When everything was signed, Laurent took me to his car, Gael and Digitalis following behind. They left me alone to ride with him, taking Gael’s car together much to my surprise, leaving Digitalis’ in the lot. After he’d helped me into my seat, I looked out the window at Gael and Digitalis. As expected, they weren’t talking much. Digitalis had her arms crossed and leaned away from Gael with her entire body. Gael started his car as though he wasn’t even aware he had a passenger. Neither moved their lips to speak.

Laurent’s bright smile drew my attention when he entered the car.

“I like your tattoo.” He commented, “I’ll admit, I’m not very familiar with your music, but I look forward to getting to know you!”

I gave him a polite nod and offered a handshake. He instinctively reached with his right hand and laughed to alleviate the strange mood when he had to twist his arm to grasp my hand.

“Whoops!” He laughed, almost too cheery. “Here, how about I play some of your music? No better way to know an artist than to see their work.”

I laughed, but gestured to encourage him.

“Your friend, Gael, sent me a bunch of songs.” He stated as he pulled something up on his phone to broadcast to the car speakers. One of our early songs started playing, an edgy track from Addictions. I snorted, thinking about how odd it was that our debut album theme would predict my entire life.

Laurent pulled out of the parking lot, dancing as he drove. It reminded me of my childhood, when my dad would do the same thing as he drove. Occasionally, dad would turn his head towards me and sing a line of whatever song was playing. As a child, it made me giggle. When I got older, I thought it was embarrassing. Now, it made me wistful.

“I wish I heard this sooner. You guys are good.” Laurent commented during the song change.

I smirked. If I could, I’d have given myself a moment to be rude, to say that we weren’t famous for nothing. Perhaps it was better that I was mute for now.

The next song crept into the car, a melody of a violin that I’d never heard aloud before, but knew from old thoughts in my head. I froze. This was a song I wrote, but not one that I shared with anyone.

I wanted to thank you

For each day of my life...

Gael’s voice rose, singing lyrics that were more of a private letter than a song. This was never meant to reach Gael; never meant to be recorded. This was never meant to be listened to. I squeezed my hand and my palm was sweaty.

Since I began living

Since the day you arrived...

Laurent kept driving and dancing in his seat despite the somber song, as if he wasn’t hearing something that shouldn’t exist. I held my breath, looking in the side mirror at where Gael’s car followed behind. If he sang this song of mine, he knows more about my feelings than I believed.

Without you,

Where would I be?

I picked up my phone and started typing to Gael. Each letter was frenzied, afraid. What would he say? If he sang that song, what did he know? How much has our friendship changed while I was asleep? I typed the same sentence over and over, trying desperately to get it right.

“You recorded a new song that I wrote.” I hit send.

The violin soared over me, steady and slow, while my heart raced out of control. I remembered he was driving and wouldn’t even see it. I dropped my phone into my lap, imagining the many things that he might say.

The car went silent and came to a halt, the music stopping in its tracks as the engine died. Peering out, I saw that we’d returned to my old apartment above the studio. My familiar windows loomed down at me, the memory of them on that dark night coming to mind. Now, though, they were bathed in the bright afternoon sun.

Laurent helped me out of the car and into my chair. I watched Gael approach. He reached into his pocket for his phone and I held my breath as he glanced at the screen.

He put it away as quickly as he retrieved it, making no expression to show that he saw my message.

We got into the elevator together, a tangible tension between Gael and Digitalis that clashed with Laurent’s oblivious humming. I stared, fixated, on the pocket where Gael had stashed his phone. Now and then, I glanced at the top of mine in vain, waiting for the blinking light of a new message in the corner. It never blinked, as I knew it wouldn’t.

The elevator opened, and we poured into the hallway. As we got closer to my apartment door, it seemed as though the walls were bending and rising around me, imposing. The last time I was here, I had felt so alone that I couldn’t even bear to enter again before I attempted suicide. How would I live in a place so dreary and filled with loneliness? How would I improve and heal as a person in a place so loaded with darkness? Even the other bandmates rarely stayed in their apartments here, so why should I be confined to this empty little place?

Gael opened the door to my apartment, silent as a whisper, and I gasped at the sight. Half of my furniture had been completely replaced or removed to make way for handicapped-friendly furnishings and assistance utilities. Railings were installed along the walls in some places. They replaced my high kitchen counters and breakfast bar with a shorter version that I would reach more easily without being too low for a standing person to use. I noticed a few more houseplants as well. The most notable was the morning glory that Digitalis got for me, prettily placed in a pot with a trellis.

Laurent pushed me inside, and Gael watched my face expectantly to gauge my reaction to the changes. I wonder if he saw how bewildered I was, how strange it was to see all the things that had to change to accommodate me, now. Something dropped within my chest at the thought that I had needed all of this to live my life. I tried to uplift myself, remembering that my arm was strong enough to lift my cup as it failed to before.

“We got you another chair, too, with electrical steering so you won’t need help to move around so much. It’s still on its way, though. Laurent will live here, too, so the guest bedroom became his.” Gael pointed down my hallway, still unlit and unchanged aside from the railing in it.

I thought about how strange it would be to share this space from now on. I didn’t even know Laurent well, and now I would see him every day and he would have to help me with everything I couldn’t yet do. I would have to practice talking to him, moving my limbs with him. I would share every meal with him from now on and rely on him. Is that something I could do?

“I moved in right after they finished renovations, so everything would be ready before you came back home!” Laurent exclaimed cheerily.

I raised my eyebrows at Gael, astonished by the rate this was all happening. He wasn’t looking at me. Laurent continued to take me down the hallway, opening my bedroom door. Everything inside was replaced, it seemed. There might have been familiar things that I just didn’t recall owning after the time I spent between Marcus’ apartment and my drunken states of mind. My bed was larger, but otherwise not too different. The painting on my wall had been swapped out from a minimalist blue one to a cool colored oil painting of a lake filled with lilies. There was a space with a new outlet installed. I could only assume this would be for the electric wheelchair that Gael had told me about, but there was nothing else suggesting what may go there. I had a new cabinet in the bedroom which seemed curious enough.

“I hope you like the changes!” Laurent burst out from behind me. He walked in front of my bed and held his arms out as if to frame the painting on the wall with them. “I helped design the room myself! This painting is a gift from me!”

My gaze returned to the painting.

“As are the houseplants. I’ve learned that having visible plants in a home uplifts the spirits! It’s kind of mysterious, isn’t it? But it really works!” He clapped his hands together, proud and expectant of my response.

I gave the ivy plant on my windowsill a passing glance, but the painting drew me. I studied it closer. The lilies were beautiful, but there was something about the water that seemed moody, deep, and forlorn.

“Do you like it? I painted it myself, years ago.” He admitted, looking up at the painting, his hands on his hips and leaning back slightly.

I nodded, though he wouldn’t see the way he was standing.

“I was going through a lot when I started that one. It was a turbulent time for me. When I painted the flowers, though, towards the end, I was finding the things in life that gave me joy.” His voice was soft and distant at first, but brightened by the end of his admission.

Viewing the painting in that light, I knew he was telling the truth. There was a turbulence to the emotions in the water. An enigmatic shadow beneath the surface that was carefully put in place with streaks of blue, green, black, and white. Had I not felt it so strongly, I may have only seen the flowers and paid it no mind. The lilies seemed almost out of place, emotionally. Though they were painted in masterfully and realistically, their colors popped and shone like sunbeams breaking into a dark room. They exuded joy and lightness that distracted from the water, but could not hide it.

Laurent turned back to me, his face as kind as ever.

“Want to see my room?” He asked, giddy.

I nodded politely, trying to disguise my curiosity. What kind of environment would he choose to fall asleep in every night?

We crossed the hall, and I turned my head at the sound of whispers in the living room. Gael and Digitalis faced away, discussing something that seemed to add to the tension between them.

Laurent’s room opened before me, and the light of the sun from his window blinded me before I could see a thing. He left me by the door to close the tan curtain, strangely similar to those I saw in rehab, but with skinny stripes of white and brown on it. His bed was just a normal full mattress on a wooden block with drawers, shelves full of books behind the pillows. A birch easel stood beside the window and a wide drafting table with an angled surface. Jars of paint and cups of assorted brushes filled a small shelf nearby. Paper lanterns hung from the ceiling in a variety of colors and patterns. On his floor a few feet from the bed was a simple round rug with vines and roses twisting around the border. In the center sat a rough Indian cushion for kneeling.

His closet door was closed and covered in sketches that were taped corner to corner across the surface of the wood. Flowers, smiling faces, and playing animals were all depicted on each paper, some with splashes of color. Oil paintings hung on the walls and were stacked against a wooden prop by the closest wall. Many were beautiful and intricately detailed, but only the most emotionally moving ones seemed to be chosen for the walls.

I noticed one that stood out from the rest, a painting with a pale cream background. Prominently in it was a large peony opening up in a white light, severe shadows cast beneath the petals. As much as I despised the flower, I admired the work. Something about it seemed honest to me. It was as if the peony had been laid bare by the light. The flower was scarcely able to keep anything hidden between its petals except the shadows which seemed to leap out against the light colors and highlights. I couldn’t bear to see it much longer.

“Do you like that one?” Laurent asked, noticing my intent gaze.

I flushed, unsure of how to answer. Even with words, I didn’t know how I might have described the way it made me feel.

“You’re much shyer than I expected. It’s pretty cute!” He gushed, helping me back out of his room. “In time, we can work on your arm a little by painting together. Won’t that be fun?”

It was strange to be around someone that I would normally be so attracted to and have absolutely no reaction to them as I did. Even with his playful words, it bordered on flirting enough that I should have had some reaction.

We went back into the living room, Gael and Digitalis turning when they detected us, going silent as we got close. Digitalis couldn’t hide her discontent, but Gael brought back that pleasant face he’d been using all day.

“Do you like everything?” Gael asked.

I nodded.

“Well, with all of that done, we’re going to head out and handle some more business. You guys get settled in. I’m available by my phone if you need me.” He stated, seeming a bit distracted. I remembered the message I had sent him, wondering if he’d read it, yet.

Digitalis came to hug me, but her arms were stiff. I recalled their whispers and the way they seemed to avoid each other’s eyes. Was Gael’s business some problem he had with her?

Laurent gave each of them a warm handshake to say goodbye, and I noted that Digitalis glared at him the whole time they touched. She left abruptly, slamming my door behind her. Gael closed his eyes in frustration, waving before he followed in a quieter fashion.

“Do you want to sit with me for a while? Maybe we can practice moving or speaking?” Laurent offered brightly.

I nodded, but checked my phone for Gael’s response first.

“I thought it was too beautiful to be left unsung.” His message read. My heart leapt in my chest, but I knew how he loved music. The adoration in the words wasn’t for me.

I lifted my eyes to meet Laurent’s as he extended a hand to help me out of my chair. Pushing with my intact leg and arm, I could do most of the work myself, now. He guided me to the couch, allowing me to limp to it. I tried to stretch my toes in my paralyzed leg while I was standing, but couldn’t do much more. Still, a few toes were better than none. He helped me sit onto the firm, leather couch, resting my bad arm palm down on the armrest before kneeling in front of me.

“Alright, so I spoke to Francine and I think I’m up to speed with your progress. Lets see if we can get you to lift two fingers today.” He was focused on my hand even before asking me to move it. “If you don’t mind, perhaps we can get to know each other during this exercise. I’ll tell you a little about myself.”

I glared at my hand, willing my fingers to move. One twitched and lifted slightly, but the other wouldn’t budge.

“So, I’ve done some research about you and I know that you have suffered with depression for much of your life.” He started, still watching my fingers.

I glanced up at him momentarily, wary of this line of thought he was pursuing.

“It’s my philosophy that if you want to establish trust with someone, it’s good to show vulnerability to them. So I’d like to tell you about my experience with depression, so we can be on the same level as each other.”

I nodded, curious.

“When I was younger, I had the same problem for many years. It was really hard to handle. My father was an opiate addict, always falling asleep in his chair and letting his cigarettes fall from his mouth to burn holes in anything they fell upon. We lost our first house that way when I was a child. I tried to care for him, picking them up before they’d catch anything on fire and making sure he ate and slept.” He paused for when my second finger twitched, watching.

My breath hitched as I tried to hold it up, but came out in a sigh when it was motionless again.

“That was very good, Asya. Keep trying.” He urged. After a moment of silence, he continued, “When I became a teenager I was too angry to help him. I had told him I wished he’d just burn up and die. He never seemed to care.”

I held my breath as I strained again to force both up the way they had been for that glorious moment. He watched as one rose and stayed, the other quavering. I had to breathe, and my fingers fell flat again.

“I had a girlfriend for almost my entire high school career. She introduced me to psychedelic drugs, and I used them to cope with my troublesome home life. I despised drugs, but those seemed different. At first, it was all about the amazing feelings and colors. I became passionate about painting and experimented with higher doses to keep inspiration flowing. I fell deeply in love with my girlfriend. It seemed we connected on a level that transcended even the euphoria of the psychedelics. I planned on marrying her once we graduated, but she killed herself before that time came. She was dealing with her own demons and I was too sucked into my world to notice.”

My eyes widened as I became slightly distracted by his story. He was still looking at my hands, his face composed and calm as if he didn’t just tell me something that would normally be said only to trusted friends. I focused again on our exercise, waiting for him to continue.

“I became severely depressed after that. I hadn’t imagined a future without her. After her, I only fell in love two more times: a man once and a woman second. It was never the same, and I didn’t connect with them, so I broke things off. But I abused the psychedelics. I had a few bad trips that screwed with my mind enough to stop for a while. Yet, I had used them the wrong way and became dependent on them to become inspired.” He placed his hand on mine. “Take a break. You’re looking a little strained.” He smiled compassionately, and I relaxed my hand, my eyes fixed on his.

“So, I ran away from home. I lived in a few different people’s houses for the next year before my dad reached out to me. He had gone to rehab, not because he realized the error of his ways or regretted how he neglected me. He was arrested when someone discovered that I wasn’t living at home. The police discovered his pills. I was angry, I bought a few tabs of acid, and I wandered through the city high.” He closed his eyes, but continued.

“But everything changed for me that night. For an entire day, I wandered the streets in that state and I had a mystical experience. I realized what was wrong with my state of mind, that I was physically and emotionally unhealthy. I needed to change some things in order to live a happy life. People walked around me, smiling for seemingly no reason. It dawned on me it was their connection to their friends that made them vibrant. For those who were alone, it was nature that seemed to call them. As I walked through the park, I experienced the joy of nature in the pond, the trees, the sun.” He was holding my hand, still staring into my eyes with such a profound look in his eyes.

“I am who I am today because of that experience. I’m not telling you that the way to fix your mind is to take drugs until something clicks. I’m sharing the realization I had. If you nurture your body with healthy food and exercise, get sleep, maintain healthy relationships with others, and keep in touch with yourself and with nature, you can overcome depression. It’s a process, and it takes a long time, but you can achieve true bliss even from the lowest point of your life. I began going to the park, and I stopped abusing drugs. I poured myself into my paintings and each day made sure that I fulfilled my checklist of health needs: my sleep, exercise, and healthy meals. For a while, I was still depressed, but I dragged myself out over years and felt like a new person by the end.” He looked back down at my hand.

“This is what I would like to teach you, Asya. I understand the pain you’ve suffered and I would like to teach you the skills to maintain a healthy body and to overcome psychological distress. I know how helpless and isolated it feels to be in such states that you’ve been in, but you can get back on your feet.” He stood, raising me up with him.

I shook at first, nervous that he’d try to make me stand on my own. Without one half of my body, this was disastrous. Yet, he still held me, making sure that my quivering wouldn’t allow me to fall.

“I want to teach you how to do this without me, someday. Will you work with me on it?” His gaze penetrated me, determined and certain.

I nodded, entranced by that look in his eyes. It was the same expression that made me fall in love with Gael, a raw passion and confidence that I had only scratched the surface of within myself. My heart fluttered at the sight of it, an odd feeling considering whose face caused it to happen.

He grinned as if he hadn’t just told me the story he had and helped me sit back down on the couch.

“Let’s practice talking for a while. I heard you wanted to sing again.” He smiled, referencing the list I had made for Francine.

I smirked cynically and got ready to tell him my life story, knowing he wouldn’t understand a word.