It was cold on this particular afternoon. It had rained the night before and the freezing temperatures made the ground slippery and slick as it turned into black ice. The bus I would normally take to Milo’s wasn’t running due to the ice, so I had to take the train. The train wasn’t that bad on a weekend; I didn’t tell Milo that took the train though since he’s always worrying about the bad things happening underground in the subway stations. Maybe it’s a cultural thing, but the subways in the UK were either for traveling long distances. It was nice to take a train that took you two stops and boom, you were where you needed to be.
I walked up Milo’s block and immediately felt this sense of comfort. I liked hanging out with Milo, especially now that we were in the same band class and had tons of pieces to rehearse for these days. I also never feel like playing the violin sucks as the rest of the ensemble believes. Milo always made me feel like it was cool playing in the strings orchestra; I always liked seeing his smile as our section had separate rehearsals outside of the overall ensemble. I haven’t had anyone really support my violin playing since my dad was still here.
“Hey, Scout!” I hear Milo call out. I looked over towards his house and saw him outside on the steps, waving at me. I couldn’t help but smile.
“Why are you outside? It’s freezing,” I said as I walked closer to Milo’s place.
“I was cleaning the steps for my family,” Milo said, putting the shovel aside. “Sucks being the oldest.”
“I can imagine,” I laughed, following Milo back up toward the front door of this house. “Are your parents home?”
“Uhm, yeah,” Milo quickly said before opening the front door. We entered the hallway of Milo’s house and immediately took a left towards the door leading to the studio. I always found it so cool that Milo’s family had a studio inside their house. I know it’s technically Jennifer’s home dance studio, as Milo has told me, but from what I understand it’s now more of a rehearsal space for Milo and his dad. Upon entering the studio space, I see Milo’s drum set in the corner of the room.
“That’s such a pretty set,” I mentioned, walking towards the drums. MIlo followed behind me.
“Pretty is such a weird way to describe drums, Scout,” Milo teased. I looked back at him and scrunched my nose, disagreeing with him. Milo laughed at my reaction before he said anything else. “But thank you, it’s a pretty old set.”
“Was it your dad’s?” I asked, walking around the set to look at it closer.
“Nah,” Milo answered, grabbing the drumsticks from the msuic stand. “My dad got them for me as a graduation gift. They’re cool.” He walks toward me and hands me the drumsticks in his hand. I was confused at what was happening.
“What are you doing?” I asked, nervous at Milo’s intention. He smiles and grabs my hand, guiding me towards the seat behind the drum set. “Wait, wait; Milo I-“
“I’m gonna show you how to play a simple measure,” Milo finally admitted, standing next to me behind the drum set.
“Milo, I don’t know how to play the drums,” I said as I looked at Milo.
“I know,” he said. “That’s why I’m going to show you.” He placed the drumsticks into my hands before he held onto my wrists. “So you would count down this piece by simply hitting the top of the drum like this.” He softly guided my hand as he played the first beat of the piece.
“Okay, that’s not that bad,” I said, calming down.
“You say that now,” Milo teased. “Until you hear this being the drumline of the piece we’re learning.” With my hands still on the drumsticks, Milo takes my wrists one more and plays the drumline of the song. It’s fast and it’s technical, but so insane to think that during band class, this is what Milo is playing. Every beat of the drum felt like it was traveling through my body; it was liberating. It wasn’t long after that Milo stopped guiding my arms. It quickly took me out of the trance I was currently in.
“That was amazing!” I said to Milo, nearly freaking out over the adrenaline I was feeling. “I can only imagine how it feels when you play during an actual performance.”
“It’s easily one of the best feelings in the world,” Milo explained. We switched positions; he is now sitting behind the drum set as I walked towards the front of it. “It’s why I prefer to play the drums more than any other instrument. The more passion you have while playing, the better the sound is. I feel like I’m dancing along to the music rather than playing it during a performance.” Sometimes, I take a glance over at Milo during a performance and see just that: him feeling the music rather than just playing it like the rest of us. I can tell just how much this means to him; being able to play music is something that Milo seems to always look forward to. I don’t blame him; he looks the happiest whenver he plays.
“It must be fun in the percussion section, huh?” I asked, intrigued by his conversation.
“Yeah, when it’s just me,” Milo said in a snarky way. I forget that Aaron is also in the percussion section. Shoot, sometimes i forget he’s eeven in our band class due to the amount of absences he currently has. “It would be even more fun if your section was near ours.”
“Something tells me I wouldn’t get much work done if that was the case,” I joked, tasseling Milo’s hair. His face immediately turned red, which makes my face suddenly feel hot as well. “Should we begin rehearsing?”
“Uhm, yeah,” Milo said, clearing his throat. I sit in the chair directly across from Milo’s drum set. I took out my violin from its case and began to set my posture up. I placed the violin on my shoulder and leaned against the instrument on the chin rest. When I didn’t hear Milo say anything, I looked up at him. To my surprise, he’s sitting there just looking at me.
“Is everything okay?” I asked, placing the violin back donw on my lap.
“Yeah,” Milo answered. “You turn into a different person when you have your violin in your hand.” He smirked at me. “It’s interesting to see so close up.” Once again, my face feels immensely hot.
“Thanks,” I laughed as I began to put the violin back up in position. “Shall we begin?”
“We shall,” Milo said, counting us both into the piece.
Letters From Liz. 