Playing My Love

by Angela Peach

  Whilst I vacuumed the house and washed everything there was to wash, Gray decided it best to keep out of my way and disappeared into the study to type. He was working on a book he'd always wanted to write which suited me just fine. It meant I could disappear to my shed to play on my guitar without feeling guilty that he was in the house bored.

  So when she finally knocked, I purposely took my time in standing up, which seemed to amuse Gray even more. Scowling playfully at him, I went to let her in, feeling a cheesy grin spread across my face as I opened the door to her.

  "Hey, Alison! Look, I brought my rainbow with me!" she said, beaming happily at me. I groaned and held my hot face in my hands.

  "Oh my god, I'm so embarrassed! I swear, I'm never touching tequila again."

  "Now that would be a shame" she said, leaning forward to give me a hug. "Where's Gray?"

  "Working on his novel. Do you want a drink before we go out?" I said, changing the subject. I didn't want her to see him looking so ill and start asking questions.

  "Um, no, I'm okay thanks."

  We walked out to the shed in silence, but once the door was shut she asked me if everything was alright between us.

  "Yes, of course! Why?"

  "I don't know, just because you look tired, you're losing weight. Are you…you know, are you okay?" she tried to ask casually, but I could sense her concern.

  "Honestly? I think I've just been overdoing it with trying to get the garden up to scratch, but I'm fine" I answered, seeing the irony in how I was lying to her the same way Gray lied to me. "And I miss Jazz. I don't think I realised how much until this weekend." That bit was true, though. Darcy put her hand on my arm.

  "I know we haven't really known each other very long, but I'd like to think you class me as a friend. And not like an acquaintance, I mean like a real friend. You know, the sort you can call up at any time if you need to? I'd be right there" she said sincerely, her brown eyes warm but serious. I nodded and smiled.

  "Yes. I see us as real friends, Daneka. Thank you."

  She nodded gently.

  "You're welcome. Okay, so do you want to get tuned up?"

  "Already did it before you turned up."

  "Great! In that case, show me how far you've got with that practice piece I gave you." She sat in the comfortable chair while I perched on the stool, and put the strap over my shoulder. Then I went through the exercises she'd set me, trying to ignore her intense eyes watching my every move.

  When I finished, I nervously looked over at her and was surprised to see her sat forward, frowning.

  "How much have you been practicing?" she asked.

  "Oh, about an hour a day maybe, sometimes two. But I couldn't while Jazz and Chris were here. Why? Should I practice more?" I felt a crushing disappointment in my chest. I'd been so desperate to impress her with how far I thought I'd come, but obviously it wasn't enough. She gave me an odd look.

  "Alison, I'm really impressed. I mean, like seriously impressed! The level you've reached in such a short amount of time is incredible! Technically, it's all falling into place and the rest will follow now you're getting comfortable with moving across the strings. I actually think we can progress to starting a song? How do you feel about a challenge?"

  "I'd love one! But what did you mean by technically, and 'the rest?' What's the difference?" I asked, trying to hide my glowing pride by appearing curious.

  "Well, at the moment you're concentrating on making sure your fingers are in the right place at the right time because you're trying to fine tune the technical aspects of playing. But once you get the hang of it you'll start to relax, and because you won't be concentrating so hard on the technical side, you'll start to enjoy playing more. You'll sort of immerse yourself in the song and find the emotional aspect. When you find where the song comes from emotionally, and you access it in your soul, your playing will reach a whole new level. It sounds sort of cheesy, but there you go." She shrugged. I took the strap from my shoulder and held the guitar out to her.

  "Show me."

  We swapped places and she took a moment to get comfortable.

  "Okay, I'm going to play a few tunes and I want you to see if you can guess what emotion I'm playing with."

  I sat back and closed my eyes, ready to concentrate, and there was a pause before she started to play. It was a slow, melancholic song and as always, the hairs on my arms stood up. Now though, I understood why. I opened my eyes when she finished.

  "That was so sad" I said, and she nodded.

  "When I want to play sad, I think about my dad, and how it feels that he's not around anymore. What about this one?"

  I listened carefully, frowning.

  "I don't know, that was kind of tricky. It sounded hesitant, I guess?"

  "Close enough. I was going for apprehensive."

  She went through a couple more, and I guessed them straight away as happy and angry.

  "Play love" I asked her, leaning forward.

  "Play love? Hmm, that's one I haven't played for a while." She tilted her head back and stared at a point on the ceiling as she thought about it. Then, with a small smile, she picked up the capo and attached it to the neck. She'd explained to me before that it altered the pitch of the strings and changed the key. She took a deep breath while I held mine, then closed her eyes as I watched intently.

  What happened next was enchanting to say the least. It was as if time stood still and we were transported somewhere else, somewhere beautiful, on her melody. It was a simple tune, but I could feel my heart practically sighing as her emotion floated across to embrace it! But what made it so much more magical was that she was singing in French. No, I couldn't understand a word of it, but even if I hadn't asked her to play love, I would have known. I wondered if she was singing about her old flame, Sam? I wanted her to be playing it for me.

  She finished singing, but continued to strum.

  "I could really show off and sing it in Italian if you want?" she offered, smiling. I simply nodded then listened, completely raptured, as she sang the song again in Italian. What struck me was how soft and gentle her voice was, even though I could imagine the impact it would have on a full room would be exactly the same as the impact it was having on me now.

  When it ended, I must have looked as in awe as I felt because Darcy chuckled.

  "You'll be able to play like that one day. I can teach it to you if you want?"

  "It sounded way out of my league."

  "The rate you're learning, I don't think you're far off being able to play it. Come on, I'll show you the first few chords and you can see it's actually easier than you realise." She stood and passed the guitar to me, catching my eye as she did. We held contact for a few seconds longer than we should have, making my face flush. But just before I looked away, I noticed colour spread through her cheeks too. I cleared my throat.

  "So what's the name of that song?" I asked. She frowned, as if she was puzzled by something.

  "Mm? Oh, er, it's called Le Ciel Dans Une Chambre. I randomly found it on a Carla Bruni album a couple of months ago."

  "Carla Bruni? Isn't she Nicolas Sarkozy's wife?" I asked incredulously.

  "Yeah, I know! Crazy huh? Can you imagine our Prime Ministers' wives releasing an album?" She shook her head, her silky chestnut hair swishing as she did. I watched it, momentarily mesmerised. "So anyway, put your left hand on a G chord…here" she said, moving my left hand into position. "Then, starting with your thumb on the top string and using the tips of your fingers, pluck the first four strings gently down, then back up."

  I did as she directed, trying to copy the song she'd just played, but my twanging in no way resembled the melody she'd created.

  "No, hold on. Do it like this." Darcy reached out, then changed her mind and came round behind me. She slid her arm under mine and put her fingers on the strings. I suddenly found it very hard to breathe as I half turned my head so I could look at her. "Okay, rest your fingers on top of mine, and just sort of feel how I do it" s
he said quietly, leaning her body into my back. I was aware of the mounds of her breasts on my shoulder, her free hand on my left hip, but I forced myself to look down at the strings and placed my right hand gently on top of hers. A thousand crazy emotions raced around my body at the close contact, and I had to try hard to control myself. Beneath mine her fingers gently pulled at the strings, and even though I knew I was supposed to be paying attention, all I could focus on was the way her body felt pressed close against mine. I turned my head again toward her.

  "I like your perfume" I whispered. She stopped playing.

  "I like yours too" she whispered back, moving her face nearer to mine. I wasn't sure if we were even talking about perfume. I angled my head more until my cheek was touching hers, while at the same time entwining our fingers together over the strings. Her cheek was softer and smoother than velvet and I sucked in a sharp breath as she moved it slightly, creating a gentle friction. Our lips were so close to touching, all it would take would be a small turn of Darcy's head to make contact. I closed my eyes in anticipation.

  Darcy turned her head…but it was the wrong way. I found my mouth grazing her hair as she bent down and pressed her lips to my shoulder. But instead of kissing me like I expected, she simply stayed that way for a long time before removing her fingers from mine and pushing herself away from me, walking slowly to my work bench facing the wall. I stared at her back for a while, confused. When she turned back around, she looked pained.

  "I'm so sorry. You're…you're married." Her voice was shaking slightly, and I realised just how much she was affected by what had (almost) happened. However, it was a statement that I should have been making. "Alison, I'll be completely, brutally honest. I'm so attracted to you, sometimes it's all I can think about. I love being with you, I love the way you make me feel, the way you look at me. But you're married. I just can't do that, not to Gray, not to you and most definitely not to myself. It's…it's not who I am."

  I hung my head, ashamed at how close I'd come to losing my integrity. I'd always thought that that wasn't who I was either, but there I'd been about to, what? Seduce her while Gray was in the house? I stood and rested the guitar on the chair, then walked slowly over to her, taking her hands in mine.

  "No Darcy. It's me that should apologise. It was wrong of me to behave that way with you. It wasn't fair. I'm sorry, please can you forgive me?"

  She squeezed my hands and gave a small smile.

  "Hey, there's nothing to forgive. Nothing happened, right?"

  "What you said earlier, about us being friends…I hope this doesn't change anything?" I gave a dry chuckle. "It's not like I have enough friends that I can afford to lose you right now."

  "Of course not! Hey, we're good, I promise." She pulled me into a warm hug, filling me with relief. For a while there, I'd thought she was going to walk out and leave. When we pulled back, she tilted her head at me. "Can I ask you something?"

  "Sure."

  "Don't take this the wrong way, but…is Jazz like your only friend?"

  "Apart from you, you mean?"

  She rolled her eyes, smiling.

  "Yes, apart from me."

  "My only real friend, yes. Back in London I had acquaintances, and work colleagues, but no one I wanted to stay in contact with." Darcy continued watching me, waiting for more of an explanation, so I sighed. "When we were at school together, she was my only friend full stop. I never really trusted anyone enough to let them in, and no one ever tried too hard to get in. Then when I got with Gray, we just hung out with his friends all the time so it never bothered me that I didn't have any of my own. Jazz is enough and always has been. Until now, of course. I value you as much as I do her now" I added shyly.

  She studied me closely.

  "Well, thank you. I feel incredibly honoured. And I'm really glad I asked. I kept wondering why an attractive, intelligent, funny and seemingly nice woman like you had no friends!"

  "Now you know it's by choice. Anyway, don't you have a car to be paying off? Teach me a song or I'll start reclaiming it back, part by part. Starting with the keys!" I tried desperately to pull us back onto more relaxed ground, and was pleased when she responded by swatting my arm.

  "Don't even think about it! Pick that guitar up and prepare to be taught!"

  Keeping her distance this time, Darcy taught me how to play the chords on a simple song, promising to print up the sheet music and bring it with her next time. I pushed myself until my fingertips wouldn't take any more and we decided to call it a night.

  Because Darcy was studying for her exams, she told me she'd have to squeeze my lessons in around her revision times. She took out her diary and booked me in for every Tuesday and Friday night before giving me a long, warm hug goodbye. After I'd seen her off, I went back inside. Gray had gone to bed already so I poured myself a large glass of whiskey, and sat down at my laptop. I wanted to find the song she'd played for me, the French one. Unable to remember the name of it, I instead typed in Carla Bruni and scrolled through the song titles until I found it.

  Le Ciel Dans Une Chambre.

  I pulled up a link on You Tube to hear how Carla sang it, then opened another window to translate the lyrics. The translation was coarse, but I got the general gist of the words.

  It was beautiful. It was love.

  I listened to the song several times in a row, trying to hear everything, although in my opinion, it paled in comparison next to Darcy's soft voice. I'd already decided I was going to try and learn it by myself to surprise her, and also that I was going to learn the lyrics at the same time. I thought it would be easier than trying to integrate them in at a later date.

  By the time I went to lay down next to Gray, my mind was whirring with French lyrics and chords, and it took me a long time to drift off.

  11

  Stupid Questions

  Over the next few weeks, Gray's condition seemed to decline at an alarming rate and we made several emergency trips to the hospital where they decided to insert a stent to relieve the pressure. Because I'd done my research on this, I was already prepared for the procedure. I knew that the cancer was putting pressure on the bile duct, which was in turn causing the jaundice. The stent would let the bile flow freely again and provide some temporary relief from his symptoms. A few days after it was fitted, his colour started to return to a healthier hue, and his sickness and lethargy lifted enough so he was able to re-join me for meals, even if his were considerably smaller.

  During this time, I made the decision to start taking my lessons at Darcy's flat instead. This was mainly because Gray thought it would be good for me to get out of the house for a change of scenery after being stuck inside with him for so long. In the end I relented because I thought it would give Darcy more time to study if she wasn't driving back and forth, and I really had nothing much else to be doing anyway, apart from keeping a close eye on Gray.

  It was about mid-June when I pulled up outside the flat she shared with Nicki for our Friday night lesson, and noticed there were a lot more cars parked up than normal. And as I approached their front door, I saw it was open and people were milling about in the hallway.

  Oh great. A party.

  I made my way through, looking for either Darcy or Nicki, and found the latter in the kitchen making a round of lethal looking drinks.

  "Ali! Oh my god! Darcy's been trying to call you all night!" she shouted, very enthusiastically.

  "Oh, really? Why?" I pulled my phone out of my bag, and sure enough there were seven missed calls and four texts. I frowned, puzzled as to how I could have missed them all, but then noticed my phone was on silent. I hadn't turned the volume back on after Gray's nap earlier. "Where is she?" I asked, not bothering to read the texts. I was here now, so I might as well go and see her.

  "Bedroom. Go and see her, talk some fucking sense into her! I've tried and she just ignored me. It pains me as her best friend to say this, but if anyone can get her to stay, it'll be you."

  "Stay? What do you mean?"
>
  "As in not go? Because you make her happy, you bring out her rainb…er, you make her smile!"

  I cringed as she tried to backtrack. It seemed everyone knew about it now.

  "Without sounding stupid, where is she going?" I asked, trying to hide my embarrassment.

  "Running back to fucking Sam! Have you even read your messages?"

  I frowned, shaking my head. I tried to dig into my reserves of patience, deciding I needed this information before I found Darcy. Nicki took a deep breath.

  "I should really let Darce tell you…but, Sam's got back in touch. She wants her back, or something, and it's just fucked her head up, you know?"

  My mouth went dry and I stared at Nicki, trying to digest this.

  "And she's…she's going to go back to her?"

  "I don't know! She won't talk to me!" she replied, exasperated as if it was obvious. "Look, she's in her room. Go talk to her! Make her stay!"

  I turned and headed robotically toward Darcy's bedroom, my heart pounding as I thought quickly. I had no right to be jealous, I knew that much. I held no rights over Darcy. And, as she kept pointing out, I was a married lady. Surely Darcy deserved a bit of happiness? I mean, at the end of the day, what could I offer her, really? The possibility that one day, if she was patient and didn't mind waiting, that we might be able to pursue a relationship? Was I certain enough of my feelings toward her to make that sort of a promise?

  Yes, I thought instantly. But it was irrelevant. Sam and Darcy had history. Sam was available now. And by the time I reached Darcy's bedroom door, I'd come to a firm, if not difficult, decision. No matter how I felt for Darcy, I would back off, and encourage her to follow her heart with Sam. I knocked.

  "Fuck off."

  "It's me. Alison" I called out through the door. There was a long pause and I was about to shout again louder, when the door opened. She'd obviously been very recently crying as her eyes were red and puffy and still slightly damp.