Christmas All Around Us ; The Perfect Time for Love ; Playing for Keeps

by Carla Kincaid

  Megan fixed her self something to eat and then spent a few hours listening to a recording of her earlier practice. She made copious notes about the parts of the audition pieces that she needed to work on during the coming week and then turned off her iPad and pulled the covers up to her neck. Before midnight, she was fast asleep.

  It felt like she'd just dozed off when what sounded like a herd of elephants began stomping above her head. At first, Megan thought she was dreaming but when the noise continued she realized it was coming from her upstairs neighbor's apartment.

  Megan's teeth ground together as she looked at her cell phone. 2:27 am! On a Sunday? She could hardly believe it. Was this noise coming from the same woman who'd practically bitten her head off for playing her piano before 2 pm?

  All of the warm fuzzy thoughts Megan had been having since seeing Stacey in her show vanished. No matter how awesome her neighbor had been on stage the day before, her performance wasn't good enough to excuse this kind of rudeness. Megan stumbled out of bed and threw on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. She was about to head upstairs when the memory of her neighbor seeing her in her underwear flashed through her mind. Megan circled back to her closet and put a sweatshirt on over her t-shirt.

  She opened her bedroom door and stepped out into the hall. Following the sounds upstairs, Megan climbed the rear stairwell -- the same one she'd seen Stacey disappear up two weeks ago. She lifted her fist and knocked on the door but no one answered.

  They probably can't even hear me, Megan thought as she knocked again -- this time with more force. A moment later the door swung open. A tall thin woman stood there holding what was obviously not her first can of beer. As she swayed from side to side, Megan could see past her into the apartment. There must have been almost twenty people crammed into the room identical in size to Megan's bedroom.

  Some were sitting on a couch, a few wear sitting on the ledges of the open windows. The rest were strewn around the floor in whatever spot was available. Everyone was laughing -- and drinking. Megan glanced at each of the faces trying to find Stacey.

  "Here's to another workshop that will probably never see the light of day!" a woman in the corner practically shouted as she raised a can of beer in the air.

  "Here! Here!" the rest of the room chimed in.

  The noise in the room quieted for a moment as everyone chugged.

  "Excuse me!" Megan said taking advantage of the momentary quiet. No one looked in her direction. "Excuse me!" she said louder. A few heads turned and then someone spoke.

  "Hey there, Sweetheart. Are you here to deliver the chicken wings?

  Megan blinked her eyes. "Chicken wings? Uh. No. Is Stacey here?" she asked not wanting to have this conversation with a complete stranger.

  "Anybody seen Stacey?" the woman polled the room over her shoulder.

  Most shook their heads but a blonde-haired man leaning against the hallway door frame spoke up.

  "I think she went to bed." He tilted his head down the hall. "Yo, Stacey! You're needed in the living room," he bellowed. "I don't think she was anticipating more company," he said with an innuendo laced chuckle as he turned back to Megan.

  There was an uncomfortable silence as everyone waited for Stacey to appear.

  Megan heard Stacey's voice before she appeared in the room. "What? I already paid for the chicken."

  A few giggles erupted but everyone else sat like stone as if they were waiting for some kind of excitement.

  "Can't you bums muster up a tip?" she asked as she walked into the room.

  She looked around at her guest's faces before her eyes landed on Megan.

  "Oh. Hi," she said uncomfortably.

  Just then a petite woman with rainbow streaked hair stumbled down the hall and bumped into Stacey.

  "Where'd you go, Cutie?" she slurred as she wrapped her arms around Stacey from behind.

  Megan felt her jaws clench. She wasn't prepared for the reaction she had to seeing this woman drape herself around Stacey's body. A collision of emotions rose to the surface -- none of which had anything to do with the noise that had awakened her from her sleep.

  "May I please speak with you outside?" Megan said curtly as she turned away from the sight that was bothering her.

  She needed to get out of that room -- quickly. Megan stepped back into the hallway and managed to take a few deep breaths to calm her nerves.

  As soon as Stacey crossed the threshold someone inside yelled, "Oooo. Busted!"

  The announcement was followed by a roar of laughter.

  Megan blocked thoughts of the laughing strangers from her mind and focused on the woman standing in front of her. As she locked eyes with Stacey all of the warm, fuzzy feelings she'd battled after hearing the woman sing were gone. In their place, Megan felt a strange mixture of embarrassment and -- jealousy.

  "I'm sorry. Are we too loud?" Stacey asked in a slurred voice.

  "What do you think?" Megan replied, annoyed at her drunk neighbor stating the obvious. "You know my bedroom is right below where your party is. At least the public one," Megan scowled as she tried not to notice Stacey's rumpled clothing.

  She hadn't meant to say that last part out loud. Whatever was happening in the bedroom between Stacey and the rainbow-haired woman was none of Megan's business. She just wanted the noise to stop. Or at least that's what she tried to convince herself.

  "I'm. I'm Sorry," Stacey began again. She was speaking slowly as if finding the words was taking a great deal of effort but waiting for her to speak was just making Megan even angrier.

  "For the past two weeks, I have adjusted my schedule to accommodate you and your need for quiet on Monday mornings. I think it's very rude for you not to have the same consideration for me."

  "You're right," Stacey said. "We'll keep it down. I promise." Stacey raised a finger to her lips.

  Megan stood there awkwardly staring at her neighbor. "Thank you," she finally said before turning toward the stairwell and storming back down to her apartment.

  ***

  First thing Monday morning, Megan slipped onto her piano bench, carefully arranged her sheet music, placed her fingers on her piano keys and began playing Beethoven's Sonata #8 as loudly as she could. She still hadn't decided if she was going to play this particular piece for her audition but this morning she chose to practice it because the piece was almost twenty minutes long and filled with lots of crescendos.

  Each time Megan pounded a key she imagined the sound penetrating the ceiling and shaking her upstairs neighbor from her inebriated slumber. She was no longer worried about Stacey's need to rest on her one day off. After all, her show was over and as far as Megan was concerned, Stacey had lost all rights to silent Monday mornings.

  Chapter 7

  Stacey wanted to be angry when the piano cords began reverberating through her bedroom floor only a few hours after she'd gone to bed but she knew she could only get but so upset. The details from last night were kind of fuzzy but she knew she'd had more than a little to drink by the time Megan came knocking on her door -- fortunately interrupting what was happening between Stacey and Ann in her bedroom. Now it was Stacey's turn to bite the bullet and put up with the noise downstairs.

  Honestly, by now -- in spite of what she'd said to Lori in the dressing room on Saturday -- Stacey had gotten somewhat accustomed to the frenetic classical sounds that leaked through her floor every day. It had become a kind of unrequested soundtrack in her life that Stacey occasionally found quite soothing. Megan -- in addition to being cute -- was a gifted pianist and on more than one occasion, Stacey found herself standing in the middle of her floor listening to her downstairs neighbor rehearse. She still had to use Shazam to identify most of the pieces Megan was playing but there were a few Stacey now recognized by name. This one was Beethoven's Sonata #8 a piece of music that always made Stacey think of the dramatic black and white chase scenes in silent movies.

  Stacy closed her eyes and tried to follow the music's wordless story. At some point,
she must have drifted back to sleep.

  It was unusually cold as Stacey stood on the subway platform. Even though she was wearing her winter coat, Stacey was still shivering.

  She didn't recognize which train station she was standing in but when the train across the tracks pulled away she could see Megan standing on the opposite platform. She was dressed in a flowing sundress with no signs of being affected by the cold Stacy was enduring. Suddenly, Stacey noticed a suspicious-looking man lurking in the corner of the platform several feet away from where Megan was standing.

  Stacey's heart began to race. Something about the man was making her nervous. Stacey looked back and forth between the man and Megan. Her purse. The large red Balenciaga she was holding in her hand was definitely what was drawing the man's attention. Stacey tried to shout across the subway tracks to warn Megan but no sound came from her mouth and Megan was oblivious to the impending danger.

  Stacey had to warn her. She ran down the subway platform on her side of the station and searched for the exit. As she ran, her heavy coat became cumbersome so she tossed it off. Free from the layers, Stacey picked up speed, ran up the stairs and crossed over to the side of the subway station where Megan was.

  She made it to the other side of the platform just in time. The man was just about to make his move. Stacey shouted -- still no sound -- and lunged at the man just as he reached for Megan's purse. He got his hand around the strap but Stacey got her hand on his arm. Finally, Megan became aware of the danger and tightened her grip on her end of the bag. She pulled away and the three of them went careening off of the platform onto the train tracks.

  Stacey heard the train before she saw it as the marathon tug-of-war continued. Stacey pulled the man's arm. The man pulled away while still clinging to Megan's purse. Megan tried to free the purse from the intruder's grasp. All as the train was barreling down on them.

  When Stacey turned her head over her shoulder she could see the single bright white light getting closer and closer. If she didn't do something quickly all three of them were going to meet their death on the tracks. In one final attempt to use her voice, Stacey shouted, "Stop!"

  She bolted straight up in bed and looked quickly around the room -- surprised that she was no longer in a subway tunnel. For a moment all she could hear was the pounding of her heart but that was soon joined by the melody from the piano below.

  "It was a dream," she said softly.

  Stacey shook her head -- dislodging the last of the fading memory from her mind. "What in the world?" she asked herself as she rolled out of bed and headed to the bathroom. No more mixing cheap champaign and beer-- ever, was all she could think.

  When Stacey made it to the bathroom there was another surprise waiting for her. Three lone squares of toilet paper dangled from the dispenser. Grateful that she didn't need more at the moment -- Stacey growled something about unexpected guests, finished up in the bathroom and threw on some sweats.

  Outside the weather was in stark contrast to the temperature in her frigid dream but Stacey could still hear the music seeping through the now curtain covered window. Stacey smiled at another memory as she headed to the bodega.

  When she got back to the brownstone with her groceries, she noticed a man peering around the patio. A chill washed over her and her heart started to race as Stacey's mind flashed back to the strange guy in her dream. That's when she saw the food delivery bag in the man's hands.

  "Are you apartment A?" he asked hopefully as she approached the gate.

  "No. But I'm pretty sure she's home." Stacey nodded toward Megan's door but she realized she no longer heard the piano playing.

  The delivery guy grimaced and looked at his cellphone. "I knocked on the door but no one answered," he said.

  Stacey could almost hear a clock ticking as he spoke. More than once she'd experienced an inpatient delivery person leaving with her food when she couldn't get to her door in time.

  "I'll take it for her," Stacey offered. "She's probably in the bathroom or something."

  The guy's eyebrow raised with suspicion.

  "I promise I'll deliver it," Stacey said holding three fingers up like a Girl Scout. "Her name is Megan Green," she explained as if knowing her downstairs neighbor's name should be enough to prove her trustworthy.

  "What's your apartment number?" the man asked.

  "I'm in B," Stacey said tilting her head to her apartment window above.

  The delivery guy tapped his cell phone screen. "The app will let her know you accepted the delivery for her," he said as a clear warning for Stacey not to eat her neighbor's food. He handed the bag to Stacey, maneuvered his bike back onto the sidewalk and then disappeared down the street.

  Stacey lifted the brown paper bag to her nose and inhaled. Mediterranean spices filled her nostrils. Her stomach growled with approval as she read the receipt stapled to the bag -- two lamb kabobs, two chicken gyros, and one falafel salad. Much more appetizing than the scrambled eggs Stacey was about to prepare.

  For a moment she thought about leaving the bag on Megan's doorstep instead of carrying the fragrant food upstairs to her apartment. But Stacey couldn't just leave the bag outside on the ground. The neighborhood cats would make it a feast before she even made it up the stairs. She'd just have to ignore the smell until she could fix herself something to eat.

  Stacey was just about to pour several whisked eggs into a hot frying pan when her doorbell rang.

  "Hi," Megan said when Stacey opened the door. Her jaw was less tense than it was last night but it was obvious that she was still a little angry.

  "Hi. I've got your food," Stacey said quickly so Megan didn't think she was going to hold her falafels hostage.

  Stacey walked over to her coffee table and picked up the bag.

  "Look, I'm really sorry about last night," she said as she handed the food to Megan. "Our show closed yesterday and the wrap party the producers threw was kind of lame. My castmates weren't ready to stop celebrating and I'm the only one who lives by myself."

  Stacey knew she was rambling but she hoped getting an explanation out quickly would soften Megan's mood. When she took a breath and looked at her neighbor it seemed to be working. Stacey was about to say more when the smell of something burning grabbed her attention.

  "Oh, shit. My eggs!" Stacey ran down the hall to the kitchen and grabbed the frying pan off of the stove but it was too late. The butter had turned brown and smoke was billowing from the pan.

  Stacey scraped the burn contents into the trash and went back to her open door. "Care for some burnt eggs," Stacey said with a laugh.

  Megan just stood there, awkwardly bitting her bottom lip.

  "Sorry about your food," she finally said.

  There was a genuine note of sympathy in her voice.

  "I've got enough to share -- unless you're a vegetarian or something." Megan held out the bag in her hand as if offering a peace treaty.

  "That would be cool," Stacey said trying not to sound as eager as she felt. "I'm definitely not a vegetarian," she laughed. "If rent wasn't due tomorrow there'd be bacon burning along with those eggs."

  Megan chuckled and the soft sound eased the tension that had previously filled the room.