You Asked for Perfect(20)

“Ariel, it’s good to see you!” Sook’s dad says. “It’s been a while.” The male Dr. Kim prefers tailored slacks and expensive shirts. Maybe because he’s a neurosurgeon he gets tired of spending most of his time in scrubs.

“Good to see you, too,” I say. “Sook told me about the deal y’all made with her. Very cool of you.”

“Ah, well,” her mom says. “I’m sure she’ll still end up at Dartmouth.”

Sook’s brow furrows. “I’m going to get an agent.”

Her mom nods with a soft smile. “Your music is very good, sweetheart. But you have your entire life to play it. I don’t want you stressing yourself out too much.”

“And you’ll love it at Dartmouth, Sook. You can play music there!” her dad says.

Sook mutters something under her breath about shitty coffeehouse open mics and turns back to taking the cookies off the tray. We keep chatting as her parents put the groceries away. Then we grab the cooling cookies. I pile four on my napkin while biting into a fifth. The caramel is warm and chewy. Bless these cookies.

We thud downstairs to Sook’s basement. There are soundproof walls, an array of instruments, and leather couches. Sook settles at the table with the Mac desktop, while Malka and I jump on the leather couch.

“Give me a second, guys,” Sook says. “I want to add a couple of practices to the calendar.”

Malka groans. “More practices? You already added an extra each week.”

Sook points upstairs. “Those people need to learn to take me seriously. We’re going to get an agent and shock the hell out of them. No Dartmouth for me.”

Malka bites back a sigh and turns to me. “We love her, right?”

“We do.” I nod. “We do love her.”

“I heard that,” Sook says, typing at the computer.

“Good!” Malka shouts.

I pick at a thread on the pillow I’m holding. “So what’s going on with you?” I ask. “How’s college?”

Malka shrugs. “All right, I guess.” She glances around, then clears her throat. “I don’t know, I’m trying to…I don’t know.”

I nudge her. “Trying to what? What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” She waves her hand. “Never mind.”

I eye her.

“Really!” she says. “Hey, did you know there’s a Chabad on campus? I think I’m going to check out an event. Free food. Jews. Should be fun, right?”

“Can’t go wrong with free food and Jews,” I agree.

“Okay!” Sook says. “And done! Check your email. I sent the new calendar.”

Malka pulls out her phone and sighs. “Really, Sook? Three practices a week? That might be difficult for me.”

“It’ll be fine,” Sook says.

“No. My dorm isn’t exactly down the street. That’s a lot of driving. And you know traffic is a nightmare.”

“But you’re here literally every weekend. So that’s two of the practices right there,” Sook responds. She doesn’t get it. She doesn’t understand when everything doesn’t work like she plans it.

“Yeah…” Malka says. “But I don’t always hang around Sunday, and I have shul, and homework, and a life.”

“Dude,” Sook says. “You’re never at college. I’m sure you have the time.”

Malka stiffens. I’m about to defuse the situation, when she clears her throat and says, “C’mon, let’s play the new song for Ariel.”

“Okay!” Sook’s clueless she just bulldozed her friend. I should talk to her later. It’s a best friend’s duty to call each other out about shitty behavior.

They walk over to their equipment. It’s only a two-girl band, so Malka plays guitar, and Sook plays piano, sings, and records their drum tracks. I slip out my Kindle and continue reading Crime and Punishment while they tune their instruments and warm up.

But I can’t focus. My thoughts drift to Amir. I messed up. I should apologize because he deserves an apology—and also because I need his help if I want any chance of passing this calculus test.

“Ready!” Sook says.

As they begin to play, I send off a text before I can overthink it: Sorry about yesterday. Are you free again tonight? I’d like to give tutoring another shot if you’re open to it…

I turn over my phone and scoot it far away on the couch, too nervous to look at it. I’ll check it when the song is over.

Sook presses a button on the keyboard, and the drums fill out the song. Their sound is different than my usual classic rock soundtrack, but it’s catchy and relaxed. Sook’s fingers run across the keyboard in a comfortable rhythm, and then Malka joins in on guitar. Sook’s voice is sweet but has this little growl when you’re least expecting it, drawing you in again and again.

It’s short and entrancing. And I can hear exactly where a violin melody would add to its depth. As the song finishes, both girls grin, and I applaud. The ghost of the melody still plays in my head. “That was great,” I say. “Loved it.”

“It’d sound even better with strings,” Sook replies.

“It would,” I agree. “But I can’t.”