Saved By The Music

by Selene Castrovilla

  “I’m afraid …” I pulled a book off at random, looked at the cover without looking at it at all. “I’m afraid that once I start eating, I won’t be able to stop.”

  “You’re a prisoner to food either way. Don’t you see that? You need a middle ground.”

  I flipped through pages, not registering a word I saw. “There isn’t one.”

  “Yes, there is. You’ll see. For now, all I want is your word that you’ll eat. Deal?”

  I read the title as I re-shelved the book. As I Lay Dying—a title we could all identify with, in one way or another.

  “Deal, Willow?” Axel repeated.

  I didn’t have a choice, did I? “Deal.” I sat back down at the table. “How are we getting there?”

  “Hank.”

  “Hank?”

  “He’s my driver, when I need one. My guy on call.”

  Well, la de da. “You have a guy on call? What does he do, wait around for you to contact him?” I hoped Hank had a few good books on hand.

  “Nooo. He works for my dad, doing a bunch of things. One of his jobs is to be my driver.”

  Wow, this really drove home the class difference between us. It was forgettable on his small sailboat. “If you have a driver, why didn’t you call him from the hospital instead of using the car service?”

  Axel shrugged. “I didn’t think you were up to Hank just then. He’s … a bit talkative.”

  I stood. “Okay, well, you call Hank, and I’ll go tell Aunt Agatha where we’re heading. I have to catch her before she leaves.”

  “You all right, going out there alone?” He looked very concerned.

  “Where … into the world? Yeah, I can handle it.” I gave him a peck. “You’re sweet, you know that?”

  I hoisted myself up the steps. Had to do it sometime.

  It felt strange to be out in the sun after so long. I shaded my eyes with my hand to have a look around. Then I headed down the ladder to the dock, feeling a jolt with every movement.

  It hurt to walk at first. But step by step, I got used to the pain, and by the time I reached the parking lot, I’d forgotten about it.

  Aunt Agatha was just getting into the VW. She got out again when she saw me. “Dear heart, what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. I just wanted you to know that we’re going to Chinatown tonight.”

  “You’re not planning on taking the A train into Manhattan, are you? I’m afraid I can’t allow that. It’s much too dangerous.”

  “No. Axel’s driver is coming to pick us up.”

  “Indeed!” She looked at her sad, beaten car. “In that case, maybe I should hitch a ride.” She laughed. “Ah, well. Thanks for keeping me informed, love. And if there’s ever an emergency, please call the theater. I don’t care if I’m in the middle of the opening number—you’re more important.”

  “Okay.”

  A florist’s delivery truck with a Park Avenue address painted on its side pulled beside us. “Hey lady,” the driver yelled out the window to Aunt Agatha, “you know the Perchance to Dream?”

  “Darling, I don’t go for all that brooding nonsense.” She dismissed it with a wave of her hand. “In order to dream, one must awaken.”

  The driver gaped for a moment, then said, “Lady, you always talk like a fortune cookie?”

  “Are you looking for the sailboat Perchance to Dream?” I asked him.

  He smiled widely, no doubt grateful that I wasn’t Confucius, Junior. “You got it.”

  “Is the delivery for Axel Ridge?”

  He checked his chart. “Yup.”

  “I’ll take it. I’m on my way there right now.”

  “Okey, dokey. Just sign here, please.”

  I signed, and I expected him to hand over roses, orchids, or maybe something really exotic. He was from Park Avenue, after all. But the thing he handed me was the most ugly, pathetic excuse for a floral gift I’d ever seen. It was less than a foot tall, with spiky green leaves sprouting from the branches that grew from a central trunk. It looked as pathetic as Charlie Brown’s Christmas tree.

  I hoped the delivery guy wasn’t expecting a tip bringing for this thing, and I had no money on me anyway.

  I handed it to Aunt Agatha as the driver backed out over the crunchy gravel.

  “What is this nasty plant?” I asked her.

  “It’s rosemary, dear heart. It’s an herb.”

  “You mean as in ‘Rosemary, that’s for remembrance?’” I remembered Ophelia spouting about it when she’d gone mad.

  “Exactly. … But what’s with all these Hamlet references?” Aunt Agatha scratched her head. “Is everyone taking arms against their seas of troubles?”

  “I hope not,” I said. I scanned the wrap for a card, but there was none. Really, it wasn’t needed. The point was made with the gift. It was obviously from Marianne, and the message was to remember her. She had, after all, known about Axel’s love for Shakespeare. She’d bought him the salt and pepper shakers.

  “Listen, can you take this plant to work with you? Just give it to someone?”

  “Why? Isn’t it Axel’s?”

  “I can’t explain, but Axel can’t see this, okay? It’ll upset him.”

  “Rosemary will upset him? How does he react to dill?”

  “Aunt Agatha …”

  “Dear heart, this is all fascinating, but I’ve got to get rolling. I’ll give the plant away if that’s what you want.” She plopped it into the back seat next to her fiddle, which was good, since it wouldn’t have lasted two seconds on the front seat with no back.

  “Thanks, Aunt Agatha. And remember, don’t tell Axel.”

  “I’ll certainly never forget this rosemary.” She slammed her door and turned the key. Her engine roared to life. “Toodle-oo, chum!” She blew me a kiss and took Marianne’s poisonous gift back to Manhattan.

  I could not believe that woman. Axel was right. She was persistent. I guessed she thought she’d get him back into bed if she kept up her pressure. What she was really going to get him into was a straitjacket. Or into the water, face down, like Ophelia.

  I paced back and forth, ignoring my bruises, kicking into the gravel, and thinking. This was all my fault. Axel called Marianne to fix the mess I made.

  Because of me, Axel was getting hit on again, and I had to help him.

  But how?

  While I was ruminating, a black limo pulled up.

  “You must be Hank,” I said to the stout, grey-haired guy who got out of the limo. His jacket was open, and I could see a gun holster strapped under it, resting against his shirt.

  He squinted at me suspiciously. “Who wants to know?”

  “I’m Willow—a friend of Axel’s.”

  “Oh, yeah?” He smiled and extended his hand. I took it, and he shook it vigorously.

  I winced.

  “Y’okay there?”

  “Yeah, I’m just a little banged up at the moment.”

  “I can see that. Ol’ Axel didn’t beat ya up, did he?”

  “No.” That comment was getting old.

  “Yeah, I’m just teasing. That kid, he’d never hurt ya. Gotta love him. Now his big brothers, they’d stab ya in the back.” He chuckled. “Just kidding—kind of.”

  I saw what Axel meant about Hank not shutting up.

  “Well, let me go get him for you, then.”

  “All right, young lady. I’ll wait right here.”

  * * *

  Axel was climbing off his boat when I got there, and we started back to the parking lot together. “I met Hank,” I said. “How come he’s packing?”

  Axel rolled his eyes. “My dad’s a security freak. He hires ex-cops so they can carry. He’s got a few guns at each house, besides his insane security systems.”

  “You don’t want a gun?”

  “Do you want me to have a gun?”

  Good point.

  “But don’t you want security?”

  “The biggest threat to me is me. Should I wire my body so an alarm goes off if I
get too close to myself?”

  His little suicide snippets were a little too close to the mark to be funny.

  “I don’t like that kind of talk,” I told him.

  “I’m sorry.” He sounded sincere. “That’s just how I get by, making stupid jokes.”

  I grabbed the bottom of his shirt and yanked it up. His chest looked worse than I remembered—littered with scars and more recent–looking, scabbed slashes. “I think you’d better try something else.” My eyes filled with tears. “I wouldn’t call this getting by.”

  I let go of his shirt and pushed past him, heading back to his boat.

  “Willow,” he called, “come back.”

  I turned around. “I’m sorry, but I can’t pretend nothing’s wrong. I can’t make jokes about this. I’m so fucking scared for you.” I was really creating a scene. Good thing it was getting late and no one else was around.

  I thought he’d race past me, back to his boat and his precious bottle.

  I thought I’d have to go tell Hank never mind.

  Instead, he came over and hugged me. “You’re right.” His voice was so low I could barely hear him. “I know I have to deal with this. Just not tonight, okay? I can’t take anymore for today. Please?”

  I was sure that if he let go, I’d collapse from worrying. But I nodded.

  And he didn’t let go. He kept his arm around me, all the way to the limo.

  A girl could get used to that that.

  23

  The Lobsters

  “What’s the word, Hank?” Axel held the limo door open for me, then got in and slammed the door. The automatic locks clicked shut.

  The inside was big enough for both of us to bunk in, and it was pretty darn comfortable, too. I wouldn’t have minded dozing on those cushiony leather seats. They sure beat my sofa.

  “Missed ya, kid. We all do. The old man misses ya.”

  “Yeah? He say that?”

  Hank paused. “No.”

  “Didn’t think so,” Axel muttered.

  “You know he’s got problems showing how he feels,” Hank said.

  “Yeah. It’s tough to express yourself when you’re not actually there.”

  The limo pulled out of the boatyard driveway into Rockaway. What would people think when our homage to excess cruised by?

  I was still checking everything out: the bar, the TV, the DVD player, the telephone, and the surround-sound speaker system. It all seemed so over-the-top.

  Axel reached toward the bar. “Could you please not?” I asked.

  He leaned back, empty-handed.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “You know who misses you a lot is Walden. Asks for you all the time,” Hank commented.

  “Yeah?” Axel didn’t seem too interested.

  “Who’s Walden?” I asked.

  “Axel didn’t tell you about his little brother?”

  Little brother? “No, he didn’t,” I said, giving Axel an inquiring look.

  Axel sighed. “Hank, I don’t feel like chatting right now, okay?”

  “Jeez, kid, I don’t see you in how long, and this is how you act? Me and you used to be real tight.”

  “Yeah, you were the only one who would talk to me,” Axel said. He sounded like he was getting tense. I patted his leg.

  “Actually, I have a headache,” I said. “Maybe we could just listen to some music?”

  “Sure, sure,” said Hank. “Take a look through the CDs. See whatcha like.”

  Leather squeaked as Axel shifted around. He leaned back and looked up at the ceiling.

  I slid open the compartment of CDs and flipped through them. Surprisingly, there was a decent selection of rock and roll. They even had a Doors CD—LA Woman—but I couldn’t put that on.

  I took out a Vivaldi CD.

  Axel smiled at the sound of the opening notes. He put his arm around me. “I feel like we’re kind of reversing roles,” he said, stroking my cheek. “I’m supposed to be taking care of you, remember?”

  “Can’t we take care of each other?”

  “Hmmm …” he said, sliding lower on the seat and leaning his head against me. “I guess that could work.”

  The surround-sound made me feel like I was there in a concert hall with the instruments, like they were playing all around me. It may have been excessive, but it was great.

  Axel was breathing deeply. I looked at him. His eyes were shut.

  I gave him a kiss on the forehead and went to sleep, too.

  * * *

  Axel’s sitting on a bench in his galley. He’s staring at his chest and has the blade in his hand. He first runs the edge lightly over the skin, almost tickling, but rougher. He raises goose bumps.

  Now he presses the blade in slightly as he strokes, cuts into flesh, welcoming the pain. Needing the pain.

  Axel needs to bleed, and watches with deep fascination as the blood dribbles from the shallow cut, then flows when the blade re-enters, plunging deeper.

  He needs to bleed. Needs the pain.

  He lifts his wrist, examining it as though he’s never noticed it before. He puts the blade to it, gliding it across, back and forth across the surface.

  He takes in a breath and plunges the blade in harder, deeper… .

  * * *

  “Willow, wake up!” Axel was shaking me, and he was a little rough about it.

  “What, what?” I tasted tears when I spoke, and I could feel a thick, wet layer on my face. I was gasping for breath, and my heart was doing a triathlon.

  “You were having a real freaky nightmare. You were flipping out. You woke me up with a jab to the head.”

  I was trying to calm myself as he spoke, trying to catch my breath. I breathed in and out slowly without saying anything.

  There was a black plastic shield up, separating us from Hank. Axel said, “I raised the partition so Hank could concentrate on driving.”

  “Was I that bad?”

  Axel nodded. “You fought me again when I tried to hold you and when I woke you up. That’s why I had to shake you so hard.”

  “You can hold me now,” I said, realizing that I was trembling. The dream had been so real. “I won’t fight you.”

  He pulled me up against him. I lay my head against his mutilated chest.

  “It was Craig again,” I lied.

  “Yeah? That explains why you were calling out my name.” He ran his fingers through my hair. “I’m sure Hank thinks I beat you, now.”

  “I’m sorry, Axel. I can’t control my dreams.”

  “I know,” he said softly, sifting through strands of hair. “Sometimes I think I can’t control anything about my life at all. I’m just a poor player, strutting and fretting…”

  The partition whirred down. “We’re here,” said Hank. “How’s it going back there?”

  “We’re okay now, Hank,” said Axel.

  Yeah, were just perfect.

  * * *

  There was a fifteen-minute wait at Wo Kee’s, a small, bustling restaurant on Grand Street. The air swirled with chatter, clanking dishes, and an assortment of pungent aromas. The scents of hot and sour soup, pepper steak, pork fried rice, chicken and broccoli in garlic sauce all mingled in the air around the families and friends seated at red-clothed tables topped with tacky plastic flowers in equally tacky vases.

  We stood by the gurgling fish tanks. A lobster at the top of his heap caught my eye. He seriously looked like he was waving at me with his rubber-banded claw.

  “You like lobster?” Axel asked.

  “How can you eat something that’s eyeing you?” I said. There had to be fifteen or twenty lobsters piled in there. Did they know what they were in for?

  “Wanna watch me?”

  “Axel, that’s horrible. Do you know they throw them into boiling water alive? And that they cry?”

  “Oh my God … you’re like the ultimate bleeding heart, you know that? My father would make mincemeat out of you.”

  “I never said I could make it in the corporate
world,” I said, tapping on the glass at my new friend, “nor would I want to.”

  “I can’t believe you’re bonding with the catch of the day. Do you, like, go to farms and play with the cows and pigs before they’re slaughtered?” he teased.

  “Axel, he winked at me, I swear,” I said, pointing at the lobster.

  Axel sighed. “You’re gonna dwell on crustaceans all night, aren’t you? You’re gonna stare at them from across the room.”

  “Excuse me, table ready,” the guy with the menus told us.

  “Listen,” Axel said to him, “how much for all your lobsters?”

  The guy looked at Axel like he was nuts. “Why you want all lobsters?”

  “I want you to give them back to whoever delivered them to you and have them set free.”

  “Free?”

  “Yeah, back in the ocean.”

  “That make no sense.”

  “All the more reason to do it,” Axel said. “So how much?”

  The guy scratched his head. “We charge twenty-four-nine-nine each lobster dinner.”

  “Fine.”

  “But people want lobster dinner now.”

  “Tell you what, I’ll give you double for each one.” He pulled out his credit card, slapped it into the guy’s palm.

  The guy gave Axel another strange look—like maybe Axel stole the credit card—but then he seated us. He gave us our menus and hurried off, probably to tally up the lobsters and charge Axel’s card.

  “That was cool, Axel. Thanks.”

  “You do realize that they’ll probably just get caught again eventually.”

  “Maybe, but you gave them a second hope—a fighting chance. Maybe they’ll avoid the traps next time.”

  “I think you’re giving lobsters way more credit than they deserve. They’re not really like that one from The Little Mermaid, you know.”

  “Duh! He was a crab, not a lobster.”

  Axel laughed and spit out a bit of the noodle he’d been crunching on.

  “Anyway, thanks for making me feel like we saved them. Gee, this dinner’s costing you, like, $600 before we’ve even ordered anything.”

  “Yeah, I know. Next time, we go vegetarian. Or to a steak house. It’s too late to save anything in there.”

  “Okay, gross!”

  We checked out the menus. “What are you having?” I asked.