+1+
“I’m jealous Rose”, I said taking another walk around the empty dormitory, “I’m actually jealous.”
The dormitories at the Le Berne College For Girls were maybe a bit more communal than I would have liked, but everything looked neat and homey. Each dorm unit had 6 beds in each room, each girl had a moderate dresser and wardrobe that matched the oversized twin beds.
Rose held her hands demurely in front of her and peered wide eyed around the empty room. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed the little trinkets on one of the dressers began to . . . tremor
“Rose it’s going to be fine”, I told her. I placed a hand on the trinkets until it stood still.
Through the window there was a breath taking view of the Davos Ski Resort and the snow capped Swiss Alps below us. I was trying to be nice earlier but I actually was jealous, I would have loved to spend just a semester here as a kid. The backdrop felt so inspiring.
Maybe it was because Rose was getting older, or because she was getting better at manipulation, but Rose didn’t throw a tantrum when I told her she was going to boarding school. I’d been afraid that if Rose told Lucie I was taking her away that Lucie would do something, so I waited until the next time Rose was visiting me to tell her. I waited until we were having dinner at home and just before dessert I told her she wasn’t going back to Ireland.
She set her fork down and I could tell she was trying to understand yet another change in her young life.
“I don’t want to go”, she had said trying not to cry, “All of my things are—“
“Fierro will send it to your new school--”
“But I promised Grandma Lucie that we’d read my next book together, and she said we’d spend Christmas together.”
“Well, she doesn’t get to make those kind of promises.”
Rose tried to keep herself calm, but she looked like she was having a panic attack. I’d almost considered letting he have some wine to help calm her down, but I didn’t want to waste it.
“Rose, the world is a beautiful place. I know it hasn’t always been kind to you but I want you to meet children your age and have a normal childhood. So does Fierro.”
She bit her bottom lip and tried to look resolute. Her face looked all crinkly and red like when she was a baby. She got up from the table and ran into her room. Of course because a partial wall separated our bedrooms I heard her crying all night.
In typical Rosalie fashion she only tried to runaway once. She made it as far as the Austrian border before she got lost on the Eurorail and found a nice Australian family that let her borrow a phone. Niklas let me borrow his car and we had to drive to Hungary to pick her up. I gave her the rest of the weekend to mope and by Monday Rose and I took the 45 minute flight to Lucrene, Switzerland to enroll her in school.
Le Berne was perfectly suited for Rose, she seemed to like drawing and they had full Arts program, plus they were more than happy to take her at such an awkward time given a nice healthy donation.
I’d booked a room at the Davos resort for two days, just until I was sure Rose would be comfortable. I had a keyboard with me so I could do some work from my hotel room. I’d also made plans to walk around the marina, find a chocolate shop and browse my way through the IKEA I’d seen on the way in. Maybe dress up and have dinner with myself.
The Den mother introduced herself to me and Rose, she goes over the schedule and activities they have planned. There must have been a break in the day because during our introduction some of the students filed into the dorm. They glance at Rose then quickly get on their way. They all seemed nice. Watching them made me hopeful for all the possibilities for Rose. A chance to be normal.
“Okay”, I said when it was time for me to leave, “I’m going, Rose. I know you’ll be just fine here. We’ll be together again for Christmas in a few weeks. You haven’t even told me what you want for Christmas.”
“Grandma Lucie”, she said
I sighed and sat down on the bed which was the most comfortable thing I ever had the pleasure of sitting on.
“Listen Rose, you know you can’t talk about Grandma Lucie. It’s just. . . it’ just not polite. You understand don’t you ? You can’t tell anyone”
“Why not ?’
“It’s just for the best.”
Rose’s expression turned slightly dismissive. How did she even know what that expression was? I shook it off and took out a very simple smartphone and gave it to Rose. It had some important numbers stored on it along with a tracking device.
“Take this. Call me if you need anything. It’s so pretty here Rose. I really wish I was going here. Have fun and take pictures. Fierro is going to visit you next week and he wants you to be happy.”
“Well, I’m not”, She said simply
“Just try, Rose.”
I leaned over and kissed her leaving a dark red lipstick mark on her forehead. When I got outside I was hit with this tug in my chest. I still have mixed feelings about keeping Rose when she was a baby. Motherhood never came easy to me, I just never accepted that I didn't get to do it on my terms. I had a hard time feeling what I thought other moms felt, because I kept regretting my decision. I felt something that day. It was like I had just l fed her to wolves. I left her alone and scared in a new world, while I went after my own happiness.
+2+
Fierro
Here I was.
Breaking the only rule I’d ever set.
I set my travel bag down on the steps of the abbey and pushed open the weather worn doors of the old Carriglanie abbey. My footsteps echoed on the stone floor and sounded all the way up to the rafters. The pews were decayed and morphed with exposure, still they added a certain charm. To my right was the staircase that lead to the bell tower. Lucie’s bell tower.
I started up the stairs when I heard a noise from the pews. There was a chill in the air and in the very first row of pews I notice the slim figure of a woman sitting. She looked exhausted and leans back against the pew. I know she hears me coming but she doesn’t move and I take a seat next to her. Lucie instantly animates lifting her head to face me. She looks surreal and everything about her is too perfect. I’m also strangely aware that she is not breathing. She’s nothing really.
She has a lazy smile on her face, her Swedish blue eyes are wide and joyful. Her short styled black hair frames her bright lips and cheekbones. . For a moment time has completely stood still. We are both young and it is as if half a century of bitterness hasn’t past us by.
“When is my little Rose coming back? It’s been weeks”, she asks.
“She’s not coming back, Lucie. You must know this.”
“It’s that Clara”, She growled, “It’s not fair. She’s always talking things from me. She has a daughter now, she sees how it is. It’s not fair Addison.”
“As clichéd as it is sometimes when you love someone you have to let them go.”
“You are one to speak, sweetheart.”
“I’m learning.”
“I can’t believe you’re in here with me. Aren’t you afraid I’ll trap you in here forever ?”, she yawns and stretches. I remember the dress she is wearing. It’s the one from her college graduation.
“Can you do that ?”
She shrugs her shoulders, “I don’t know. You know Christmas is coming up Addy. I tell you I’ve had . . . a lot of good Christmases. Tons really.”
Lucie certainly knew how to turn a conversation.
“ . . even the Christmas you nearly burned the school down trying roasting chestnuts for your students.”
She tried to hold in a laugh but it spilled out of her in that way it always did.
“That one year was not my fault it was. . ."
“Mark Hempshires. . . I know. He was the worst 10 year old. You complained about him all the time “
My mind slipped back to a memory I hadn’t thought of in years. Lucie trudging out to the farm with a singed dress and proclaiming that she was quitting and going to move to the city and get on Broadway. Not that she could sing or dance in the slightest.
“Uh oh, sweetheart is that a smile ?”, Lucie said. Something teasing in her voice.
I brought my hand to my mouth.
“Dear, God. That’s no good.”
“Now you’re taking the lords name in vain. Are you dropping this Mr. Fierro act completely ?”
“It’s not an act. It’s just who I became after so much heartache. A man who wanted to have all the trappings of wealth so no one would notice that he was no one at all. Over the years that made him . . . cold. Me cold.”
Lucie gazed out at the broken stain glass windows. She didn’t like speaking of this.
“He became a senator. . . Mark Hempshire did.”, Lucie said.
“Is that so ?”
“Died of a heart attack in the 80’s. He was smart. . . he stayed dead.”
“Lucky, bastard”, I say and challenge Lucie to make a comment, instead she leans her head on my shoulders. The weight of her cheek on my shoulder is lighter than it should be and she’s so cold.
“I don’t know what to do, Addy. I still love you.”
“I love you too. I just can’t let go, if I let go that means that means I’ve truly failed. That this world is my new reality. I’m not ready to believe that. This isn’t how it should end for either of us.”
Lucie’s gripped tightened
“My family is important Addison. I love Rose and the world is a scary place for her. A girl needs her Father out there with her. She needs to know that the world is worth living in and so do you. As much as I want you to stay with me forever. . . I can’t. For Rose’s sake.”
I bowed my head, it was a gesture that felt familiar in a church.
“What about Clara.”
“Oh”, Lucie sighed, “I’m never going to be okay with that. I mean she’s my granddaughter, Addison. Just think about how that makes me feel. I can’t even think about it—I mean Rose should have been our daughter. It would have been a good life.”
“It would have been a great life.” I decided.
“I’ve had a lot of good acts in my life, Addy”, she admitted, “But, God did I have so many terrible ones.”
“Truly ?”
She stretched her arms up and smiled at the memories. I took the moment to light a cigarette. Lucy eyed me with a smirk. Her eyes turned sad as she focused on the ruined painting of Christ on the altar.
“Addy, The two worst days of my life was the day Martin went to college and the day Mother died.”
She turned casually to me and shook her head at the terrible memories. I could stare endlessly in those eyes without missing a beat. She didn’t cough or flinch as I blew smoke . . . through her, instead she leaned in and before I could bring the cigarette back to my mouth she kissed me. I felt the chilled soft suggestion of her lips. It went on for longer than I was willing to admit and when it was over it felt like nothing had happened at all. When I came back to my senses the realization hit me.
“Lucie. . .Those were the worst two days of your life.”
“Why . . . yes. I know I was hard on her but I loved my Mother. She died so young and I should have been a better daughter.”
I kept waiting. Truly this was a joke.
“Lucie. . .what about the day Roger killed me ? How about every day you married the man who murdered your best friend ?”
Her eyes goes wide and her expression was like she’d forgotten a Christmas present.
“The truth is Addy. . . the world wasn’t kind to you. You had such high hopes and so many dreams that just weren’t going to happen for a lot of different reasons. Sometimes I thought. . . I’m glad he didn’t live long enough to have his hopes crushed. Knowing that comforted me.”
I studied her smile for a long time. She was genuine in her belief, and she wasn’t wrong but still. . .I always knew that Lucie loved me but somedays I wasn’t sure what that meant.
I sat back on the pew and relaxed, Lucie did the same.
“I like it here”, she says, “I really do.”
“Lucie. I need to tell you why I’m here.”
She smiles, a smile that goes all the way up to her eyes.
“It’s okay, Addison. I already know.”
“Lucie I came to --“
The wind howls outside and slams the doors sealing the abbey shut. I run over to the doors and push against them until they opened. For a moment I thought she’d locked me in here.
“I’m sorry Lucie . It was just the wind.” I turn back to the pew, “ I though—“
I don’t finish my sentence because no one is there. Lucie is gone. Or at least I can't see her.
I’m alone.
“I. . . came to say good-bye, Lucie.”
This time for the last time.
Maybe.
+3+
Clara
“He did . .. What?” I said turning down the music in my office. Had I just heard Emile right ?
“I thought you knew. He’s doing research for the company of course. Did you know that more than ½ of imported rose comes from Ecuador. They have it down to a science, I guess there is a lot to learn. Although I'm not one for dirt--"
“Ecuador?”, I whispered, “ Emile, He left for South America. . . . just like that ?”
“I’m surprised he didn’t tell you. I had to put most of his possessions in your storage space.”
“I can’t believe this. What’s his address ?”
“He said something about a hacienda near . . . Cotopaxi ? He said he sent you a letter. “
I looked at the stack of mail on my office desk. I spent so much time at work that I’d started having all of my mail forwarded to my office. Not that I ever opened it.
“Emile, what is going on in his head? ”
“Can’t say. He said something about comfort in knowledge when all else is failing. I figure it’ll put money in our pockets so, c'est la vie.“
I found a thick battered envelope in my mail pile, it was covered in all sorts of odd looking stamps. I recognized the handwriting immediately. I open it up with my nails and six sheets of individually sealedhotel stationary spill out, each one filled to the margins with an elegant cursive pen.
The door to my office opened and when Niklas peered over the door I waved him in. He was holding up the Majestic Christmas Illumination programs triumphantly above his head. I smiled seeing the glossy covers in his hand. They were finally here.
“I’ll call you later Emile--”
I hung up with Emile and took one of the programs from Niklas.
“Is everything okay?”, Niklas asked
“I don’t know. Roses’ father packed up and went to Ecuador. He didn’t even call me or anything— you don’t want to hear this.”
I turn my attention the programs, they were thick glossy books with a cover price of 45$ each. I flip through all the ads and acknowledgments until I find my page. And it was a whole page. The ANP had taken it out to advertise my performance. There is some copy about how the DeLune family immigrated to America and changed the face of classical education. Some of my accomplishments are mentioned including my studies and PhD. It looked like a beautiful life.
The picture of me was quite generous too. It was a new photo they’d taken.I was sitting on top of a white Steinway piano wearing all black and the pair of strappy gold Louboutins my mother bought me for my college school graduation that I'd never worn.It was certainly. . sexier than I’d expected.
“I can’t believe this is happening. This is the hardest thing I’ve ever done”, I said my hand shaking a little.
“You’ll be fine.” Niklas said. His hand grazed over my knuckles, then he linked his fingers with mine. I looked from our hands and back up at him. This didn’t have to be a big deal.
“I know”, I said, “But. . .when it’s over. . . it’s going to be over for me. I can’t do this again. This is it for me.”
“You can Clara, this isn't the end for you.”
“It’s complicated.”
“You are a very complicated woman”
“You don’t know the half of it.”
He let go of my hand as we left my office, it was the busiest I’d ever seen it in the hallways and I loved every minute. Between musicians running back and forth and the marketing staff working around the clock it felt so energized.
“I want to take you to dinner”, Niklas whispered in my ear when no one was looking. Feeling his beard brush my ear did things to me.
“I can’t, I have to practice”, I reminded him.
“Maybe I should clarify, I want to take you on a date.”
“I know what you meant”, I said trying not to smile , “But I really have to focus on this show. You can take me to dinner if I make it past the last curtain call”
“Is that a date ?”, he asked
“That is a date."
+++
Why the hell where there only 24 hours in a day. I was 36 hours out from performing when the enormity of my performance really started to hit me. I was releaved of my normal duties at work and made to rehearse 10 hours a day. Even when I went home at night to my empty apartment I practiced until my neighbors complained.
Sure, playing came easy to me but I had to memorize 12.5 minutes of variations. Niklas sometimes had to drag me away for lunch but I needed this piece to be right. I put everything I had into that 12.5 minutes. I told my story through the music
I started with something evocative, simple and full of wonder and a bit disorientation then I moved into a modern variation of Debussy’s Moonlight Sonata, as a wink to my family. I followed with a piece filled with the cold uncertainty of death, then a personal favorite Yiruma. Something that felt like discovery, like new love but slightly ominous. Then another upbeat melody . . . something slightly flirty . . .like a first kiss. Then I ended with Einaudi. A favorite of mine. A beautiful open ended close.
I had to play infront of a mirror just so I could study my facial expressions. I always got so emotional towards the end. I didn’t tell anyone this but I titled this piece Litany Lane. This composition was probably the only way anyone would know my real life if they just listened. They would maybe understand what really happened after the day Clara DeLune was supposed to die.
I close my eyes as my fingers played out the last few notes over and over again.
“You can’t do that on stage.”
I catch Niklas in the wings watching me practice, he hands me a handkerchief because Austrian men apparently carry around handkerchiefs which is sexy. . . but still. And Shit, I was crying.
“Spy on me again and I will play Adele and then you have to pay her.”
“I think I’ll let the American Heiress pay her.”
“Shut up.” I say playfully.
I hand him back his handkerchief covered in my eye make up, but he declines.
“You have a visitor.”
Before I can say anything, I see Emile and Rose standing in the wings. Emile looked very debonair in his wool coat and matching beret. Rose was in a deep maroon winter coat and her school uniform.
“Oh, my God.”
I get up from the piano and hug Emile. It’s been months since I’d seen him. He felt so solid, so constant. He felt like family.
“What are you doing here?”
“I picked Rose up for winter break”, he said still in the hug, “I guess no one came to get her from school r ? She told the school to call me.”
"Oh, shit. I’m so sorry Rose. I just got so busy and it slipped my mind. Thank you so much Emile. I’ll pay you back for travel. “
“Well, I was going to be in town or the symphony anyway, as I often do.”
He took on a very posh accent when he said the last part.
“Where’s Robert ?”
Emile put his hands on Rose’s shoulders and pulled her into a lazy hug.
“He couldn’t make it”
“Emile. . . is everything okay ?”
“It’s fine. I don’t want to talk about it. Point me to the best schnitzel in town, please.”
“Whatever you want. Oh, Emile this is Niklas.. . Do you mind if he joins us ?”
Emile squinted at me like he was trying to read my mind. Then he gave a tight lipped smile and looked Niklas up and down. The two together where a study in contrast. Emile was dark, short and looking a bit full where Niklas was fair, tall and lean.
“Sure thing. Seeing as I’ve heard absolutely nothing about you.”
“Is um. . . is this. . . Is this your brother ?”, Niklas questioned.
“No—“
“Why yes”, Emile said clapping Niklas on the back, “Yes, I am.”
We had a nice lunch, Niklas and Emile found some common ground over football. Although later that night in my apartment after Rose had gone to bed, Emile admitted that he had no idea what he was talking about and had just picked up phrases from Robert.
Robert
He wouldn’t even talk about the subject, and I had a feeling Robert didn’t approve of how Fierro’s disappearing act and my loose parenting effected Emile. We'd been selfish and I only hoped it wasn’t to late to make it up. It felt so good to talk to someone without reservations. We got up early the next morning to find Emile a tuxedo.
During our shopping trip I nonchalantly confirmed that Emile was taking Rose back to London with him for the rest of her vacation. I made a deal with myself that if I got through all three nights I was going to make this date with Niklas special. We were going to go out for a nice dinner and maybe some dancing and maybe just maybe I was going ask him back to my apartment.
+++
No one knows how to celebrate Christmas like Austrians
The entire city already looked like a Christmas village, and the addition of crisp green wreaths and red satin bows on every building made it look magical.
The philharmonic was sold out for all three nights. Two members of the Hapsburg House came out that first night along with a few, celebrities in the opera world, classical music buffs along with family and friends of the orchestra. My favorite type in the audience was the students. I liked seeing how starry eyed they were and it was comforting know there was another generation of classical music lovers.
I had snuck out from backstage to survey the lobby and it was so. . . glamours. Women in long gowns and men in tuxes. I saw Emile by the bar with Rose. He was chatting to some family while enthusiastically holding up my page in the program. I smiled. He was probably bragging.
That first night I was so nervous I screwed up big time. I skipped three whole bars and got confused. I couldn't stop, silence was bad, so I just played anything that sounded like music until I got my bearings. No one seemed to notice, I mean they clapped and applauded so I had to figure no one noticed. I heard a few uncommonly whistles that I knew must have been Emile.
The nanny took Rose home and I invited Emile to the after party. I had to struggle to keep up with him and when we got back to my place we slept until noon Christmas day.I cooked for the first time in my kitchen and made a rather impressive roasted eggplant side, lamb rigatoni main dish and wedding soup. Rose told me that she found school ‘interesting’ and that she’d found a nice group of girls who weren’t ‘quite as dull’ as the others to spend time with.
I’d bought out some pastries from the cafe down the street while we opened Christmas presents. I’d gotten Emile some cologne and books. He and Rose had gave me a pair of drop dead gorgeous red earrings. I’d given Rose a set of Swarovski figurines for her to take to school. Rose hadn't been in the Christmas spirit, but she brightened up when her cell phone rang in the middle of our Christmas movie marathon. She took the call in her room and she was in much better spirits afterwards.
The next day I took Rose and Emile to the airport and it was a bittersweet good-bye.
“Thanks for everything Emile. I owe you so much but I don’t want that getting in the way of you and Robert.”
“It’ll be fine. I think we just needed a break. He’s with his family and I was with mine.”
“If you need anything Emile. . . just call me.”
“I won’t. I’ll be to busy enjoying myself at Disneyworld.”
“What ? You’re taking Rose to Florida.”
“ You know what I mean. Disneyland Paris just doesn’t have the same ring to it. I have to take this one now before she gets too old to be my excuse to get in a tea cup.”
“Okay. I’ve got to go get ready for my next show. I’m going to practice non-stop. Call me when you land.”
“You’ll be fine”, Emile said then shifted his eyes to Rose, “And as for your little date. . . just be . . . safe ?”
“Really, Emile ?”
“What I didn’t have to worry about this with your last boyfriend.”
“Stop it Emile”
“What? I Didn’t say anything then and look what happened”, He dramatically twirled Rose around, yanking her out of whatever daze she was in.
“Stop it, Emile”, I resisted the urge to give him a friendly shove, "And thank you. For everything.:"
+++
My second performance was better than my first, afterward I went straight home to get a good night sleep. I work up early to clean my entire apartment and buy some breakfast items for the next morning. I even went shopping for some personal items.
I put everything I had in that final performance, the notes came effortlessly but I was so emotional I had a hard time controlling my expression... I swear I didn’t breathe until the music came to a stop. I stood up on shaky legs and gave a final a bow. I stayed for the final curtain call, everyone was crying and hugging. Congratulations went all around.
I paused when I saw Niklas by the stage door with a large bouquet of pink and red roses. I found my way to him and embraced him.
“Where did you get those ?”, I asked smelling the flowers.
“The grocer”, he said perplexed. I don’t even know why I asked that.
“Thank you”, I said still holding him, “Thank you so much for helping me get this solo. You literally made one of my dreams come true.”
“No problem”, he said, “You were great. Perfect.”
I pulled back and accepted the roses and linked my arm with his.
“Are you going to the after party”, Niklas asked waving to a few colleagues as we bee-lined for the exit.
“No. We have a date to get to.”
“. . .Is Rose still in town”
“No. Now let’s go. . . I’m hungry.”
He smirked at me then looked at the hall full of donors and patrons we'd have to thank and kiss up too.
"I can't do small talk again", I said.
Niklas tugged me back from the crowd.
"Then we better duck out the back exit."
+4+
We caught a late dinner at a small Mexican restaurant in my neighborhood. We were both way overdressed but it didn’t matter. I have no idea what we talked about but I did have a few good shots of tequila.
Niklas took his time walking me home. I kept catching him starting at me and he kept catching me starting at him. When we got to the front door and I asked if he wanted to come up. He didn’t even answer I just I felt his hand ghost down the small of my back while I fumbled for my keys, he was teasing me. God, when had a man ever. . Teased me. His arms went around my waist and I turned around to kiss him in the hallway. The scruff on his face tickling my lips. He tasted like tequila and the White ale he’d ordered. It was a good combination.
He pushed me against the door and I leaned into him, my fingers trailing though his thick blonde hair. This felt so good, I felt my blood pumping and I wanted this to go on forever. Finding new ways and new places to kiss him.I pulled away long enough to reach for my keys and slowly turn around to open the door. I pulled him inside almost knocking over the vase of white roses on the side table. We continued making out in the dark, our mouths and bodies meeting in perfect. . . rhythm.
Musicians
Figures
I pushed him on the couch and settled in his lap, I grabbed my phone and turned on my sound system, I chose something with a a slow pulsing beat.
“You are so beautiful”, he whispered kissing the exposed skin of my sweetheart neckline of my satin black peplum blouse.
He leans in to kiss me again, his hands move carefully down to my hips. Why did I think it would be cute to wear a pants ? I laughed against his lips and slipped off of him.
“Wait here”, I said , “Don’t move.”
“Clara”, The way he said my name. Like he needed me.
“I’m just going to change. You’ll like this . . . trust me.”
I took off my shoes and very slowly turned down the hall to my bedroom. I walked past Roses room, just to make sure she wasn’t there. For the first time in a long time I couldn’t stop smiling. I was nervous and excited at the same time.Would he thinks it was silly if I. . . dressed up ? Or would I be setting the bar really high ? Who cares. I threw my shoes in a corner and find the little light pink bag on my dresser. My eyes slowly adjusted to the dark and as I started to change I realized I wasn’t alone.
There was someone in my bed.
+++
I kept my voice low, not wanting Niklas to hear me talking. This would be very hard to explain.
“Mr. Fierro”, I whispered
He was now sitting now up in my bed. He was in a wrinkled high collar white shirt, loose gray tie and grauy slacks. His leather overnight bag was by my bed and his red eyes and slightly mussed hair made it very obvious he’d just been deep asleep. I realize the sound system must have woken up.
“What are you doing here ? Is it Rose ? is she okay ?”, I whisper
“As far as I know.” He rubbed his tired eyes.
“Then what are you doing here?”
“Ms. D—“
“Shhhh”, I said, “ I have. . . company and I don’t want to--”
“Clara”, Niklas called as if on cue, “Clara are you okay ?”
“It’s fine”, I called back, “I’m on the phone. . . I just need a moment, why don’t you grab us wine in the kitchen”
Mr. Fierro stood up now what he was imposing on. I knew he didn’t approve. I also didn’t care. He felt around in the dark for his shoes and jackets.
“Mr. Fierro, what’s going on. Why are you—“
“I came to see you”
“What ? Why ?”
“That is, I came to see you perform”, he admitted, “Emile told me how wonderful you were and I had to hear it for myself.—“
“You were at the theater ? Tonight ? I didn’t see you”
“I was late, but I was in the balcony. I waited for you afterwards but I was informed that you were gone. You were brilliant by the way, Ms. DeLune. It was as if—that is I felt like the only one in the theater. ”
“Thanks”, I could feel a blush coming on, “But why are you sleeping in my bed ?”
“The Symphony draws a large crowd. There isn’t a single hotel available in the city. I’ve been looking for a room all night. It was getting late and I had Rose’s keys so I let myself in. Jetlag was setting in your couch is far from practical. Perhaps I was a bit forward but I didn’t’ think you would have company . . .”
“Oh”, I said. Then I remembered the white roses in my living room I’d almost knocked over. Those were not there when I left, “Oh. You brought me roses. . . to give me after the show. . . I just bailed. I’m sorry I—“
I laughed... . well giggled at how this was playing out.
“Have company”, he finished
“Right”, I said. That was the euphemism we were going for, “I do. But you don’t have to leave. You flew here from—“
“Ecuador”, he finished, “I’ll be there until spring then I’m my way to Nairobi. There is this rose farm in--”
“Clara”, Niklas calls again and I can hear him tapping on my piano.
“Who is this man ?”, he asked.
“Niklas, we’ve been getting to know each other and he’s---I’m surprised Rose didn’t . . .I just …I--“
Did I have to tell him this ? DidI have to tell him any of this. I wasn’t Mr. Fierro’s assistant or his responsibility. If I wanted to “have company" I shouldn’t feel so guilty. I started again
“Mr. Fierro the things is I--”
His eyes moved down to my hands, he picked it up and kissed the back of my wrist. I opened my mouth to say something but I couldn’t find the words. Despite all the places Niklas had kissed and touched me that evening nothing felt like his lips barley brushing my wrist.
“I’ve intruded Ms. DeLune My apologies. I’ll see myself out and—"
“Wait. The thing is I was . . . I mean. . .hold on.”
“Clara—“
“Just give me a second.”
I went back to Niklas in the living room. He was standing there with his blond scruff and crooked smile. He’d opened a bottle of St. Vilnes 98. Good choice. Very good choice.
“I think we should call it a night” I said and opened the front door,
“Okay”, he said screwing his face in confusion, “Clara what’s going on here.”
“Nothing, I’m just not sure this is for me . . . right now”, I said, “I’m really sorry.”
“It’s fine, we can try again.” He said but I could tell his was chagrined, “We are still getting to know each other. ”
“Right. . . well, Good night. I’ll see you at work on Monday”
“Sure . . . Good Night.”
+5+
I closed the door and leaned against it while letting out a sigh of relief. Relief ? Why the hell was I relived ? I looked up and Fierro was at the other end of the hall. He’d pulled himself somewhat together, his jacket and tie were across his leather traveling bag.
“I’ll call a car to take me airport. Honestly, don’t let me disrupt your evening--”
“I’s fine”, I walked over and poured the wine into the sink, “You let me stay with you and I’m returning the favor.”
He set the travel bag down, I think he was more relived than he would admit that he wouldn't have to go to spend all night at the airport.
“So you missed the first part of my piece ?”
“I did.”
“I can play it for you”, I gestured to my piano, “I mean the acoustics aren’t great and my neighbors might yell, but I think it’s worth it.
He sat attentively on my couch but I made room on the piano bench. He sat next to me and I placed my hands on the keys. I closed my eyes and started from the top, my finger easily flowing. It sounded like crap in this room and I sort of faded the song out early.
“That’s basically it.”
I closed the piano and we both sat in silence for a moment.
"I have plenty of wine if you want some." I said to break the silence.
“Red ?”
“Mostly”
“I’ll have to decline . . . it stains”
“Oh”, I said for lack of anything else to say. I'd never though about that.
“I heard it”, He said standing up, “I heard what you trying to say with your music. Or at least I believe I did.”
“Good”, I said.
I got up from the piano and sorted through my wine cooler until I found a half full bottle of Chardonnay. I only had red wine glasses but I don’t think he noticed. I set two glasses on top of the piano, then hoisted myself on top using the bench as a foot stool. He drank a little to be polite.
“How is Ecuador ?”
“Different”, he said, “Hard to explain you have to be there. Wonderful climate for roses.”
“Is it ?”
He moved to stand in front of me. I pushed my hair back remembering I’d half unzipped the back of my blouse. For some reason I focused on his eyes, I never could decide what color they where. Somewhere between a voided white and pale almost blue.
“. . . hot”, he said
“Wait-what ?”
“The climate”, he clarified placing his hand on either side of me and leaning forward to kiss me. I smiled against his lips and opened my mouth just a little bit. My arms slipped around his neck pulling him close enough for me so I could warp my legs around him and deepen the kiss. I was waiting for him to pull away but instead he anchored his arms underneath me and picked me up.
After a few more very polite kisses, I set my feet on the floor and picked a rose out of the arrangement, the sweet soft fragrance was completely overwhelming. I watched Fierro standing there, seeming entirely out of his element. He absently rolled up the sleeves on his shirt and looked over my old thrift store piano.
I laced my fingers with his elegant pale ones, gently leading him down the hallway and into my bedroom.
+6+
The only sound in the kitchen the next morning was the harsh sound of the German newscaster on TV as she gestured at a scene behind her. My eyes flickered between the TV and the whistling stove-top percolator. I blinked as two rose petals fell out of my hair.
I ignore them and pour the water into my coffee press and after letting the coffee steep I poured two mismatched vintage porcelain cups and pushed one down the island to where Mr. Fierro was reading his paper. He must have been up hours before me and had already dressed in a crisp dark blue and gray slacks that I swear he must have bought that morning along with an International paper.
When I realized I’d slept in I’d quickly got up threw a robe on and started to make coffee, I had a quiche I’d bought yesterday and put it in the oven to warm up.
Mr. Fierro seemed completely well rested considereding he had flown 24 hours across the world, to attend the last 20 minutes of a 4 hour concert and then having to venture all night and not find a hotel room and having to crash at my apartment just for me to walk in with another man.
I shook my head as my mind wandered to what happened afterwards. I’d felt comfortable in my apartment in my own bed. He was old fashioned, always a gentlemen about it. Very restrained, polite and proper. I was getting uncomfortable just thinking about it though.
The timer for my oven started chirping. I pulled on a hand mitt and fished out the quiche and grabbed some clean plates.
“My apologies, Ms. DeLune. I really should be going”, he said picking up his bag, “My flight leaves in a few hours. It's a long trip back”
“Oh, okay”, I kept it casual. Of course he was leaving. I knew he was leaving.
“I’ll call a car.”
“I’d rather go alone”, he said and I recognized that very sharp nuanced tone. That oh so Mr. Fierro world-at-a-distance tone.
“What’s wrong ? What’s happened.”
He lifted his newspaper and I saw the letter he’d sent me from Ecuador was sitting there under a pile of other unopened mail.
“You went through my mail ? Are seriously upset that I didn’t read your letter ?”
“Upset isn’t the word I would use.”
“This bothers you ? You moved across the globe without so much as a phone call and I’m the one who did something wrong.”
“I did not move anywhere, I’m just there temporarily.”
“Then where ? Back to Ireland ? To Lucie”
“No”, he said, “But you would know that if you read—“
“I was busy”, I said setting the knife down, “I was working and rehearsing and I had to take Rose to school.”
“You couldn’t give me twenty minutes.”
“You couldn’t find a phone a call me ? Why can’t you just talk to me.”
He looked down at his watch.
“Some things are better committed to paper. My car is here if you’ll excuse me I have a fight to catch.”
“For Godsakes you’re doing it again, this is just like when Rose was in the hospital. You are always leaving“
“Clara please—“
“Or the years you let me think you were dead. How can you keep doing this to me ? Why are you so afraid of having a life with me. Do you do this on purpose ? Do you feel so guilty about making love that you have to start a figh- “
“I asked for twenty minutes of your time to read a letter and you discarded it underneath unpaid bills. Our daughter barley feels like she belongs and to make matter worse you just forget her at school. You invite a man you've known for barley 3 months to your apartment, an apartment which barley has one bedroom. You're careless Clara. Just like Lucie just like Roger. When you're careless other people get hurt.“
Like Emile, the thought went quickly through my mind.
Like Peter.
Like Father
“I can’t. . . I just can’t with this. Good-bye. Thanks for the . . . roses. I’m sure you can see yourself out.” I snapped.
My phone started buzzing and Niklas’ number popped up on the screen.
“I’d advise you to answer that.”
“Really ?”, I felt terrible all of a sudden, like all my self esteem just went out the window and I just wanted him to shut up.
“The truth is Ms. DeLune . . . it wasn’t the music that woke me last night. It was your laughter.”
“What ?”
He managed to regain the composure he'd lost earlier.
“Trust me Clara. . . if you can find someone who can make you laugh like that you should never ever let them go. I made that mistake many decades ago.”
He slung his bag over his shoulder and picked up his paper. I just kept my eyes on the floor until I heard the door open and close. I focused on cleaning the kitchen and all the stuff I'd have to return today. It wasn't until I was on my way out the door that I remembered the letter.
I went to the counter sorting through the piles of bills looking for the letter but it was gone.
Author's Note
So I saved the Adele song before it got popular and I really thought it was about someone saying good-bye to someone who had passed.