by Arlo Arrow
When I got to the end of the first page, I stopped. My chest felt tight and I felt physically drained.
“Wow,” he said quietly.
“That bad?” I asked dryly. I suddenly felt foolish for picking his piece so I could show off to him.
“No,” he responded. “It was fantastic. I haven’t heard many who can play that piece as it was intended to sound.”
“Really?” I asked. “I don’t think it was quite up to snuff, to be honest. I’m not sure if I’m ready yet.”
“That’s perfectly fine,” he said. “I’m just so pleased that you showed up here today. It gets lonely here,” he said, looking at the floor. “It just means a lot to have you here with me.”
“Can I come back and try again?” I asked. I wanted to tell him how much it meant to me too, but I was nervous. I had already shared so much with him already. Biting the bullet, I took a breath and shoved the words out of my mouth.
“I haven’t felt inspired to play until I was here with you,” I said quickly. “In fact, throughout my life, you’ve been my biggest inspiration.”
“Me?” he asked, clearly a little pleased with himself.
I nodded. “Every time I played, it was always to impress you. I don’t think I would have ever gotten to this level if I hadn’t tried to earn your approval.”
“You don’t have to work for my approval,” he said, standing up to put his music back on the shelf. “You’ve always had it.”
He faced me and rested his palm on my shoulder. His touch made me feel high and I never wanted that feeling to go away.
Jeffrey gave my shoulder one final squeeze and returned to his music collection. He rifled through the pages, but not looking for anything in particular.
“I should be going,” I said, breaking the tension.
He turned around to face me. “Are you sure?”
I nodded. “Rachel will be expecting me for dinner. What day should I come back for my next lesson?”
A smile appeared on his face. “Whenever you want. I don’t have a lot going on these days.”
“How about next Thursday?” I asked. “I’ll try to work on something for next time.”
“That would be really great,” he said, following me to the front door. “If you want to talk about anything, not just violin, call me. Do you still have my number?”
I shook my head. I had deleted it after the drunken text message incident.
I held out my phone to him, my hand brushing against his. It sent a shiver down my spine.
“There,” he said, handing it back to me. “Don’t hesitate to keep in touch.”
I reached for the door before turning back to face him.
“Why didn’t you say hello to me after my senior recital?”
“What?”
“I saw you in the back. I looked for you afterward, but you were gone. Why didn’t you wait around to say hello?”
He ran a hand through his thick, wavy hair. “I’m afraid I don’t have a good explanation for that,” he said. “You were perfect, though, and I didn’t think I needed to stick around to tell you that.”
I smiled. “Okay.”
As I walked back to my car, I felt a lightness that I hadn’t felt for such a long time. In the midst of the darkness surrounding me, I felt a tiny glimmer of hope radiating from Jeffrey to me.
Chapter 6
Jeffrey
I was in much higher spirits after spending the afternoon with Susan. It was as if the cloud hanging over me had faded away and I could feel the sun once again.
That was until I spoke with my ex-wife.
Grace was a delightful person to be around when she liked you. She was the center of attention in any room she was in. I loved this about her—she always diverted attention away from me so I could just breathe. Her presence became necessary in any social situation I was in.
She was an incredibly intelligent person, too. As many times, as she explained her job to me, I never really quite got it. Having studied music from childhood, subjects having to deal with business always slid by me. Grace preferred facts and figures while I was more interested in melodies and rhythm.
Grace also gave me the biggest joys of my life: my two children. Max and Kalen. My boys were everything to me. In fact, the first and only time I ever canceled a performance was to be there for the birth of my eldest. I never thought I would love anything or anyone more than my music, but my children were proof of my folly. When I thought about it, I even loved my music more than I loved my wife.
That is not to say that I didn’t love her. I really did. But, I think she could sense that I would never put my career and passion on the backburner at her request.
Perhaps I should have been more upfront with this information when we met. I should have shaken her hand at the gala where we first met and told her that I would very much like to take her on a date, but if we wed, I could never commit my entire life to her.
Or maybe I should have written that clause into our wedding vows. I would promise to love her for the rest of my life, but I would not watch mindless television with her if I was feeling inspired to compose.
Honestly, I was a little taken aback when she announced that she was leaving me. I knew our relationship was different than other people’s, but we were different. We both had big careers with no signs of slowing down anytime soon. She had her sights set on CEO and I wanted to get a few more albums and tours done before the next decade. We both should have seen our relationship failing from the start, but we were so infatuated with each other that we pretended the issues didn’t exist.
So, while Grace was delightful when we were in love, she was decidedly less lovely when we were divorced. Years had passed, and she was still angry for everything I had done to ruin our relationship. I was heartbroken too, but I still couldn’t feel anger toward her. Not for that, anyway.
In her spite, she had made it nearly impossible for me to see my kids. She was always better at childcare, so it was a logical choice for the judge to grant her primary custody. We worked out our own agreement where I could take the boys on the weekends. But, she had no legal obligation to do so, so as the anger bubbled under the surface, I saw the kids less and less.
Finally breaking out of my depression, I worked up the courage to call Grace, in hopes that I could arrange to see them. They were living part-time in Munich but were due home for a visit soon. With so few chances to see the kids, I had to make sure these arrangements were set in stone. At the very least, I could get my boys to pester their mother until she relented.
I called repeatedly with no response. After the fifth time, Grace answered.
“Grace Livingston,” she answered, using her maiden name.
“Grace, it’s Jeffrey.”
“Oh,” she said, her tone already changing. “I heard about the Harper family. It’s terrible. They were such good people.”
“Yeah,” I said huskily. “A lot of our old friends were at the funeral. It was a pretty terrible day.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I should have called.”
“No problem,” I said. “Listen, do you think I could talk to the boys?”
“Why?” she asked, suspicious of my motives.
“Damn it, Grace,” I said, feeling desperate. “They’re my kids, too. Do I need to have a reason to check up on my children?”
“They’re in bed,” she said. “I’m not going to wake them up. You don’t have to deal with them when they haven’t slept.”
“I can hear Max in the background,” I said, catching her in a lie.
“I think you’re mistaken,” she said. “Have you been working lately?”
“Not really. Why?”
She sighed. “One day, the money will run out. Let’s just hope your children are of age by then. We have an agreement.”
“And part of the agreement is that I can have contact with my kids,” I interjected. “When will you be back next?”
“I’m not sure,” she said, h
er voice sounding thick. “I’ll let you know.”
“Please do. And don’t worry about my finances. I’m going to start working on new music soon.”
“Do you have a deal?” she asked, suddenly sounding more interested.
“No, but I’ve started up with lessons again. I’m tutoring Susan Harper at the moment.”
She gave a dry chuckle. “I bet you are,” she said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing,” she sighed. “Don’t you think you’re better off leaving her alone? Hasn’t she gone through a lot lately?”
“I’m helping her,” I said, regretting ever calling Grace. In the background, I could hear my son asking his mother who she was talking to.
“I need to go, Jeffrey,” she said.
“Let me talk to my kids.”
“Another time.”
“Now,” I demanded, my voice growing louder.
Silence. She hung up on me. I considered calling her back, but I threw my phone across the living room. It landed somewhere on the carpet behind the armchair.
I was ready to punch a hole in the drywall when I heard knocking on the door. Susan was early for her lesson. I quickly splashed cold water on my face and went to the door to answer.
Today she was wearing a pair of skinny jeans and a low-cut blouse. I tried to keep my eyes from looking, but it was as if they acted on their own accord.
“I’m sorry I’m early,” Susan said, “but Aunt Rachel was driving me crazy. I had to get out of the house before she could ask me another question.”
“No problem,” I said.
“Did I interrupt something?” she asked, looking around the room. “You seem distracted.”
“Nope, not at all. Should we start?”
She twiddled her thumbs. “Actually, I thought we could go on another walk. I think it really helped get all the jitters out. What do you think?”
I smiled. “That would be really great. I could certainly use a little fresh air.”
We returned to the path, walking together in the comfortable silence. We didn’t even have to talk and I already felt better.
Along the way, we discussed my recent albums and after some convincing, I told her all the behind the scenes stories about my career. After I’d tell her a story, she’d laugh or gasp in awe and ask for another. I never thought my life was that exciting, but she seemed to enjoy what I had to say.
“Are you trying to tell me that there were tour groupies like there are for rock shows?” she giggled. “I mean, your music is fantastic, but I can’t believe that women threw their panties at you.”
“I’m not kidding,” I laughed. “I know I seem old and gross now, but I wasn’t so terrible back in my prime.”
“I can’t imagine you any better than you are now. I bet if you went on a tour today, you’d have even more panties thrown at you.”
I laughed at her comment and wondered if she truly thought I was attractive. Maybe my fantasies about her wouldn’t be seriously crazy after all. I wondered if she would ever consider me as anything other than her old violin teacher.
My ex-wife was a bit younger than me and she found me attractive. Although, Grace was only nine years my junior. Susan was a whopping twenty-four years younger than me. That was probably too much. Whenever I thought about dating Susan, my brain automatically did the awful math equations to prove to me how strange it all was.
Like whenever I thought about where I was at her age, it meant that when I was starting out in my career, she hadn’t even been born yet. She was closer in age to my kids than she was to me.
The biggest problem was that there was no way to let her know how I felt about her without ruining everything. If I came out and told her that I was attracted to her, she would probably be revolted at the thought of it. It would only upset her more, and I would have to live the rest of my life knowing that I was a creepy old man who couldn’t date the woman he cared about.
But, if I didn’t ask her about her feelings for me, then I’d never know. The uncertainty would nag at me like a wound that just won’t heal. There would be no easy way around this.
I noticed that she turned around earlier than we did last time. She seemed like she was having a nice time, but then why would she want to get back to the house quicker?
Don’t be stupid, I told myself. Maybe she’s prepared a piece and just wants to play.
“Can I ask you something?” she said nervously as we approached the house.
“Sure, anything.”
“What were you doing before I arrived? You seemed upset. Even now, you seem a little preoccupied. Is everything okay?”
“I was talking to Grace before you arrived,” I admitted.
“Oh,” she said, her face falling. “Was she calling to get back together?”
“Oh, God, no,” I sputtered. I took a few deep breaths to keep my composure.
“So, what is it?” she asked, helping herself to a glass of water.
“She won’t let me speak with the kids,” I said my voice breaking.
Her jaw fell open as I blinked back tears. I felt so stupid for crying in front of her, but there was something about saying the words out loud that made them real.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, walking toward me with her arms outstretched. I didn’t fight her when she wrapped her slim arms around my shoulders and rested her cheek on my shoulder.
“What are you going to do?” Susan asked, her breath warm on my neck. I could smell her sweet shampoo. I closed my eyes and took a few breaths.
“I don’t think there’s anything I can do,” I said, letting my arms fall around the small of her back.
We held each other for a few moments, slightly swaying as if we were fighting the urge to dance to the music in our heads. When we parted, I noticed her cheeks were wet with tears.
“Why are you crying?” I asked.
“I was just thinking about how kind you were to me at my parents’ and brother’s funeral. You were the only person in the world who could comfort me at a time like this. I was just hoping that I could provide even a small fraction of that comfort.
“You do,” I said, taking her hands into mine. “Listen, I think you should go home for the day.”
“Okay,” she frowned, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear. “Maybe you’ll feel better with a little time alone.”
“That’s not it,” I said, clenching my fists. “I need to tell you something, but it’s so terrible that I can hardly bear to think it.”
“What is it?” she asked fearfully.
“I have feelings for you,” I said quietly.
“Really?” she asked in awe.
“Don’t you see why it’s inappropriate for me to be around you? You’re vulnerable right now and I feel like I’m preying on that by inviting you over. Ever since you started college, I’ve thought about how gorgeous and talented you are. I thought about it every now and again for years, but I really felt something for you when I saw you at the funeral. Since then, I haven’t stopped thinking about how much I want to take you to fancy dinners and performances and even play music together late into the night. It’s so fucked up that I’m head over heels for my friends’ daughter. I can’t see you anymore. You have to go home.”
Susan stared at me like she didn’t understand what I was saying.
“You wanted to know the reason why I didn’t approach you in the past few years?” I asked. “It was because I had feelings for you and there was nothing I could do about it.”
She blinked as I tried to catch my breath. “I’m not vulnerable,” she said after a few seconds.
“What?” I croaked. I just told her about my darkest secret and that was all she had to say on the subject?
She opened the door and faced me one last time before she left my house. Her eyes were squinted as if she wanted to scowl but didn’t want the tears to spill out.
“You don’t have to worry about me. I’m not vulnerable.”
Chapter 7
Susan
The day after my disaster with Jeffrey, I waited until my aunt and uncle were out of the house before picking up my violin. I had practiced a little every day since the first lesson and I was excited to show Jeffrey how far I had come in just one week.
I was planning on playing a piece that I had played in my senior recital with hopes that it would subconsciously jog his memory of me in my sparkly gown. I had never felt more glamorous as I did on that night, and I hoped that one day, I could sit on center stage, just as Jeffrey did for years.
Trying to make the same kind of music on my own, I began to play once the house was silent. The notes came out, just as I had rehearsed them, but they fell flat. In one section, I chose to improvise in hopes that Jeffrey would be impressed by my musical choices. Now, my mind went blank. I could numbly play the notes on the page, but anything requiring any inspiration went out the window.
Frustrated, I dropped my instrument and stomped around the room. I had to remember that I was a guest in my aunt’s house, and destroying her things in anger would not be an option. Instead, I found a pillow, stuffed it in front of my face and let out a muffled scream.
Once my voice was raw and scratchy, I flopped down on the bed. Jeffrey had no right to send me away, just because he felt conflicted with how he felt about me. I needed him to be able to play again, and I think he needed me too. Without each other, we would have no hope of ever performing at the level we once did.
Besides, I wasn’t a child anymore. I was at an age where if I wanted to be in a relationship with an older man, I could make that decision for myself. It would be a little unconventional, sure, but it wasn’t even that crazy. Lots of relationships had big age gaps. If we wanted to be with each other, then why did it matter?
