See Through Heart

by Amie Knight

  And then there I was, driving to Beau’s in hopes that open-mic night was still a thing on Friday and Saturday nights. I’d never played there, but I needed an outlet and I remember being a kid and hearing people play there while we had dinner. I pulled into the nearly empty lot and grabbed my violin. I walked through the doors and asked to speak to a manager.

  The manager politely smiled at me, delivering news I didn’t want to hear. “Ma’am, we don’t do open mic here and haven’t for years.”

  I looked at the empty stage and asked, “So, is someone playing tonight?” I didn’t see why I couldn’t play if no one else was scheduled to go on. The place was freaking empty anyway. I’d seen exactly two people besides the staff since entering and they’d been playing pool in the back.

  The manager looked at me and wrung her hands a bit like she didn’t know what to do.

  “Look,” I said. “I’m not trying to make any money here. I just want to play. Is that cool?”

  She gave me a relieved smile and said, “Sure. We don’t have anyone playing tonight anyway. Go for it, although there’s not much of a crowd tonight. It’s still pretty early though, so you never know.”

  “Thanks,” I said, walking briskly to the small stage, which really wasn’t much of a stage at all but just a spot where the dirty carpet ended and a glossy floor began.

  I dragged a chair over and unpacked my violin. I didn’t need a mic. I didn’t really need an audience. I just needed to be brave. I needed to be me. I closed my eyes and played.

  All I wanted was a beer and my bed, and after the day I’d had, I deserved it. Even so, I walked into Beau’s feeling lighter because I’d finally told Greta that I didn’t want to see her anymore and I was feeling so damn relieved. For the past couple of weeks, I’d been putting her off and making excuses. She’d been right that day on the sidewalk in front of my apartment. Now that Ainsley was home, it didn’t feel right to see her. Because, as much as I wanted to hate Ainsley, I knew that a good part of me still loved her. That’s the thing with loving someone so deeply—it doesn’t go away simply because that person does something awful to you. It doesn’t just go away because you want it to. Love could be as cruel as it could be wonderful. I couldn’t take things further with Ainsley even though a big part of me wanted to. I couldn’t trust her—not after how she’d left me without a word. I also knew I couldn’t continue to string Greta along when I was still in love with another woman.

  Greta hadn’t made it easy on me, to say the least. She’d gone batshit crazy, which is why I’d stopped at Beau’s for a beer and then was heading home for my bed. I was praying that Greta got her shit together, because even though we didn’t have a personal relationship anymore, we still had to have a professional one.

  As soon as I made my way to the dining room at Beau’s, I heard it. A violin. And I knew. I just fucking knew because fate was a bitch and she was constantly throwing Ainsley and me together. I felt like I was in one of Miranda’s chick novels lately. So, figuring it was her, I took a seat at the back of the restaurant. A confrontation with her after my debacle with Greta was the last damn thing I needed.

  The place was mostly empty, so even though I was tucked into a dark corner booth far away from the stage, I had a perfect view of Ainsley. I couldn’t help the smile as the wave of nostalgia came over me when I saw her playing. She was brilliant. Always had been.

  The waiter came to take my order, and I could barely be bothered to tell him my beer selection. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. Her body swayed back and forth to the rhythm of the classical piece she was playing. I smiled, remembering that she’d always done that. Even when she’d been horrible, she’d stand on her porch, swaying to and fro. Her eyes were closed in concentration and her hair was down, wild around her face, just how I loved it. Every day she was at home, she was looking more and more like my sunshine—and it was killing me. Like that morning she had been watching me mow the grass like a stalker. That morning, she’d made me genuinely laugh when she’d given me the finger. I’d missed her sass. It reminded me of what we used to have.

  She had been easier to ignore when she hadn’t resembled her old self. The sexy dresses, makeup, and hair only reminded me that she wasn’t mine, but when she was dressed like this—in jeans and a T-shirt with her face bare—it felt like she’d never left. I hated that as much as I loved it because it was a lie.

  Ainsley stopped playing and opened her eyes. I sat forward in my seat, anticipating what she was going to play next. Since I’d come in, the place had received a few more patrons, and a few were sitting in the front.

  She smiled, looking around the room. “This next song is for the two loves of my life. For the one who left me and for the one I left.” Her lips trembled as she continued. “I’m sorry that our love ended too soon, but I am still so grateful for having it all because it was the absolute best. And, starting now, I am going to remember the good of it all.”

  A lone tear slipped down her face as she closed her eyes and started playing. I’d never heard the song before, but it was slow and sad and it had a country feel to it. I felt the sting of tears behind my eyes even as I wondered where she learned this beautiful, morose song. I wondered what her life had been like in Nashville. I wondered if she had been happy there. It didn’t seem like it. It seemed like she’d been just barely living while she’d been gone, and I remembered Miranda’s warnings that Ainsley wasn’t herself anymore.

  More tears tumbled down her face, and she kept her eyes shut, closing out the rest of the world. She was filled to the brim with emotion, but she still played flawlessly. I’d never seen her more beautiful than she was at that very moment. Not even the night she’d been pressed against my car. I felt every wall I’d erected around my heart in the last four years tumble down with every note of that song, every sway of her body, every tear that left her eyes.

  I thought of her words. This next song is for the two loves of my life. For the one who left me and for the one I left. Wetness pooled in my eyes and spilled over. My tears were as inevitable as my love for the girl up on stage. I didn’t know how to stop loving her, but I didn’t know how to love her anymore, either. Our relationship and the trust that came along with it had been damaged so irreparably that I didn’t even know where to begin fixing it. But that was assuming I could fix it at all. My heart and my mind were at odds with each other and it was excruciating.

  I didn’t think I could ever trust her again, but, God, I wanted to—so badly. So, instead of focusing on all the things I couldn’t fix that night, I listened to Ainsley play. And I watched the sunshine light up the stage in a dirty, dark bar located on the outskirts of a small country town.

  Time was flying by. I’d been home almost a month, and while I didn’t exactly know what to do with my life, I knew I was contemplating staying there. The thought of leaving Momma, Miranda, and, yes, even Adrian again sent my pulse skyrocketing with anxiety. So I’d been scouring the wanted ads for people looking for violin lessons. I’d even put up my own Craigslist ad in the “Students Wanted” section. Now, I was scrolling through the South Carolina Philharmonic webpage, trying to figure out how to get an audition. They performed and practiced only about forty minutes away and I needed to play.

  “Adrian’s here working on the car, baby,” Momma said while walking into the living room. She stood behind the couch, looking over my shoulder at the laptop perched on my crossed legs. “Seems like you two have been getting along better lately?” she asked not so subtly.

  She had been doing this lately. Asking a million questions not so subtly about Adrian and me. With good reason. She was right in a lot of ways. The past couple of weeks had been mostly better for Adrian and me. He wasn’t climbing into my window at night, professing his love for me, or anything crazy like that. In fact, he was barely speaking to me, and when he did speak to me, it was to say, “Hey, Ains,” on his way in or, “See you later, Ains,” on his way out. He was still there all the time to help Momma when s
he needed it, and he’d been pretty indifferent to me for the most part. But I’d take indifferent because anything was better than pissed-off Adrian.

  “Mmmhmm,” I hummed back to Mom, continuing to scroll through the webpage but not really seeing anything.

  She’d been digging for information for over a week now. I know she was curious about what had changed, but I didn’t have a damn thing to tell her because I wasn’t sure myself. I’d come back from Beau’s two weeks ago determined to make good changes in my life and not fight with Adrian anymore, and it seemed, by some magic, he had come to the same conclusion. Even so, I sometimes found myself daydreaming about us being friends again. Not lovers. Just friends. I missed that part of us more than anything.

  Momma plodded around to my side of the couch, sat next to me, and let out a big sigh. I snapped the lid on my laptop shut and turned my body toward her. I knew she wanted to talk, and when my Momma wanted to talk, you damn well listened.

  “Baby, I know that Adrian was real upset when you left. That boy feels with every bit of his heart, and I know that, when you came back, he was still so hurt and angry. But I see the way you look at him. I see the longing in your eyes. And, more than anything in the world, I want you to be happy, Ainsley. Do you understand that?” Momma asked, leaning over and taking my hand.

  I nodded even as I felt the tears pool in my eyes.

  “I also see the way Adrian looks at you. And, if you think for one second that boy doesn’t still worship the ground you walk on, you are dead wrong. He adores you, even if he is still mad as sin at you.”

  I shook my head back and forth as the tears fell. No, she was wrong. Adrian didn’t adore me anymore. He had at one time, but I’d ruined it when I’d left.

  Momma grabbed my face between both hands and said, “Listen to me, baby. We know better than anyone that life is short and tomorrow isn’t guaranteed. If you want something, you need to go after it. Don’t wait until it’s too late,” she finished.

  It already felt like it was too late for me and Adrian. But it wasn’t too late for me and Momma, and I owed her an apology. She hadn’t deserved my running away any more than Adrian had. I needed to quit feeling sorry for myself and own up to my mistakes.

  I threw my arms around her neck and said, “I’m so sorry for leaving you like that, Momma. It wasn’t right. You were hurting too and I left you all alone. I’m so sorry,” I cried into her shoulder.

  She rubbed my back and shushed me. “No, Ainsley. I understand why you left. You did what you had to do to survive. We lost someone so precious to us.” She paused and looked off into the distance like she could barely stand to remember losing Lori. “It was such a hard time for everyone. I’ve never been angry about how you left. I missed you something fierce, but I was never mad at you.” She pulled me closer.

  I scooted toward her until my hip touched hers. I laid my head on her chest and closed my eyes.

  “You’ve always been such a selfless child, Ains.” She let out a small chuckle. “You ran around here like a little momma even at four years old, taking care of Loralie. And then, when Adrian moved next door, you took care of him, too. It’s just your nature to want to take care of everyone. But, now, it’s time to take care of you.”

  She squeezed me around my shoulders. “Loving yourself doesn’t make you vain or selfish. It only makes you indestructible. Make it known what you want and everything will fall into place, baby. I promise,” she said softly, rubbing my back.

  At that moment, I felt like the luckiest girl in the world. I didn’t necessarily think Momma was right about me and Adrian, but I did know she loved me more than all the stars in the sky.

  Momma pulled back and tipped my chin up with her fingers so I’d look at her. “Today’s a good day to grab that violin and play outside for a bit, don’t you think? Maybe you’ll gain an audience.” She winked, giving me a knowing smile.

  She was right. The hot evenings of summer were coming to an end. The weather was finally cooling down, and I hadn’t played out there since I’d been home. It’d been too hot. It’d brought back too many memories I was doing my best to avoid. But I wasn’t doing that anymore. I was embracing those memories because they were all I had left of the trio that was once Lori, Ainsley, and Adrian. Adrian was out there, working on the car, and maybe he’d throw me a, “Hi, Ains.” It was pretty damn embarrassing how I lived for those greetings, but I’d take what I could get.

  “I love you, Momma,” I said, giving her a big squeeze around her middle. I looked up into her face.

  She looked sick and not at all like herself. She’d lost most of her thick hair, and her eyebrows and her lashes were nonexistent. She’d taken to wearing a bandanna to cover her balding head. I needed to remember to ask Miranda to crochet her a beanie before fall really was here. It was hard seeing her like this, but I knew that it wasn’t the cancer making her so sick. It was the chemo and it was temporary. And that’s what I told myself every day.

  “Love you too, Ainsley,” she murmured as I pulled away and made my way to my bedroom.

  I walked down the hall then only briefly paused at Lori’s closed door. I rubbed my hand down the smooth wood and wished again for the courage to open that door. Not today.

  I kept going down the hall and pushed my own door open. I grabbed my violin and my bow from the case. Then I glided it across the strings so I could tune my instrument before subjecting the whole neighborhood to sharp or flat notes. Sucking in a deep breath, I then headed out the front door. I didn’t need a music stand or sheet music. I carried all too many songs in my heart and my head.

  It was a cool evening and I looked up at the sky, noticing that the sun and the moon were right there, side by side in the sky. They made me think of me and Adrian: so different but much the same. Day and night. Dark and light. I thought of Momma’s words from earlier. “It’s time to take care of you.” I looked around the side of the house and noticed that the garage door was open. I couldn’t see all the way into the garage from the porch, but I assumed Adrian was still in there because his car was still parked on the street in front of Momma’s house.

  I delicately placed my violin onto my collarbone and brought my bow over the strings a couple of times before I lapsed into an old blues song I’d learned in Nashville. And on and on it went. I played for what felt like forever. From blues to classical to bluegrass, I just kept going until the moon was higher in the sky than the sun. At some point, I heard Momma make her way onto the porch, where she rocked while I played. Eventually, she went inside, but she made sure to turn the porch light on for me because I was losing daylight.

  When my fingers were numb, my arm was tired, and I’d promised myself that this would be my last song, Adrian finally made an appearance. He walked straight out of the garage and to his car. I thought for sure he was leaving until he walked his way back up the sidewalk with a pencil and a sketchbook in hand. He made his way up the porch steps and leaned against the pillar at the top before sliding down until he sat only three feet from me. He crossed his Converse-clad feet, and I felt a whoosh of breath leave me.

  He didn’t look at me, and I didn’t stop playing even though I was overwhelmed with emotion. I couldn’t believe he was sitting so close to me of his own volition. He opened his pad and started drawing, and even though I was played the hell out, I kept going. Because I got to see him and watch him draw—I hadn’t been able to do that in years. I’d missed the crinkle in his forehead. The way his jaw ticked in concentration. The sure and deft way his fingers moved around his pencil. He looked like my raven-haired boy sitting there, and I felt the familiar tickle at the back of my throat that signaled tears. But I was done crying. I was all cried out. I wanted to smile, and even though I felt tears at the back of my eyelids, that’s exactly what I did. I closed my eyes and smiled with all of my heart. I was swaying to the rhythm of one of my favorite pieces and Lori’s Blue was sitting right next me because that was where he wanted to be. I would play all night if only h
e sat there with me.

  I fluttered my eyes open again to make sure he was still sitting there, and he was. Only he was staring at me instead of sketching. His eyes on me brought my bow to a complete stop. I lowered my violin and my bow and gazed back at him in shock. He was making eye contact, and I couldn’t decide if this was good or bad. Momma’s words floated back to me again.

  “It only makes you indestructible. Make it known what you want and everything will fall into place, baby. I promise.”

  Be indestructible, Ains. Be indestructible. I chanted it to myself over and over again. I wanted to spill my heart to Adrian, but all I could muster was my smile. I looked him dead in the eye and smiled so big that I felt my cheeks burn. I wanted him to know what it meant to me for him to be sitting there with me after all this time. How happy he’d made me.

  I didn’t expect him to return my smile, but he did, and I ate it up. His kind eyes and his sweet grin sent sparks of electricity all along my skin. I wanted to say something, but I didn’t want to ruin this moment because I feared I’d never get it again. And, just like when I was eight years old, I wanted to bask in that moment.

  Adrian looked away, and even in the evening light, I could see the pink on his cheeks. He looked at me again and his iridescent eyes hit mine.

  “You’ve come a long way from killing cats, Sunshine,” he said nonchalantly. It had been said in such a way that one would think four years of heartache and grief hadn’t come between us. It had been said in a way that suggested that we’d never not been friends. Sunshine.

  He’d called me Sunshine again. I hadn’t heard that sweet name in too long. Even in the growing darkness, that word cast an abundance of light to shine down on me. My heart swelled so big that the center of my chest ached and I felt the familiar tingles only one boy in my life had ever given me in my fingers.