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IMPORTANT A/N: Entire chapter changed (with few bits remaining the same) because I just didn’t feel comfortable with Mikhail…I liked him but he was too much of a girl. I also felt I was doing too much telling than showing and the ending sucked. So yeah…hence a more manly-ish Mikhail and (hopefully) a more appropriate ending to this chapter.
Mikhail: Crossing Comfort Zones
My parents named me after an angel. Angel Mikhail. As the first child conceived after much trying, they likened me to a blessing, an angel from God. Well, that’s what my mother says. My dad claims it’s because my ears reminded him of Mickey Mouse and Mikhail could easily be nicknamed into ‘Mickey’. I don’t know what he was on though, because I can assure you that my ears look perfectly normal.
When my little brother was born, ten years after me, they named him Suleiman. Mainly because my Nenek complained that my parents were too anglicized, so a good solid Muslim name was in order. Little did she know that we only called him his proper name when she came to visit, most of the time we called him Sully.
I guess this sort of makes my family sound like matsaleh wannabes. We’re not though; we’re proud Sarawakians to which Jonah can attest to. After all, the first time Jonah and I met wasn’t at school; it was at some ‘Proud to be Sarawakian’ shindig.
A shindig which resulted in a pact of brotherhood between the two of us out of pure boredom. And it was a brotherhood that lasted.
We were comparing guitars at the ripe age of thirteen, when most other guys were comparing the size of their new Nike football shoes. At that time Jonah had this real beauty - an ultramarine Yamaha CPX900. I was, of course, jealous as hell. All I had was my dad’s old Yamaha CGS104, which is basically a nine year old kid’s guitar.
But that jealousy shot out of the window when my parents bought me my baby for my fourteenth birthday, my Fender J5 Signature Acoustic Guitar. It was love at first sight. I could even feel the butterflies in my stomach. Or that might just have been all the mountain dew I’d drunk (two whole one litre bottles all by myself as George had dared me to, on my birthday no less. A coming of age ritual, he’d said, and I was fool enough to do it. Let me tell you, sleep did not come easy that night).
Normally I’m not one of those romantic dudes - as far as I’m concerned guys aren’t meant to be hidden romantics and such. Some guys are of course, there’s always that odd dude who wants to sweep his future wife off her feet, but I don’t belong to that group.
My dad does though and it’s my personal belief that dad’s done enough to last the Yusuf family a lifetime of sweeping girls of their feet.
But I swear, the minute I laid my eyes on Marley (which is what I named my baby, after great consideration), I was smitten. I couldn’t take my eyes of it.
I used to hate going to school and spending time away from it. Seriously, I could barely concentrate in school and it got so bad that my parents had to threaten to return it in order to make me pull my grades back up.
I was that infatuated, but could you blame me? Even Jonah fell hands over pick for my baby, though I rarely let anyone else touch it.
I’d like to think I’m better now.
Nonetheless, I missed Marley whenever I had to comply with playing the common room’s Yamaha C40, like I was doing now, after classes had ended. I mean, it’s not bad, but it’s nowhere close to a Fender. That’s like comparing a storm trooper to Darth Vader. Not done man, not done.
Although, my little brother does like to say a true guitarist can make music even with rubber bands wrapped around a cardboard box. Then again, he’s only seven and he also believe gluing two paper plates with dry rice inside makes for an awesome tambourine.
I’m currently trying to play Wonderwall but the guitar has been whacked up by the lower sixth formers so I keep on having to retune it.
“Excuse me,” a voice quavers above me as I’m about to retune the guitar for the umpteenth time, “but could I borrow the guitar?”
I look up to see Jameela, one of Jonahs science buddies. They’re always cracking weird jokes between themselves, like she’ll say “Hydrogen is such a whore, it'll bond to anything!” to which he replies “Yeah, but Helium is such a prude.” And then they’ll both crack up like that’s the funniest shit ever. The only one I’ve ever found funny is “The Name's Bond, Ionic Bond... taken, not shared”, but then again I’m not much of a science guy.
I think my face looks surprised because she quickly adds “It’s just that I need to practice tuning guitars for my guitar lessons and I barely have time to practice after school.”
“Sure,” I reply and hand it over to her, a bit reluctantly.
“Thanks,” she says and sits down on the chair next to me. She bits her lips, looking uncertain and then starts tuning the guitar.
She’s rather unsuccessful at it and although the sound isn’t exactly unpleasant I’m afraid she’ll spoil the guitar even further.
“Uhm, do you need help with that?” I ask as I scratch my head awkwardly.
She looks up from the guitar and immediately beams, as if she’d been hoping I’d ask, “Oh God, yes.”
I take the guitar back from her, relieved to have it back on my lap.
“So what type of tuning are you meant to do?” I inquire as I strum the guitar, trying to catch the off-key strings.
She frowns slightly and the replies, “I think it’s the open…um…open….”
“Open-D? Open-G?” I try to help her out, slightly nonplussed that she doesn’t know what she was meant to be practicing.
“Open-D,” she nods her head, as if confirming it more to herself than to me.
“That’s pretty easy,” I try to say it in a reassuring manner, but come off sounding condescending.
This is why I rarely talk to girls I’m not friends with, it makes me too nervous and I end up sounding like a jerk.
“Oh,” is all she says in reply and watches intently as I retune the guitar scrupulously slow for her sake.
“Do you know how to play any song?” I ask as I pass it to her. I realise that I sound condescending again and immediately add, “Because that’s always a good way to check if you’ve tuned it properly, by playing a song you know.”
“I know Day Tripper,” she answers, looking uncertain, “but…but…I’m not really that good at it.”
“It’s Ok,” I assure her, and thankfully I actually sound friendly, “just play what you know.”
She plays the chorus and I immediately notice that the third string is a bit off. However, I don’t say anything, in case that’s how it always sounds when she plays and I’ll seem as an even bigger jerk.
Her frown deepens and she plays it again, and then again. Finally, she looks at me, almost frightened. She gulps and then nervously tells me, “No offence but I think the third string’s a bit off.”
“It is,” I shrug easily, not seeing why I should take offence at something that is true.
She scratches her neck nervously and turns slightly red, “Would you, uh, mind showing me how to tune it again? I’m not too sure yet…”
“Ok,” I easily reply. It’s only expected that she didn’t get it the first time, heck I didn’t get how to do it until my dad showed me for the fifteenth time. If she had got it the first time I’d have to bow down to her.
I start tuning the guitar but she stares so intensely at my hands they start to sweat. For the first time in years I feel nervous about tuning the guitar. My left hand slips and I push the tuner much further then I intended to.
I mumble an apology and start to tune it from the beginning for her sake. It’s a good thing I’ve never dreamed of becoming a guitar teacher because I’m obviously not cut out for it.
After I’m done I pass it back to her. She plays Day Tripper once more and this time it sounds perfect.
“Cool,” she grins.
I reach over and mess with the tuners, causing her to look up at me in shock.
“You have to tune it yourself now,” I explain, “it’s the only way you’ll learn.”
She lets out a nervous breath of air and mutters, “well here goes nothing.”
She starts to tune it and already I can hear the mistakes she’s making. I steal a quick glance at my watch – luckily there’s still half an hour to teach her.
Everyone turns around to see a beaming Jameela being grabbed into a hug by Jonah.
“J-Girl!” she exclaims just as loudly and gives his left arm a light punch as they break apart.
“Dude, that’s so not cool, I at least made you a man,” Jonah shakes his head.
“So you want to be a woman?” Jameela smirks, raising her right eyebrow.
“What? No!” Jonah starts to laugh, causing her to giggle as well. As soon as they’re done Jonah grins and adds, “Although I must admit, I’d make a smashing female.”
“Oh, you’d be gorgeous darling,” Jameela purrs, surprising me (and probably everyone else as well) because I’ve never heard her talk like that before. I mean, she hadn’t won the Miss. Timid title between us guys for no reason.
“I know,” Jonah grins, “oh, and that reminds me! I found a new joke, wanna hear?”
“Sure!” Jameela exclaims at the same time Zhen screams “No!”
By now most people have turned back to whatever they were doing, used to this regular occurrence of corny science jokes. Only the fellow chemists were watching on with avid interest.
“Coolios! Ok, so tell me, what do you do when you find a dead chemist?” he asks.
“What?” she demands, grinning widely as Zhen silently groans.
“Barium!” Jonah responds and sends them both into a fit (as well as few of the other chemists, the others turn away with a roll of the eyes).
Zhen sees me staring and gives me a ‘save me’ look; the same look we exchange every time Mr. Rick goes off into monologues during literature.
“Ooh! I’ve got one as well!” Jameela giggles, causing Zhen to send me a look of mock-horror, “What's the difference between Chemistry and cooking?”
“I dunno,” Jonah replies good-naturedly, “what is it?”
Just before she replies I shout out to Jonah, “Hey man, how come you didn’t use the mix CD I made you? We could use a little music here.”
“Oh man I forgot!” Jonah slaps his forehead, “I’ll go get it now!”
He tells Jameela to complete the joke later and runs off. Zhen mouths a silent ‘thank you’ at me while Jameela gives me a strange look.
I simply shrug and turn back to talk to my mates. George recounts his ‘Drama’ stories to the gang, which I know all too well because George and I are the only males who take drama. Always thought that females creating non-stop drama was a stereotype? Well, think again. Especially ‘actresses’ (and I’m using that term really lightly).
As ‘Another One Bites the Dust’ starts blasting through the stereos Jonah runs up to me.
“Hey dude, let’s have a Guitar Off after dinner,” He says excitedly.
“Is that the entertainment you’ve planned for tonight?” I raise my eyebrow.
“Well yeah, what else could be more entertaining than me, Guitar Maestro Extraordinaire, challenge my young but fool-hardy apprentice, Mikhail?”
“I dunno dude, I’d hate to kick your ass at your own party.”
“Tch, as if you could even.”
“Dangerous words dude,” I warn him, “it’s so on. I’m not even gonna hold back for you now.”
Jonah simply rolls his eyes.
And that’s how I found myself and hour later stuck once again with a Yamaha, craving for my ravishing Marley. You see, although Jonah’s house had many musical instruments (his dad was an executive in some music company), and enough guitars to supply our band with they were all Yamaha. Every single one. And Jonah, quite tragically, was a Yamaha addict. He simply refused to believe that any other brand could do music justice.
Although, I think I might have somewhat made space in his heart for a certain magnificent Fender.
We were both sitting on the couch with people littered all around us.
Even though we hadn’t started, half the crowd was cheering on for Jonah, while the rest were cheering on for me. George, always needing to be the exception, was cheering both our names alternatively (“Go Jonah! It’s your party. Go Mikhail! You’re my buddy!”).
“Are you ready to lose any semblance of manlyhood in you?” Jonah inquires haughtily.
“Man, even if I lose my manlyhood I’d still have more than you could ever dream to have,” I chuckle.
“Whatever. Let’s do this,” he pretends to growl.
We both get into a crazy rendition of Wild Thing when someone asks really loudly, “How are they judging this again?”
Jonah stops playing and groans. He sends a mock-glare at Jameela (who, apparently, was the one who had asked the offensive question) and whines, “Why do you always have to be so logical?”
“Well geez,” she pretends to get huffy, “I’m sorry for having a brain.”
He ignores her and turns to me.
“Well, how are we meant to judge this old chap?” he asks, putting on a posh British accent.
“I am not too sure my good fellow,” I mimic his accent, “but a panellist of three sounds just about right, would you not think so?”
“I would think so, my dear man, I would,” he nods his head sagely.
And exactly at the same time he yells “Joey!” I yell “Abdul and George!”
Jonah shrugs, “I’d have chosen Georgie boy as well.”
After playing Wild Thing in turns and then Lola and finally Teenage Wasteland the judges come to the decision that it’s a tie and that they’re starving and wander off to get food.
“Losers!” Jonah yells at their retreating backs. He looks at me pityingly, “They just didn’t have the heart to tell you that I’m too good to be even compared to you.”
I pat him reassuringly on the back, “Its ok man, the truth is they didn’t want to insult you for fear of not getting fed, otherwise they wouldn’t even have hesitated to say how swiftly I kicked your ass.”
“Sure,” Jonah laughs, rolling his eyes, “Anyways, the drinking games are about to start now so if you want to leave, I’d totally understand.”
I harden my face and look at him stolidly, “Are you trying to subtly kick me out?”
Jonah starts to panic, “No man! You’re my bro dude! I’d never…” He stops when he sees that I’m trying hard not to laugh.
“Oh get outta here,” he grumbles, stalking away to where the games were beginning.
“He’s so easy to rile up,” I hear a hesitant voice behind me.
“He is,” I turn towards Jameela. She’s smiling at the retreating figure of Jonah. I figure it’s best to try and make conversation since she obviously won’t be drinking either and hence will be my companion for the rest of the night. I rack my brain for something to say, “Uh, hey, I wanted to ask, how are your guitar lessons going?”
She wrinkles her nose in disgust, “I suck so bad, I think my teacher’s starting to wish for an early retirement.”
“You’re not too bad,” I reply, unsure of what else to say.
“I wish,” she sighs, “Oh, you guys were awesome by the way. Both of you played like pros.”
I wasn’t sure how to respond to that as well, so I just smiled.
“Jonah was meant to help me” she says, and I feel bad because I can tell she’s trying hard to keep the conversation going, “but the dork that he is he keeps forgetting.”
“Haha,” I laugh nervously, “That’s Jonah for you, if nothing else, a huge dork.”
“Yeah,” she smiles, shaking her head as starts Jonah yells “I’m the King of the WURRLLLLD!”, and then, more to herself than me, she mutters, “Can you believe I used to like that dork?”
All of a sudden she goes pale and her eyes widen as she realises she’s just said that out loud.
“Don’t worry,” I try to comfort her, “sometimes I speak without thinking as well.”
And then my eyes widen because I can’t believe what I’ve just said.
Smooth move, Mikhail. No wonder I’m a real ladies man.
Songs used (they're pretty old skool 'cause I'm cool like that, yo):
Wonderwall - Oasis
Day Tripper - The Beatles
Another One Bites the Dust - Queen
Wild Thing - The Troggs
Lola - The Kinks
Teenage Wasteland - The Who
Reply to Reviews:
Kjersti - Hope you don't mind but I changed the chapter! And - no more misunderstandings...just loads of embarrassment.
