Left-Handed Love Letters: Chocolate and Wild Berry
I couldn’t help but smile as I walked into the cavernous choir room. Since freshman year, an hour of my day was dedicated to making sure this room was filled with harmonious notes and nothing but good feelings. It was also the one place on the large Kernan High School campus that I truly felt safe - safe to think and contemplate, safe to express myself. Just safe. I knew this room like I knew an old friend, the memories of practices and pre-concert meetings filled the room like the complicated melody Mr. Braddock was playing on the piano as I entered today. My feet carried me automatically to the section of chairs occupied my by fellow sopranos and I set my backpack down against the fall wall, settling into my seat in the second row. People were talking all around me, discussing the new piece for the Winter Concert and the newest school gossip. I heard Jaxen’s name pop up a couple of times, but not connected to anything malicious. Just hearing his name made me think of the bible now hidden in the store room at work and of his sudden appearance at Kernan High. Well, it’s not that sudden, I reasoned with myself. He had to go to school somewhere. I shook my head, trying to focus on the music in the room. If I knew Mr. Snow well enough - and four years of experience told me I did- he was only playing this piece because we would soon be singing it. I picked out the soprano line easily and followed its trills and its harmonies with the alto line. The music swept me away from the chaos of life and held me close. I existed in this cocoon of music and peace until I felt the unmistakable whirlwind known as Sophie Davis rush past me. I tried to stay in my new found happy place, but hearing her throw her bag down on top of my own and hurriedly settle into the seat beside me made me realize how futile this effort was. When Sophie wanted to talk about something, she could rarely be dissuaded. She had been like this since we met in third grade. I knew that anxious gaze of my oldest friend and could feel her staring at me. Reluctantly, I opened my eyes, losing my place in the piece. I tilted my head to look at Sophie and couldn’t help but smile at her rigid posture. Something definitely was up with her and I had a pretty good idea what - or who - that something was.
“Tell me everything.” Her hands reached out to grip my left arm, her body leaned in closer to mine. I just threw my head back and laughed.
“I bet you’re regretting missing lunch, huh?” I teased. When Sophie didn’t relax - her lips still a nervous this line and her eyes frantic - I knew that only information would calm my friend. Sophie prided herself on being ‘well-informed’ when it came to the news (and gossip) of Kernan High. The fact that she didn’t know Jaxen’s life story yet was probably killing her. With a sigh, I gave in. “What have you already heard?”
At my question, Sophie whipped out the small, ragged notebook she kept on her person at all times. I had once tried to interpret her scribbled notes but was unsuccessful. Sophie recorded her thoughts in some kind of chicken-scratched pseudo-English that would leave any linguist baffled.
“Well,” she began in a rather professional tone, “He’s a transfer student from California.”
“False.” Sophie marked through that notebook entry with one single, think black line from the pen which was always tucked behind her ear.
“He has an apartment of his own.”
“False.” She drew another black line, her brow furrowing in frustration.
“His name is Jaxen.’ She said this with uncertainty, apparently beginning to doubt her sources.
“Technically true, but it’s his middle name - not his first.”
Sophie added one more black line and shoved the notebook back into her sweater pocket, crossing her arms over her chest. A very disgruntled look spread across her face.
“I need better sources,” her mumbled complaint was drowned out by the bass section warming up at the piano now.
“You just need to talk to him yourself,” I replied, elbowing her side gently.
“Yeah, yeah.”
“I really think you’ll like him,” I continued. “He’s sarcastic. You’re sarcastic. Oh, and he’s really artistic.”
“Yearbook material?” Although she still refused to look at me, I could feel a rush of excitement flow through Sophie. Only Sophie would get excited over the prospect of a new Yearbook staff member, I thought.
“Maybe - his stuff is a little bit more contemporary than commercial.” While I wasn’t completely sure of this fact, I figured that anything Jaxen described as ‘progressive’ would be out of the Kernan high yearbook’s league. Also, I didn’t want to get Jaxen roped into any extracurricular activities on his first day.
“Hmmm…” was her eloquent reply. I could tell that Sophie was carefully planning Jaxen’s first assignment in her head. Sometimes I wondered how she had any room in that brain of hers for anything but Yearbook double-page spreads.
“Soph,” I said, trying to get her to focus. “You need to talk to him before you get your heart set on that new cover you’re dreaming up.” She looked guilty for a moment, her eyes falling to the floor and her bottom lip jutting out just a bit. Sophie always tried to maintain a brave, tough, reporter vibe. Yet, her emotions were displayed so clearly on her face that her cover was almost always blown. Her transparency was one of my favorite things about my dearest girl friend - it endeared her to me and I often found myself giggling at her frankly honest expressions. NO matter how entertaining I found her current countenance, I couldn’t let her wallow in guilt for long.
“I guess I’ll just have to introduce you after school.” I feigned frustration, pretending I was doing her some giant favor when I had been planning the meeting since I saw Jaxen in the hallway. Sophie’s fallen expression was quickly replaced by a wide smile. She threw her arms around my shoulders, pulling me into a sideways hug.
“Sopranos! If the our senior ladies are done hugging-” the class snickered and Sophie and I both laughed with them - “I’ll see you at the piano.” Mr. Snow’s jovial voice echoed over the low din of conversations. Sophie sprang to her feet, pulling me with her. She kept our arms linked as we walked to the instrument with the other members of the soprano section. As we warmed up with the familiar exercises, my mind drifted back to Jaxen and CJ. “It’ll work out, ‘Melia.” CJ’s reassuring words played through my mind like a chant, easing my concerns once more. For so long it had been me, CJ, and Sophie. We were our own little family, seeing each other through family trials, the hard years of middle school and high school, through everything imaginable we had remained inseparable. Yet there always seemed to be something, some unknown element, missing in our seemingly perfect formula. Could Jaxen be the balance we needed? With a twinge of pain, I remembered my oath to the sad, troubled boy who had visited the bookstore just three days ago. While I hadn’t seen the same sadness today, I could feel that it was still there, buried under a clever disguise of pretense. Jaxen, I thought to myself, you will always have a family with us. Just the thought of Jaxen joining us made my heart swell with happiness and excitement.