Duet Rubato

by Claerie Kavanaugh

  “Exactly. The whole time, in the audition room? That night was all I could think about. Seeing you again, after what happened at the gym. I’ve never been angrier.”

  “But?” I prompt. I have no idea what to say.

  Catie sighs and tears her gaze from me, wrapping her arms around her shoulders. “But today. I would give anything to take that night back, Addie. I would give anything to have tried to understand. And to have helped you understand me, too. I wanted to give some of that to Nessa, since I couldn’t say it out loud.” She shrugs. “But I gave too much, and I’ve lost you and my career.”

  Oh my God. She wasn’t singing about Glinda’s life without Elphaba in Thank Goodness, the act two opener, but hers without me. She’s been faking happiness since we met in the auditorium, and since the moment I began chipping away at her defenses, she’s been working like mad to force her illusion back into place.

  My eyes water. I reach for her hand as a car pulls up in front of us. “Cate.”

  She stands. “I gotta go.”

  A lump rises in my throat. “Oh, okay.”

  She opens the door and climbs in. “I’ll see you around, I guess.”

  I spring up from my seat as it clicks closed. “Catie, wait!” But she’s off with a squeal of tires.

  “So, rumors are true? Helmsworth is a class A bitch?”

  My features pinch when the question tumbles from Megan’s lips before the car door snaps closed.

  I sink into the warmth of her heated seat. “She’s fine.”

  “Cate.”

  “Remind me to splurge for these, if I ever have enough to afford a car again.”

  “When you have enough,” Megan corrects. She rolls her eyes before placing a hand on my shoulder and squeezing. “I will.”

  “Mm,” I reply. “When.”

  I fasten my seatbelt and stare outside, but my breath fogs the glass, a shield against the wounded look in Addie’s eyes. It was like someone had ripped her heart clear out of her chest, replaced it with her stomach, tore it in half, and then put everything back where it went.

  God. Of everything I could’ve done, I had to go and spill my guts. I shouldn’t have bothered opening my mouth. She had no right to know what I was feeling. No right to make me feel that way in the first place. No right to be the one to have found me after I stormed out.

  “Catie?”

  I blink away the dew-like film glazing over my vision.

  “How long were you waiting for me out there? You look frigid.” She holds up my hand, the color of the burns scarring the Phantom’s face as he cowers beneath the opera house.

  “Not long.” I fiddle with the air vent on the dashboard until the heat blasts hard enough to blow my hair back. “Rehearsal got out early.”

  She spins away from the curb. I brace myself on my armrest and the car door.

  “The first table read of a production with Gina Helmsworth ended two hours early?” With each syllable, her brows raise a little higher.

  My cheeks warm. I swallow and nod.

  “Not in this life, sweetheart.” Megan’s gaze narrows. “Try again.”

  Her smirk is playful. Before I can answer, my phone vibrates in my faux fur-lined coat pocket. I punch in my password.

  6:05 P.M. Addie: Come back.

  In spite of the electricity pulsing through my fingers and the pins and needles skittering across my skin the farther we get from the theater, a smile blossoms on my lips.

  “Who is that?” Megan asks, her grin betrayed by the giddiness in her voice. “Have you been holding out on me? Do you have some sort of secret admirer?”

  “Shut up.” I shove her. My cell vibrates again.

  6:07 P.M. Addie: Please.

  My heart leaps in my chest, and for a moment, its pounding takes my breath away. Maybe something I said got to her. Maybe we could start over.

  “Let me guess, they’re in love with you after one day?” Megan laughs. “Sounds about right.”

  Her words plummet me to reality, and I close out of the texts. I can’t go back. Not with everything between us.

  6:09 P.M. Addie: What am I supposed to tell Hellsworth? I said I would make you come back.

  Fire roars in my chest and this time, I turn off the screen. Maybe it’s not me she cares about. I throw the cell in my tote.

  Megan bristles. “Whoa. PMS much?”

  I glower at the bag and fling it at my feet. “It’s nothing. Let’s go.”

  She snorts, but keeps her gaze on the road to avoid more icy patches. “You’re lucky I’m your best friend.”

  I smile, but it’s strained. “I know.”

  The hinges of my apartment door creak, and it swings open to reveal the poorly-lit entryway of our humble abode.

  I hang my coat on the hook next to the door, dropping my bag on the chipped granite of the garage-sale kitchen counter as I walk by.

  The door shuts with a jolting thwack and I spin around. Megan’s staring at it with a sheepish grin.

  “Sorry.”

  I sigh as I take off my knitted hat, put it with my purse, and shake out my hair, spraying water flecks across the sticky tile. “Remember our deal. If it breaks, you’re paying to have it fixed.”

  She gives me a stiff sailor’s salute in response. “Aye, aye, Captain.”

  As we head inside, I discover my brother has come over for dinner since his girlfriend had to work late. After teasing him about shirking his responsibilities too often because he’s a graphic designer and works from home, I take a shower and change out of my rehearsal clothes. When I return to the kitchen, my dance tote is sitting on the island, vibrating like crazy.

  “What the heck?”

  Megan groans. “It hasn’t stopped ringing since we walked in the door. I had to turn it on silent when you were showering. I couldn’t hear myself think.”

  I furrow my brow and fish my cell from the bottom of the bag. “I’ll turn it off.” Another text comes through. Five unread messages.

  Megan peeks over my shoulder and whistles. “Somebody must want your attention.”

  My stomach sinks. When I slide the pad of my finger over the screen and punch in the password, they’re all from Addie. I scroll through them, not reading any. I shouldn’t care what she says. I have far more important things to worry about than my ex-girlfriend’s opinion.

  I look down at the texts again, the second to last one feels like a thousand tragic stabs of a sword, right smack through the center of my heart.

  6:23 P.M. Addie: Don’t make my mistake. Don’t let fear keep you from going after what you want.

  My hands tremble and a choked sob escapes my lips. The floor tilts underneath me as the weight of what I did this afternoon washes over me. Megan calls my name, but I’m stuck in an endless funnel of wind, with the weight of a hand on my arm keeping the world from fading away.

  “Catherine? Catie, are you okay?”

  The apartment swirls together in a murky mess of Matilda-esque illustrations. I’m floating in a watercolor painting. I open my mouth. Close it. My legs are turning to jelly. Or is it liquid paint? A thousand bee stings slither up my arms and through my fingers. Two figures step into view, but their outlines are blurry at best. One slips his arm over my shoulders, and the next thing I know, I’m sitting again. Strong, calloused hands run up and down the length of my back. It’s calming. Comforting. Safe.

  The apartment comes back into focus and I collapse in Brayden’s arms. He lets me bury my head in the shoulder of his Downy-scented flannel—no doubt his girlfriend’s addition to their weekly laundry routine—and for once, I’m thankful for his ignorance.

  Only when my tears slow to a drizzle does Brayden offer me his shirt, but I forego it in favor of the box of Kleenex Megan holds out. No matter what, I will not be reduced to using an item of clothing as a tissue. When I’m able to catch my breath, I wiggle out of my brother’s embrace.

  “Sorry.”

  Brayden waves off my apology with a quick squeeze of my sho
ulder. “Don’t worry about it, slugger. What are big brothers for? Catching you when you’re down and out. Right, Mags?” He glances at Megan, who shoves him and rolls her eyes.

  “Dork.”

  I snort a laugh. A sports expert Brayden is not. I lean in to hug him once more before he fixes me with a solemn look. “Seriously, though, are you okay?”

  “Yeah,” Megan puts in, pulling up a third chair. “What happened? Who sent you those texts?”

  “Do I need to take a baseball bat to some stalker?”

  I laugh at my brother’s fierce game face when he mimes swinging a bat over his shoulder.

  “No, it’s nothing like that.” I touch the iMessage icon on my phone and hand it to Megan. Might as well get this over with.

  Her brows knit together as she takes the device. Each time her thumb swipes the screen, her eyes get a little wider. By the last one, they have bugged out of her head.

  “Damn.” She whistles. “You have been holding out on me.”

  I wince, but don’t have time to interject before my brother cuts in.

  “What?” Brayden’s face clouds with confusion. The scrape of his chair across the floor grates like a circular saw.

  Megan tilts the screen toward him and nudges my leg. “Whoever this Addie girl is—”

  “Wait,” he protests, looking up at me. “Addie? As in, ‘if your career is more important than your family, I never want to see you again’, Addie?”

  I stiffen. “It wasn’t like that.”

  “The hell it wasn’t,” he growls, snatching the phone. “You two are talking again?”

  I keep my eyes trained to a Lyssa-made smashed pea stain tainting the scuffed tile floor. “Well.”

  “Whoa, wait, hold up.” Megan puts a hand up and uses the other to take my cell back. “This is the bitch who broke your heart? And she wants to be a goddamned martyr for it?” She vaults out of her chair and stomps toward the garage. “I’m gonna kill her.”

  I shoot to my feet, gripping her arm before she gets too far. “Guys, stop! She’s saying that ’cause I was a stupid witch at rehearsal and now—” The words lodge themselves in my throat. Tears well in my eyes, but I won’t let them fall. No more crying, I have to be brave. I have to fix this. If I can.

  Megan’s features soften. She doesn’t say it, but relief is written all over her face as her shoulders sag and she nods for me to continue.

  “What happened at rehearsal?”

  I tell them everything. How we met again, the fight at the gym, seeing her at callbacks, the table read. It feels so good to say it out loud, but by the end, the knots in my stomach have twisted tighter than before. “I don’t know what to do. Obviously, I can’t take the part.”

  “Why not?” Brayden asks.

  I throw up my hands. “Hello! Did you not hear a word I said? Walked out of rehearsal. Giant metal bubble suspended off the ground. Terrified of heights. Traumatic head injury?”

  Brayden offers a raised brow and mysterious smile. “So, you’re going to prove Addie right, then?”

  “What?” I shake my head. “No, I-how can you…? I thought you were on my side here!”

  “I am, Cate, always. You’re my baby sister.”

  There’s a but coming. I know it.

  “But.” And there it is. He clasps my hand. I don’t pull away. “All those things? Those setbacks. They’re fears, Catie. You can conquer them if you want to.”

  “He’s right, you know,” Megan chimes in. “You’ve done it before.”

  My jaw drops. “How can you guys sit there and—you know what, forget it. I knew you’d never understand.” I yank my hand from my brother’s and stand.

  “Catie, wait!” But I ignore Megan’s pleas, instead grabbing my coat from the rack and heading for the front door.

  “I’m taking a walk.” I twist the brass knob (thankfully, it doesn’t come off in my hand this time) and am assaulted by a gust of wind. Frostbite tingles my fingers as air is whisked from my lungs. I close the door with a satisfying slam and step into the street. The world is drenched in rain and I have to squint to tell where I’m going. The next thing I know, I’m knee-deep in a mud puddle.

  “Fuck, let me help.”

  I take the gloved hand extended to meet mine, and haul myself up. I can’t quite make out the voice over the howling wind as I brush my mop of hair from where it’s been planted to my face. “No problem, I’m—” I’m met with a familiar set of steely, determined eyes. “Addie?” What is she doing here?

  She scratches her neck beneath the collar of her coat. “Hi.”

  “What are you doing here?” A flurry of emotions flicker in Catie’s eyes. Confusion. Fear. Anger. Trepidation.

  Fuck. Maybe coming here was a mistake. Maybe I was stupid to think she would give two shits about what I have to say. After all, she didn’t listen to me outside the theater, and she sure as hell hasn’t answered any of my texts.

  And I didn’t call her back.

  Fuck it.

  If she wanted to talk, why would she have jumped off the bench the minute her girlfriend, stupid Lyssa, pulled up to the curb? My heart twists like one of those acrobatic pretzels she used to perform with. Not that I’d ever admit to seeing any of her shows back then. What little dinner I ate claws at my throat. She doesn’t want jack from me. Hell, she doesn’t need it.

  So why am I still here? Why did I chase her all the way down into such a dodgy part of town so late at night when I already know she’s going to reject me?

  “Um, Addie?”

  I wince. It’s the second time she hasn’t called me Lyn since we met up twelve days ago. I’ve screwed up. Again.

  She tugs on my gloved hand. A strange look darkens her features. “Can I have my hand back now?”

  My eyes dart down to our still entwined fingers and I wrench mine away. “S-sorry.” And we’re back to the stuttering. Perfect. Fucking perfect.

  I slip my arm behind my back and watch as the last rays of sunset accentuate her pinkened cheeks. Is she blushing? No. I shake the thought away as she fiddles with an unclasped button on her coat.

  “It’s fine.” Her gaze meets mine, head cocking to the side. “How did you get here?”

  A smirk slips onto my lips as I gesture down the street to my car. “My sleigh is in the shop.”

  Catie giggles and rolls her eyes. “No, I mean, how do you know where I live?”

  I riffle through the messenger bag hanging over my shoulder and pull out a stack of résumés, holding hers out. “Assistant directors know everything.”

  Her cheeks flame as she hands the papers back and I stuff them in my tote. “Right.”

  The silence is punctured by the wind snaking through the trees, threatening to blow off their branches. Catie’s lips are losing color. She needs to go inside. I do too, judging by the water soaking through my layers. Any minute now, she’s going to run for the hills. By the way she crunches the ground under her boots, she’s probably already planning her escape. I can’t blame her.

  I lift my eyes and take a deep breath. In the same instant, her gaze snaps up. Words tumble from both of our mouths.

  “Addie, look, I’m—”

  “Catie, I shouldn’t have—”

  Catie blushes and hugs herself, eyes on the ground. But finally, she puffs out a breath. She stuffs her hands in either side of her sleeves and clears her throat. “Did you, um, get any of my messages?”

  I plunge my gloved hands in my pockets, and they fist. The look on her face is so pitiful and pleading. A part of me wants to snuff out my anger. Fuck whatever happened at the gym. This is our second chance. God knows we might not get a third.

  Less than a year. It took her less than a year to forget me.

  But then again, I was the shitless idiot who walked out. Do I really have a right to be mad?

  “Lyn?” The word is so soft it barely registers over the howling wind, but I blink and face her with a long sigh.

  “Yeah.” My breath fogs in the night a
ir, distorting the way her features twitch at my response. “I got them.”

  “So.” She rubs her hands together and I cringe as another shiver runs through her. “Can you forgive me?”

  I shrug off my coat and drape it atop her own. “I want to, Cate, but. . .”

  A hesitant smile blossoms on my lips as she pulls the coat collar tighter around her shoulders. It drops the moment the word leaves my mouth.

  “But what?” The glassy, fragile look in her eyes is enough to make my heart break in two. But then I inhale again and tear my gaze from hers.

  I twine my hands together. “Ten months, Catherine. It took you ten months to get over me after we’d been friends for more than half of our lives. How am I supposed to trust you after that?”

  Catie’s brows furrow. “What are you talking about?”

  My lips purse as I squelch another eye roll. “The date? On the sheet music?”

  I burrow the soles of my boots into the ground as Catie shakes her head. “Addie, that wasn’t—”

  “Oh, come on!” My chest heaves. How the fuck is she still denying this? “You called her the light of your life! Why else would you do that and then date it if you weren’t dedicating it to her?”

  Realization dawns, and her expression blazes. “Ugh! For the last time, I told you, Lyssa isn’t my girlfriend! She’s my daughter.”

  I freeze. “Your what?”

  “My daugh-ter.”

  I’m so fucking shocked. My body goes limp.

  There was no way she would stumble that much over someone who was “just a friend.” I should know. I’ve seen her through every crush, infatuation, and genuine relationship she’s had before ours since we were eleven. It was a matter of time before everything came crashing down. I never imagined it would be like this.

  “Um, Lyn?”

  Catie’s quivering voice slices through my fantasy, and I shake the fog from my vision. “What? Oh. Yeah. I’m f—” I clear my throat, dislodging the hitch. “Fine.”

  “Fine? That’s it?” She studies my face and I do my best to match her penetrating gaze. When her eyes linger on the arches of my cheeks, searching for tear tracks, I guess, or maybe some reddening, I flex my jaw. Once. Twice.