12 Drummers Thumbing Page 9

  “So pretty,” Rick said at AC’s side.

  “Y-yes. The l-lights?”

  “We don’t have strobes in the show,” Rick said. “I do have to be careful.” He kept his back to the motel façade.

  “Hope the roads don’t get bad.” Manny kicked at some dirt, barely dusted in white.

  “I don’t think it’s going to amount to much, Manuel.” Murphy was back to being positive. “Enough to be Christmassy, but not enough to cause trouble.”

  Rohan was quiet. Emery’s allergies seemed to have calmed some, and Yoshi and Carlton looked super cute in their winter hats. Terrel did own a warm coat, burgundy faux fur that went down to his ankles. He was stunning.

  Stone snapped pictures of the inn. Hewlett kept trying to get Ixaax to catch snowflakes on his tongue, and Rob was looking at the decorations, counting on his fingers. AC was certain he was noting the pattern of the bulbs, red, green, orange, blue, pink, yellow. Red, green, orange, blue, pink, yellow. AC was definitely drawn to a particular drummer, as he looked from one to another, trying to spot one looking back at him. Whether or not he was worthy of any of them, that was still in question.

  “Okay, guys.” Murphy blew into his hands to warm them, then clapped them sharply together. “Time for shuteye. Gather ‘round. We have six to a room. Two full-size beds and two cots in each. I want to thank AC for getting us this far. Let’s hurry up and get the equipment down, so he can head off home.”

  The others groaned their disapproval.

  “W-wait.” AC wasn’t happy, either. “Home? I th-thought I’d be d-driving you t-t-to the concert.”

  “We can’t ask you to give up more of your time.”

  “I w-want to, M-Murphy,” AC insisted. “I want to s-see the show, if it’s n-n-not sold out.”

  “I’m pretty sure we can squeeze you in somewhere,” Murphy said with a big smile. “If you’re being sincere.”

  “One h-hundred p-percent.”

  “Good deal. Should we let him stay, guys?”

  The whoops and hollers seemed way too loud for nighttime.

  “Sounds unanimous. Let’s get inside.” As the others grabbed their bags, Murphy took AC aside. “I wanted to give your secret admirer a chance to reveal himself. I figured you’d want to stay.” He winked, and then slapped AC’s butt. “I was hoping. He was, too. Bada-bing.”

  The 12 Drummers Drumming ran the scales out in the parking lot, once the luggage was brought indoors.

  “La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la.”

  Like last time, AC did his best to keep up. He was great at the last three notes—la, la, la—but still stumbled in the middle.

  As the others slowly made their way to their rooms, AC announced his decision to bunk in the van with Spud.

  “Are you sure you’ll be warm enough, boo?” Terrel asked, offering his fur coat.

  “I’ll be fine,” AC said. He had several blankets, plus the sleeping bag. He considered for a moment some company to keep him warm as well, but his secret admirer didn’t speak up. Bummer.

  The Vermont countryside was quiet and Christmas card beautiful in a hazy, silvery glow from above and a radiance from distant homes and streetlights. Not quite ready to turn in even once Spud was curled up cozy and asleep, AC went out to walk the motel grounds. The sky was breathtaking. Wispy white clouds formed waves around the pale moon. Every once in a while, they would take over completely, and more light snow would fall. “White Christmas” came to mind, and AC began to hum. He hummed better than he sang.

  Uncertain where the motel property ended, he stopped to lean against a huge maple tree stripped of its leaves. “White Christmas” was one of the songs the 12 Drummers Drumming would be performing in the show. AC tried to recall the rhythm Rohan had taught him that went along with it. He picked up a pair of twigs and turned them into drumsticks. Tap. Tap. Tappity, tap-ta-tap. AC was startled at first when the sound echoed back.

  Tap. Tap. Tappity, tap-ta tap.

  Then he smiled. “Rohan.” It was too dark to see him, so AC drummed on the rough bark again. Tap, tap, tap. Pause. Tap, tap, tap. Pause. Tappity, tap. Pause. Tappity, tap.

  Tap, tap, tap. Pause. Tap, tap, tap. Pause. Tappity, tap. Pause. Tappity, tap.

  AC laughed as he ran in the direction of the sound, toward where he thought it had come from. He stopped at a short, split rail fence at the edge of the parking lot and played a beat there. Tap-a-tap, tap. Pause. Ta-tap, tap, tap.

  Rohan was close enough to hear it. Tap-a-tap, tap. Pause. Ta-tap, tap, tap. And he was close enough that AC could hear when the beat was played back.

  “Wh-where are you?” AC whispered, turning in a circle.

  He headed toward a thicket of pine trees with tips all dusted in white. A large rock off to one side beckoned.

  Tap-a-ta-tap, tap, tap. Tap-a-ta-tap, tap, tap.

  It came right back. Tap-a-ta-tap, tap, tap. Tap-a-ta-tap, tap, tap. Rohan was close.

  The farther AC got from the building, the less he could see. Tap-a-ta-tap, tap, tap. Tap-a-ta-tap, tap, tap.

  Tap-a-ta-tap, tap, tap. Tap-a-ta-tap, tap, tap.

  “Almost g-got ya.” Rubbing his bare hands on his pant leg to warm them, stealthily, keeping an ear out for all sound, be it drumming or any other kind of movement, AC slowly turned, one way, and then another. Tap-a-ta-tap, tap, tap. Pause. Tap-a-ta-tap, tap, tap. He wasn’t wary at all. AC had always liked the woods. He’d always liked night.

  Tap-a-ta-tap, tap, tap. Pause. Tap-a-ta-tap, tap, tap.

  He also really liked Rohan and smiled every time the percussion beats were returned.

  Tiptoeing forward, AC banged out the next series of beats on himself, smacking hard against his chest, as if playing a bongo. His nylon jacket added a cool sort of swish to the thumps, a rather loud one. Tumpa, tumpa, tumpa, swish. Tump-tumpity-tump, ta-swish, swish, swish.

  Tumpa, tumpa, tump.

  Why did it stop? AC turned three hundred-sixty degrees. Why did it stop? He managed only three more small steps backwards as he listened for the rest. Why did it—”Oomph!”

  “Hey.”

  A collision occurred, with something or someone.

  Tump-tumpity-tump, ta-swish, swish, swish. Rohan finished the tune, wrapping his arms around AC from behind. “I hope I didn’t scare you.”

  “J-just f-for a s-second.”

  “My jacket’s wool. It wouldn’t make the same sound.” His front to AC’s back, Rohan brought them closer. “Mmm. You’re warm. I was getting cold.”

  “Me, t-too. This f-feels g-good.”

  They were quiet a moment, just enjoying the silence of a winter night and the moon when it shone once again.

  “Y-y-you heard m-me.”

  “Yes,” Rohan said. “The right ear works fine when wind isn’t blowing in it from a window I stupidly open.” He softly and warmly spoke right into AC’s, still behind him.

  “Nah.”

  “Maybe the breeze carried the sound to me, or some other Christmas magic.”

  “M-maybe. Are you b-breaking c-c-curfew?” AC asked, his neck craned to make eye contact, be it too dark out to see the beautiful eyes he was after.

  “Yeah. I’m a rebel like that. I was hoping…” Rohan let go, and then turned AC to face him. “I was hoping to spend some time alone with you again.”

  “Ah. That s-s-sounds good t-to me.”

  “I told Murphy I was…”

  “S-smitten?”

  There was enough moonlight suddenly to see Rohan roll his eyes. “That is the word I used, I’m embarrassed to say.”

  “T-that-s n-not em-em-embarrassing.” Right away, AC told Rohan about the notebook. “That’s em-em-em…” He was so worried about the response, he couldn’t spit the word out again. “I’m a j-jerk.”

  “Shh. I’ve had my moments,” Rohan claimed.

  “N-no way.”

  “I called you a lazy, arrogant douchebag.”

  AC succumbed to a fit of laughter.

  “It’s not fun
ny!” Rohan stomped with one foot.

  “It’s a l-l-little f-funny.”

  “Well…You just sat there writing while the rest of us worked to get our instruments latched onto the roof.”

  “There w-w-were t-twelve of you.” AC had to lean against the tree to support himself as he continued his protest through uncontrolled amusement. “I f-f-figured I’d just b-be in the way. Besides.” He took a deep breath. “I’m not b-big on people t-t-touching my art supplies. I thought y-you g-guys might feel the s-s-same w-way.”

  “Hmm. That makes sense. Snap judgements…what have we learned? Either way, I apologize.”

  The two exchanged a smile as AC finally calmed.

  “Sadly, there are other instances of me being not so nice. I’ll tell you about them on our…” Rohan hummed and tapped a fingertip to his chin in thought. “On our tenth date.”

  “T-tenth?”

  “If we make it that far, my other jerky moments won’t matter. Geesh.” Rohan stepped back. “This is one of them! I’m jumping the gun. You might not even want to hang out with me once, let alone ten times. Can we go back to not talking, because, man that was d—”

  It was AC’s turn to shush worry, with a finger to Rohan’s lips. “I w-would be l-lucky to d-d-date you. And I b-bet I’ll l-l-ike you more.” He took a step back to put some distance between them. “I’m s-s-sorry I made that l-list, that I p-picked on ev-everyone.” The right words were difficult to find, as hard as it was to say them. “Your s-s-smile is w-wonderful. I’ve come to a-a-adore it.”

  “Busted tooth and all.” Rohan covered it with his hand.

  “D-d-don’t.” AC took that hand in his for just a moment. “It’s v-valor and b-b-bravery. I was i-i-immature and m-mean. You sh-should h-hate m-me.”

  “Never.”

  As the silence lingered after that, AC wondered if it was the uncomfortable kind.

  “I’m n-not s-sure I kn-know how to date,” he said just to break it. The statement was factual, though, and it made Rohan chuckle.

  “I’m not sure I do either, AC. The last time I tried put me off it for good, or at least a good, long while.”

  “Why?”

  Rohan spoke to the ground as he stood there pulling bits of bark off the tree that stood between them. “Well, a few years ago, I posted a profile and a picture on a pretty tame kind of dating app. No explicit stuff, just my face. So, one day I’m scrolling through some of the men the site tells me I’m compatible with, and I get up the nerve to write to one. When he doesn’t get back to me right away, I go check him out again, because, for whatever reason, that’s what we do. Human nature, I suppose.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I see where he’s changed part of his write-up. It now says, ‘No fats. No fems. No Asians, and no whatever this dude is,’ and there’s my picture. He must have copied and pasted it from my profile.”

  AC’s chest tightened. “J-jerk.”

  “Yup. Needless to say, I deleted my ad. Haven’t posted another one since. I’d heard it all before, AC. I’m not white enough. I’m not black enough. I’m too ethnic, too fat. My hair is too blond, long, frizzy, whatever.”

  AC could hear the hurt in Rohan’s voice. He knew the feeling. “I d-d-did the s-s-same thing. I f-f-feel h-horrible.”

  “I think the fact you feel horrible means you’re not. You’re a good man deep down, AC.”

  “You d-d-don’t know.”

  “I have a feeling. Hurt people hurt people. I read that somewhere. Once we’re aware of that, we should stop.”

  “Yes.”

  “As for us, you and me…” Rohan dropped the bits of bark he’d been collecting in his palm. “The guys were giving me advice the whole way here, once I told them about…”

  AC leaned against the tree, bringing them slightly closer again. “B-being s-smitten?” He could see Rohan’s breath, white puffs, because of the winter chill, in near pitch blackness. He wanted to feel it again, too, warm against his cold face.

  “Yes. Once I told one, he told all the others. Who told you?” Rohan asked.

  “M-Murphy said s-s-some guys d-d-don’t like me, b-but one was s-s-smitten. I’ve b-b-been hoping ever since it w-w-was y-you.”

  “I can’t imagine anyone not liking you.”

  “M-Murphy read my n-notes. He isn’t real k-keen on m-me,” AC said.

  “That’s not true. He suggested I come out here to talk to you. See, I’m not a rebel. Anyway, the consensus is I should ask you on a date.”

  “To a m-movie,” AC suggested. “N-next week?”

  “Yes.”

  “D-done.”

  “Yes,” Rohan said again. “Now what?”

  AC smiled. He didn’t know.

  “Twenty questions.” Rohan turned so they faced one another full on. “I think Emery suggested that. And then he sang ‘Getting to Know You’ from The King and I.”

  “Th-that w-works.” AC reclaimed Rohan’s hand. “L-let’s get more c-c-comfor-cozy.” They walked back to the fence like that, and then sat. Too far apart, at first, AC decided closer was not only warmer, but better. “Oh. H-hold up.” They switched sides, so AC was at Rohan’s right ear. “Yoshi says I should wh-whisper. I stutter less when I do,” he said into it.

  Rohan shivered.

  “Still cold?” AC asked, his lips touching him.

  Rohan shivered again. “No.”

  “Good.”

  “Let’s see what we have in common.” When Rohan turned slightly, his lips brushed AC. “Sorry.”

  “D-don’t be.”

  “Umm…Terrel suggested we make it like The Newlywed Game and try to finish each other’s…”

  “S-sen-sentences?”

  “Yes!” The outburst was loud considering their proximity. “Sorry.”

  “No p-p…”

  “Problem. There’s one point,” Rohan said at lower volume.

  “Two p-points.” AC smiled. “I g-get one for the word s-sentence. Though, that was kind of…of easy,” he whispered back.

  “True. We’ll try some more. My favorite time of day is sun…”

  “S-set.”

  “Now you ask me one,” Rohan said.

  “Okay. My favorite p-pizza topping is pep…” When Rohan didn’t answer right away, AC said, “I was done.” Then he laughed. He laughed about his stutter. Something he thought could never happen was happening for the second time in a day.

  “Oh.” Rohan joined him briefly. “Pepperoni, I’m going to say.”

  They went back and forth more than twenty times, asking the questions in different ways.

  “Do I prefer a b-book or a movie?” AC kept whispering. Being so close to Rohan’s ear was helpful and sexy.

  “Book.” Each time Rohan answered, he’d move so his ear brushed AC’s lips, but then quickly twist his head the other way for his turn to query. “Name the order in which I like the seasons.”

  “Hmm. Summer, spring, au-au-fall, and then winter. Except when we look back on this so-someday, winter will b-b-be y-your f-f-f-favorite.” Partway through, AC realized how lame he sounded trying to be poetic and flowery, and the stutter returned in full force, even while whispering.

  “Aww. You’re very romantic.”

  “A-am I?”

  “Definitely.”

  AC went on, though he figured Rohan’s perception was warped by his level of smitten-ness. “Okay.” Voice low, his mouth was as close to Rohan as he could get without kissing him, the urge to do just that pretty strong. “Am I a pasta or s-steak guy?”

  “You strike me as a big slab of barbecued meat kind of dude,” Rohan said. “What do you think I do for a living?”

  “T-that’s a hard one.” AC looked Rohan up and down. “Hmm.” He could see him working as a bartender, or maybe at a bank. “A w-writer? I th-think you’re a novelist. How’d I d-do?”

  Rohan sighed. “You got them all wrong.”

  “E-every s-single one?” AC stood, amused.

  “Yes.”

&nbs
p; He laughed full on. “Y-you, too.”

  Rohan’s was even more robust. “Winter is already my favorite season and I’m partial to sunrise,” he managed to say.

  “I l-like peppers and p-pasta, but I still w-w-want to date you and h-hold your hand.”

  “I still want you to.”

  AC sat back down. “F-f-fortu—luckily, I n-never let go.”

  Dreaded silence came yet again. Rohan eventually filled it by slapping his free palm against his hip. Pat-a-pat, pat-a-pat. Pat-a-pappity-pat. Pat-a-pap, pap, pap, pap. Pa-pap, pap, pap.

  With one hand in Rohan’s and the other in his pocket for warmth, AC put down the same rhythm with his mouth, like a beatboxer, using his tongue, breath, and teeth.

  Rohan gasped. “You can do that?”

  “I g-guess.”

  “Try this.” He tested AC with another series of more complicated rhythms, one AC mimicked back perfectly in the same manner as before.

  “AC. Whoa. I think we’ve discovered a hidden talent.”

  They did it again and again, similar to how they had in the van and in the woods, but also different, as AC echoed the drumming with his newfound vocal method.

  Rohan nudged him hard but playfully. “How did you not know you could do that?”

  “E-e-everyone can d-d-do it, I f-f-figured.”

  “Not like that!” Rohan was loud. “I swear. Let’s try something else. Remember ‘The Little Drummer Boy’ breakdown, the part before the freestyle?”

  “I think s-so.”

  “Let’s give it a go. I’ll do it my way, and you do it yours.” Rohan hummed the song, and then paused for the percussion riffs. He did his softly on his lap. AC laid it down funky beatbox style.

  The impending squeal echoed in the night. “That was amazing!” Rohan threw his arms around AC. The sudden motion took them both backwards. They fell off the fence and landed on the snow-covered ground with a thud and a fit of laughter. Rohan had a glorious laugh, loud and dorky, staccato, like his drum beats. Eye to eye, mouth to mouth, when the laughter subsided, AC wanted to initiate a kiss. Was it too soon or was the timing perfect?