Maybe Someday(30)

on a page. I lean over and look at what he’s writ-

ing. He’s putting musical notes on blank sheet-

music paper, along with the lyrics.

He points to one of the lines, then grabs his

phone.

Ridge: What key do you sing this line in?

Me: B.

Ridge: Do you think it would sound better

if you took it a little higher?

Me: I don’t know. I guess we could try.

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He plays the second part of the song again, and

I take his advice and sing in a higher key. Sur-

prisingly, he’s right. It does sound better.

“How did you know that?” I ask.

He shrugs.

Ridge: I just do.

Me: But how? If you can’t hear, how do

you know what sounds good and what

doesn’t?

Ridge: I don’t need to hear it. I feel it.

I shake my head, not understanding. I can

maybe understand how he’s taught himself to

play a guitar. With enough practice and a good

teacher and maybe a ton of studying, it’s possible

for him to play as he does. But that doesn’t ex-

plain how he can know which key a voice should

be in and especially which key sounds better.

Ridge: What’s wrong? You look confused.

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Me: I AM confused. I don’t understand

how you can differentiate between vibra-

tions or however you say you feel it. I’m

beginning to think you and Warren are

trying to pull off the ultimate prank and

you’re only pretending to be deaf.

Ridge laughs, then scoots back on the bed until

his back meets the headboard. He sits up straight

and holds his guitar to his side. He spreads his

legs, then pats the empty spot between them.

What the hell? I hope my eyes aren’t open as

wide as I think they are. There’s no way I’m sit-

ting that close to him. I shake my head.

He rolls his eyes and picks up his phone.

Ridge: Come here. I want to show you

how I feel it. Get over yourself, and stop

thinking I’m trying to seduce you.

I hesitate a few more seconds, but the agitation

on his face makes me think I’m being a little im-

mature. I crawl forward, then turn around and

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carefully sit in front of him with my back to his

chest but with several inches between us. He

pulls the guitar in front of me and wraps his other

arm around me until he’s holding it in position.

He pulls it closer, which pushes me flush against

him. Ridge reaches down to his side and picks up

his phone.

Ridge: I’m going to play a chord, and I

want you to tell me where you feel it.

I nod, and he brings his hand back to the gui-

tar. He plays a chord and repeats it a few times,

then pauses. I grab my phone.

Me: I felt it in your guitar.

He shakes his head and picks up his phone

again.

Ridge: I know you felt it in the guitar,

dummy. But where in your body did you

feel it?

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Me: Play it again.

I close my eyes this time and try to take this

seriously. I’ve asked him how he feels it, and

he’s trying to show me, so the least I can do is try

to understand. He plays the chord a few times,

and I’m really trying hard to concentrate, but I

feel the vibration everywhere, especially in the

guitar pressed against my chest.

Me: It’s hard for me, Ridge. It just feels

like it’s everywhere.

He pushes me forward, and I scoot up. He sets

the guitar down, stands up, and walks out of the

bedroom. I wait for him, curious about what he’s

doing. When he comes back, he’s holding

something in his fist. He holds his fist out, so I

hold up my palm.

Earplugs.

He slides in behind me, and I scoot back

against his chest again, then put the earplugs in. I

close my eyes and lean my head back against his

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shoulder. He wraps his arms around me and picks

up his guitar, pulling it against my chest. I can

feel his head rest lightly against mine, and the in-

timate way we’re seated suddenly registers. I’ve

never sat like this with someone I wasn’t seri-

ously dating.

It’s odd, because it seems so natural with him.

Not at all as if he’s got anything other than music

on his mind. I like that about him, because if I

were pressed up against Warren like this, I’m

positive his hands wouldn’t be on the guitar.

I can feel his arms moving slightly, so I know

he’s playing, even though I can’t hear it. I con-

centrate on the vibration and focus all my atten-

tion on the movement inside my chest. When I’m

able to pinpoint exactly where I feel it, I bring

my hand to my chest and pat it. I can feel him

nod his head, and then he continues playing.