what compelled her to blurt it out so plainly, but in this weird way, I'm actually really thankful she did.

"Yes." The next thing I know, her hand is in mine, the heat of her touch soothing something broken inside me. It might only be for a moment, but I like the way it calms me. "She has a brain tumor," I continue. The warmth of her presence offers me a shield of strength. "It was terminal. At least, that's what they told us a few months ago." A tear breaks free, sliding down my cheek before I quickly wipe it away

"My dad," I continue, "he has all this hope. He thinks he can save her, you know? He thinks there's a miracle out there for her. He keeps telling me that we'll be okay, but..."

"You won't be okay," she finishes for me.

"No, I won't," I whisper, looking over at her. "She's in some experimental surgery right now. My dad is so excited. He thinks this is it. The answer to everything, but I...I just..."

"You're a little more realistic?"

I nod. "I just don't want to get my hopes up. It's all moving so fast and I want more than anything to believe that this is the answer, but if it's not. If this doesn't work..."

She nods slowly. She gets it without having to pry, to make some lame comment about feeling sorry for me. "Can you play something for me?"

I look back at those halos of hers, letting them put me in a trance. She's a little spitfire but she's also got this calm about her. Something that relaxes me, helps me to forget the struggles.

Looking down at my fingers, I begin to strum, letting the cool breeze off the water and those orbs to my right guide the sound that plays. It's in these moments that I don't find a prewritten tune to imitate. I let the emotion and beauty around me take over. Let my fingers do the work, creating something of meaning. Something purely for the current moment.

Her eyes stay glued to mine, watching as the sound surrounds us both. And suddenly, out of nowhere, there's a soft voice joining this moment of escape. My hands don't stop as her delicate voice fills in the empty spaces. She's only humming, but the melodic sound dances with the chords, surrounding something in my chest and causing everything else around me to disappear.

Her voice is mesmerizing, perfect. And I haven't even fully heard it yet. We continue that way. Me playing the beat of the moment. Her filling it with the sweet sound of her voice as she clutches her notebook to her chest. We don't say anything else, we just play. Because it's clear that we both came here to forget the realities that lie just beyond this very dock.