My family and I moved to Danvers, Massachusetts from Oregon when I was in middle school when my father got offered a position in an accounting firm that he couldn't pass up. It was a huge change in scenery, a different coast, but I was okay with it. My other siblings, not so much. My big sister, Morgan was in her Senior year at the time and my big brother, Aaron was in his junior year. They had a huge group of friends they'd known since kindergarten and they weren't happy about the idea of starting over. I had friends of course but I was up for an adventure.
When we arrived at our new house I was absolutely smitten. It was an old but well preserved, white, two story colonial style house, which mirrored the rest of Danvers. Although each house in the neighborhood had a unique look of its own, they all had the same historical charm. Because of the winding street, the two story, tanned brick house next door sat at a slight angle facing towards ours. It was from that house, Patty and Scott Burnham appeared and made their way over to welcome us to the neighborhood while we were getting luggage out of the car. Patty was a pretty blonde, with a sincere smile and a genuinely warm presence. It wasn't surprising to find out she's a nurse. Scott had a strong presence. He shook my dad's hand with presidential enthusiasm, his dark sandy curls spilling from underneath his fishing hat. He owns a construction company and managed to get one of his business cards in my dad's hand within the first two minutes. My parents and the Burnham's hit it off immediately and before they retreated back into their home, we were set for a dinner date the following evening.
WHEN WE MET
The next night my parents, sister, brother and myself, headed over to the Burnham's. They were just as cheery and welcoming as the day before. Their house was beautiful on the inside as well. The dining room table was set like a magazine spread with a mix of florals and dishware. Their family was equally balanced to ours, having three children with almost exact age matches. My sister Morgan and their daughter Samm. My brother Aaron and their son, Pete. And then there was the youngest, Robert. Or Bo. His family seemed to be split on what they called him. Bo was the last to join us at the table after his mom called him from the bottom of the stairs a few times and then his dad physically went upstairs to get him.
"How was I supposed to know, I had headphones on," Bo fussed, following his dad down the stairs. He was a thin kid, sandy hair and glasses. I felt relieved. The rest of the siblings, although older, looked like the popular kids at school. But Bo, although he wasn't bad looking, definitely seemed more on my level of general approachability.
The four parents did almost all the talking as the rest of us quietly poked at the roast. My sister and brother had a couple of quiet, side conversations with the two older siblings. But it wasn't until we had finished eating and Patty brought coffee and wine to the table that my mom mentioned that I was the musical one out of her kids and how excited I was that the movers would arrive the next day with my Piano. I couldn't help but notice Bo's head snap to attention.
"Oh that is too funny!" Patty mused. "That's our, Robert! He stays glued to that keyboard up in his room.
"You want to play it?" Bo asked me.
I looked up at mom. "That's fine with me if Patty and Scott say it's okay."
Bo was already up and at the bottom of the stairs before they had a chance to answer. Luckily they were totally fine with it.
"Door open, Bo," his dad called as we headed upstairs. Bo shut his door without a moment's hesitation once we walked in. I don't think it was out of defiance, just habit. His room had a deep A-line ceiling with sea blue walls. It was neat and tucked away other than the corner where his keyboard sat. Several notebooks were scattered on the floor along with some novels and a few magazines.
"Have a seat." He pulled the keyboard stool out with his foot before sitting on the edge of his bed. "What kind of music do you play?"
I shrugged as I sat down on the stool. "Really just a bunch of random stuff. My mom makes it seem like I'm all about the piano but I'm actually way more into writing."
"Same," he grinned with a nod. I realized he was cuter than I originally thought.
"But I like to either write my own stuff on the piano or sometimes I like to take classical songs and twist them up a little, you know? Make them sound different."
He brushed his fingers into the front of his hair in this cartoonish exasperation. "Umm, that is awesome, you must play one."
I laughed at his antics and also out of nervousness. "I can try. I get really nervous playing around anyone. It's like I totally forget what I'm doing," I say, turning towards the keys.
"Trust me, I am not an impressive audience," he mused. I swept my long auburn hair over the back of shoulder and took a deep breath. I began playing the piece I did right before we moved. A mix of Chopsticks and Heart and Soul, with a bit of a club beat rhythm. "Are you freaking kidding me?" Bo jumped off the bed and came to my side, bobbing his head as I played. "Okay keep playing, ready?" I nodded. He starts riffing to the music, spilling out some verbiage about how bicycle horns are totally gangster. It was hilarious and yet catchy. I tried to keep playing but not long after that I got so cracked up I couldn't keep track of the notes. It ended with the offensive sounds of my elbows dropping on the keys as I laughed into my hands.
"Hell yes, that was awesome!" Bo said, giving me a high five.
For a couple of hours after that we switched back and forth excitedly, taking turns playing and creating little songs out of nothing. It was more fun then I remembered having in a long time. Eventually, Dad came and collected me and we headed back to our house next door. I was so amped up I immediately went upstairs to my empty bedroom other than a sleeping bag, a discman and a notebook and I started scribbling down ideas for cool compositions and jotted a few lines I felt like Bo would like or could make funnier. I noticed a light filtering into my room through my blindless, curtainless window, blinking in an off pattern like morse code. I got up and looked out to see Bo at his bedroom window holding a flashlight and laughing. I opened my window as he did his.
"Hey neighbor! Make sure to shut your blinds when you get some! My brothers a total pervert!"
I laughed and then laughed even harder when I heard his mom yelling at him from his bedroom door.
From that night on, Bo and I were attached at the hip. If he wasn't at my house after school, I was over at his. And once summer vacation started we only separated to go to bed. Other than playing around with song projects we spent most of the summer fixing up their pool house that sat almost halfway between their backyard and ours. His dad had grown tired of it serving as junk storage so he told Bo if we cleaned it out we could use it as a hangout. I think that was his way of reducing some of the ridiculous racket we caused in the house.
One evening during the dog days of the summer and the eve of our Freshman year, Bo and I stood in the pool house, realizing it was finally complete. We set it up with a mini fridge, microwave, a couch, and a small keyboard dad got us specifically to have out there. We completed it with a tv that so far, had only been used to play random DVD's while we worked. It was just one room, four walls, a couple of small windows and a door; but to us, it was an empire.
"Well, obviously we have to celebrate," I said gesturing out to the room.
"We should talk the parentals into letting us order a pizza and rent the new release section at Blockbuster," he said, bobbing his eyebrows to emphasize his genius idea. I nodded in agreement and listened to him go over tactics to ensure they would agree. I couldn't help but suddenly notice the visible change he had just over the course of the summer. His voice had grown deeper, His boyish features were diminishing, revealing a more defined jaw line. Any signs of acne were essentially gone. He'd grown at least another foot and started wearing contacts, although that was his moms decision for whatever reason. But some days he struggled getting them in and would resign to his glasses.
As I stood there noticing these changes, I realized for the first time since I met him I felt somewhat insecure. I couldn't put my finger on why, but my closest guess was that we were about to start our freshman year in high school. And he looked like a high schooler. I on the other hand felt like I hadn't changed a single bit since the beginning of eighth grade. But still, why did it matter?
We successfully got the green light from our parents to have a movie and pizza night in the pool house and after Samm reluctantly lugged us to and from the video rental store we settled in on the couch and watched Donnie Darko and Garden State while we devoured an entire pizza and half a 2 liter. We only had two weeks left of the summer but on that particular night I wished it would never end.
L.A 2020 – GUEST HOUSE
Once I'm in out of the rain I'm stopped in my tracks just inside the door.
"Jesus christ, Bo. Are you working on a film project or building a time machine?"
I look at the chaos that blankets the guesthouse. Between the sound equipment, the keyboard, the cameras, the lighting, the monitors, microphone stands, other unidentifiable electronics and the endless amounts of cables I'm honestly in a bit of shock.
I turn and look at him. He shrugs, his eyes sweeping over the room. "It's a process."
Regardless of the madman style mess on the floor, the recessed lighting reveals what I didn't notice before. Although still beautiful, enough that it hurts, He doesn't look well. Dark shadows play under his eyes, eyes that look tired, maybe even sad and It stands out against the ghostly pallor of his complexion. His cheeks seem sunken matching his somewhat frail physique.
I want to immediately ask what's wrong with him but I decide to wait for a more casual opportunity. If there's anything I've learned about the complicated tapestry that has become Bo, it's how quickly he'll shut down if he feels backed into a corner.
"How far along have you gotten? With the process?" I say, reflexively glancing again at the mess.
He huffs a quiet, one beat laugh and runs his fingers through his shaggy hair. "I'm still working on composing the music. But I'm almost done."
"Well that's some progress, huh?" I say with overdone enthusiasm.
He rubs the back of his neck, tilting his head slightly to one side. "Yeah, then It's recording the audio, blocking the shots and lighting. Shooting and editing , I need to program the sequence for the projector, it's going to be a backdrop kind of deal," he waves his hand towards the front wall. "It's a whole thing ... " he trails off.
My jaw literally drops. "Bo, what the fuck? How long are you planning on being out here?" So much for not backing him into a corner. I brace myself for the usual fallout. Aggressive defense, followed by quiet indifference. But his eyes fall softly on mine for the first time since the initial greeting at the door, and he replies,
"As long as it takes."
My concern vanishes and we exchange a knowing look. I've always understood his unfaltering passion, even when others no longer could.
"Okay," I nod. He smiles so gently, I almost miss it. I turn away and look again, out into the room. Suddenly instead of chaos, I see mastery. I then notice something familiar tucked under the cabinet in the small kitchen and I walk carefully through the obstacle course to get a better look. I recognize the pattern of scratches and dings on the side.
"Is that the mini fridge from the pool house?"
Bo laughs gently. "It absolutely is."
"You dragged this all the way across the country? Why didn't you just get another one?" I laugh.
I hear the shuffle of his feet as he walks up behind me. "It's a good fridge."
"It IS a good a fridge," I laugh even harder.
"Yeah, I tried to put it in the house but Elle wasn't having it so it was exiled." My laughter is cut short. Oh yeah, her. I give out a couple more laughs out of discomfort but silence begins to fill the space around us and I start to panic over what to say next, but Bo speaks first. "I miss you," he says, quietly. For a moment my mind goes blank and words are caught in my throat. I don't turn around and look at him. I don't know if I can. He continues, "I'm sorry, I just-I can't believe you're here."
I finally turn and face him. His arms are crossed, his head tilted slightly as he gazes at me. His eyes, impossibly heavy with an expression I can't read. Is it sadness? Adoration? Concern?
"I miss you, too."