Ridge: Actually, I can’t differentiate the sounds of a voice. I’ve never felt a person sing the way I “listen” to a guitar. I can place vocals to a song and develop melodies because I’ve studied a lot of songs and have learned which keys match up to which notes, based on the written form of music. It doesn’t just come naturally. I work hard at this. I love the idea of music, and even though I can’t hear it, I’ve learned to understand and appreciate it in a different way. I’ve had to work harder at the melodies. There are times I’ll write a song, and Brennan will tell me we can’t use it because it either sounds too much like an existing song or it doesn’t actually sound good to hearing ears like I assumed it would.
He can downplay this all he wants, but I’m convinced I’m sitting next to a musical genius. I hate that he thinks his ability comes from working so hard at it. I mean, I’m sure it helps, because all talents have to be nurtured in order to excel, even for the gifted. But his talent is mind-blowing. It makes me hurt for him, knowing what he could do with his gift if he could hear.
Me: Can you hear anything? At all?
He shakes his head.
Ridge: I’ve worn hearing aids before, but they were more inconvenient than helpful. I have profound hearing loss, so they didn’t help at all when it came to hearing voices or my guitar. When I used them, I could tell there were noises, but I couldn’t decipher them. In all honesty, hearing aids were a constant reminder that I couldn’t hear. Without them, I don’t even think about it.
Me: What made you want to learn guitar, knowing you would never be able to hear it?
Ridge: Brennan. He wanted to learn when we were kids, so we learned together.
Me: The guy who used to live here? How long have you known him?
Ridge: 21 years. He’s my little brother.
Me: Is he in your band?
Ridge glances at me in confusion.
Ridge: Have I not told you about our band?
I shake my head.
Ridge: He’s the singer. He also plays guitar.
Me: When do you play next? I want to watch.
He laughs.
Ridge: I don’t play. It’s kind of complicated. Brennan insists that I have as much stake in the ownership of the band as he does because I write the majority of the music, which is why I refer to myself as being part of the band sometimes. I think it’s ridiculous, but he’s convinced we wouldn’t be where we are at this point without me, so I agree to it for now. But with the success I think he’s about to have, I’ll make him renegotiate eventually. I don’t like feeling as though I’m taking advantage of him.
Me: If he doesn’t feel that way, then you definitely shouldn’t feel that way. And why don’t you play with them?
Ridge: I have a few times. It’s kind of difficult, not being able to hear everything else going on with the band during a song, so I feel like I throw them off when I play with them. Besides, they’re on tour right now, and I can’t travel, so I’ve just been sending him the stuff I write.
Me: Why can’t you tour with them? Don’t you work from home?
Ridge: Other obligations. But next time they’re in Austin, I’ll take you.
I’ll take you. I think I like that part of his message a little too much.
Me: What’s the name of the band?
Ridge: Sounds of Cedar.
I slam my laptop shut and swing my eyes to his. “Shut up!” He nods, then reaches down and opens my laptop again.
Ridge: You’ve heard of us?
Me: Yes. Everyone on campus has heard of your band, considering they played almost every single weekend last year. Hunter loves you guys.
Ridge: Ah. Well, this is the first time I’ve ever wished we had one less fan. So you’ve seen Brennan play?
Me: I only went with Hunter once, and it was one of the last shows, but yes. I think I may have most of the songs on my phone, actually.
Ridge: Wow. Small world. We are close to a record deal. That’s why I’ve been stressing so much about these songs. And why you need to help me.
Me: OMG! I just realized I’m writing lyrics for SOUNDS OF CEDAR!!!
I slide my laptop over, then roll onto my stomach and squeal into the mattress while I kick my legs up and down.
Holy crap! This is too cool.
I compose myself, ignoring Ridge’s laughter, then sit up straight again and grab my laptop.
Me: So you wrote most of those songs?
He nods.
Me: Did you write the lyrics to the song “Something”?
He nods again. I seriously can’t believe this is happening right now. Knowing he wrote those lyrics and now I’m sitting here next to him is exciting me way too much.
Me: I’m about to listen to your song. Since you get to decipher my lyrics, it’s my turn to decipher yours.
Ridge: I wrote that song two years ago.
Me: Still. It came from you. From somewhere inside you, Ridge. ;)
He picks up a pillow and throws it at my head. I laugh and scroll through the music folder on my phone until I find the song, and I hit play.
SOMETHING
I keep on wondering why
I can’t say ’bye to you
And the only thing I can
think of is the truth
It’s hard to start over
Keep checkin’ that rearview, too
But something’s coming
Something right for you
Just wait a bit longer
You’ll find something you wanted
Something you needed
Something you want to have repeated
Oh, that feeling’s all right
You’ll find that if you listen
Between all the kissing
What made it work
Wound up missing
Oh, that seems about right
I guess I thought that we would
Always stay the same
And I can tell that you find
Somebody to blame
And I know in my heart,
In my mind, it’s all a game
Our hopes and wishes
Won’t relight the flame
Just wait a bit longer
You’ll find something you wanted
Something you needed
Something you want to have repeated
Oh, that feeling’s all right
You’ll find that if you listen
Between all the kissing
What made it work
Wound up missing
Oh, that seems about right
You don’t ever have to wonder
’Cause you will always know
That what we had was for sure
For sure
Now that thing is no more
No more
You’ll find what you wanted
You’ll find what you needed
You’ll find what you wanted
You’ll find what you needed
You’ll find what you needed
When the song ends, I sit back up on the bed. I would ask him about the lyrics and the meaning behind them right now, but I’m not sure I want to. I want to listen to it again without him watching me, because it’s really hard to concentrate when he’s staring at me. He’s resting his chin in his hands, casually watching me. I try to hide my grin, but it’s hard. I see a smile spread across his lips before he looks down at his phone.