Julia had never thought seriously about learning how to play a guitar.  That was Jamie’s thing, after all, and she enjoyed curling up close to listen to the songs he’d written for her too much to ruin it with beginner chords and daily practice.  Learning an instrument took a lot of work and Julia wasn’t motivated enough to change her role in their musician/audience arrangement.  His suggestion though, coupled with a well timed compliment, was enough to have her considering it.  She strummed lightly, fingering for a chord . . .  right up until he mentioned that Emma played.  

He was right that she didn’t actually want instructions on becoming more tramp-like from Emma Briar.  Emma was a popular girl, so popular that she had always intimidated Julia to a degree that embarrassed her and caused her to intentionally dislike her.  The sorts of things that were whispered about her were the sort that made Julia blush, and Julia had long since made up her mind that, whether they were true or not, Emma wasn’t a decent girl.  Thus, it irritated her beyond words that Emma was so much sought after.  

Hearing that Emma played guitar left a sour taste in Julia’s mouth.  Jamie could not have more effectively convinced Julia to put his guitar away than by mentioning that little bit of information.  She stood and replaced the instrument where she’d found it, carefully.  She wished she was dancing again.  It was easier to lean away from a morbid attitude like this when she was dancing.  Why had she sunk into this mental funk all the sudden, Julia wasn’t sure.  She didn’t like it, and she could tell Jamie didn’t much like it either.  He was trying to make her feel better, and she kept throwing it back in his face.  That wasn’t the person Julia liked to be.  

She had half a mind to ask Jamie to play for her again, but then he was asking about dinner and she dug her wristwatch out from under the sleeve of her jumper.  Dinner had already started a bit ago, and she told him so.  Julia went for her shoes, sitting back on the piano bench as she worked her feet into the socks, and then her shoes, and then she straightened up her back, but remained on the bench.

“Jamie?” she said.  Her expression was sort of drawn and pensive beneath the riot of her hair.  “I think I need a hug today.”



Life unfolds in proportion to your courage.