by Ava Danielle
“She’s right,” Rosa interrupts.
“Stop it. You two know I can’t say no when you both beg,” he rolls his eyes, “Fine.”
Always have a good little black dress and pearls. I love the very modern loose fit black dress I own with thin straps and lace cleavage revealing a little but not too much. It’s sexy and short, but elegant and considered non-slutty with its elegance.
When I told Elliot about dinner and his mom coming over with him he was over the moon filled with excitement. He sounded giddier than I did. We’ve exchanged numbers and have been texting all afternoon while I was getting ready. His mother is nervous reading too much into it and Elliot has been making fun of her trying to remind her it’s just a dinner, we’re not trying to set the two up but trying to get them out and into the world of dating again.
Nervously I walk through the house with my golden stilettos driving my dad bat shit crazy, “Would you sit down with those damn things,” he suggests, but I can’t. I shake my head no and continue to pace. I’m a wreck. “Melody,” Rosa tries to sound stern but I just laugh at her, right at that moment, the doorbell rings and I’m stuck to the floor.
“Open it,” my father says, but Rosa tries to beat me to it. “Stop,” I say, “I got it,” I smile as I walk towards the door.
As I open the door, my heart races about a mile a minute, I don’t’ know why I’m so nervous. This isn’t the first time we have hung out together, but this is the first time it felt real. Real because we’re introducing families. It might be harmless because we’re neighbors, they’re neighbors, but it still feels awkward and serious.
“Hi Janine,” I smile as I stare at how gorgeous she is.
Dressed in a plain grey slate dress with a covered cleavage, his mom looks stunning and elegant, simple, yet stylish. She’s a beautiful woman. When I met her earlier, she looked comfortable, now she looks like she’s a Hollywood actress on the red carpet, very pretty, I would hope when I’m in my forties, I look this great. Her hair is up in a ponytail showing off her long neck. She reminded me of my friends’ mothers that I always envied.
“Come in,” I smile as I introduce my father to Janine.
“Nice to meet you,” they both greet each other with a firm handshake.
“About time you meet your neighbor,” Elliot teases.
“Shhh,” I roll my eyes at him.
“Hey beautiful,” he hugs me and kisses my forehead, “You look amazing.”
“You clean up pretty good yourself,” I grin enjoying his khakis and blue button shirt, looking fresh with his converse.
Rosa had outdone herself with a three-course meal, and out of those three, the Tiramisu she made has to be by far my favorite. The conversations were rolling and no one skipped a beat. We all had something to talk about, in fact at times Elliot and I had to interrupt our parent in order to speak and maybe even disagree with what they were saying. When the old generation and the new generation get together, not always is everyone in agreement, especially when it comes to social media.
“Yeah, but without YouTube I wouldn’t have been found to even audition for the Phil harmonica, mom,” Elliot gets defensive.
“I know, but back then they didn’t have YouTube and look how far they made it,” Janine argues back.
“These are the times and we have to go with them now, if we want to be recognized we have to stay with the times, whether we agree on them or not,” I try to sound rational.
“She’s right, we just have to learn to accept it and try to go along with it,” my father always seems to see the positive in everything.
Our conversations have moved out into the living room. Sitting next to Elliot on the couch I’m starting to get fidgety about wanting to leave the two alone for a little while, “Let me show you my tree house,” I whisper into Elliot’s ear.
“Do you two have secrets?” my father stops his conversation and focuses on me.
“Actually, I’m going to show Elliot the tree house, we’ll be right back,” I grab Elliot’s hand and we disappear out of the room before he gets a chance to refuse to be alone with Janine.
My father is very difficult to please at times, it’ll take a special kind of woman to ever be able to be around him for more than a couple of hours. He loves his work. Music. The history of music. Not just the tunes. Every song he listens to has a story to tell and most likely he will know that story. For me it can get boring after a while because I’m more of the type that wants to enjoy the music and not talk about it. I want it to speak to me and in a way I feel it and not the history behind it. My mother was the woman that would enjoy listening to him for hours and try to find history of songs on her own; they shared a special bond. And to even remotely get closed to that, it’ll be hard.
“Couldn’t handle it anymore?” Elliot laughs as we make our way through the yard.
“No, it’s not that, I wanted to give them two some privacy,” I admit, but also stretch the truth a bit, because honestly, I wanted to spend my last night here alone with him.
As we climb the stairs to the tree house, Elliot is a little beside himself, “is this really yours?” he’s surprised by the greatness of my tree house.
“Yes,” I say as we make it to the porch of the tree house, big enough for a small chair to sit next to the door.
“It’s not girly at all,” he states the obvious.
The tree house is kept to its natural colors, wood grain, and the only décor in sight that might be considered girly are the blue curtains covering the window, only to be able to shut them in the summer to keep some of the light out as I would play the violin.
“This is my sacred place,” I smile as we sit on the most eighty’s flower power couch you can imagine.
“Nice couch,” he grins.
“Don’t hate on the couch, it was free fifteen years ago. All this furniture and the instruments were free,” I reminisce about searching for each item listed on the Internet and if it was free and salvageable or fixable, I would want to have it here. My little retro corner is what I would call it.
“Not hating, just saying I like,” he lies and you can see it in his eyes.
“So,” I grab his hand to feel him close to me, “I have to tell you something.”
“Oh shit,” he inches closer to me, “don’t tell me you’re breaking up with me,” his words resonating to a fifteen-year-old girl in love for the first time.
“It’s not you, it’s me,” I joke along.
“That’s what they all say,” his girly voice squeaks as he rolls his eyes looking away, “Hmpf.”
“No, but seriously. I’m headed back to the city tomorrow. I have to get back to work and I’m graduating soon so I have a shit ton of stuff still going on. I’m sorry.”
“I knew we wouldn’t have forever. I actually have to leave in a couple days as well to pack all my things in Rochester, so I get it.”
Silence falls between us. I’m not sure if we’re together. I’m not sure what this weekend was. I’m not sure of anything at the moment. I’d like to be with Elliot, but it’s impossible when we both live different lives.
“Wanna try the long-distance thing?” he catches me off guard.
“What?”
“Long distance. Melody, I like you. I just got out of a serious relationship, I told you all about that, so it’s not like I’m trying to be with someone every day of my life just yet, but I like you a lot and I would love it if we stayed in touch.”
“Boyfriend/Girlfriend in touch?”
“Well I mean, we shouldn’t be going out meeting someone new but if it happens, so be it, I can’t stop you. But I’ll be thinking about you. I think about you when we’re together, I think about you when we’re not together, and I just met you four days ago, so I have no idea what any of that means,” he’s flabbergasted.
“I like you too, Elliot.”
“So, what do you say?” he leans in and kisses me to make my decision even harder, “did that kiss convince you?”
“Not really, you’d have to try harder,” I tease.
Kissing and making out on my old hippy couch was never in my future. So, I thought. I’m not a teenager anymore trying to hide a boy from my father. I’m a grown woman that lives on her own, but it feels like I’m doing something in this tree house I shouldn’t and that adrenaline kicks in as I make sure he doesn’t stop kissing me.
It’s hot. It’s intense. It’s magical. And it’s had me cum a few times. His touch. His hand caressing my tits. His tongue and lips pressed against my neck. We’re making out like teenagers on the couch. It’s hot, it’s heavy, but it’s not what I want.
“Not here, not yet,” I whisper.
“Of course not,” he agrees.
But why do I want to so badly?
After taking Melody to the train station to return to the city, I think back to last night in the tree house. Put that on the bucket list. Made out in a tree house. And when I say made out, I mean we nearly went all the way had we not stopped each other. Those words, “not here, not yet,” definitely meant something.
Five days, we’ve known each other and kissed and made out in a time frame of five days. Five days can mean a lot. I’ve learned more about Melody in five days than I’ve known about Samantha in two years and that’s saying something. I was deeply in love with Samantha, and truthfully, I still kind of am since I haven’t really gotten over it just yet. I know I have to hate her for what she did to me, cheating is where I cross the line, but that doesn’t mean I can just forget the two years leading up to that moment. We had some good times together and after she called me the other day I had given it some thought. I’ll never be with her again, that’s a definite, but I promised to sit down with her and have an adult conversation about where we stand and what happened. When the moment was that things went so badly, we both deserve an ending without complete chaos. I owe it to us.
Melody though, she has a part of my heart I didn’t know existed. There’s something besides passion there, something besides desire, and something besides curiosity. I just hadn’t figured out just what it is. We promised each other to talk almost every night and a good morning every day. If there was a chance to meet we need to take it. If we meet someone else along the way, we need to be honest and up front. I’m hoping we don’t meet anyone, but in life, you never know.
“Mom, would you mind if I left a day early to go back to Rochester to pack my things? I’d be back sooner,” I say all this before realizing who she’s sitting with at the kitchen table, “Mr. Clark, I had no idea we had company,” I’m shocked.
“You can call me Grant, Elliot,” he shakes my hand.
“Hi Grant,” I greet.
“Sure. Are you going to be back down Saturday then?” Mom answers my question from earlier as I stare at the two just sitting at the table having a conversation.
Last time I saw my mother have a conversation with someone other than friends or colleagues, was the time she sat at the table with my bastard father. That day she sat crying and distraught. Today, she’s smiling opposite of a man that returns the smile.
“I’m going to leave you two to it and pack my bags,” I excuse myself.
Sitting on the bed of my childhood bedroom, walls covered in blue with the baseball theme comforter and baseball shaped pillow, I pull my phone out and text Melody the big news.
ELLIOT: Your dad is at my house.
Not but a few minutes later a return text buzzes in my hand.
MELODY: WHAT??
ELLIOT: They’re talking at our dining room table. Last time I saw my mom smile like that was, well, I don’t even remember.
MELODY: Last time my father had a conversation with a woman was with Rosa.
ELLIOT: They seem to be hitting it off fairly well. How’s the trip going?
MELODY: I’m almost to my stop. Hey Elliot?!
ME: Yes?
Patiently I wait for a response. Staring at my phone I notice there aren’t any dots revealing someone typing. Dead silence. I worry, but not so much I will make a scene by blowing up her phone. And I wait. And I wait. And I wait.
My apartment is quiet and somber. I’ve only been gone for about a week, but it feels like this isn’t even home, although I’m happy to be sitting on my couch in quietness. I do miss Elliot though and most definitely my father. This used to be my retreat from life, but right now it feels extremely lonesome.
I left Elliot waiting for my reply, on purpose. Not to hurt his feelings or worry him, but to show him we don’t have to be addicted to each other through our phones. We need a chance to miss each other and use that extra time thinking about each other rather than knowing every single thought. At least to start whatever we’ll call this – relationship/friendship with perks… I don’t even know.
MELODY: I miss you!
Three simple words. I place my phone on the edge of the couch as I go to the bathroom to get ready for the night. Plain pajamas, my hair put into a bun, and the makeup has been cleared off my face. Craving a bowl of ice cream, I whip me up a bowl, turn the television to the Bachelorette and laugh at all the guys veering for her love. A bunch of losers that never found a girl on their own so they had to join a television show, because who would want them out in the real world? Checking on my phone to see if I’d received a message, I beam at the long paragraph he sent me.
ELLIOT: That’s what the “hey” was for? You had me worried. But not too much to text you like a mad man, but nearly enough to find you in the city. I would find you, you know. There’s only one pretty girl so if I ask anyone on Times Square where to find you, they’d direct me straight to you. Guess what?
ME: Silly. You haven’t been to the city to see the madness when you ask for anyone have you? What?
ELLIOT: I miss you too ;)
The next day I’m ready to take care of some of the school things I’ve missed that are required for graduation. I practice the violin with some of my classmates, orchestra practice; I’m back in the swing of things, but sad all this will soon be over. I get very sentimental over all sorts of changes. I grew up in the same house for eighteen years. I’ve had the same favorite food for the past fifteen years. I don’t do change too awful much and saying goodbye to something that has been part of my everyday life is difficult for me. I hate goodbyes and I hate when chapters end and new one’s begin, unless it comes to people and relationships. The past four years, Juilliard is all I’ve known. I’ve learned so much here.
“Hey you, I’ve missed you,” my best friend Isabelle hugs me at the local donut shop I decided to stop after class for a break and snack.
“Wanna party tonight?” I ask begging for a change of scenery.
“Sure, where you wanna go?” she’s ready and willing.
“I don’t know, surprise me,” I know I can always count on Isabelle to find us a great place to hang.
At the local bowling alley, I can’t believe Isabelle brought me here to hang out. The dance music blasting through the speakers definitely hinders us to catch up on what all I missed. She is a wild girl that barely has meaningful conversations. She’s the wild one with a passion for fun. And this bowling date amongst friends shouldn’t surprise me.
One strike after the other, we’re knocking our scores out of the park. I never mentioned this, but I’m a pretty good bowler. I’d like to think I’m better than Isabelle, which would be lying though, since she was in a league during high school and knows her way around a lane. She’s extremely competitive and even though I’m not half bad, she makes it known she is way better and strives to win. It’s amusing.
Catching her up to what’s been happening while I was back home, she’s picking on me in true best friend fashion and demands to meet the guy, the guy that might be the one for me that she actually has to approve of. Her words, not mine. It’s not that serious between Elliot and I, at least I don’t think so. We got a little close, but we’re going our separate ways, though I miss him extremely hard.
It’s been two weeks
and I’ve made one big decision. There’s one major step I need to take. She doesn’t know it, but Melody will get the surprise of a lifetime. I’m in on it with her father and I hope for the love of love, this will work out just how I had imagined.
I’ve done nothing but miss Melody. I’ve longed for her in every way possible. I’ve completely forgotten about Samantha, although she doesn’t seem to think so. I’ve made the decision to fight for Melody and try to make our relationship work. I want the girl. I want her in my life. I want her near me as much as I can have her near me. I want to be the one for her, I truly believe she’s the one for me. And no, it’s not just the five days we got to spend together back home, but because we’ve talked every night, every day, texted nearly twenty-four hours back and forth and we’ve gotten so close. Our dreams could be reality if we tried. We could make any of our dreams come true if we worked at them, because not only are they the same, we long for the same dreams. Our passion for music allows us to fight through anything if only we tried.
So, with the help of her father, this will be a surprise of a lifetime.
Graduation day. I’m completely finished with Julliard and I can’t believe it. My life has been this school. What I have learned here in the past years allows me to go so far in life; it’s a time I couldn’t be more grateful for. I’m going to miss some of the teachers and friends I’ve made here, the memories this place holds for me. It’s been an advantage and an honor to have had the opportunity to study here. I’m forever thankful for the lessons learned and what the future holds for me.
In my blue and red gown, I sit before the stage in the second row amongst my fellow graduates listening to Stephen McKinley Henderson give his address to us at the Commencement Ceremony.
“Fellow honoraria’s, distinguished guests, esteemed faculty, proud parent’s family and friends of those whose day has come. Hail to the Juilliard School graduates class of 2017. I am honored and humbled by the invitation to speak to you today,” his words start and everyone is focused on his words as he continues to speak and only a few words really stick with me, “Don’t get it right, get it true. Support the arts and encourage other artists. Remember reviews and fan mail are not must reading. The time has come to gather your belongings. Pack what you can, put the rest in your hearts, and go. The world is waiting for you,” those words hit me harder than I could’ve ever expected.
