All I'm Asking

Moderato

"Dyscalculic?" Brett's furrowed brows translated that he'd never heard of my condition. "What's that?"
"It's a math learning disability that affects how an individual's brain processes all numeric data." I still couldn't look at him. Here it comes.
"So you can't count."
"When I was younger no. I didn't understand how to count music. Now I just can't count compound meter."
"No wonder you've been acting like a psycho about your studies."
"'You have to work ten times harder than everyone else in the room.'"
"What?"
"That's what my mom always used to tell me. To be fair, she didn't know I had a learning disability."
"I mean, yeah, you're going to have to work harder than everyone else. But that doesn't mean you have to do it alone."
"Yeah, I do. Trying to explain numbers to me just makes everyone resent me. So I have to figure it out myself. I have to draw that line in the sand."
"I think you just weren't asking the right people."
"I didn't ask. He offered. He said he wanted to help me. But he just ended up resenting me."
"Who?"
"No one."
"Is that why you left home?"
"Kind of. People back home treat me like I can't do it. I thought if I went somewhere that held no attachments for me I could hide it. Or at the very least, if people found out it wouldn't hurt as much."
Brett nodded. Probably trying to think of something to say.
"Does it?"
"Huh?"
"Still hurt?"
"Yeah."
   We sat in silence for a moment. Cars, people, and birds just went about their day as if my world wasn't crumbling underneath me. Again.
   "I'm really sorry." Brett turned to look at me.
   "What?" For the first time since we sat down I looked straight into Brett's eyes, completely shocked at his odd response.
   "I'm really sorry."
   "For what?"
   "That you've been going through all this on your own."
   "It's not your fault."
   "That doesn't mean that I can't be sorry that it's happening."
   "Oh..." I felt tears warm my eyes again. "Thanks."
   "If I may ask, what happened today today that caused all this to resurface?" Brett still looked concerned.
   "Oh. Professor Tan caught me struggling to pay attention in Aural Skills. He kind of called me out in front of the whole class. I mean... I kind of deserved it. But I know he's only doing it because he doesn't think I should be in the program."
   "Because your..."
   "Dyscalculic."
   "Right sorry. How do you know that?"
   "He told me after during my audition. Right as we were finishing it up he told me that I was destined to fail and that I should just quit while I was ahead. He said that people like me have no business being musicians."
   "He said that in front of the other faculty members?"
   "Yep."
   "Not cool."
   "Yeah. Music is what my soul is made of. I can't quit no matter how discouraged I get. I'd be miserable doing anything else. But sometimes it really does feel like no matter how hard I work, I always come up short."
   "What you're going to accomplish is really difficult. So let us help you. You don't have to do all this alone. Not everyone stays in your life forever. Some people are meant to be temporary. Sometimes the lessons those people have for you are painful. But Eddy and I do everything we can to leave people better than we found them. Not in an 'I'm trying to fix you' kind of way. But... you know... we try to leave good memories."
   "What I'm 'going' to accomplish?"
   "Well... yeah."
   "You really think I can do it?"
   "Yeah. You know what you're doing and you're really musically intelligent. I think once you find a way to get the numbers to click you'll be amazing."
   "I want to believe. I want to believe you more than anything."
   "Well, you're the only one that can make that choice. Eddy and I could spend the rest of our lives trying to earn your trust. But nothing will come of it unless you eventually choose to trust us."
The rest of their lives? Imagine having Brett and Eddy around for the rest of my life. No, stop it. They won't stay.
"I can't. Watching people leave... it just hurts too much for me. I'm not one of those people who cuts ties lightly." I let my gaze fall to my knees.
"I guess that's something we have in common." Brett looked at me, gently nudging my should with his. When did he move so close to me?
"Allegedly."
Brett laughed. "You're a pain in the bum, you know that?"
"Yeah, I know." I let out a sigh, and gazed off towards the horizon. You've really gone and done it now.
"Well, you seem a lot better so we should probably head home. Eddy'll get worried."
Head home? With Brett? What a nice imagining. What are you thinking? You barely know him! You need to stop it.
"You think?" I tried to image Eddy worrying about something as trivial as my curfew.
"Oh yeah." Brett laughed at his own knowledge. "He's always late. But he's the one that worries when other people are late. It's really ironic."
"So you don't worry if someone misses curfew?"
"Not really. I think Eddy's perpetual tardiness has desensitized me to it."
"I see."
"But maybe I would. You never know."

   We walked to my apartment in an odd silence. So much had been said. Yet it felt like we were separated by things unsaid. What more could I say right now? What more could he say right now? I was neither comfortable nor uncomfortable. Brett appeared to be lost in thoughts resting on the ocean floor. When we reached my door, he remained silent. His gaze hid on the sidewalk with his hands in his pockets.
   "Thanks for everything." I all of a sudden felt my stomach twisting.
   "Yeah..." he seemed troubled, his attention eons away "see you tomorrow."
   "Really?"
   "Yeah."
   "After everything that happened today, you're coming back tomorrow?"
   "Everyone has a bad day. As far as I'm concerned your past is your past."
   "Thanks." I turned to retreat into my apartment
   "Oh, and Y/N." Brett called after me.
   "Yeah?"
   "I would worry if you missed curfew."
   My  cheeks suddenly felt warm as I smiled at him and ducked into my apartment.