I’d broken so many of my rules today. I’d asked her to stay over. I’d gone for a kiss after we did it. Hell, I’d told her that we could take things slow. “Take things slow” was not something you suggested to a hookup. And that’s all Kendra was: a hookup.
Right?
When I woke up the next morning, I found a bit more clarity. I jumped into my daily routine: I did my morning workout, showered, ate breakfast, listened to a record, and got dressed for work. Following the routine helped keep my mind on track, and the confusion of the night before seemed to be gone.
It wasn’t until I sat down in front of my computer that I realized it was anything but gone.
My fingertips sat motionless on the keys, and I couldn’t summon a single creative idea to my mind. The only thing that seemed to come forward now was the thought of Kendra.
Enough of this shit, I thought. I got up and poured myself a whiskey. I’d never been in a relationship before, and things certainly weren’t going to change now. Life was too busy for romance. I had my work to concentrate on. My business was the only relationship I needed.
I was able to churn out a bit of code, but my mind continued to hop back to Kendra. I went over program functions in my mind and how to implement them, only to have those thoughts fade away and be replaced by repeating memories of the things we’d done last night. The weirdest part was that it wasn’t the sex that I was remembering. To reminisce over a night of amazing sex wouldn’t have been so unusual for me, but I was thinking about her. The dinner, the conversation, the way she talked so passionately about her music, the way her eyes lit up when she spoke, and the way she moved so quickly from passion to shyness. My thoughts were all about her.
She was an interesting, unique person, so of course I’d think our conversation was memorable. That was it, or at least that’s what I tried to tell myself. So why did it feel like more than that?
It’s not more than that. That is all it is. Concentrate on work, and she’ll slowly fade from importance.
I put on a record and dove back into work, forcing myself to push forward. It felt like she was tugging at my mind at every moment. Once the afternoon hit, I’d managed to churn out a fair amount of progress, but once again felt unhappy with what I’d done. I decided to go for lunch—a walk might help clear my mind. And maybe if I got to see her again… I could put an end to these ridiculous thoughts.
I stopped at my favorite Greek restaurant near the end of the Riverwalk promenade and got myself a gyro, and after eating I walked towards where Kendra had been set up the day before. Why the hell was I so nervous? My heart was racing, and it only got worse the moment I caught the steady sound of a drum beat from off in the distance. From the skill level of that rhythm, I knew immediately that it was her.
The crowd was even bigger than yesterday, and I pushed my way through so that I could get a view of her. She sat cross legged, her eyes closed as her hands blurred across the variety of makeshift instruments she had in front of her. I noticed she’d added two more new pieces to her kit—a small plastic bucket and a block of wood.
Her playing was incredible. I wished I could hear her play on a real drum kit. It was such a fucking shame that she couldn’t do it. I thought about the story she’d told me the night before, and wondered how a mentor could put a student down like that, to the point where she’d fail and be unable to play again.
Stop worrying about her. Stop involving yourself.
I tried to remind myself why I was here.
See her, listen to her, then forget about her forever. A bit of closure, and that’s it. We don’t even need to talk. She’s a stranger. She’s no one, and all she’ll do is get in the way of work.
I took a breath and backed out of the crowd before Kendra had a chance to open her eyes and see me.
Alright. That’s it. Now you never need to see her again.
I walked home from the Riverwalk, my heart feeling unusually empty. I was miserable, and I couldn’t understand why she’d had this effect on me.
Over the next three days, I was able to make steady progress on the program, mostly fueled by the panic I felt when I saw that the user numbers for my most popular app had experienced a massive drop. Still, despite my productivity, I wasn’t happy with the work I was doing. Something was missing. I also broke my daily routine and avoided going back to the Riverwalk. Kendra had refused to leave my mind, and seeing her the other day had definitely not made it better. So now I figured I ought to just avoid seeing her altogether in order to “reset” myself, and get back to normal.
I wondered if she was having the same thoughts about me. Was I torturing her as much as she was me?
On the fourth day, I gave in.
Years of routine, of being completely in control of myself, gone. And all because of a street drummer. I returned to the Riverwalk, this time with the intention of talking to her again. As I walked, I started to get nervous, and then I got excited. I wanted to talk to her. It didn’t matter if she wasn’t interested in seeing me again, I just wanted to talk to her. And then, maybe I could finally be rid of this thing.
When I neared Kendra’s usual spot, it dawned on me that something wasn’t right. Over the bustle and chatter of the Riverwalk’s afternoon crowd, there was something missing: Kendra’s drums.
Why didn’t I hear her drums?
The spot was occupied by a duo: a girl on an acoustic guitar accompanied by a violinist. They’d attracted a sizeable crowd, and were playing a lively Celtic style song. An elderly couple danced, while a toddler jumped around to the music. They were damn good. I stopped to listen to the rest of the song, and dropped a twenty into the guitar case that was open on the ground.
“Hey, thanks,” the guitarist said.
“Do you guys happen to know the drummer that was set up here a few days ago?”
The guitarist shook her head and turned to her partner. “Brianne?”
The violinist—Brianne, I guess—shrugged. “Didn’t know there were any street drummers here.”