+1+
Clara
September 2017
Peter and I loved each other the way kids of family friends often did. Our futures were set up for us to hit every milestone in tandem Get married, have children, buy a house. A big house. He was my best friend. Even after I ruined our wedding and disappeared.
Peter and I lived together in Rome for a short time, we’d rekindled our friendship, made love and broke down a few barriers I’d put up in the past. After all of that I killed him. I hadn’t even known . . .but somewhere in the back of my mind I must have known. I had to know Peter wasn’t really just missing.
That was the last secret Fierro kept from me. Honesty I was so angry at him for not telling me that it made it easier when he left for Carrigaline with Rose.
Then Fierro told me something else. He had gone back to Peter’s. . . body. . . and found an engagement ring in his pocket. . He’d known all these years about it and never told me.
That was the man I’d decided to leave my daughter with.
+2+
Taking the job in Vienna wasn’t a choice so much as it was a matter of convenience.
The pay had been enough for daily expenses until I figured out my financial situation. The settlement with my former boss had dried up most of my cash on hand I had. Everything else was tied up in investments and accounts I couldn’t touch for years.
That was also the year The DeLune Academy in Rochester closed. Between my mother’s spectacular fall from grace and my sisters disinterest in the family business, The DeLune Family dynasty was becoming a relic in Rochester.
My father always told me to put my money in property, so I shelled out a solid 490,000 for a loft condo in downtown Vienna. The small turn of the century condo was located in a quaint and cramped colorful Vienna side street. With any luck its value would triple over the years. For now it was a place I could officially call my own.
I’d sweet talked the building manager into putting up a temporary wall to separate the one large bedroom into two. It worked out, but with no door privacy would practically non-existent when Rose was with me. I’d furnished the smaller half of the split bedroom with a tiny twin bed and enough of Rose’s things to make her feel at home.
In some circles in Austria the name DeLune was as synonymous as Mozart or Vivaldi. Since 1844 The DeLune Conservatory of Vienna was owned and operated by my great-great-grandfather, it was the largest classical musical conservatory in Austria. Dozens of world renowned musicians had graced its halls and entertained the House of Hapsburg. The school had continued to operate during the tumult of World War I and years later during Nazi-occupation, even after my grandfather and his family was run out of Europe.
The school was disbanded after the war, but several DeLune string instruments had been used by students and orchestras until the late 80s. DeLune string instruments were now valuable collectors item and the name still held a certain esteem in a very select set of people in this part of the world. So much so that I’m pretty sure my last name floated me to the top of the consideration list as a fellow with The Austrian National Philharmonic.
For my first day of work I’d dressed warmly in a deep red dress and boots.The Austrian National Philharmonic was housed in a former palatial residence that was adjacent to Hofburg Palace in the middle of downtown Vienna.
I hired a car to take me the first day and stepping into the plaza surrounded by the the large whitewash and gold cap buildings was like going back in time. That is if you ignore the tourist in their bright colored shirts and telephoto lenses. I felt so unprepared and out of place, like it was the first day of school. It was all much easier to deal with knowing Rose was safe and sound in Ireland. I’d been able to relax my first few weeks in the city and found myself surprisingly content.
The Austrian National Philharmonic took up three city blocks. It consisted of a national music museum, an intense music school, performance hall and rehearsal space. I came in through the visitor’s entrance and awkwardly toured the building . . . not sure where I was supposed to be.
I had been sent a binder of this seasons arrangements and a schedule of rehearsals and practices. I’d been given the name of the music director-- Hausf Hidenberg-- a payroll calendar and that was it.After a few minutes of wandering I slipped into the performance hall hoping to find Hausf practicing with the orchestra.
No luck.
It was deadly silent inside the performance hall. The auditorium is massive and every velvet covered seat was empty. The stage was already set for rehearsal. I suddenly felt so at home, I’d grown up around stages like this. Since no one was around I hopped onto the stage and slid behind the shiny black DeLune Classics Collection piano. It had to be from the 70’s. The DeLune’s had stopped making pianos then, focusing instead on string instruments.I played one single note. The sound was rich and smooth. It was no Steinway but it did the trick. When was the last time I played on a stage? It must have been years . . . college ? I started to tune the piano when I heard someone walk on stage.
The man was your average tall lanky euro-hipster with a light beard, small deep green eyes and a violin clutched in his right hand. His clothes and slim figure deeply betrayed his age.
“Are you the new pianist?” he asked in what sounded like German as hewalked to the edge of the stage.
“No”, I replied in rough German., “I’m the new junior composer, Clara DeLune.”
I got up from the piano and sat on the edge of the stage so I could shake his hand
“Of course. Clara DeLune”, he said now in English, “What are you doing here ?”
“Embarrassing myself”, I said in English, “Was my German that bad?”
“Your accent was a bit too French. Are you Canadian?”
“American”, I said ready for the classless American jokes. I got
those a lot in Europe. He just nodded
his head. I noticed he was holding a DeLune Bravta Violin. A classic.
"Also that wasn't exactly German you were speaking."
"Yes, it was", I said defensively, " I studied abroad in Germany one summer."
"It's not Austrian German." He clarified
“Oh. I--Well, I thought maybe we could get a coffee and alk about what you want me to focus on for my first season here.”
“Why me ?”, he asked.
“Oh... I. . .aren’t you my boss ? Um, Hausf ?”
“No. I’m the production coordinator”, he said in what had sounded like German, “I do a bit of everything.”
He walked onto the stage and sat in one of the chairs.
“Sometimes I’m first chair violin, sometimes second chair flute”, he said
“So. . . you’re the whole orchestra ?”, I said pulling my long hair from one shoulder to the other.
“Mostly when the younger kids get hungover the day before a performance . . .”, he said, “Niklas Clemmens.”
“Nice to meet you.”, I said. He grimaced just a tiny bit, “Is German German that bad ?”
“It's just a bit off, I wouldn’t speak German or Austrian German around Hausf if I were you. He might get offended. He's a real statesman.”
“Thanks for the tip. Is it wrong to say Germans kind of scare me ?”
“Wouldn't know. I'm Austrian. Although Hausf is . . . how do you say, very pissed at you.”
I snapped out of whatever daze I was in.
“Wait. . . what ? Why ?”
“First you are late and second he took you on as a favor to the board, he thinks you are a spoiled princess whose money brought you a job.”
“But I’m qualified. . . I mean. . . I’m—“
“Your are not who he wanted and he is just looking for a reason to fire you. His office is down the hall to your right.”
I cursed to myself and stood up. I was starting off on the wrong foot. Speaking of my foot I stood up on the wrong side of my healing leg and sent my paper cascading across the stage and into the orchestra pit.
“Shit”
“What is this?”, Niklas said looking at the pages of music as they ffluttered into the pit below the stage.
"I was told to show up with Christmas arrangements on my first day. I spent weeks working on these while I was moving.”
“You. . . printed your music out?”
“Well, I made copies. I usually write it by hand—“
He shook his head.
“We do everything digital at ANP ”, he picked up the sheet music.
“I’ve never written music on a computer before. . . I’m old fashioned.”
“Well, You have a lot to learn Ms. DeLune—“
“Oh”, I said picking up the sheet music, “Just call me Clara.”
+3+
Fierro
October 2017
Wake up
Wake up
It sounds more like a suggestion. A suggestion I didn’t make but one I follow nonetheless.
83 days. Had it truly been 83 days of this self inflicted exile.
At one point
I might have been foolish enough to imagine a life here, isolated in the middle
of the Irish countryside reunited with my beloved Lucie Mills-Pepperidge. Did I
imagine the power of love and faithfulness would magic her whole, Make her
alive again? Make me whole again ?
Faithfulness
? I’d never been faithful to Lucie.
Perhaps if I had been faithful, truly faithful I’d have myself a better
ending. A hero’s remuneration instead
of this wretched replacement.
I could hear and sense Lucie--the specter of Lucie-- rattling away in the old abbey just a few feet away. It was unnerving living so close to the undead . . . yet here I still was. Lucie’s specter was melancholy and shadowy during the night. strangely beautiful, passive and pensive during the day.
You love Lucie
It sounds more like a suggestion. A suggestion I didn’t make but one I---
Lucie was a fascinating in her incorporeal state, I knew Essex would revel at the chance to study her. Previously the abbey Lucie haunted had been habitable, but now her presence made it biting cold. Often times unnerving shadows covered the wall, items went missing and I’d hear my name echoed through the night. She swore she didn’t do these things internally it was just in her nature.
Lucie said that all the time, even when she was alive.
Rosalie was the only brightness in an unusually macabre circumstance. She had been apprehensive about Carriglaline and the isolation of it all. Yet, she took to it very well. Rose was happy. She was even enthusiastic about spending more time with Lucie. . . as absurd as the situation was.
It’s not absurd at all
It sounds more like a suggestion. A suggestion I didn’t make--
When Rose was around Lucie was less haunting. . . Lucie would smile and laugh. Her physical form almost seemed human. Sometimes watching them together my mind would trick itself into believing that I’d done right bringing them together. Sometimes for a brief moment I would feel as if I finally had what I always wanted with Lucie. Then in a moment of clarity I’d remember that Lucie wasn’t her mother.
But she should be
It sounds more like a suggestion.
This self-inflicted exile was unconventional at most. Peaceful on most days, timeless on better ones. Today felt like it would be an unconventional one
I sat up now fully awake and climbed down the from the loft bed. The farmhouse design of the small living space was extremely simple. At only 300 square feet it was artfully crafted with all the necessities one might need when taking an extended holiday.I showered in silence and after some careful consideration I shaved for the first time in quite a long while.
Today was Saturday
and on every other Saturday we went into town. There was a list on the small
kitchen counter along with letters and packages that needed to be sent. I took
my keys and wallet from the lock box, taking care to bring my light coat, scarf and hat. Outside Rose
has her schoolbooks opened in front of her as she carefully practiced her cursive.
Next to her was Lucie, smiling and encouraging her. Rose liked being outdoors, it was the only place she could be with Lucie, as I had instructed her never to enter the abbey.
I recognized
the form Lucie’s specter took all too well. Her long straight dark hair and
dark blue eyes hinting at her connection to the Swedes who’d settled our
hometown. Lucie looked very young,
but her age and refinery showed often and that was when I saw the woman I’d
married.In my dreams
I saw flashes of the life Lucie and I
should have lived. They were full beautiful dreams. In these dreams I saw a farm, I saw a yellow farmhouse and
laughter. I should have fought harder to give Lucie that life.To give us that life.
I shake the thought from my head and cautiously approach the pair. Rose didn’t even hear me coming. She was so immersed in her drawing and Lucie’s encouraging words. They laughed over something I couldn’t hear, Rose’s bright smile lingered as she worked.This was why I stayed despite all my misgivings. Rose felt at peace here. Her temper never rose and if it did there was no one for miles for her to hurt or frightened away. No children to stare and ostracize her. No imaginary friends to plague and torment her. No crowds to make her anxious and no one to dress her up and push her around like an accessory. The lasts words were hers, not mine.
“Come now Rose, We have a schedule to keep”, I said.
Rose closed her book and left it in the grass. She’s dressed warmly in a long sleeve dress and boots. The older she became the more she inherited her mother’s beauty and her long dark hair. Rose’s eyes were partially obscured by the tinted glasses she wore. She insisted the sunlight irritated her eyes. . . but I have begun to believe otherwise.
Rose had gone to visit her mother last month. I’d caught a glimpse of Ms. DeLune across airport as I let go of Rose’s hand. Clara kept her eyes down on her phone the entire time, I hadn’t even seen her face. She’d most likely been in a rush.
Should you really be thinking about her ?
I started the car and gestured for Rose to come along. She bade a farewell to Lucie as if it were the most normal thing in the world. I knew Lucie tried to confuse her; she told her to call her mama, promised to be with her forever and ever. Lucie told her stories from our childhood and anything Rose had that reminded her of Clara usually disappeared at one point or another.
“Remember the rules”, I told Rose as we drove toward the small town of Carrigaline, “Be polite, you are not to speak of Lucie and control your temper –“
“Less someone might get hurt”, she finished.
It was a one hour drive to Carrigaline, there was nothing for miles except rolling hills and green grass. Rose read aloud from the book that Clara had sent her and I felt a sort of clarity to my thoughts the further away we drove.
The small town (or outpost, really) was quiet that morning. The small colorful thatched buildings served as the town, proper. I parked in front of the post office leaving the keys in the car. The post office was first, I sent off my letters along with some careful encased rose hybrids for Emile to look at. Then I began to sort through the incoming mail in my post office box. At some point Rose had become distracted, she walked to the front door drawn by the sound of children playing outside with chalk on the asphalt.
Rose’s mother had sent another large package with books and winter clothes. I didn’t know how she packed them but the contents of every box she sent had a distinct sweet floral scent. It was probably something simple, a perfume but in all my free time I’d yet to find a rose that smelled as sweet.
I watched Rose open the door while I purchased a calling card and made a call on the reliable post office landline. Emile was in a jovial mood on the other end.
“I see you are still calling me from Ireland”, Emile said, “How long are you planning to stay away ?”
“I’m not away at all Emile. This is the life I am content with for right now. It’s has been 82 peaceful days. I may stay forever.”
“I see you’ve been counting the days too.”
“What does that mean Emile ?”
“Nothing. Are you having fun avoiding all the buzzing phones and electronics you can’t stand ?”
“Distractions as I call them. Are the roses in the glasshouse still doing well ? I’ve just sent you some new hybrid clippings”
“Yes, everything’s
fine. Funny how the roses got better around the time Rose did.”
“A simple coincidence, Emile.”
“If you say so. How his Rose and her er . . .Grand-Gohstmama”
“Rose is fine Emile.”
“And you ? It must feel like time isn't moving up there."
“I’ve lived a long time in stasis, I can live a few more. Consistency is comforting.”
“So you are happy? You’ve finally got what you want ? your wife, your daughter and eternity”
There was something challenging in his tone.
“I-“
From the corner of my eye I watched Rose walk out of the post office, carelessly letting the door slam behind her. She takes the steps from the front door one at a time. until she is infront of the children drawing. She watched for several minutes until one of the boys rolls a piece of chalk to her.
“Have you talked to Clara”, Emile asked
“No. There hasn’t been time..”
Rose carefully examined the chalk the boy had given her. Rose was quite good at drawing, this was something she could do.
Then a little girl said something and Rose’s head snapped to her. In an instant Rose lunged over to the girl and pushed her down. I dropped the phone and by the time I reached Rose she was shoving chalk into the other child’s mouth. The girl was screaming and covering her ears. Around Rose the other children were on the ground also screaming and covering their ears. All the abandoned chalk. . . vibrated along the blacktop.
I pulled
Rose in my grasps as a Irishwoman cursed and tended to the girl spitting up the chalk. All of the children were looking around and murmuring about a strange sound. The chalk was now
positioned in neat even lines, spelling out the word
R-E-A-L.
I pushed the chalk aside before anyone noticed
“No”, Rose said, “Let me go. Let me go. It wasn’t my fault. I didn’t—I didn’t. . .mean to”
Carrigaline is a small town and we were strangers in this part. I'd earned some goodwill with the locals, but it was always best not to upset them. I kept calm and apologized to the woman for Rose’s behavior but the woman kept her eyes on Rose and began shouting accusations at her in old Irish.
I take Rose back to the car and set off as fast as I can, leaving the rest of the errands for another Saturday.
“What was that all about ?”, I asked. My voice was uneven and perhaps a bit louder than I wanted.
“She said I looked like a ghost. I’m not a ghost I’m real.”
“They are words Rose that is all. The world is full of people who will say unpleasant things and it is your responsibility to not respond in kind.”
“I’m real”, she said definitively
I steal a glance into the rear view mirror and see her sitting in the middle seat, glassy eyed and clutching a piece of stolen chalk.
+4+
Clara
September 2017
The Majestic Christmas Illumination was the Austrian National Philharmonic’s most popular and prestigious show. Tickets had been sold out since summer, some for upward of 200$. It was the place for a certain set in Central European society. I remember my grandfather had attended one year, it’d been his last trip to Europe.
Anyway, Hausf wanted me to prove my composition skills. Even though he was my boss I hardly saw him from whatever ivory tower her resided in. Still, Hausf made sure someone relayed his criticisms. My compositions were either to slow, to technical or lacking craft. There were but so many way to arrange The Dance of The Sugar Plum Faeries.
I had to familiarize myself with wind instruments and figure out how to write for them. Not to mention I had to learn how to write and compose music using a computer program I barley understood. Technology was something The DeLune Academy had sneered at while grandfather was alive and I full heartedly agreed.
What can I say, I have a penchant for the old fashion.
Writing music had always been tenuous for me. I need inspiration, time and no pressure. It was one of the reasons I never went into score writing. I believed good art took time.
Unlike my co-worker Niklas Clemmens. We worked together on the Christmas show and I learned that in his
twenties and thirties he had done some work at film scoring mills in Bollywood and L.A before
he started freelancing and auditioning for orchestras. He had been the understudy in the
Austria National Philharmonic for 3 years before they hired him as a production coordinator. He
also did some conducting on low attendance nights.
I’d made a point to date while I was in London, but I started to realize I only really did it to make Fierro notice… which he never did. But I started to like Niklas in a way I hadn’t thought I was allowed to. He spent a lot of time with the musicians, and he could do this thing where he could jump into any chair and play any instruments. Some nights he filled in for musicians during the evening free concerts. If I wasn’t to tired I’d stick around and watch the concerts. They were usually full of tourist and by the end I’d be the only one who stuck around.
Niklas fascinated me in a good way. God, was it sexy when any man held a violin. Niklas lived his life through music and travel. He was mostly self taught, while I’d taken a more practical route. We went to lunch together every Wednesday cause I really did need someone to teach me German because. . . why not ? We didn’t talk much about our personal lives but I’d nodded along politely when he mentioned he was divorced and he did the same when I mentioned I had a daughter out of wedlock.
Hausf didn’t leave much time for a personal life anyway. Between meetings and donor functions, my evenings were made out of take-out food, wine and sleep. I heard Christmas arrangements and Hausf’s biting German (ahem, Austrian German) demands in my sleep.
Rose was decidedly . . . unmoved by Vienna. She spent the first
week and last week of every month with me. So I spent a good chunk of my weekends
flying to Cork, Ireland to get her. Cork had the closest airport to Carrigaline and I'd wait by security for Rose to show up with her suitcase and school bag. Then we'd both fly back to Vienna. It was a bit excessive but I didn’t like the idea of Rose
being alone on a plane. Even if it was exhausting to fly all the way to Ireland just to turn back around at the airport.
I’d hired a nanny for the week, if only to have someone spend the day with Rose and make sure she saw a little bit of Vienna.I don’t know why I wanted her approval, but I felt somewhat justified when she said the condo was “charming.”
Since that approval meant so much to me, I decided I wanted Rose’s approval on Niklas. I’d brought her along to one of our Wednesday lunches/ German lessons. He smiled nervously and almost dropped the German-English book he was holding when he walked into the café.
Rose was oblivious to him, instead of food she had a large
ceramic mug with steamy hot chocolate with thick cream on top. She’d carefully
starting drinking it with a tiny dessert spoon. The white cord of her earbuds
lay against her orange coat and matching dress.
Niklas said something in German that I didn’t catch as I was to busy watching Rose not noticing Niklas. I clicked off her iPod nano and Rose looked to me and then to Niklas. She set the spoon down and folded her small fragile hands.
“I’m Rose”, She said in German after some prompting
Niklas raised his eyebrow
“She speaks Austrian German ?”, he said in German and raising one of his eyebrows.
“I. . .no… I mean—“
“I’m learning.” Rose says picking up her hot drink.
“Rose is with me for the week”, I explained, “I thought I’d bring her to lunch today.”
“I’m glad to have her here.”
Rose look very disinterested.
“You’re late by the way”, I said trying to dispel some of the awkwardness. Niklas made no comment when the waiter bought over the order I’d already placed; my spinach salad and his tomato cream soup.
“ I know, Hausf called me into his office. He timed the Christmas show again, it’s short by 12 and half minutes.”
“I’m sure no one will notice if there is a ‘technical difficulty’ or something.”
“When the audience pays 200 dollars for a ticket you fill the 12 and a half minutes. Donors don’t like being fooled.”
“I can’t make the music any longer if I tried.”
“I know, Hausf actually thinks that it would be a good idea for you to perform a solo or something. .”
“I. . . what ?”
“It would be a big selling point. Clara, the infamous DeLune prodigy.”
“No one has cared since I was a child. There are other prodigies and I haven’t played on a stage since I was . . . 17.”
“And why is that ?”
“I don’t know. . . I started college. I got busy.”
Rose had gotten bored with her hot chocolate and started eating some of my salad.
“Don’t make me beg. Hausf sent me to convince you. I’ll buy you a case of your favorite wine for Christmas”
“Is wine all you think I want? , I asked
“I think you want a lot more than that”, He said quietly and I felt his loafer tap against my boot. Or maybe it was my boot against his loafer ? I just remember that split second of connection.
Then, I felt something hot on my sleeve, I jumped up and saw Rose’s hot chocolate had tipped over onto the table. A waitress came over with a napkin, but my pink silk shirt was already ruined.
“Rose”, I said but her attention was on finishing my salad.
“It’s not her fault”, Niklas said, “It’s a small table, we can mov—“
“It’s fine”, I said, “I’ll just have to go home and change. I—what were we talking about.”
“That vampire show you’re always going on about”
“What ?”
“If you perform at the Christmas show I’ll watch it. All of it.”
I laughed, which surprised me, “You don’t have to do that.. . It’s just I really like to keep a low profile.”
“Please, Clara. I’ve seen you working. You are very talented. Have you ever seen yourself play ? It's like you're somewhere else.”
I let the idea sink in. It wasn’t that big of a deal if I performed. I mean they didn’t allow photography during concerts, not to mention anyone old enough to attend the symphony probably wouldn’t live long enough to recognize me again.
“What do you
think, Rose ?”, Niklas asked, "Should you mother do it."
I wanted to laugh, I didn’t usually take career advice from Rose. Before she could say anything I spoke first.
“I’ll do it”, I said, “I want to do it but Hausf has to let me play whatever I want.”
“Nothing with a copyright unless you want to pay.”
We abandoned the German lesson and started talking music for the rest of lunch. Afterward I walked Rose back to my apartment where the nanny was waiting. I took the long way going through the farmer's market on East Avenue. Rose stuck close to me, she kept her eyes forward and was very turned off by all the people crowding on the narrow streets.
I never asked Rose how she was doing in Ireland and I never asked Fierro because we were never in proximity of each other for more than a few seconds. Rose did seem happier though, I caught her smiling more and she said she enjoyed how quiet it was. Fierro was good to her, even though it cost me 6 dollars a minute she called her Father every night. She never mentioned Lucie, she somehow knew it was a sore spot with me.
“Rose ?”, I asked as we turned down the narrow side street, pass the small café and drugstore.
She looked up to me in response. I noticed she did that now. She tugged my arm if she had a question and when she spoke to me she always made very direct eye contact. I couldn’t remember the last time she’d called me ‘Mommy’.
“Are you happy, Rose ?”, I asked her
She considered it for a moment
“Yes. . . why ?”
“Because I am too and it scares me.”
She took her earbuds out and looked up at me confused.
I put in the code to get into the building. I was supposed to head back to work but instead I follow Rose inside and sit at my thrift store upright piano. I played a few keys closed my eyes and listened to the music playing inside my head.
+5+
Fierro
November 2017
It had started raining that afternoon, but it had only just begun.
You’re so special”, Lucie coos. Her voice is both there and not there at the same time, “You are so beautiful and we love you and we miss you every single moment you’re not here.”
I watched from the car as Lucie held Rose’s substantial hands in her less substantial ones. Lucie’s absolute joy and happiness making her appear much more alive than she was. A light rain had begun to fall , Lucie remained untouched while Rose didn’t notice the rain at all.
Lucie smiled as Rose waived good-bye and settled into the car with her yellow suitcase. In those few passing moments I felt as if I had managed to give Lucie what she always wanted; a family
The next moments as I drove down towards Carrigaline I felt less so.
My decidedly accurate watch showed that we would be late to the airport. Lucie’s often drawn out and dramatic good-byes had a tendency to do that. Rose’s clothes were soaked through, but by the end of drive into town the heater had dried and warmed her.
As we drove through town toward R43 to Cork, I saw that the children of Carrigaline were not deterred by the weather. Rain was an everyday occurrence and they chased and played with one another along main street. As I was about to turn out of town the car stopped without ceremony.
I turned the
key again and it sputtered. I turned the key again just as Rose unlocked the doors and carefully stepped out of the car. The children no doubt recognized her from before. One of the young boys shouted
one word in Gaeilc.
Rose watched carefully as the children began to runaway from her in unison. Balls were dropped, wet chalk smacked into the blacktop and laughter echoed. Some ran towards the shantys down the street and the others picked up their bicycles and headed towards the farmhouses on the other side of the moor.
Momentarily confused Rose wandered to the empty space where all the children had been playing. She tapped an abandoned ball with her rain shoes, then kicked it. Rose spied a girl who had been a bit slow to catch on to the game. The girl struggled with a helmet and the heavy bicycle in the rain. As the girl peddled down the lane Rose kept her eye on her.
I shuttered a bit at how familiar this very scene was to me.
“Come along, Rose”, I said getting out of the car. It was enough of this.
Rose reached for my hand, her eyes still on the girl peddling away.
“Grandma Lucie says people should be nice to each other.”
“Should is the important word in that proclamation", I said taking her hand to lead her back to the car.
“They are not very”, her grip on my hand tightened, “Nice.”
On that syllable the other girl on the bike fell. That is she failed to have a bike which to fall from. As she was peddling the handlebars fell to the ground at the same time the front and back tire were released from their locks and rolled in separate directions. Hardware clattered to the ground
The girl left the broken bike and ran home. I closed my eye and counted back. I opened my eyes and lead Rose by the hand into the pub, the owner’s son whispered quietly to each other from a booth in the back
“They boys can’t play today, they’ve got work to do”, their mother said. I admired her defense of her children.
“That is quite alright. I’ll just have a coffee and a screwdriver.”
“You think I can make those strange Yankee concoctions? I can get you a good whiskey, sir.”
“That won’t be necessary”, I said removing my jacket, “I meant the hardware”
She shrugged and rummaged behind the bar until she produced one, followed by a copper mug of bitter coffee. I placed the screwdriver in Roses’ hands. She seemed genuinely unpleased by it.
“Come along Rose.” I said
“What’s this for?” she asked in a whisper.
“We have a bicycle to fix.”
+++
We arrive at the Cork Airport more than an hour late.
Ms. DeLune is sitting outside the airport and doesn’t look up when we approach. Her hair falls over her shoulder and covers her face as she is focused on her phone. She sits quit comfortably with a clear umbrella by her high heeled boots.
“I’m ready”, Rose says to get her attention
Ms. DeLune pushes her hair back and is wearing a smile with no reservation. It was unexpected, but I realized not diverted at me or Rose.
“Is everything okay ? You’re two hours late. I tried to call. ”
“Something came up.”
“We just missed the flight.” Her phone glowed and she went back to it, “I’ll have to book another one. I have a big meeting tomorrow and I need sleep. There is only one more flight back to Vienna. Come on Rose. If we run we can catch it.”
Rose folded her arms at the thought of having to run.
“Do you have a moment”, I start.
“No, not really—“
I suddenly have her full attention. She looks thinner, her face and hair overly made. She studies me and the back down at Rose, this time she notices our damp coats and the mud caked much on Rose’s galoshes and Rose's curling wet hair.
“What
happened ? What did she do ?”
“It’s not her fault, children can be cruel—“
“Rose why can’t you behave around other children ? This is getting out of hand.”
“She tries”.
Ms. DeLune’s phone rings again. I miss the silence of the country already. The simplicity of a hardcover and strong coffee.
And Lucie
That was a suggestion I realized may have been entirely my own.
“Clara, I think Rose needs to go to school with her peers. She’s spent enough time on her own. “
“She’s not missing much.”, Ms. DeLune said but
I’ve lost her attention already.
“If I’d had the chance when I was a child I’d taken it. It’s not easy when you
are an only child and everyone sees
you as different. I don’t think you’d quite understand.”
“Oh". she says and looks up then back at Rose, “Well . . do you want her to go to school here ? In the is there even a school in Carrigaline ?”
“I don’t think Rose would find much solace there. I think we are quite out of goodwill”
“Well, there is a day school in Vienna, but I’d have to hire a nanny full-time and get my car out of storage. Are you sure you want to live alone with . . . Lucie”
“That’s not my main concern.”
“I’ll look
into it”, she said, “Call me. Come on, Rose. Just try and run."
She pulled Rose by the arm and ran toward the ticket counter. Outside the sun was starting to set and the faster I moved the sooner I would be home
+++
Clara
“I’m so sorry”, I said again but my apologies were drowned out by the man’s thick Irish accent,. I think he was cursing at me even with Rose standing right there. I ran my hands through my wet hair and stared at my rental car dug deep into the Irishman’ sports car. I’d explained to him that I’d pay for it but he was barley listening.
Rose and I were unfortunately still in Ireland. They had grounded all flights due to the rain, which was no good because I needed t to get to work tomorrow. I was supposed to met with Hausf to talk about my solo. I’d spent the last two week finalizing my selection and this was my one shot to impress him.
I did the math and realized that if I rented a car and left right now I could fucking drive back to Austria. I’d just barely make it to my 3 o’clock meeting. Also Rose and I could bond a little. The whole trip had started off fine but 50 miles in Rose was complaining about being bored and something about having to return a bike.
I’d rolled right through an intersection that I didn’t even realize was an intersection and hit an irate Irishman in a bright orange convertible. I immediately backed out of his car and into a muddy ditch. I’d let out a string of terrible curses which hopefully Rose didn’t hear over her screaming.I talked Rose down and went to talk to the man I hit, he was a local and I have a feeling it was because the accident was entirely my fault and because I was American
The tow truck driver took Rose and I as far the closet petrol station, there was a small convenience store attached to it and I brought us some hot tea and talked the owner into letting me charge my phone. Then I stared at the U.K wall outlet and realized I didn’t have an adapter.
The clerk
behind the counter wordlessly offered me the cordless landline which I also preceded
to stare at.
“I know Mrs. Walsh’s number”, Rose said softly.
“What ? Who is that ?”
“She owns the restaurant in town.”
“Oh, the pub.”
I sighed and
handed Rose the phone, she primly handed me her tea and dialed the number,
quickly handing it back to me before she dare have to speak to someone. What the hell was I
going to say to this woman ?
“Someone there ?”, the woman said. I realized in such a small town people didn’t feel the need to say 'Hello' when they called
“Hi. My name is Clara. You might know my daughter Rose, she—“
“The American man’s daughter ? Classy little thing she is.”
“Yes. Well-- I was taking her home with me and we got in a bit of accident... we’re stranded 50 miles outside of Cork.”
“You know
there is a storm coming”, she said as if she had all the time in the world.
“I didn’t, but I need to get to work tomorrow. You wouldn’t happen to be able to contact Mr. Fierro would you ? I can pay you for your trouble, you see he has a satphone and I can’t call it from a landline uneless I buy a phone card which.. . they don’t sell here”, I looked around the store to confirm this, “and I have a meeting I need to get to and I don’t have a phone adapter which was my fault but I wasn’t expecting to need it. And I—“
I thought the woman had hung up on me, but I heard some distance laughing. She probably thought I was an incompetent city girl. I glared down at Rose, realizing how long this was going to take-
“Clara ?”
“Yes”, I answered recognized Fierro’s voice, “Oh, my God. you’re there.”
“I stopped to have a drink and warm up a bit. I must have lost track of time watching the coming and goings.”
He said that last part wistfully. What he was really doing was taking his time getting back to Lucie. I sighed hoping he would come to the same conclusion.
“I need a favor.”
+++
“Please, you can turn around. If we take backroads we can get to Austria by at least 2:30.”
I folded my arms and actually huffed in frustration as Mr. Fierro continued to ignore me and drove around the next corner.
“If you turn around now”, I said picking up my charging phone and studying the map, “I can make it to my meeting.”
He said nothing as we drove into Carrigaline, I thought we’d stop in town but he just kept driving into the secluded countryside. The rain had ceased, but every now and then a bolt of lighting would light up the night sky
“Listen I have a job, I answer to people. Just let me borrow your car. It's new, right ? I’m sure it can make the trip”
I'd been surprised when he showed up to the petrol station in a brand new shiny dark red Buick.
“I’d rather you not get into another accident with my car. Surely you understand. Besides between traffic and border checks you would have never made it to Vienna let alone Central Europe in time.”
I sunk lower into my seat.
“They want
me to perform”, I said turning the rear view mirror to see Rose asleep in the
backseat. She had a keychain looped around her finger that I didn't recognize. I squinted and noticed it was the key to the convertible I hit. She'd stolen it.
“Must be quite an honor”, Fierro said concentrating on the road ahead.
“It is. . . but it’s not an ideal situation. They only asked me because of my family name. . .but I don’t care. I’ve always wanted to perform at a prestigious place like that and I need to prove that I’m good...and timely. “
A shock of lightning split the air and I swear I felt it jolt the car a little and I shut up for the rest of the trip. When the old abbey came into view I felt an instant chill, like I shouldn’t be there. Like I should leave a soon as possible.
He pulled the car up to the tiny house outside the abbey and my heels sunk into the wet earth, I pulled myself into the house and felt a shock of warmth. There was a marble counter top with two chairs to my right followed by set of ladder stairs that lead to a sleeping loft. To my left were two wing back chairs and a twin bed build into the wall. Fierro carried Rose inside and set her down in the small bed and took off her wet coat.
All I had for luggage was my purse which was mostly filled with lip gloss, receipts, water and pens. So many pens. I sat at the counter and started braiding my hair into a fishtail.
“What do you think about sending her to school.”, Fierro said again. I didn't know why he was bringing this up again. I had also completely forgotten he was there. He was sitting it the small sitting area by the door.
“Um, if you think it’s a good idea. There are a lot of good boarding schools.”
“Boarding
school ? ”
It would be easier on Rose. No more of this back and forth. We can just go to her to visit whenever we want. It be the best way to immerse her. I always wanted to go to boarding school—“
“I always wanted to go to school”, he said more to himself than to me., “Rose likes it here, but she can’t hide from the world because she feels different. That was the mistake I made. I won’t let her do the same.”
“Well”, I whisper incase Lucie can hear me, “Rose actually is different. She sees ghost everywhere.”
“Not everywhere”, he whispers back
It got a little to real. I awkwardly stand up and slide into the bathroom. I’d used it as a cover to look at my phone
I’d texted
Niklas every time I got a signal on the way up . I explained in shorthand what was going on and made sure he knew how much I wanted to perform. At least I hoped my emojis got
that across. I woke up my phone and he had responded in three words. The text must have come across an hour ago.
Get some sleep.
And a smiley face.
I washed the makeup off my face with hand-soap and water, then tucked my phone in my bra since my sweater dress had no pockets.
Fierro was sitting at the small counter with a cup of was smelled like Chamomile tea. He had changed into a cream long sleeve shirt and blue linen pants.
“I can’t believe you live like this”, I whispered remembering Rose was sleeping, “So far away from everything.”
“I’d forgotten how much I preferred living off the grid. Away from it all. The world is too loud now, to distracting. Often times the entirety of my situation can be overwhelming. Out there I would wake up and forget how out of place I feel. Then something would remind me that I don’t belong.”
I listened to the rain pelt down on the tiny house, I didn’t know what to say and after a few minute it was to late for me to respond. The rain picked up and I was kind of afraid the house was going to slide down the hill. I walked over to the window and tried to look at the old abbey’s bell tower.
“Can she hear us ?”
“No”, he ventured further, “Her humanity is a slipping, when Rose isn’t here she changes. I try to keep her sane, but it's a losing battle”
“Why stay?”
“Rose. The two really do get on well together. Lucie won’t like me sending Rose off to school, but she’ll understand”
Us. I wanted to say. We were sending Rose off to school. Who cared what Lucie thought, she wasn’t apart of this family anymore. She wasn’t even a part of this world anymore.
“I’m really
tired.” I said not wanting to talk
anymore. I should have been in my cozy Vienna apartment preparing for my meeting.
He stood up and gestured to the stairs that led up to the queen sized loft bed.
“Oh, Are you sure ?”, I whispered.
He nodded
I climbed
into the bed after him and kicked off my shoes.
“I can’t do
this”, I said facing away from him and glancing over at Rose.
“There is no place else to go”, he said
“No. I mean this house. What if it rolls away.”
“You’ll be fine.”
“I swear I feel it moving”
“Ms. DeLune I’ve never known you to be so impractical”
“Well, I’ve never known you to be so improper.”
He ignored my comment and I sat up as another flash of lightning hit.
“I can drive you back down to the village.”
“No. . . I’m fine. “
Except I wasn't fine. I tried to sleep but was awoken by a sudden rap on the window, followed by a haunting tapping sound. I looked over at the window and saw Lucie’s face pressed against the window.
“Shit.”, I jumped up and looked at the other window and there she was. The sound of thunder and rain ran right through me. I felt a cold shiver as the tapping started again, followed by what sounded like a body being thrown against the house.
I tried to close my eyes but all I saw was her face, with dark hollow eyes and an open sharp toothed mouth.
Clara
My name rang in my ears
I can’t stay here
I can’t
“I can’t”, I was suddenly saying out loud, “I can’t”
I felt Mr. Fierro’s hand and on my wrist and he clicked on a sconce light.
“She can’t get in”, he said.
“I feel. . . strange. I feel . . . melancholy ? Is she doing this ? What the hell.”
“It will pass. Think about something else and you’ll drift to sleep”
I peered down at Rose who was apparently exempt fro Lucie’s torments.
“Well, I’ve started thinking about my performance piece.” He turned the light out and turned his back to me. I reached a finger out and started to trace music notes on his back with my fingertip. Slowly creating and filling in the notes.
“Do you know what it is ?”
“I’m afraid I don’t read music”
“Chopin”, I said, “For piano. Well it’s a variation. Very traditional. What do you think ?”
I stared at his back and waited for him to answer. After a few moments I realized he’d fallen asleep. I guess I wasn’t the only one who hat a long night.
I looked at the window one last time and saw a woman patently looking in as if she were watching TV, her face was illuminated somehow and rain fell onto her and slid down her face like tears.
I closed my eyes, but I felt her presence. Like someone was standing over me.
Watching me
Watching you,
I wasn’t getting any sleep that night.
+6+
Fierro
I had neatly
folded and put away the dreams of my youth a long time ago. But that didn't mean I didn't still have them on a restful rainy nights.
They were simple dreams. Ones that always started with marrying Lucie and buying a small farm. Working side by side in the dirt during the day an maybe writing a novel at night. Waking up some mornings to find her in the kitchen looking out the window. I’d imagined us spending a quiet life in our little piece of the heaven, watching as the world changed but always finding steadiness in each other. Maybe I’d had a piece of that when Lucie and I were married, but it was never enough.
When I awoke that morning the first thing I smelled was the coffee. I sat up now fully awake and and saw Ms. DeLune in the kitchen holding a mug with both hands. She leaned over the sink and squinted out the window. She looks up as I descend from the loft. The small dwelling leaving little room for privacy. Her eyes follow me across the small space.
“Good morning”, I say.
I say politely. A habit I couldn’t quite shake. The graciousness and polished demeanor were who I was now. It had started as a way to cope with losing my life and in the decades since had become who I was. Who Mr. Fierro was.
Addison dreamed of farmhouses and a country wife. Mr. Fierro lived for a quiet large home to remind him of his failings. One filled with distractions and solidarity. He would be intelligent, communal but he would never love fully and risk losing it again.
“I-I’ve never seen you so. . .”, Ms. DeLune starts but doesn’t finish, “I mean I. . . unpolished. “
I nodded in acknowledgement and slipped past her. I showered and shaved. The distinctive smell of the well water filtering though the faucet. I dressed quickly and find Ms. DeLune in much the same place as I left her.
“Last night”, Ms. DeLune starts, “I was so scared. She kept. . . taunting me. Can she come in. . . here ?”
“No. The sage keeps her away.The rain allowed her to get closer last ntight. My apologies.”
Outside Rosalie is sitting in the grass with an open book. The eerily solid image of Lucy next to her. She looks older Her hair a long silvery white wrapped up in a way I had a distinct memory of. her when she was. . . my wife.
“Can you touch her ?”
“I haven’t tried.”
“I’m afraid to go out there”, she sounded amused, “I’m afraid of her. I know she doesn’t want me here. But she looks so beautiful.”
“Stay by the house. She’s stronger closer to the tower, she doesn’t stray much anymore.”
“I don’t. . . like this. Rose needs more. You are right, we do need to send her to school with real people.” She watched Rose smile and continue reading as a ghostly hand stroked her hair.
“I know something about growing up isolated. If I hadn’t had Lucie my childhood would have felt very desolate.”
“Best friends are like that", she says her thought probably on Peter Morrati, "I know how much my sister and I don’t get along now, but I always wanted Rose to have sisters like I did, now she’s all alone.”
“She will never be alone”, I told her, “I simply won’t stand for it.”
+++
Clara
There was no point in leaving Carrigaline just yet. The next flight to Vienna didn't leave until evening so why bother ? I eventually ventured outside with my coffee and spread my coat out and made myself comfortable on the green grass by Fierro’s small rose garden. I didn’t know what to do with my hands when he sat down next to me with his own cup of coffee.
I tried to look everywhere except where Rose was with Lucie. No matter where I turned all I saw was green. Lucie seemed intent on ignoring me, she was completely wrapped up in showing Rose attention
“If we send Rose to boarding school, Lucie won’t like it.”
“I’ll talk to her. She’ll understand.”
He looked at me when he spoke to me and our eyes kept unintentionally meeting. After he finished talking we were still looking at each other and it seemed awkward to turn away. I hadn’t really had the pleasure of looking at him much these days.
“It’s so nice here. I’ve been spending to much time in cities.”
“It’s certainly been good for the roses"
The small experimental rose garden had a variety of brightly colored and unique looking roses. He gestured to a set of deep maroon roses.
“I want you to tell Emile about these. I’m not sure my letter quite capture—“
“I’ll take a picture”, I said snapping one with my phone, " God, It’s like the world can’t touch you out here.”
“It is how I prefer it. It keeps ones thoughts focused on finding peace and meaning in a life you don’t understand. “
I took
another picture of the roses while he finished his coffee.
"These are pretty.”
“You can take one.”
“I can’t on the plane”, I frowned and settled on making the picture my phone background.
Rose was sitting against the old abbey with a calculator and and notebook. Lucie was so close to her. To close. I took his empty cup and poured half of my coffee into it. Unlike me, he couldn’t take his eyes of Rose and Lucie.
His wife
I sat upright, that had not been my thought.
“I don’t”, Mr. Fierro started while looking at the pair, “I don’t know if I’m doing this right.”
“Yeah, mean either.”
The next hour went by slowly and our conversation didn’t move beyond that. Fierro and Rose drove me back to Cork, I turned on classical music the whole time. We stopped at a terrible café near the airport for breakfast. The red vinyl booths were worn to a light pink and they served and the worst version of American breakfast I’ve had yet. Rose refused to eat anything, not that I blamed her.
“I can take a cab to airport”, I said reaching to pay the check before he did.
“You’re not going to the airport”, Fierro said.
“Yes, I am.” I was suddenly very defensive, “ I mean I know I won’t make my meeting and I'm having a nice time but I've got to get back.”
“I know. What I mean is I chartered you a flight to Vienna.”
“You—what ? Do you know how expensive that is ?”
“I do now”,
he said humorlessly, “The airfields is close, the plane leaves at 9 am and you should be in Vienna just after noon.
Rose looked between us impatiently, I assumed she hadn’t known about this and that she just wanted to get back to her other mother.
“I’m going to pay you back, I’m so stupid I should have thought of it—I mean. . ..”
“It was nothing.” He said and left it at that.
I wasn’t sure if I should hug him or shake his hand but I did neither. He dropped me off at the airfield and I made sure to hug Rose goodbye. The jet touched down a few miles outside of Vienna at 1pm. I had enough time to go home, shower and change.
I made it to
my meeting 10 minutes early. Hausf passingly approved of my arrangement, then
Niklas came in to go over some other production details. It went surprisingly
well. I felt like I belonged.
On my way
out of work that evening I stopped by a stall selling souvenirs and and picked up a
postcard with a stunning view of Hofburg Palace and scrawled
Thank You
Then I addressed it and carefully placed it in the mail.
+++
I can't believe this chapter is posted. I started working on this chapter April 2015.