Love in B Minor

by Elodie Nowodazkij

  “Nothing. Except maybe getting my band back together. Those two singing together is such a better show than Lucas alone.”

  Fabian presses a button, stopping our conversation. “This was great. I think the mood and feelings you’re bringing into the song will go nicely with what I have planned for the music video.” He pauses and turns to me. He stands taller, more in charge, and I see now the famous producer he is. “Let’s go to the meeting room so I can show you my vision.”

  And as we leave the room, Olivia and Lucas follow closely. I force myself not to look back, not to listen to what Olivia is saying, but I can’t help but overhear her telling Lucas: “I’ve been so lost without you. I understand that you moved on, but you can’t deny we still have something.”

  I hurry closer to Fabian, pretending to ask questions about what is about to happen, how the music video shoot is going to work, what choreographer I’m going to work with.

  “So many questions,” he replies with a soft turn to his lips. “But I don’t think that’s really what you’re asking yourself, and I have no answers for those ones.” He pauses. “But he might.” And he strides ahead into the meeting room.

  “Hey.” Lucas gently puts his hand on my arm and everyone passes in front of us, enters the meeting room, until we’re alone in the hallway.

  “Hey,” I reply but my eyes stay glued to the floor. I don’t have any right to be angry and I’m not, but the sadness I feel is almost too much. I miss the time I decided to keep everyone away. I almost regret the promise I made to my sister. And then I hate myself for even thinking this. My mind is racing.

  “Would you go somewhere with me after we go through the script?”

  “I don’t know. I need to be at the ballet company pretty early. Still need to get a new phone number. And I’m kind of scared of what’s going to happen once we reveal…” I struggle to find the words. “My past.”

  “It will only take two hours. I wanted to show you Paris a different way. I promise it’s going to be fun. We could forget about what’s going on for a while, go back to that one night.”

  This time, I look up. “See, that’s the thing. We can’t simply go back and pretend reality isn’t happening. I can’t live in a fantasy.” My tone is harsh, but he needs to realize that even a friendship can’t work if we don’t face our issues.

  “I get it.” He leans in closer to me, too close, way too close for my heart to not try to reach out to his. “Please. One evening, as friends. We won’t avoid reality, I promise. But we’ll also make sure we find ways to enjoy reality. It’s not all darkness and sadness.”

  And for him to say this while he’s hurting moves me, and I nod. “Okay, this evening.”

  He opens the door for me and I slide in. The band stands in front of a man who isn’t as tall as Steve or Dimitri, so I can’t see him. But his voice? His voice I recognize.

  “Hi Jen. Hope you’re ready to work.” Igor marches through the small crowd and sits next to Fabian. “I’m happy to be working with you on that choreography.”

  CHAPTER 35 - LUCAS

  Jen seems taken aback by the guy sitting next to Fabian. “Hi, I’m Lucas.” I extend my hand to him.

  “I’m Igor. A good friend of Fabian’s. We go way back. I’ve started choreographing the routine Jen is going to perform. She’ll need to make sure she concentrates solely on dancing. Any distraction could be detrimental.” He smiles at her in an all-knowing way and it rattles me. Igor must have picked up on it because he continues, “I’m also the director of City of Lights Ballet Company. I hired Jen a few months back. She’s very promising and I’m pleased she got this role.”

  “Were you involved from the beginning?” Jen asks, frowning like she’s still trying to put all the pieces of the puzzle together.

  “Fabian had asked me what I thought of choreographing a dance for a music video. He sent me the melody and I started working on it.”

  Jen squares her shoulder and plays with her hair, taking it down, putting it up again. “You could have told me. You probably already knew I got the part.”

  “Actually, I did not until you announced it to me this morning. I’m very pleased to be working with you on this. You’ve got the talent and the dedication and you can represent the School well…except I heard about this little drug incident of yours.”

  Jen doesn’t gasp, she doesn’t even flinch. She steels herself, her entire body tenses and I see how she protects herself, puts up a wall around her when she’s attacked. She hasn’t done that much around me until now.

  Grégoire clears his throat—not because he’s nervous but because he wants to make sure Igor knows who’s in charge. “We haven’t decided on the timeline to discuss this yet. We’ll probably do a short written interview the day before the video releases,” Grégoire says, his fists firmly planted in front of him on the table. It seems he wasn’t aware this Igor guy was going to be involved as well.

  Everybody sits down and we all get to work. Fabian explains his vision and how he’ll have Jen dance to the song in different places. She’ll be in front of the Eiffel Tower, and in a warehouse. In the light and in the darkness. Her dancing will be cut with Olivia and I singing by ourselves in the mountains. I need to call Mom and cancel Sunday lunch, since we’re travelling to the Pyrenees.

  Sadness and grieving will be the main message of the video, and then there will be some hope.

  “Jen and I will work on the choreography every morning in the ballet studio of the company before the rehearsal for the show begins.” Igor sounds like arguing with him would be a bad idea. “She can do it.” But even though he’s been an ass for a big part of this meeting, he does seem confident in Jen. I hope she sees that. That everyone believes in her.

  Olivia stayed pretty silent the entire time and right before we all part ways, she slides next to me. “I’m going to go see Benji’s grandmother at the hospital tomorrow morning, do you want to come with me?”

  “I thought visits were only during the afternoon.”

  “I didn’t want any craziness following me there, so I agreed with the hospital that I would go in the morning. I go every two days. Usually from ten to eleven.”

  Again, she surprises me. I go to see Benji’s grandmother every week, usually after hours. Sometimes, she asks about him. Other times, she thinks he’s outside playing soccer, or still in jail for stealing fancy clothes in a boutique close to them. But most of the times, she thinks he’s outside, waiting to come in and visit. I never have the heart to tell her that he’s not coming back. Ever.

  “I think she’d be happy to see us both at the same time. She always asks about you when I go. But if you’re busy, I understand.”

  “I don’t know, Olivia. It’s one thing to sing together for Benji, to do one last song, and another to go see his grandma together.”

  “You’re right. I’m sorry I asked. It’s…”

  “What is it?”

  “Sometimes it’s so hard to be there and to see her. How she still hopes without hope and sometimes how she remembers everything.”

  “It is. I know what you mean. Maybe we could, one time,” I tell her, but I’m still so unsure. Spending more time with Olivia isn’t going to convince Jen I want nothing more from her. Even though it’s true. When I look at Olivia I see my past. When I look at Jen, I see my present and I see my future.

  “Sounds good.” Olivia doesn’t argue. She simply waves at me and leaves the room. I turn around and Jen’s nowhere to be seen.

  Shit.

  I hurry out of the room and almost run into her. “I thought you left.”

  “You did tell me to wait for you. I just didn’t want to impose and I understand you guys have things to talk about.”

  “Benji’s grandmother has Alzheimer’s, and both Olivia and I try to see her as often as possible. Sometimes, she doesn’t remember anything, other times she remembers too much almost. It’s hard. Olivia wanted to know if we could visit her
together at some point.”

  I can’t read her face. And it’s killing me, because she’s not letting me in, but then she exhales slowly. “I’m ready to go if you are.” And she offers me a tiny smile.

  I’ll take what I can.

  CHAPTER 36 – JEN

  I’d like nothing more than to run and hide in my apartment. To fall into my bed and sleep everything off and wake up in the city, at the School of Performing Arts my very first semester. I’d redo everything, and then I’d find a way to save Mia.

  But since that’s not possible, since hiding is not a possibility, I put one foot in front of the other. At least I’ve learned and come to accept that you can’t go back in time. The problem is I’m not sure Lucas is there yet. He hasn’t grieved the death of his friend. Grieving is not about forgetting, but also about keeping that person close to you and moving on.

  Somehow.

  We walk outside of the building side by side but without a word. The same driver as the one who picked me up with him from the ballet company is waiting for us. Lucas opens the door for me and we slide into the car. The car still has that brand new leathery smell and the seats are cozy, but I can’t relax. Lucas stares straight ahead. What is he thinking about?

  “The song was beautiful.” I break the silence—because even though I believe in silences that are comfortable, in not filling the silence with empty words, I also believe in reaching out. “It really was. And I think it’s a beautiful tribute.”

  His shoulders relax and his hand finds mine. His hand is warm. His hands always seem to be warm while mine are always cold, and they fit perfectly together. They complete each other, like they’ve been looking for each other for a very long time.

  And I need to stop making analogies between our hands and us.

  “Thanks.” His voice is low and careful. “I wrote that song three months after he passed away. The week after he died, Olivia and I went to Corsica.”

  “Grégoire mentioned one or two things about that.” I’m dipping my toes into the murky water of their relationships.

  He exhales loudly and his hand tenses in mine. “Did he tell you she lied about us getting engaged? How my parents got hounded like the bad guys when everyone wrote they were the reason we didn’t get hitched. Even though it’s far from the truth.”

  “No, someone overheard her saying that she wouldn’t say no if you proposed and spread the gossip.” My voice is barely above a whisper, because I’m not sure what his reaction is going to be.

  “She used me before to gain more exposure. She even used Benji’s death to advance her own solo career.”

  “That’s not what Grégoire thinks happened. He thinks that was a cry for help, that she thought her starting fresh again would move you to continue singing.” I pause, trying to choose my next sentences carefully because to be fair, I don’t know what happened. “I can’t tell you what the truth is. But after only one day in that world, it would not surprise me one bit if someone did overhear her and spread the story.” I breathe the words out; they’re fast but they’re true.

  He sighs and scoots closer to me—bridging the distance between us, at least physically. “I’m going to change the topic.”

  “Why?”

  “Because we won’t find the answers to those questions now. Because it’s not necessarily fair of me to unload everything on you.” I raise my hand to protest but he presses his lips to each of my knuckles softly, and it’s like the entire air in the car has been shooed out. I’m feeling dizzy and I’m not sure if it’s because I haven’t eaten anything since this morning, or because of him. He leans back, keeping my hand in his. “What was your favorite cartoon when you were little? You told me that night that you loved cotton candy and that your favorite color is purple and that you would love to have a dog one day and one cat and that they would cuddle together and you would take the best pictures.”

  I squeeze his fingers and this time my smile isn’t forced. “I would take the best pictures. I’d name my dog Baryshnikov and my cat Copeland.”

  “Those are long names.”

  “They’re these amazing dancers that I wish I could emulate.” I smile, imagining my cat and my dog. My dog would have those trusting eyes, and my cat would be fluffy. Both of them would be happy, and I’d take care of them. It’s been a dream of mine to have pets for a long time, but my parents said we didn’t have time.

  “Favorite cartoon?”

  “When I was about six years old, I was crazy about SpongeBob.”

  His eyes crinkle on the side. And his entire body seems more relaxed. And I’ve got to admit those questions are fun. It’s funny how I have the feeling we’ve known each other for a long time, that we know each other so well. And maybe we do, on a deeper level—we already know what makes the other tick, we seem to recognize each other’s expressions, but those questions? They remind me of that night. They show me a different side of him.

  So I play along. “How about you?”

  “I think it’s a phase everyone goes through. Patrick was my favorite. Why did you start dancing?”

  “Mom signed me up for a class when I was four. She said I loved it, that I was always jumping up and down before going to class like this was the best time of the week. Then, it became so much more. I was good at it. And I really loved it. And one day in my first year in middle school, I had a very bad day. Some guy was a total jerk to me and when I went to my ballet class, I was crying. My teacher took me to the side and told me to use my pain in my dancing. It became my one refuge.” I turn to the side. Paris at night. The lights everywhere. “And then my first semester at the School of Performing Arts, when the kids there were mean to me, dancing wasn’t enough anymore, because I wasn’t enough for me. I had issues, lots of them and I didn’t know how to deal with them.” I glance down, lost in my thoughts, my voice almost cracking at the memories. “That’s how I ended up looking for validation elsewhere. And…then the beach episode happened.” I look back up, my voice firmer. “It took me a while, a lot of therapy hours to realize I needed to validate myself.” I pause and touch his hand. “How about you? Why singing?”

  “It all started with the piano. Mom played and she put me in early classes. Then, we made it a fun Wednesday evening ritual to play music together. She didn’t push me but my teacher told me how good I was, and he encouraged me to come up with sounds depending on how I felt that day. I loved doing that, the music I was able to produce.”

  He shifts on his seat and his eyes find mine. I hold my breath for a second before releasing it. Once Emilia and I passed the awkward We dated the same guy and you’re still with him phase, she told me Nick could see her, truly see her. I’ve never believed one look could unravel someone. But I am feeling pretty unraveled right now. His dark blue eyes are intense and they’re focused on me and I need to get my thoughts together. “How old were you?” I’m surprised by how normal I manage to sound despite all the thoughts running through my mind.

  “Eight.” And finally he glances away, allowing my heart to return to a somewhat normal beating.

  “You must have been the cutest eight-year-old on the piano.”

  He turns to me again, but I keep focusing on his hands. Which might not be the greatest idea either if I want to stay calm. He’s got pianist hands, and hands that know exactly what they’re doing. When they were slightly touching my skin, teasing me. How deliciously rough they could be. Time to stop staring at his hands. I look up and the corner of his mouth tilts up in a knowing smile “You could have danced to my tunes back then.”

  “I’m doing it now.” And it’s like we’re having a totally different conversation in our heads that may have nothing to do with music and dancing, and when we both smile, my heart warms up. I’m aware of where its beat spreads. Get a grip on your hormones, Jen. “What’s your favorite place in Paris?”

  He puts one finger on his mouth, taps it twice before answering. “I have several. I can’t choose. I love be
ing around Notre Dame, because I can’t imagine how people were able to build such a monument centuries ago, and because it has the spot where everything starts. I love the Luxembourg gardens when it’s all quiet. And I have a new favorite spot.”

  “Where?”

  “A bench by the Eiffel Tower where you begged me to bake cookies and where you told me that you were tired of pretending to play a role. When I asked you which role, you answered that not having answers was sometimes the best policy.”

  That night which was only three days ago almost seems like it was a lifetime ago. And the memories are like a fuzzy blanket you cover yourself with when you want to be cozy and warm and happy. “And then you kissed me.”

  “No, then you kissed me.” His hand goes from my hand to my hair. “I love your hair. And I love how you always twist it up when you’re trying to hide that you’re stressed.”

  “I don’t do that.”

  “Of course you do.” He runs his fingers through my hair. Slowly, and if he doesn’t stop I don’t think I’ll ever remember how to breathe correctly again. “I also love how your hair felt on me…”

  I lick my lower lip. I need to change the topic, and fast. He’s making it very hard to not jump on him. No pun intended. “Where are you taking me?”

  “The other night, you said you haven’t seen much of Paris. That you pretty much only work, work, work. And…”

  “Sir, we’ve arrived.” The driver clears his throat. “Actually, we’ve been here for about five minutes.” There’s laughter in his voice.

  “Sorry, I was getting caught in the moment.” And Lucas is also stifling a laugh; he doesn’t look embarrassed or ashamed or anything but happy to be where he is. With me.

  So, I’m just going to roll with it.