Page 96 (1/2)

One

Adina

I USED TO THINK HIS touchesWe brushed arms in the hallway of his apartment, and I let led and I figured it was because we reached to turn the sheet music at the same time

Then his touches started to linger I could feel the warh the fabric of my dress after he toldelse: he has touchedby accident

Today I will make it happen on purpose

My bus turns onto his street He lives on a hill claihborhoods, Capitol Hill and the Central District This hill and I, we go way back I walked up it the year of the snowstor round Arjun saw it happen from his fourth-story , and he rushed doith a Band-Aid with a cartoon character on it He explained the Band-Aids were for “the little ones,” his younger students It et about the smear of my blood tattooed on the concrete

I mutter “thank you” to the driver as I step off the bus,in a puddle that splashes water up ood rain of the fall, the kind that pu a house sound like it’s preparing for war It is sweet, fresh, alive I’ve been waiting for it all month

Arjun buzzes me inside, and I press the faded elevator button between nu open, my hands are damp with sweat To relax, I play a Schubert sonata in h to see him

“Adina! Hello,” Arjun says, pulling the door wide “I was starting to think you got lost on the way up”

“Elevator was stuck,” I lie My lungs feel tight, like I sprinted up the hill

“Old building Happens to rins, brilliant white teeth between full lips “Ready to make some beautiful music?”