Harmony

by Karis Walsh

  Her mom looked ready to protest, but Bill spoke up first. “Any place special in mind?”

  Brooke suggested the Orca Room, a new upscale restaurant she had been to once with Jake. On the top floor of a downtown hotel, it had expansive views of Puget Sound and some of the best seafood in Seattle. Brooke didn’t care about those things, though. She recalled the tables covered in white linen and set with silver, and a stern-looking, uniformed waitstaff. Brooke hadn’t felt overly comfortable eating there, but it seemed the least likely of places for her parents to make a scene. If she could just fill the other tables with her mom’s country club friends, she’d be set.

  They drove to the restaurant and ordered breakfast, and Brooke could barely swallow, let alone speak. Her earlier determination waned, and she seemed to have lost her voice. She half-listened to her parents’ forced attempts at small talk, giving only brief comments when required. She stared out at the Sound, watching a ferry make its leisurely way to Bremerton, and fought a sudden longing to have Andy with her. Not speaking for her, but standing with her for support.

  Brooke pulled her gaze away from the view and back to her parents. As infuriating as they could be, she loved them. She didn’t know how they would react to her after she told them, and the possibility of being cut out of their lives terrified her. She felt a sudden wave of panic, and a fear she would fail yet again to be honest with them. Tears stung her eyes, and she felt her dad’s hand cover her own.

  “Talk to us, Brooke,” he said gently.

  “I think…” Brooke stopped and shook her head. No more thinking, no more maybes. “I’m a lesbian.”

  The three of them were silent for a few moments. Barely audible classical music and the occasional chink of a fork on china were the only sounds in the restaurant. “It’s only natural you’re confused after all you’ve been through, Brooke,” Evelyn said, patting her daughter’s hand. “When we get home, I’ll call Dr. Jeffries, and he can help like he did last time.”

  “He didn’t help me, Mom,” Brooke said, trying to keep her rising anger out of her voice. She wanted to explain, not argue. “He made me doubt myself, question my own feelings. I won’t let anyone do that again.”

  “Are you doing this because of that musician?” Evelyn asked after a tense pause.

  “Andy and I are…were dating, but I’m not gay because of her. I was attracted to her because I like women.”

  Evelyn winced at Brooke’s statement, but the arrival of a waiter with their food effectively halted all conversation for a moment.

  “But you came home again,” Bill said once they were alone again. “Since you’re not with her anymore…”

  “No, Dad, it won’t change anything. Andy and I had a little disagreement, but I mainly needed to talk to you both,” Brooke said, downplaying their argument. Whether or not she and Andy managed to work things out, they would do it with privacy. “I’m tired of running away instead of standing up for myself and being honest. I did the same thing at Gonzaga, with Jake, and with the two of you.” And with Andy, Brooke added to herself. But that was different, because Andy knew exactly why she left.

  “But you lived with Jake. Weren’t the two of you…” Evelyn waved her hand in the air to finish her sentence. Brooke knew it was as close as she’d come to bringing up the topic of sex.

  “I tried,” Brooke said, keeping her own answer equally vague. “I tried to be what everyone wanted me to be.”

  “We only wanted you to be happy, Brooke,” her dad said with a sigh. “But you’ve chosen a difficult path.”

  “It’s not a decision I’ve made. It’s who I am,” Brooke said firmly, needing her parents to understand, as she finally did, that there were no gray areas here. “You can’t change me, but I hope you can accept me.”

  Bill took his wife’s hand and they looked at one another for a moment before he spoke. “We love you, Brooke. We always will.”

  Brooke felt a wave of relief wash over her, and she blinked back tears again. She had worried about her parents causing a scene, but she was the one getting emotional. She attacked her cooling crab eggs Benedict with a sudden appetite.

  “I suppose this means no grandchildren,” Evelyn said with a resigned sigh.

  Brooke choked on a piece of crab. “There are always options, if I decide I want kids,” she said, shaking off a sudden vision of Andy with a child, teaching her to play a tiny viola or helping him organize his stuffed animals by size and color.

  “Would you like me to tell people at the firm?” Bill asked. “Or do you want to do it yourself, when you come back?”

  “I’m not going back there, Dad,” Brooke said, hurrying through her words before she started to apologize or waver in her decision. “I never really liked it. I’m thinking of going to culinary school. I found out I love to cook, and I’m pretty good at it.”

  Her parents stopped eating and stared at her. “You get that from me,” Evelyn said finally, before returning to her lobster crepes.

  “Your mother is an excellent cook,” Bill agreed.

  “I taught you how, before your dad made partner and we started eating out so often,” Evelyn said. “Do you remember?”

  Brooke smiled. “I used to sit on the counter and watch. You’d give me things to chop or stir.”

  “I just couldn’t let you add the spices,” Evelyn said with a small laugh. “You never did like to measure.”

  The memory triggered a series of reminiscences from Brooke’s childhood, as if the three of them needed to revisit the ties holding them together as a family. Brooke welcomed the change to lighter topics and the sense of relief she felt after her honesty. She finished her breakfast, shutting out the desire to share her accomplishment with Andy.

  *

  On the other side of town, Andy stood in front of her open refrigerator and attempted to stir up some enthusiasm for the frozen burrito she had chosen for dinner. She had restocked her freezer and shelves with the convenience foods that had been her staples before Brooke had come along and introduced home-cooked meals into her life. She tossed the burrito into the microwave and was setting the timer when a knock at the door gave her that too familiar feeling of hope.

  It wasn’t Brooke, but her quartet—plus Jonas—who stood on the landing. “We brought pizza and beer,” Tina said, holding up a six-pack of Alaskan Amber. “So you have to let us in.”

  She didn’t so much invite them in as stand staring in surprise while they walked past her. Richard patted her stiffly on the shoulder.

  “Nancy wanted to come, but she wasn’t feeling well today. She wanted me to tell you she’s sorry Brooke left,” he said before filing into the living room behind Tina.

  David came in last and made a show of prying the door out of Andy’s hand so he could shut it. He put his index finger under her chin and pushed her mouth closed. “Stop staring at us like you’ve never seen friends before,” he said.

  “How did everyone know?” she asked quietly.

  “Jonas talked to Brooke yesterday. He thought you might like some company, so here we are. Now go into the kitchen and toss out whatever is beeping in your microwave.”

  She went into the kitchen and put the cooked burrito in the fridge. “We need plates and napkins,” Tina said from behind her.

  “I won’t eat pizza, you know,” Andy said as she dug through her cupboards, her voice laced with irritation because she felt embarrassed that her quartet was talking about her love life.

  “We went to Giovanni’s down the street so we could get you one with soy cheese,” Tina said, unruffled by Andy’s grouchiness. “I don’t think you can still call it pizza, but it’s close.”

  Andy felt her eyes stupidly well up with tears, and she crossed her arms over her chest. “Why are you doing this?”

  “Because we’re your friends, Andy. You don’t have to face everything alone, you know,” Tina explained in a voice that implied that Andy was acting dim.

  “But why now? After all these years?”
<
br />   “We’ve always been here,” Tina said with a shrug. “Maybe you’ve just been too much in control to notice. But Brooke made you let us into your life, and we’re not going anywhere.”

  Andy couldn’t help but wince when Brooke’s name was mentioned. “If you want, I can make the guys leave,” Tina offered in a low voice. “If you’re more in the mood for girl talk, or if you want to cry on my shoulder.”

  “God, no crying,” Andy said with a short laugh. “I will take one of those beers, though.”

  *

  It was impossible for Andy to remain uptight for long with the laughter and joking around her. The group sprawled around the living room, their coats draped over the back of her couch, eating too much pizza and talking about anything but Brooke. As usual, the talk soon turned to music, and the group shared stories about their interests outside of the classical world. Tina performed regularly at fiddle festivals while David played with a jazz trio. Richard finally admitted he played lead guitar in a rock band with other faculty members from his college. David was begging to be allowed at one of their rehearsals when Andy started gathering their empty pizza boxes.

  “I need to take these to the recycling bin outside,” she said quietly to Jonas. “Can you come with me?”

  He set down his beer and followed her out. They shut the door on Tina and David’s laughter and walked down the stairs.

  “How is she?” Andy finally managed to ask.

  “She’s fine,” Jonas said. Andy opened her mouth to ask more, but he held up a hand. “Don’t, Andy. Even though she isn’t technically my patient, I have to protect her privacy.”

  They stood by the blue bin, listening to the rain hit the roof of the carport. Andy rubbed her arms, but more because she felt exposed than because she noticed the cold and damp.

  “By the way, your apartment looks great,” Jonas said casually. “Very clean. And I noticed you’ve moved the furniture since Thanksgiving.”

  Andy wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I just moved everything back the way it was…before.”

  “Well, it must feel good to have order restored,” he said with a nod. “No more tripping over someone else’s clothes and shoes, or juggling for space in the bathroom.”

  “I like things to be neat,” Andy said, not convincingly.

  “Under control.”

  “Exactly.”

  Jonas laughed. “I’ll bet you’ve even planned your days down to the minute. When to practice, when to eat, like that.”

  Andy blushed, thinking of the schedule she had posted just yesterday morning in her music room. It was supposed to help her keep her mind on task and off Brooke. She managed to do that during most of her practice time and the fifteen minutes it took to microwave and eat a veggie burger or can of soup. But when she was in the car or teaching or lying in bed, her mind drifted to honey-blond hair sifting through her fingers or the feel of Brooke’s skin against her own.

  “Those people upstairs love you, Andy,” Jonas said, interrupting her thoughts. “But do you know why they’ve never dropped by your apartment like this before?”

  “I guess I don’t share much of myself with other people. I like to handle things on my own, and I don’t see what’s wrong with that.”

  “Nothing at all,” Jonas said. “But it can be a lonely road. Brooke changed you. She made you more approachable, more open, and the people who want to be your friends could feel that.”

  “But look what happened,” Andy said, running a hand through her hair. “I let her in and she hurt me.”

  “And look what happened to her. She got close to you, and it scared her. You can be a lot to live up to, Andy,” he said, holding her arm so she would stay and listen. “You’re a gifted musician, organized, focused. And that can be intimidating to someone who is spontaneous, a little untidy, and just starting to learn about herself.”

  “So I practice an instrument and clean my apartment now and then,” Andy said with a catch in her voice, both angry and embarrassed at Jonas’s words. “I never wanted to make her feel like she’s less than I am.”

  “You didn’t,” Jonas said, pulling her into a gentle hug. “You made her feel capable of more than she thought she could be. You’ve spent a lifetime being self-sufficient and in charge of yourself. She’s only had a couple of months.”

  “I miss her,” Andy admitted. “But I’m still angry.”

  “I know,” Jonas said, stepping back and meeting Andy’s eyes. “I can tell you she misses you too. But she’s still confused and needs to find her way and make serious choices. And she’s still angry because you didn’t trust her to do those things on her own.”

  They walked back to the apartment in silence. Andy said good night to her friends, appreciating their gesture that evening. But she wasn’t convinced by Jonas’s words. Yes, Brooke had made her more open, but that had only led to heartbreak. Her old way of life, self-contained and orderly, offered predictability and safety. She quickly tidied the living room, removing all signs of the impromptu pizza party. She retreated into her music room, practicing nothing but scales for the hour before her schedule told her it was bedtime.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Brooke spent the week trying gamely to be what Jonas called “productively sad” instead of withdrawing as she had in the past. She had gone to his office the day after coming out to her parents, on the pretense of dropping off some completed transcriptions, and ended up spending his lunch hour talking about her family, and about Andy.

  “Give her a few days to cool off,” he had advised. “And to miss you.”

  Brooke wanted to talk to Andy, to find out if they could at least remain friends, but she needed to mend old relationships first. She spent time with her parents, and she found she was able to voice her own ideas on any topic more easily since their breakfast. Her mom was clearly uncomfortable, still unable to come to terms with her revelation, but she no longer brought up Dr. Jeffries, so Brooke was happy enough. Her dad was the one to surprise Brooke, though. He didn’t claim to understand her feelings for Andy, but he seemed to grow more proud of Brooke every time she asserted herself or expressed her own opinions. They started to enjoy simply spending time together, as they had when she was a child, and he would join her on shopping trips or on walks around the city. Brooke commandeered the barely used kitchen as a way of occupying her time, and she soon had her parents’ freezer stocked with food.

  Meanwhile, she applied for cooking school and student loans, planning to take on extra transcription work so she could aim toward an independence she hadn’t experienced before. She even found some time to be alone, something she’d had very little of in her old life. Since leaving college, she’d rarely been away from Jake, her family, her coworkers—until Andy. Although she had felt lonely at first when Andy was practicing or teaching, she had discovered that having time alone to read, cook, or walk had been refreshing.

  *

  By Friday, however, she had been alone and productive enough. She knew she had to see Andy before her big concert, and she hoped her anger had eased, so they could talk and try to work things out. This performance meant so much to Andy. Brooke knew firsthand how much time Andy had put into her preparation, and she wanted to share in her triumph, even if it was only as her friend. She dressed with care, choosing a new navy silk top with a lacy camisole peeking out that she knew Andy would love, and headed down to Pioneer Square. She would check at Mickey’s first, to see if the musicians had gone there after their rehearsal. If not, then she would go to Andy’s apartment.

  She had to circle the surrounding blocks several times in search of a parking place, and she felt a thrill of nervousness when she saw Andy’s car near the bar. Mickey’s was jammed, and she stood just inside the door and scanned the crowds for the musicians from the symphony. She finally found them, a group of ten people clustered around a small table in the back of the room. She spotted Andy in their midst, breathtaking in black jeans and a turtleneck, leaning close to a woman Brooke didn
’t recognize. The other woman looked to be in her mid-forties, with short graying hair and elegant features, and she wore a dark maroon jacket and black pants. She was gesturing as she talked to Andy, both of their faces intent on the conversation.

  Brooke wiped suddenly sweaty palms on her jeans and headed to the bar to order a drink before confronting Andy. She leaned against the counter, staring at Andy as she waited for the bartender to notice her, but a familiar voice from behind broke her out of her trance.

  “They make a handsome couple, don’t they?”

  Brooke turned to find Lyssa standing close beside her. “Who?” she asked.

  Lyssa just smiled. “That’s Adrienne Richman, the guest conductor for tomorrow night’s concert. She and Andy have been inseparable this week.”

  The bartender came by, but Brooke waved him away. “So she’s not from around here?” she asked hopefully.

  “She’s with the Chicago Symphony. She also is one of the leading producers of recordings by women composers. You know how important Andy thinks it is to get female musicians the recognition they deserve, and those two have discovered quite a bond.”

  Brooke glanced over her shoulder and saw Andy laugh at something Adrienne said. She looked happy and in her element. Sharing her ideas and passions with another music expert, and not missing Brooke at all.

  “I’ve heard that Adrienne’s principal violist may be leaving, so they’ll be holding a national audition for the chair. I wouldn’t be surprised if Chicago found itself with a new viola player next season, especially if Andy doesn’t keep the first chair here,” Lyssa mused, taking a sip of her cosmo and watching the two musicians. She looked back at Brooke. “Why don’t you come over and say hi to everyone?”

  “No…I can’t,” Brooke stammered. “I mean, I really need to get going.”

  Lyssa raised her glass in a silent good-bye, and Brooke left the bar without a backward glance.