Wink by Rob Harrell

Author:Rob Harrell
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2020-02-08T00:00:00+00:00

On the afternoon of Thanksgiving, I’m playing while my dad lies on the floor, listening and fighting off a food coma. To say Linda went overboard is the understatement of the year.

At some point he spots my mom’s bound sketchbook on the shelf under my nightstand.

I see him grab it, and I stop playing for a second.

“Wow,” he says, turning it over in his hands. “I haven’t seen this in a while. Can I look inside?”

“Um . . .”

He must hear something in my voice. He sets it back where it was. “Nope. Never mind. Sounds like it’s private.”

“Well . . .” I start playing again. “It’s not like a Dear Diary thing. Just . . . stuff . . .”

“Like mother, like son.” He smiles. “Your mom kind of kept it for herself as well. I think that’s cool. That’s what it should be.”

I play for a bit before he goes on. “You probably don’t remember how much she loved Thanksgiving, do you?”

“Not really.”

“She really did. It was an Event.” His foot is tapping along. “And her mashed potatoes. Wowza.”

“That good?”

“Songs will be written about her mashed potatoes, Ross. Stories passed down in the history books. Linda tries super hard, but . . .” He casts a quick, guilty look at the door to make sure she isn’t standing there. Gives me a little shake of the head that says they’re not the same.

“I don’t know what she used to put in those things, but . . .”

I keep playing, and he eventually begins snoring.

Abby tolerates my practicing as well, and even quizzes me on different chords from some flash cards I made up.

She admits she has no idea if the chords I play are correct, but she keeps throwing them at me anyway.

“Gimme an E, hotshot!”

She gets me a book with the tabs for some Vampire Weekend songs. I can’t say I’m a huge fan—that’s her thing—but thanks to Abby, those songs have been playing in the background since we were little. Like the soundtrack of our lives, as corny as that sounds.

She wants me to try and play this one song, but it has an F chord in it. It’s literally the first chord in the song.

I can’t play an F chord, and I’m pretty sure I’ll never be able to. It’s that simple. I’m fairly sure it requires ten-inch alien fingers. You have to clamp down a couple strings with your first finger and then stretch your second and third . . . Just trust me. It’s the worst.

One day I walk into my lesson and set down my guitar.

“What is up with the F chord?”

Frank is in the kitchen in a Blasters T-shirt. He looks up and smiles. “Right?”

“I can’t do it!”

Frank walks in and opens a Diet Coke with a loud crack. “Yeah. It’s the bane of every beginning guitar player. And I swear it was in every song I wanted to play when I started.”

I drop down onto the couch. “I think it’s a conspiracy.

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