20. The Guitar

{Uriel}

Uriel did the best he could to avoid drawing attention to himself during class, but it seemed that no matter what he did, Ms. Ostrenki would not back off. Naya offered her help, but Uriel insisted that he had everything under control. He didn't want her wasting any more energy getting him out of trouble. Especially after he found out from Ritsu that Naya had begun playing the guitar in her room.

In the monkey's most recent report, he said, "She doesn't play it much. Mostly she just sits with it in her lap and hums."

Still, based on what Uriel knew, these were big steps for Naya. He was thankful for whatever it was that blocked her memories of their entire conversation at the nightclub. He worried how Naya would react If she ever became aware of how much she had revealed to him that night.

At first glance, Uriel would never suspect the weight of her depression. In her puddle of drunkenness, Naya had essentially confessed to all of it and how she gave up her music in order to punish herself for quitting school.

One day I will have to tell her the truth, Uriel admitted. But gently. When she is ready.

For now, Uriel was just pleased that Naya was finally beginning to heal. He needed her to take care of herself.

In the meantime, Uriel needed to handle this nonsense with Ms. Ostrenki.

***

Uriel took a deep breath. He stared at Ms. Ostrenki's office door. Then he glanced down at his watch. He still had a few minutes before Naya would come to pick him up.

The djinni knocked.

Ostrenki's icy voice seemed to slice through the wooden barrier. "Do not enter if you plan to waste my time."

Uriel cracked the door open and slid half his face inside.

"Uh, Ms. Ostrenki. May I have a word?"

The woman's hard demeanor softened. "Mr. Uriel, what a pleasant surprise. Come in. Make sure to close the door behind you."

Uriel tried to keep a straight face as he did what he was told. When Ostrenki attempted to leave her desk, he held up his hand and said, "Please, that won't be necessary. I'll only take a minute."

An exquisitely creepy smile formed on Ostrenki's aged lips as she rounded her desk and sat atop it. Crossing her legs, she said, "I was serious when I said to not waste my time. Now are we going to have a little fun or –"

"I'm sorry, Ms. Ostrenki, but I cannot have fun with you. You're a teacher and I'm your student."

Ostrenki pursed her lips and folded her arms just enough to push up her breasts.

Uriel dared to take a step forward. "I apologize for leaving the wrong impression the first day. I'm new to this country and haven't really worked out all the social normalities."

Ostrenki snorted.

"Besides . . . I have someone that I care for deeply and I cannot . . . I will not hurt her. Do you understand?"

She sniffed. "Ah yes. You mean Erin, the blonde with the doll face."

Uriel paused. "Uh – I . . . well, no."

Ostrenki gave a dismissive wave. "You don't have to hide it. I've seen the way she ogles at you. Ugh. So typical. Blondes have all the fun."

Uriel blinked and tried to think back to his interactions with Erin.

"Is that all then?" Ostrenki barked.

Uriel refocused on her. "Almost. I have one last question. Will this, uh, affect my grade at all?"

"As much as I want to carve up your marks for denying me, I can't. You're too bloody good at cooking."

Ostrenki followed it with a sly wink, which Uriel took as his cue to leave.

+++

{Naya}

This was it.

I was going to do it this time.

I was going to play the guitar for Uri.

Like always, I picked him up from school in his BMW. On the way home, he told me how he finally stood up to his teacher, Ms. Ostrenki.

I let Uri dominate the conversation with his story while I tried to mentally prepare myself. It has been a year since I last played any real music. I went from writing songs and playing every day to tossing out my very expensive guitar and ripping up all of my song books. It was a pretty dark time for me.

These days, however, it didn't hurt to look at the guitar in my room. It didn't make me flinch to think about touching it, forming notes, or even singing along.

I wanted Uri to be the one to hear me play again.

***

"I have a surprise for you," I said when we walked into the apartment.

Uri's eyebrows quirked up.

"Follow me." I tugged on his arm.

"Where are we going?"

"Into the pipe. Now be quiet. This is a surprise!"

I noticed that when we got inside the pipe and I picked up the guitar, Uri frowned.

"What's wrong?" I said.

Uri shook his head. "Nothing."

I looked at him hard and then back at the guitar. "Say, Uri? Why did you put a guitar here in the first place?"

He looked elsewhere. "At the bar, you told me that you used to play."

"Is that all I said?"

Uri hesitated. Then he said, "Yeah . . . all you said was that you used to play, but that you don't anymore. You never said why."

I invited him over towards a pile of cushy pillows and said, "The why isn't important. Just sit down. I want to play something for you. But you have to promise not to laugh. If you laugh, I swear, I'll –"

"I would never laugh at you." Uri said. He assumed a horizontal position atop the cushions and propped himself on his elbows. "I'm listening, Naya."

I wasn't entirely sure if I was emotionally ready for this, but I took the guitar anyway and picked a song.

Looking back, I don't know why I ended up choosing that song. But once my fingers started manipulating those strings, I had no power over what happened next.

A tune so familiar to my ears filled the space between Uri and me. I started humming the opening to Monica's "Angel of Mine." The sound almost brought tears to my eyes, but I didn't have time for that. No, I was too busy giving into the commands of the guitar. I had to sing these almost forgotten lyrics.

"When I first saw you, I already knew . . ." I glance up at Uri. ". . . there was something inside of you."

I tore my eyes away.

"Something I thought that I would never find."

I kept singing with my eyes closed. Partially to hide my emotions from Uri and partially to concentrate on not screwing up. I slowed down as I came to the end of the first verse, opened my eyes, but kept my gaze soft.

"How you changed my world, you'll never know. I'm different now. You helped me grow."

The chords came to rest. There was no way I was going to try to tackle the chorus. Too many emotions and memories to deal with. It was a miracle that I had survived the first verse. There was some relief in that.

I forced myself to meet Uri's gaze.

"Well?"

Uri blinked as if waking from a daydream.

"Why did you stop?"

I snorted, "I didn't want you gawking at me for four minutes straight." That wasn't the real reason, but he didn't need to know that.

Slowly, Uri assumed an upright position. "Naya, there is something that I have to tell you. At the bar . . . there were other things that you said . . . about the guitar."

I set aside the instrument. "What did I say?"

Uri took a nervous breath and kept silent.

I knitted my fingers under my chin and leaned forward. "Let's try this again. Tell me what I said at the bar."

Uri started to get up. "You know what, forget it. It doesn't really matter."

I got up too. "It does to me!"

"You were drunk, Naya," he said. As if that would stop me from wanting to know.

Losing my patience, I said, "Uriel, I swear to God if you don't –"

"You told me everything!" He blurted.

"No," I choked.

Uri shook his head. "I'm sorry, Naya. I know that you didn't want me to know. You didn't want anyone to know."

"Shut. Up."

Uri's face blurred behind my tears.

Naya, you fucking idiot.

"You tricked me into playing for you." I felt like I had to wrench each word from my mouth. "And of all the songs!"

I wanted to pull out all my hair and set it on fire. Uri wasn't supposed to be the one to get me to open up about this. Before meeting him, no matter what I tried, I couldn't get over it. My dad. The depression. Being a college dropout. Forsaking music.

This was baggage that I had been carrying around for years.

I expected to be months deep in some rehab program before I ever opened up about all of that. But no. This djinni, who had seduced me, sweet-talked me into potentially losing my humanity forever – he was the one I had confided in?

"Fuck. You." I emphasized each moan, not caring that my face was wrecked with tears and snot. The words were more for me than him. Once again, my own vulnerabilities had led me down a path that I didn't want to be on. I thought all the fucking up I did at the nightclub was far behind me. But I was wrong.

I was more of a failure than I could have ever imagined.

Uri tried to take me into his arms so I wouldn't crumple to the floor, but his touch was like poison to me.

"Please, Naya. This was a mistake. I'm sorry!"

The sound of his voice was like acid sliding into my ear canal. I rocked from side to side, crying, hating myself.

"Naya, please stop this!" Uri begged, his voice desperate. Helpless. He had never seen me like this. But this was the real me – a goddamn hot mess.

Uri held onto me and buried his head against my abdomen. He dragged the fabric of my top into his fists. In the lull of my sobbing, he exhaled, "What do you want, Naya?"

He peered up at me. "Just tell me and I'll give you whatever you want."

Bastard.

"Haven't you screwed with my emotions enough for one day?" I growled.

Through the curtain of dark hair, Uri's eyes became the most solemn ones in existence.

"Tell me what to do and I will – Ngh!"

The djinni rolled off me and locked himself in a fetal position, cradling his crotch.

"What I want is for you to get the hell out of this pipe," I seethed.

Apparently kneeing him between the legs and my threatening tone didn't have much of an effect on the djinni. He still gaped at me from his spot on the floor.

"I said go!" I hissed as I wrote a slippery incantation over his head and stepped back. The magic transformed him into smoke and carried him out of my sight. I wrote another spell to lock the hookah from the inside.

That's when Ritsu showed himself.

"Mistress, what you did was unwise."

"I don't take advice from a monkey." I dismissed the demon, but could already feel regret itching my insides.

"Trust me, a djinni scorned . . . well that, Mistress, is a very dangerous thing indeed."