by Ava Danielle
His fingers playing the saddest tune I’ve ever heard, he’s in full concentration and doesn’t see me. He looks sad. Everything about this situation is sad. The way he carries the tune shines through his demeanor. He feels the music. Every note he plays, he feels. None of it matters. I am however, enjoying every sound Elliot plays. Sitting against the wall of a building, out of his sight, I close my eyes and envision happiness. Our happiness. A happiness that will no longer exist. Thankful though, I had the time with him I did. He’ll always have a special place in my heart.
I’ve played the piano in the middle of Time’s Square for the past two hours in the hopes Melody would show up. Hoping once she sees me and hears the music I’m playing she’d reconsider ignoring me. Secretly wishing she would join me on the bench and we could get past this. Anxiously waiting for her to be near me. But every song I play, it captures an audience, but not the audience I’ve been dying to have. I beg the universe this would be the night she would walk the city. I beg the universe for her forgiveness. This is a true sign I love her, I just hope she can see it.
But all my dreams and hopes aren’t met. I’m left with money on the piano I never intended on collecting. Money, I pass out to onlookers as I walk the city wandering path after path in hopes to run into her. But I don’t. She’s nowhere in the crowds of people. I would know. I’d find her. I’d feel her close to me.
I played her favorite song over and over again. Helium by Sia. It’s one I would practice with her, one she’s mastered on the violin and made for a great collaboration with the Piano. Every time I hear the song, I think back to our good times. The good times I ruined.
An earworm is a song that has been stuck in your head and you either only sing parts of it or if you’re like me, you start to hum the entire tune and can’t seem to get it out of your head, unwillingly of course. But Helium holds so many memories for us, I think of only him when I hear the song, the good times it brings back. I want to stop my heart from hurting and run into his arms, but I can’t. I know it will be left with heartbreak, heartbreak I’m not willing to risk again. This entire relationship was a risk, and I knew it from the beginning.
There’s no longer an Elliot and Melody.
We’re going our own way.
The following morning, my father had called. He begged me to come over for dinner, for Elliot and I to come, because apparently Elliot had already said he would go and they were waiting on my approval. They have no idea we have split up, unless Elliot told them. And once I asked my father if he would be there, “well I figured you’d two would come together,” were his surprised words when I mentioned it depended on if Elliot would be there. “Is there something I should know?” my father asked, but I couldn’t tell him. Something was holding me back.
As I sit on my couch going back and forth in my mind whether I will go or not, I remember the time I met him for the first time. His crooked smile when we raced our dirt bike and four wheelers. The time we played together. The time our instruments met. Clearly all that didn’t matter as much to him as it did me.
“I think we should go out,” my best friend does her best trying to cheer me up, although I’m anything but cheery lately.
“I don’t know,” I mumble
“It would do you good,” she reminds me, and I agree she might be right, but the thought of having to actually put on decent clothes than the sweats I’ve become best friends with, takes a lot of convincing.
After an hour of being convinced to go out, she managed to get me into a bar. Not a club. Not a restaurant. A bar and grill; simple drinks flirting with the bartender and listening to country music being played over the speakers. One too many corona’s in my system and I stumble my way to the bathroom.
“I hate him,” I mumble to no one but strangers standing in line.
“Tell me sista,” some strange girl agrees with my statement.
“He’s having a baby with some other woman,” I huff never looking at her.
“That fucking sucks,” she retorts and I find myself pouring my heart out to this stranger.
“Yeah it does. Fucker never told me, I found out by catching the two together. I didn’t even know he had a girlfriend,” I sigh.
“He’s not worth it, find someone new,” those words made me realize, even in my drunken stage, it was time to move on.
Pounding at the keys of my piano I realize, I’ve fucked up. I fucked up big time. I’m having dinner with my mother, her boyfriend – which just has to be my ex-girlfriend’s dad – and I’m not at all prepared to see Melody. Samantha seemed to have found out I was going and begged for me to take her with me, to introduce my mother to my unborn child. I’m not ready for that though, I don’t even know if this child is mine just yet. I don’t want it to be, I love babies, of course I do, but I’m not ready to be a dad to a child whose mother I don’t love. I despise to be exact.
I’m also still trying to figure out a way to make it work with Melody. She deserves the best version of me and before I can give it to her, I have to find it myself. I love her so hard, every thought I have from the twelve+ hours I’m awake, I think of her. I wonder what she’s doing, who she’s with, will I see her again, will I see her more than the five seconds she splits from or to her apartment. Will I ever be able to kiss her soft and tender lips again? Will I have her in my arms, for more than passionate sex, I miss connecting with her, our music playing a tune of its own. This has hit me harder than any breakup has ever hit me.
Sitting alone at a bar, I watch men flirt with women, friends having a great time laughing and dancing, girls flirting with the bartender, guys checking out women. It’s the normal bar scene. And then there’s me. Sitting alone, watching all that unfolds, thinking of the only person I want next to me. And it’s as if some unheard prayer existed. She’s here. Sitting amongst the crowd of women flocking over the overly buffed and sexy – show off all abs and tattoos sexy – bartender. She’s smiling. But it’s not her usual smile. It’s that fake smile that crosses her face when she’s being cordial. It’s the most unattractive smile of hers when you know exactly what her special smile is. Her I’m happy smile! And that on her face currently attempting to flirt with the bartender is not a happy smile.
She struts past me to the bathroom, I look the opposite direction so she won’t see me, because this would not be the place for an altercation especially not after she’s drank, I’ve lost count, many beers. But I have my eyes on her. Her friend doesn’t seem to be bothered with the fact she’s wasted. She’s too busy still flirting; I don’t think she even noticed Melody disappearing. Fuck. Waiting, impatiently, for her to return from the bathroom, I finally see her slide through the crowd. There’s anger written across her beautiful face. She looks distraught. And suddenly, anger shoots across my face and I feel my blood boil. Tall. Blonde. Douchelike looking he’s following her. His eyes staring straight at her ass, never once hiding exactly what he’s thinking, smirking and winking at his friends as he passes them. I want to get up and say something. I want to punch the guy. But that won’t fix our issues. Is she really planning on replacing me that fast? I can’t imagine her going home with this guy. And as she sits back at the bar next to her friend, he makes himself a little too comfortable next to her. She smiles at him, he returns the smile, but something feels off and very bad.
“Oh, hell no,” I scream, jump out of my chair, drop my bottle on the bar, it shatters, and storm towards her.
This. Will. Not. Happen. To. Her.
His name is, well fuck, I don’t even know. I staggered into him coming out of the lady’s room. He caught me. His arms wrapped me up and he held on to me. I felt safe. Needed. Caught. His beautiful smile captured me. Perhaps I’m drunk, but I felt comfortable with him. We exchange names – which now I don’t remember, and I might have asked him to come home with me, but I have no recollection anymore. I barely even remember my own name.
“I play the violin,” I say with a smile as he sits next to me at the bar.
“Uh huh,” his hands wander along my thigh.
“I also don’t have a job right now, I graduated Juliard and now I’m not sure what to do,” I pour my heart out to this stranger.
My best friend is too busy flirting with the bartender, she doesn’t notice my attempts with this stranger.
Taking the glass into my hands bringing it to my lips, it had been knocked out of my hand before I even had a chance to drink. “Fuck,” I manage to scream unsure why that just happened or who did it.
“Don’t drink that,” he says and when I see Elliot staring back at me, I can’t believe my eyes.
“What the fuck is wrong with you, man?” the stranger said.
“I saw you, asshole. You spiked her drink,” Elliot is upset with his hand on mine as if he’s ready to take me out.
“Get off me,” I scream.
“Do you know this guy?” The stranger asks.
“I’m her boyfriend,” Elliot answers for me.
“No, you’re not,” I do remember making it clear we were done.
“She says you’re not so I’ll have to ask you to leave,” the stranger interrupts.
“Remember, you knocked someone up?” I try to pull my hand out of Elliot’s but he’s budging.
“You heard her. Now let her go,” the stranger is pissed and looks as if he’s ready to fight.
I try to slide my way from both of them before they cause a scene I’m not willing to be part of.
“Melody, you have to believe me. He spiked your drink,” Elliot ignores the stranger and I see him staring at me, but before I could even warn him, the stranger knocks Elliot straight across the face and out. He’s on the ground. Nearly passed out. And the stranger is above him continuously knocking him into oblivion. Elliot stands no chance to fight back with the stranger on top of him.
“Stop!” I plead, “Stop! Stop! Stop!”
It takes my screams, the bartenders’ forceful hand, and bystanders intercepting with the stranger before Elliot is left alone. But it might have been too late. Elliot is unconscious on the ground. He never moves. Blood trickles off his cheek. It looks like a brutal murder scene. And I can’t help but cry.
“Someone help him,” my tears are uncontrollable, “Now!” I kneel down next to Elliot trying to find a way to get his attention. Not even thinking about it, I place my lips on his and try to perform CPR.
“What happened?” he comes to himself and as much as I feel relieve, I feel anger.
Wiping the tears, I smile a genuine smile at him as others around me try to lift him up and talk to him. With all the commotion, it gives me the perfect time to make myself scarce and disappear through the crowds. I should care more than that he’s alive, but I can’t right now. Between the alcohol, the worry, and all the crazy emotions I feel currently, it’s best if I walk away to sort my feelings. I didn’t realize I still have so much love for him.
As I’m cleaning the bumps, black and blue bruises, grazes along both of my cheeks, I bite my lip from the pain shooting through me. I don’t look so good when I look into the mirror, but it was all worth it for Melody to disappear alone rather than with him. I kept her from drinking a spiked drink, even if I endured such shiners, she’s safe and that’s what matters. Sure, I would’ve loved if she’d stayed to help me out, but she did give me CPR and made sure I was alive. That’s more than I expected. I knew punching the drink out of her hand would have repercussions. But I didn’t care. I was more concerned about her safety. On the plus side, Douchebag was kicked out of the bar and told to never return. I wasn’t the only one that saw what he had done; I was just the only one quick enough to react.
Packing my bag to spend the weekend with my mom. She’s invited Melody and I to dinner, but with us splitting, I’m not sure if I’ll see her there. My mom and her father are actually still dating. They’re very fond of each other and mom speaks highly of Grant, every phone call she talks about him, they act like teenagers in love for the first time. It’s endearing, but annoying now that Melody and I are no longer together. This break up is harder than any other break up though; we will have to see each other for family gatherings and so on if our parents stay together. It’s not going to be easy on me since I’m still so much in love with her.
“It’s been forever,” my mother hugs me so tight I might just lose blood flow.
“Mom!” I try to pull back a little, “you’re squeezing a little too hard.”
“Shit! What happened to your face?” her eyes get real big.
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” I try give her less to worry about.
“Doesn’t look like it, here come in, let’s put some lotion on it,” she holds the door open for me.
“I’m good, I took care of it before I came down,” I throw my bag in the foyer of the house surprised to see Melody’s father in the kitchen.
“Hey kid,” he smiles and greets me with a hug. A hug I’m not sure how to feel about.
“Hey Grant,” I politely smile.
“I’m going to head home, call me later, but I’m sure you two have lots to catch up on, love you,” he kisses my mom, “see you later, son,” he pats me on the shoulder as he walks away.
I expected a lot seeing him. I expected a look of hatred. I expected him to be upset and would never want to see me again, which makes me question if Melody bothered telling her dad we broke up, why we broke up, or if she took the blame for something she shouldn’t have. So many questions run through my mind I might never get the answers to.
“Hey mom, can we talk?” I ask her to join me in the living room.
“What’s up?” she joins me on the couch.
“Has Grant mentioned anything about Melody and I breaking up?”
“What? No! I had no idea. When did this happen?”
“A couple of weeks ago.”
“Is that why your face is bruised?”
“No, that’s a long story.”
“Short version?”
“I saw her at the bar with a guy, he spiked her drink, I took it from her before she could drink, he wasn’t happy about it, and you know, typical bar fight broke out,” there’s nothing really more to tell about the story. I leave the part out she kissed me and then ran.
“So, why’d you two break up?”
This is the moment of truth.
“Promise you won’t rip my head off?” My mom is pretty cool, but some things get to even her. She doesn’t lose her shit like most people might or start to be downright mean, but she can get upset.
“Now you’re scaring me, Elliot.” Hell. I’m scaring myself.
“Supposedly. Big supposedly Samantha might be having my baby. I still don’t believe it,” I get interrupted by her.
“What do you mean supposedly? How is someone supposedly pregnant.”
“Oh no, she’s pregnant alright, but I still don’t believe the kid is mine.”
“You haven’t done a paternity test? Son. You should get that done,” she grabs a hold of my hand for comfort.
“I have, but I’m waiting on results,” it’s the truth.
“Do you have a number? You should call for your results if you haven’t heard from them,” she lectures me for a few more minutes how irresponsible it is for me to just sit and wait for the results.
“It shouldn’t take more than 72 hours for the results.”
“How would you know that?” I’m curious.
“I’ve helped a friend at the restaurant get his results once,” everyday this woman surprises me about something she’s either gone through or helped friends with.
“Uh, okay,” I shake my head, “well help me figure it out. I want to know, but I don’t,” I lean back on the couch and stare up at the ceiling.
“That’s why you two broke up? She can’t handle you being a dad?”
“She doesn’t know all the details. She broke up with me before I got the chance to tell her, I guess she found out, and I looked like a fool trying to explain something she accuses me of lyin
g about. She refuses to talk to me,” I pour my heart and soul out to my mom, “I love this girl so much, Ma, but I don’t think I know how to fix this,” I sigh.
“Want me to talk to her?” I do. But I don’t.
“I’d rather you not, she will think I put you up to it. This isn’t for you to fix, I will figure something out,” I close my eyes and all I see is images of her.
Sad music soothes me on the train ride to my father’s house. I know Elliot might be there for this dinner my father and his mother had invited us to. I couldn’t say no to my father though, I’ve never turned him down when I was invited to anything. I’m the first on the train to see my father when it comes to anything he wants, needs, or desires. So if Elliot is there I’ll play cordial, but that’s all. I’m not going to listen to what he might have to say or if he asks to spend time with me. That’s not how this is going to work. I’m starting to rebuild my life and letting him back in just to hurt me in the end, is not something I’m prepared for, and neither is being a stepparent. I’m young. With dreams and ambitions.
Arriving with the Uber, Violin case in one hand, pulling the suitcase with the other, I’m walking straight into my father’s house – he always leaves the door unlocked – and notice no one is home. Screaming his name throughout the house, I take my luggage into my old bedroom and place the violin case on the bed.
“You bring that violin everywhere you go?” he scares me nearly half to death.
“Yes,” I leap into a hug, “I’ve missed you, daddy.”
“Missed you too, I just got back from Janine’s.”
“Oh,” I smile as I unpack my violin.
“Actually, Elliot just arrived, if you want to go over there and see him. I actually assumed the two of you would be coming in together,” and that’s when I realize, I should probably tell him everything.
“Daddy, I need to talk to you before we have dinner with the Harpers,” I dread the words coming out of my mouth, “Elliot and I broke up,” I sigh with pain I still feel about this breakup.
