I sat at the dinner table, trembling with anticipation, eager to share my news. Melanie’s expression was tight, bordering on a jealous frown. I didn't particularly care.
“Mom. Dad. I have news,” I blurted out, my voice laced with nervousness.
My mother froze, her face paling with a flicker of fear. My father ran a hand roughly across his jaw, his expression almost… disappointed.
“You’re pregnant?” they asked in unison.
The raccoon – my irritating little sister – piped up, her brain seemingly short-circuiting, earning a sharp glare from me.
“No. What the hell?” I retorted.
Both parents visibly relaxed. My mother clutched her chest, as if gasping for air after being strangled.
“Bless the Lord,” she murmured under her breath.
“What is it, sweetie?” my father asked, his tone now calmer.
“I posted a cover on Instagram, and—” I was interrupted by the blare of my father’s phone.
“Hold on just a second,” he said, excusing himself from the table to take the call.
My mood deflated instantly. My mother noticed, and placed her small hand on mine encouragingly.
“You know he’s always busy with work,” she said. I knew that, but his absence still stung.
“You can tell me your news, though,” she encouraged.
I shook my head, stood up from my seat, glanced at my sister, and stormed off to my room.
The frustration hit me like a wave. I needed an outlet. I needed to sing. It was my therapy.
* * *
A memory surfaced, vivid and warm.
“Alright, Ava,” a young man said, kneeling before a toddler.
“This is yours now. I’m going to teach you how to use it when I get back, okay?” He gestured to a small guitar.
“Now this is a very special guitar, love. It’s also magical.”
He watched a spark ignite in her eyes as he mentioned magic. He smiled, crinkling at the corners, and bent down to level with the crawling baby.
“Whenever you feel sad, you just pull on the string like this.” He strummed a chord. “And you’ll instantly feel better.”
Baby Avalon looked up at him, mesmerized.
“Aiden!” a voice called out.
The boy – Aiden – turned away from the baby and approached the man.
“We’re leaving,” the man ordered.
Aiden nodded and followed him out the door, but not before glancing back at Avalon one last time.
* * *
Back in the present, I was ready to sleep. I had filled a page with fragmented lyrics, born from my distress. They weren't cohesive, but they weren't entirely separate either. Each line spoke of loneliness.
I began to piece them together in my head, humming an unnamed tune. I wanted to preserve the feeling, to capture the essence of my song. I grabbed my phone and recorded myself singing, pouring my heart into each note, imagining myself being watched, evaluated, and giving it my all.
Another wave of confidence washed over me. I returned to Instagram, ignoring the notifications. I went straight to the plus sign by my profile picture and uploaded the video. I added a caption:
“Brainstorming for a song. ya like?”
I sighed, content with my day’s work, and slowly closed my eyes, slipping into unconsciousness.
Unbeknownst to me, a message was waiting. A message from someone special.
* * *
wherearetheavocados what up?