coffeeshop therapy -- sophomore summer, high school

I was looking through his pictures distractedly. It wasn’t my idea to try out for the Singing Angels. I flipped picture after picture of their trip to Mexico last summer, a lot of dorky kids in uniforms smiling in exotic locales.
I did like the idea of my learning to play bass guitar. That was Tom’s plan – for me to learn the instrument and join him in the Singing Angels’ back-up band. They had had a great time that last summer, and he went on and on about his friends from the group. There was a story behind every picture.
I got to one photo, of three girls laughing hysterically. The middle one – my God, she was beautiful. “Who’s that?” I asked Tom.
“That’s Joy. She’s really cool.”
I was still stewing about Kim. A little hurt and a little angry, I wasn’t letting go of her too well.
But I began to practice on Tom’s Dad’s bass. As I took off on the thing; as my birthday and the beginning of school approached and my parents bought me a cheap starter bass and the Singing Angels try-out came upon me and I “made it”, my heart re-attached to other diversions.
I also tried out for our high school Jazz Ensemble (Tom’s idea as well). Mr. Roytz was touched by how much work I put into learning the parts, so I’d be trading off the duty of bass-player with another kid.
I was enjoying the present and my expectations of the coming school year, more so than any other time in my life. I was excelling at something that was my own goal (well, maybe a bit of my friend Tom’s goal, too), that had nothing to do with my parents’ desires for me. And I was looking forward to meeting that strawberry-blonde girl from Tom’s photo.
In study hall one day, I printed out a note to Kim, apologizing to her for having pushed her away with my clinging. It was the first time I’d ever made a serious amends. A rock fell off my heart, and I was free to enjoy my Junior year in high school.