The Beat of Safiri Bay (6 page)

“Okay, okay, April 30,” I roll my eyes at him.

“Just a few weeks left of being eighteen, I better oil the hinges on that cage,” he lifts an eyebrow and I giggle at that.

“Your turn,” he says with a much more serious tone.

“When is your birthday?” I repeat his question. He relaxes.

“It’s September 27,”

“You now,” I urge, I am enjoying myself.

“Where did you learn to play the guitar?” ooh, it’s getting a bit more serious now. “As soon as I could read I picked up a guitar chord book, borrowed a guitar from my mom’s friend and taught myself,” I say proudly. “That’s extraordinary,” he says with admiration.

“Who is your favourite artist?” I throw at him as soon as he finished.

“Off course,” he says, “music...” “Must be Britney Spears” he says it with a straight face.

“Um...” I don’t know whether I should laugh or cry.

“Bwahahahahaha” he bursts out laughing. “Got you,”

“You...” I punch him lightly on the shoulder. Immediately I wipe my hand on my shorts and look down at them. “I’m sorry,” I whisper and I feel like crying. “Lane, hey, it’s okay, I mean I would prefer a gentler approach but you are welcome to hit me anytime.”

“I don’t know why I did that, really. It’s just, I don’t get to spend a lot of time on my own with people I don’t know, out of choice.” He nods but he looks confused as hell.

“I am a bit too hot now,” I say and he gets up immediately. “You’re right, we should get out of the sun now,” he wipes the sand from his arms and back and I wish I could help with that task. I try to remember how it was that I got comfortable with Matt’s touch so easily.

I was sixteen at the time and at home for the holidays. We met again at ‘The Shack’ and he told me about an upcoming show of his. He asked if I was interested in playing rhythm. I agreed to it only if we practised before the time. He invited me over to his house and we practised playing from afternoon to late night for almost the entire holiday. I was not at ease at all in the beginning but his constant help with the moving of my fingers to the correct frets and the hammering of his hands on my shoulders, legs, or anywhere he could reach at that moment, to get me to feel the rhythm, made me forget about my fears. I soon felt as comfortable with him as I did with myself.

Off course the music played the biggest part and I suddenly wondered whether Alex could play an instrument. As we walk down the beach back toward the flat dune, I decide to carry on with our little game of questions. “One more answer?” I ask hopefully and he smiles his approval. “Do you play an instrument?” he looks at me and drums the air with his hands as if he’s playing the real thing. The look of surprise must show on my face because he laughs at my expression and asks “don’t I have the right look?” I laugh too.

“Not at all, long hair, earrings, not your style, but seriously, drums? I would never have guessed.”  I know that musical talent is abundant in Matthew’s family but honestly, Alex as well?

I look at him then and smile a secretive little smile, “What are you up to in that busy little mind of yours?”  He asks amused.

“I have an idea but I need to think about it first,” he accepts it and smiles.  “I will tell you about it at Jay’s party tomorrow. You are going aren’t you?” I want to know a bit worried.

“Off course, Lin invited me the second she knew my surname,” I shake my head and smile. Lin loves people, the more the merrier.

At home, I pop one of Thandi’s mouth-watering blueberry muffins into the microwave. I cut it open and spread a thin layer of salted butter on each of the cut halves. It melts away into the spongy treat. I pour myself a glass of milk and tuck into my delicious snack. Christina has gone to her mother for the weekend, I’m sure it’s because of sleeping in the spare room but my dad is not backing down on that decision, yet. I don’t mind having the house to myself. I relax to such an extent that I feel guilty for it. I place my dishes in the sink and walk to my room. I wash my hands and face and flop onto my long couch. I switch on my television but my mind is so busy I cannot concentrate on any of the shows. I switch it off and walk to my closet. I pick up my 1969 Fender Kingman, my favourite, Matt’s favourite too. I got it from my dad last year for Christmas. He bought it at an auction. I did not expect anything so extravagant and was at a loss for words for days.

I check that it is in tune nicely and walk over to my studio. I close the door behind me even though I am alone in the house. I like to sing, only when I am alone. I open my file and look through it for something nice to play and sing along to, and I realise I never got the answer of who Alex’s favourite artist is. I must remember to ask him when I see him again, and I suddenly hope it will be soon. I see one of my favourite songs, ‘Hello’ by Lionel Richie. I start playing its beautiful melody and then I sing:

‘I’ve been alone with you inside my mind,’

‘And in my dreams I’ve kissed your lips... a thousand times,’

I keep on playing, close my eyes and stop singing. I wonder what it feels like, kissing someone.

I have never given it any thought at all. It freaks me out that anyone would want to press their lips against someone else’s. But I still wonder what it would be like to feel Alex’s lips against mine. Oh no, I realise that I could never do that. Alex is twenty-seven and he must have a lot of experience with, um, kissing and things. If he ever finds out that I have never kissed anyone before... I don’t know what he would think. I leave the studio and pack away my Fender.

Dad is home early today and he has been smiling at me nonstop. I wonder what he is up to. “Are you going to Jay’s party tomorrow dad?” Peter Rose is not the party animal type and very rarely goes out at night except for his once a month poker night with the men. “If you want me there,” I didn’t expect that.

“Oh, I, yes, I mean, that would be nice,”

“Alright then, would you like us to go together?”

“That would be great, thanks dad.” He leaves to put away his briefcase and I go wash my hands and get ready for dinner.

Thandi has made a most delicious beef casserole and dad pours us some wine. I have only a quarter of a glass. Just so I ‘get the feel for it’ as dad calls it.

“I have to go to Duringham next week for a few days.” That is the closest city to us and dad has many business contacts there. “Okay,” I say without a worry. Even though I am deathly afraid of the dark I always feel quite safe in this house, I might leave every light on during the night but it doesn’t seem to bother anyone.

We finish dinner and retire to our rooms. It is still early and I decide to check on Matt. I know I have seen him this morning but I had such a long day it feels as if I haven’t seen him in ages.

I search his name and dial his number.

“Bonjour Lany” his friendly voice sounds over the speaker.

“Hi there,”

“To what do I owe this call?”

“I am just checking on my favourite guitarist,” and I open the tap to run my bath. My skin is sticky from the salty sea breeze.

“I’m okay, actually I was about to call you. I wanted to ask you something,”

“Oh, what is it?” he often asks my opinion on things.

“Lin asked me to play at Jay’s party tomorrow and I was wondering if you could back me?”

I feel the now familiar stars in my head when someone asks me to perform. “Actually, I would love to. My dad hasn’t heard me play for a while and he said he would go so it would be nice, thank you for thinking of me.”

“I always think of you when I pick up my guitar,” and I smile at the thought. I really do love Matthew as much as I would my own brother if I ever had one. “You do realise the party is tomorrow,”

“Oh crap. We need to get some kind of plan together before then,” I don’t do unprepared shows, ever. “Yes, so do you think I could come over to your place?” I hesitate “It’s just, with my cousins here I don’t think you would want to come to my place, but if you do...”

“Oh, no, I forgot about that, yes off course we can practise here,” I would not want to face Alex during a practise session, way too distracting.

“I’ll see you within an hour, that okay?”

“Perfect, see you later.” I hang up and close the tap. I need to find my dad and tell him about our just made plan. My dad is in front of the computer in his study. Today I knock and he calls me inside. “Dad, would you mind if Matt came over to practise some songs? He’s asked me to play with him at Jay’s party tomorrow,”

“Off course baby, you can invite anyone you want to, as long as you are comfortable with them being in your space,” my space? Does he mean my room? Geez, I didn’t think of that. There really is no other soundproof place except for my studio. “Thanks dad,” I say and hurry out of the office to go check on my room. I can’t have anyone in there unless it is one hundred percent tidy. I enter my room as I would if I was Matt, my palms are sweaty and I feel a bit nauseous. Everything is in its place but I end up straightening the already straight books on the shelf and pull my duvet tighter over the flat bed. It all looks good.

I take a quick bath and pull on a pair of jeans and a shoulderless top.

My hair is wet and loose and I am not wearing any shoes. I hear my dad’s voice and then I hear Matt’s. I open the door of my room and my dad leaves Matt with me. “I am so sorry to do this you; you don’t have to join me tomorrow if you don’t want to. I mean, if all this is too much for you.” He is so considerate I almost feel guilty.

“No, I want to play,” is all I say and he gazes at me with a ‘what are we waiting for’ look. “Okay, come inside,” I frown and open the door wider for him to be able to come inside. “Do you mean, into your room?” his voice just raised a few octaves and I sigh as I nod.

“My studio is the only soundproof room and I don’t think my dad would want to hear us playing the same song over and over again, and we have neighbours,” I point with my thumb to Bessie’s house. “Lany baby, are you sure?” I nod and walk into my room first. I turn and stand in front of the bookshelf. Matt closes the door as he enters and his mouth drops open. “It’s as big as my entire house,” he says and whistles his appreciation. I laugh softly and he shakes his head. “In here,” and I show him to my studio. He didn’t bring his guitar; he knows I have enough for an entire band. “We probably need a guitar or two,” I say and he follows me to my closet. I stop and look back at him, “If you’d rather I wait in the studio,”

“No, its okay, I need to learn to let go,” I say and open the door to the closet. “Lany, has no one ever been in your room before?”

“Except me, the people who built it, my dad, Thandi, and now you, no,” His look doesn’t hide his surprise and I pretend not to see it as I pick up my third favourite guitar, a Tanglewood. He picks up the Fender and strokes it lovingly, “I love you but tonight is not your night,” he says to it and put’s it down again carefully. He chooses to play with the Gibson, similar to his own and we make our way back to the windowless studio.

I switch on the extractor fan to give us some fresh air in the room and I see Matthew dig in his jean pocket to take out a crinkled paper. “Our playlist,” he says and smiles at me. I shake my head at him; he is not very organised especially when it comes to paper work. Thank goodness Jill is in charge of that department at school.

I take the paper from him and read the list. If there is one thing Matt and I agree on it is that the eighties made the best songs. On the list are songs from U2, Prince, Guns n Roses, John Lennon, Tracy Chapman, Simply Red and some other artists mainly from that time. I smile happily. I know most of these and it should be an easy night of preparation after all. I start up my laptop and open the sheet music of our chosen songs. We get right to it. Matthew has a very relaxed and natural way; I prefer to stick to the written music. Together we make a formidable team and the sounds we re-create from more than thirty years ago leaves me with gooseflesh. After what feels like hours of nonstop playing, him singing and me backing him vocally, we decide to take a break. He leads me to the kitchen, which until now, has been the only room of this house he has ever been in.

The idea is to get something to eat but I am not very hungry so I settle for a few rice crackers while Matt digs into the pancakes Thandi has prepared for breakfast for the next day. After our snack, we sit at the table and chat a bit about tomorrow’s party. We both get up reluctantly and Matt leads the way back to the studio. I am amazed at how casual Matt is with everything. He really is at home even though this is a most awkward situation for me. When I see my dad’s drinks cabinet, I stop. I know we are almost done and Matt likes to have a drink at night. “Care for a drink?” I ask and show him to the cabinet, “Yeah, thanks,” He takes out a glass and pours some brandy into it, “I’ll go fetch some ice,” and I walk back towards the kitchen. I hear the sound of a guitar and quickly make my way back to the studio; he must have left the door open. I close my bedroom door and the studio door behind me. He takes a few ice cubes and swirls the brandy around it in the glass. “Cheers,” he says and he lifts it to his mouth. I hold up my glass of water, “cheers,” I smile back at him and we both take a sip.

He picks up the Gibson again and starts playing one of his own songs then. He is so good with making up the melodies; it’s putting the words to it that gets to him. If I say I will help with that, he expects me to sing it and that I can’t do. I listen to the beautiful sound of an amazing instrument, tie my hair into a pony and wonder whether it is the lateness of the night or the magic of the moment that gives me this crazy idea. I don’t really have another choice because Matt is the only non-family person I am comfortable with and I trust him enough to ask him this one, very, very, big favour. I know he already thinks I am crazy but as soon as I ask him, he might have confirmation on it.