“A little brother,” I explained.
“Not cool,” she said with a sympathetic nod. “When the neck is broken like this, the integrity of the entire body is messed up. Too bad it didn’t break up here.” She pointed to the top where the headstock was. “That’s much easier to repair. That said, this isn’t completely lost. I can’t guarantee it will ever sound like it used to, but we can try.” She turned it over. “Do you have every single fragment of the splintered wood?”
“I don’t know. I gathered as much as I could.”
“Well, I can try.”
Her words gave me hope, but …
“How much will it cost?” That was the magic question.
She studied the guitar again. “It just depends on how much time it takes. A couple hundred dollars at the most.”
I swallowed the lump that immediately sprang into my throat. “Okay. I’ll have to think about it then.” I collected the broken pieces, laid my guitar back in its coffin, and buckled it closed.
“Here’s my card if you decide you want to go ahead.” She handed me a plain white business card. I shoved it in the back pocket of my jeans and headed for the door before I cried.
Lucas could meet me outside.
A few minutes later, he did, carrying a plastic bag.
“You okay?” he asked.
I shrugged because speaking wasn’t an option given how tight my throat was.
“What happened?”
My guitar case felt like it weighed a thousand pounds.
Mom’s minivan was parked in the front row of the parking lot so I nodded toward it and we headed there. Next door to the guitar repair was an In-N-Out and a stream of cars were waiting in the drive-through line. I opened the back of the minivan, set the guitar down, and sat in the open back myself. Lucas sat next to me. I just needed a minute before I could speak. He seemed to understand this and thankfully didn’t say anything.
I watched the line of cars at the drive-through, trying to think of lyrics like I normally did when I observed things. But I hadn’t been able to think of decent lyrics in a while. And it wouldn’t matter if I did, anyway. That contest was out of reach for me. I needed to accept that.
When my throat had loosened I said, “She’s not sure she can fix it. And I’m not sure I can spend the money on the hope that she can.”
“Bummer.”
“Yes. It is.” I wanted to talk the tightness out of my chest but I couldn’t. As I stared at Lucas I realized how little I knew him, how little he knew me. I didn’t feel comfortable sharing more than I already had.
“You want to go get something to eat?” he asked, nodding toward the In-N-Out. “Get your mind off of this?”
A few weeks ago, the idea of having burgers and shakes with Lucas would have been like a dream come true. Now, I shook my head. “Not really. I just want to go home.”
“I understand. Some other time?”
I tried to digest this. Lucas had asked me out. And when I put him off, he had asked me again. I should’ve been over the moon about this, but all I felt was sadness. A sadness that had settled across my shoulders and was weighing on me.
And I was sure the sadness was about a lot more than my stupid broken guitar.
“I’ve done something stupid,” I blurted.
Lucas frowned. “You have?”
“I asked you out for all the wrong reasons.”
Both times when I’d found the courage to talk to Lucas, it was to spite Cade. For two years, I’d admired Lucas from a distance. I liked the idea of him but the reality was, I knew nothing about him. And I realized, right now at least, I didn’t want to. Maybe when someone else that had no business being in my head was out of it, I would feel differently.
“I need some time,” I added, glancing down. “I’m sorry.”
“What wrong reasons?” Lucas asked.
“To get my mind off someone else.”
“Ouch.”
“I’m sorry.” I looked up at him guiltily. “I really am.”
He shrugged. “I get it. Text me when that someone is permanently out of your mind.”
“I will.”
Lucas left me there in the back of my van. I watched him get into his car and drive away. He didn’t seem surprised or upset at all. That thought made me both relieved and sad.
I stood up and hit my head on the roof. I saw stars in my vision, my head light. I leaned against the car to keep myself upright.
A horn honked to my left followed by a chorus of shouts. I looked over to see Cade’s BMW full of guys in line at the drive-through. Just what I needed. I reached up and pulled down the heavy trunk door of the van.
A car door slammed shut and then another. Cade and one of his friends were trading places, his friend taking over the driving. Then Cade jogged my way and my heart picked up speed. Why was my heart such a traitor?
“Nice ride,” he said, patting the side of the minivan.
I wanted to ask him why he’d stopped writing. Why he was acting so normal when he’d left me in the cold for the last few days with not a single explanation. I was supposed to be the one to stop writing first. Not him.
“I don’t need to see you right now,” I said through gritted teeth. Cade was just another representation of something I wanted but couldn’t have. And I knew that now—I wanted him. We’d been exchanging notes for weeks and I’d fallen for that guy. The one in the letters. And sometimes even the one not in the letters. But I also knew that, just like my broken guitar, it would never work right. Cade had dated my best friend. We didn’t get along. He’d treated me badly. He hung with a completely different crowd. I was too odd for him. It was impossible.
“I just have one question,” Cade said, “and then I’ll leave you alone.”
I turned to face him. “What?” I snapped.
He held up both hands. “Whoa. No need to get angry with me.”
“I’m not.” I like you and that makes me angry with myself. “What?”
“My friends want man bracelets. How much does your mom sell them for? I need like four more.”
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Of course he’d make man bracelets cool. “I’ll ask her.” I pulled on the door handle but it was locked. I reached into my pocket but it was empty. Where had I put the keys? The trunk maybe?
“Hey,” he said softly. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I’m fine.”
“Is it Lucas? I saw him leave.”
“Can you just not.”
“Not what?”
“Not be nice right now. I need you to be mean. It helps.”
“It helps with what?”
It helps me keep my feelings at bay. “Go be with your friends, Cade. They’re waiting.”
He left, just like I wanted him to. Just like I didn’t want him to. But by the time I had opened the trunk, retrieved the keys, and unlocked the van door, he was back.
“They’re not waiting anymore. Oh … and I’ll need a ride home.”
We stood face-to-face by the driver’s side door, the largeness of the minivan blocking us from the view of the drive-through line. His phone rang, the ringtone a song from The Crooked Brookes, reminding me of our connection. He stopped the song after a few notes but didn’t answer it. I kept my mouth shut about knowing the song. It had only been a few notes anyway; maybe it wasn’t the song I thought it was.