I folded my face against his chest again; the sand had dried in the heat, soothing the itch along my jaw, and the sound of his heart through the thick of his skin had an oddly comforting hum to it. I could tell from the way he took shallower breaths that he was waiting for me to say something. But I couldn’t grace him with a response, because I had nothing good to say to him. He could never understand the love I had with David, or the way we interacted with each other, and he probably thought I was sadistic for allowing David to hurt me, but he’d never understand the true intensity of the passion behind it, either.
Slowly, and more surely than ever before, I was starting to consider going with David.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
No one even looked up as I stepped into the auditorium and dumped my bag by a chair. “Hi, guys,” I said, unwinding my scarf from my neck.
“Hey, stranger,” Spencer called from the stage.
“Hi,” Emily said as I sat beside her in the front row.
“Where’ve you been, girl?” Ryan landed in the next seat and gave me a skinny-armed hug.
“Just hanging out at home.” I sat back in the chair. “Good turnout for a rehearsal.”
Emily nodded, her eyes on a notepad. “Most of them are just here to watch—or distract those who are trying to practice.”
“Yeah,” Ryan said. “We have to be out by ten, but no one’s taking things seriously.”
“Oh.” I slid down in the seat and put my feet on the crate in front of me. “Well, do you mind if I take the stage now—I gotta get back early tonight?”
“Yeah, sure,” Emily said to her page. “Everything okay?”
“Mm-hm.” Except, I didn’t really want to be around this place any longer than absolutely necessary.
“Where’s David? Is he coming tonight?” Ryan asked.
Emily looked up from her book; I shrugged, reaching for my locket.
“Oh, I thought he said he’d make it for dress rehearsals.” Ryan looked a little confused.
“He did—” I tipped the crate with my foot, trying to look disinterested, “—but I guess the plan changed.” Or the heart.
“Where’s your new pal...Mike?” Ryan asked.
“Uh, he’s taking my brother to a movie tonight.”
“Sweet.” Ryan nodded. “Well, I’ll fill in on guitar for David, if you like?”
“Okay. Let’s just get this over with then.” I gave a reassuring smile to Emily’s frown as I stomped up the stairs, then stopped dead. “Hey, where’d the piano come from?”
“Oh, it’s on loan from Musicology,” Emily called out.
“What’s Musicology?” I sat down on the stool in front of the baby grand, flipping out imaginary jacket tails first.
“Music store,” Ryan said, walking past me to grab his guitar.
“Oh, cool. The keys feel nice.”
“Wait ‘til you hear her.” Ryan sat on a stool near Alana, who turned the pages on her music stand. “We’re calling her Betty.”
“Calling who Betty?” I said.
“The piano,” Alana said.
“Oh.” I looked at it. “Why Betty?”
“The song…” Alana said, rolling her eyes in Ryan’s direction. “Black Betty.”
“Hm.” I looked down at my fingers as they positioned themselves on the home-plates. “Okay, we’ll start with Somewhere Over the Rainbow.”
Ryan nodded and found the page in his sheet music, then repositioned the capo on the neck of his guitar. “Hip, bubbly, Ucayali-style or…”
“Longing misery,” I said.
Ryan nodded. “Nice. Let’s do it.”
They played, all of them, including the version of me who took over when the real one could no longer bear to feel. In those moments, sometimes I felt like I was watching from outside myself, while another version of me lived inside my own mind—recreating this land of misery to a world where I could smile. I tried so hard to imagine David sitting in place of Ryan, smiling over at me. But no matter how hard I tried, the image wouldn't alter, and wishing with all my heart wouldn't change things either. It would be a waste of time.
Ryan gave a nod of approval, and I smiled back because, in truth, our song did sound amazing. The three instruments harmonised so well with each other, even though my fingers were a little stiff and the flow of emotion through them was rigid, if not absent.
When I opened my mouth to sing the words, my voice cracked and we all burst out laughing. All the sea-salt I swallowed the other day made my throat dry and hoarse; I sounded like a broken gramophone. But I was glad Mike took me to the beach, because despite our argument, the rest of that day went really well; just two old friends hanging out, eating salty fish and chips, talking about nothing, as the sun went down.
While my mind wandered into the other days we’d spent together, the performance moved to the next song on our list; an instrumental piece from one of Nathan’s favourite gangster movies.
“Ryan?” I stopped playing for a second.
“Yeah?” He looked over the music stand, and Alana lowered her violin.
“On that last bar, can you give me a B flat, instead?”
“Uh—yeah, okay,” he said slowly and frowned, but did it anyway, and then his face lit up when I came in with the piano.
“Okay. Cool, so, just remember; B flat on the second verse, okay?” I said, flexing my fingers. “Em? You got the time?”
“Uh, yep,” she said from the base of the stage. “Eight-thirty.”
I closed the cover on the keys. “I’m gonna call it quits, guys. I need to get home.” Mike would be back by now.
“Okay, cool.” Ryan placed his guitar on the stand and turned to Alana.
“Hey, Ara?” Emily’s light footsteps made a dull thud as she came up the stairs and stood beside me. “Um, I hope you don't mind, but…being that your act has the most heart, I thought I might place you last in the set—you know, kind of thought if people leave on a sad note—”
“Yeah, all cool.” I held my hand up. Em obviously didn't realise that closing a show was actually a great honour.
“And, um, that sounded amazing, by the way.” She ran her fingertip over the glossy top of the piano, her reflection appearing upside-down.
“Thanks. Looks like I still have enough soul left in me to play music.” I smiled, trying to sound light.