In Helen’s Hands

by Nanisi Barrett D'Arnuk

  “Good evening, sir.” I smiled. “I hope you’re having a good time.” I hunkered close to him, hoping that it would pass as a semblance of submission without looking as if I was kneeling.

  Lawrence smiled and placed a hand on my shoulder. “Yes, we’re having a wonderful time. She’s quite something, isn’t she?”

  “Oh yes, sir. She certainly is.”

  Robert and the girls added their agreement.

  “What’s this?” he asked, turning my head to look at my new earring. “I don’t remember you having this before.”

  “She gave it to me last night, sir.”

  “I’m sure you deserved it.” He smiled, then looked around the table. “Did you see that Helen’s boy has a new piercing?”

  “Congratulations!” Robert beamed. The girls added their compliments. I had a hard time trying not to look too proud but was happy Lawrence had noticed. We chatted a few minutes as a waitress delivered their drinks.

  “There’ll be a small after-hours party following the performance,” I said. “Helen would be more than honored if you’d stay.”

  “Well,” Master Lawrence said as he looked around the table, “we have to be up early tomorrow, but I think we can stay for a little while.”

  Robert and the girls nodded happily.

  “She’ll be so pleased. I have to go see if she needs anything.”

  “Take good care of her.” With that, I was dismissed.

  * * *

  For the final performance, I was so nervous I paced across the back of the room, listening but not listening, hearing only the music and listening for mistakes. My stomach pounded as if I was an expectant father, like I’d spawned this baby. Would this baby be golden?

  I watched the faces, the smiles and laughter. I worried about one thing, and then I worried about something else. I was going to develop an ulcer.

  As the music wound to the climax, everyone was on their feet, yelling and screaming and applauding with joy. Even after everyone left the stage. Helen walked out once to wave and thank everyone. The applause didn’t die down until the manager turned up the lights and the waiters started handing out the bills.

  I raced backstage to share the joy of the crowd with Helen.

  * * *

  I was about to reach over the bar for my rum and ginger when a long, graceful arm took my drink from the bartender and held it out to me.

  “I hear you do transcriptions.”

  I slowly turned, my eyes glued to the hand holding my drink, my heart beating a quick gallop. I hoped my hand wasn’t shaking so badly that I’d splash the syrupy blend all over the place. As I looked up into her clear, beautiful face, I was captured by dark eyes that seemed to bore through me.

  “Well, My Little Butch?” She smiled. “Déjà vu?”

  I nodded.

  “It seems like it was such a long time ago, doesn’t it?”

  I had to nod again.

  “And this is how it all started.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I said, taking a sip of the drink.

  “Are you happy with the results?”

  “Of course. The opera was spectacular!”

  Helen laughed. “I wasn’t referring to the music, Little Butch. I’m asking about our relationship.”

  I dropped my eyes to the floor. “Yes, ma’am. Very happy.”

  She stared. “Then I have another project for you.”

  “Another opera?”

  “If you wish.”

  I looked up at her, not sure what she was getting to.

  “You have two months till I get back. Two months to create, write, and record an hour and a half of music.”

  I wasn’t sure what to say. “An hour and a half? Why?”

  “Because I told you to.” She flashed her most knowing grin. I guess the look on my face told more than I suspected. Helen burst out laughing. “Scared?”

  “Yes!”

  “Of what?” I heard from behind me.

  Master Lawrence stood there. I looked between them. Helen stared, not making a move to explain to. “Mistress has given me an assignment, sir. She wants me to write some music.” I realized I was mumbling.

  Lawrence studied me, then turned to Helen and nodded. “Are you creating a monster, Helen?”

  “I hope so.”

  Lawrence looked me up and down. “I’ll be interested to see what’ll come out of it. But now we must be going.” He gave Helen a warm hug and motioned to Robert and the girls. They stepped forward to thank Helen for a wonderful evening, then made their way toward the door. Lawrence patted my shoulder, then leaned to my ear. “Be a good boy and make your mistress proud.” With that, they were gone.

  I looked up. Helen was smiling at me. “An hour and a half, huh?” I mused.

  “I know you can do it…and Roz knows you can do it, so sharpen your pencils and get ready to start. I’ll be expecting big things when I get back.” She winked, turned, and left me standing there.

  I took a very big gulp of my drink. Helen moved to the other side of the room. She whispered something to Roz, who turned to look at me. With a nod, Roz raised her glass in a toast. I returned the salute, then looked down into my drink, a wide, wide grin forming on my face, so wide it hurt my cheeks.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  The days seemed to drag with Helen away. She’d never been gone so long. When Will called up about the mail, I’d race to the lobby for a letter or postcard, always short and sweet, but enough to keep me from going crazy and let me know she was thinking about me. Every time I found something out of place in the apartment, it made me miss her more.

  I kept busy. I worked hard to get new music down and went to the recording studio every week as Helen had arranged. I went to the bars a few times in the evenings, but I was bored. I even accepted an invitation from Carl and Robert to go to a movie, but I refused their offer to take me to a party. I missed Helen too much to even think about that. So I sat at home and worked.

  Page after page, tape after tape. I became possessed. I was writing music for Helen. Not copying her music but writing music to her, selecting lyrics that spoke about my dedication to her and my love. I chose titles that echoed her. I worked frantically.

  I took a weekend to visit my folks in Massachusetts, but I found myself in turmoil there, pacing around the house, not eating food that had been my favorite. My mom asked if anything was wrong, but I only told her I was worried about the music I was writing. She hugged me and assured me she thought it would turn out wonderful, like it always had. On Sunday night, I raced back to New York to recheck the music, check the mail, and wait for Helen to come home.

  I transcribed a few pieces of music for one of Helen’s friends…and I waited. I had an hour and a half of music ready for Helen’s inspection as the day of her return loomed. I swept and cleaned the apartment, polishing everything to a bright shine, cleaning all the toys in the dungeon. I marked the calendar each day, counting down…five, four, three…

  Then the phone rang.

  The sound of her voice sent shivers through me.

  “Mistress,” I cried. “I’ve missed you so very much. I can’t wait to see you!”

  She chuckled. “Well, you’ll have to, Little Butch. I’ve been delayed. I won’t be home until Saturday.”

  “I thought you were coming home on Thursday.”

  “I was, Little Butch, but I’ve got some business to finish in Chicago. I won’t be here long.”

  “Do you want me to meet your plane?”

  “No, I’ll get home faster if I catch a cab. I should be home around late afternoon.”

  “I’ll be waiting for you.”

  “Good. It’s been a long trip. See you then.” And with that, the line went dead.

  Damn! Four more days. What was I gonna do with myself?

  * * *

  It was 4:45 when the phone rang again. It was Will. “She’s on her way up!”

  I ran for the door and waited at the elevator as it opened. “Mistress!” I san
k to my knees after making sure she was alone.

  “Little Butch! You are a sight for tired eyes. Help me get these suitcases inside. It feels so good to be home.” She walked past me as I pushed her three bags off the elevator.

  She picked up the smallest one and walked down the hall into the apartment. By the time I’d lugged the other two inside, she had kicked off her shoes. “Look at this place,” she said as I closed the door. “It’s a mess. Look at all these flowers all over the place.” She turned around and glared. Slowly, it turned into a broad smile for the dozens of roses, carnations, tulips, and other flowers I’d arranged around the apartment.

  “Welcome home,” I whispered.

  She drew me into a warm embrace. “I just may have to punish you for all this extravagance.”

  “Oh yes, ma’am. Please. I beg your forgiveness.” I smiled.

  “Then wipe that Mickey Mouth grin off your face and start acting like a good boy. It’s been a long flight. You can bring my bags upstairs while I freshen up. Did you think of feeding me? Or did you spend all of your money on flowers?”

  “Dinner is ready whenever you want.”

  She ran her hand down my cheek. “I’d like to eat early. We have an appointment at 8:03.”

  I caught my breath as she turned and started up the stairs. My mistress was home.

  * * *

  Time and energy seemed to have caught up with Helen on this tour. She looked older and laughed less. She seemed to be carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. The slap of her hand and the sting of her whip didn’t seem to have the force it had before.

  I knew something was wrong. She’d been enthused about my music but seemed preoccupied. My music sat there, the tapes barely listened to. She’d been too quiet. Not like the quietness when she was writing music but a silence that seemed a brooding. Her reactions in the dungeon were strange. There were times when I thought she really would cut my head off and others when I sensed she didn’t want to harm me at all. I asked if something was wrong, but she always said no and refused to talk about it.

  One day, as I returned from an errand, she was waiting in the living room in her leather chair. “Is anything wrong?” I asked.

  “Put your packages away. We need to talk.”

  My stomach turned. Had someone died? Had I done something wrong? Had she grown tired of me? I rushed to put the groceries in the kitchen and returned to the living room, sinking to the floor in front of her. As she reached for a cigarette, I jumped to hold the lighter. Then I waited as she sat back and inhaled. Her eyes dug into me. I couldn’t guess what was wrong.

  “I accepted a new position today,” she said slowly. “I’ve taken a teaching job outside of Chicago.”

  My mind raced. “I’ve never been to Chicago.”

  “I’m going alone.”

  “How long will you be gone?”

  She looked away. “Permanently. I’ve decided to give this apartment to Tina. I have to be in Chicago in six weeks.”

  My mind searched for the meaning of her words. “I don’t understand. When will I join you?”

  She took my face in her hands. “You won’t, Little Butch. I will release you. Or find another mistress or master for you if you want. Roz is willing to pay your way to Los Angeles if you want to go to her. But I have to move to Chicago alone.”

  I felt my world crumbling around me. “Have I done something to displease you? How can I make it up to you? Is my music that bad? I’ll work on it. I can redo it.”

  “You’ve done nothing wrong, Little Butch; it’s just time to move on.” She took her hands from my face.

  Tears and terror began to rise in me. “Whatever I’ve done, I’m sorry. I’ll fix it. I’ll be your good boy, I promise.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m moving to Chicago without you.”

  “But why? What have I done?”

  “You haven’t done anything wrong, boy. It’s just time to change.” She stood. “I’m getting too old to keep this pace. I’m tired of touring. I’m going to settle down, teach a few classes at the college, and write. I’ll make sure your music reaches the right people.”

  “But who…who’ll transcribe your music? Who’ll…who’ll…” I was floundering.

  “Who’ll warm my bed?”

  “Mistress…”

  She didn’t respond.

  “If…if there’s someone there…someone else, I wouldn’t be in the way. I could take care of a sister or brother. I wouldn’t demand all your time. Just a little. Any crumb. I could still serve you. I could do a lot of other things. I—”

  “Stop it! You need to pursue your own career. You’re better than most. Everyone saw that when you played at the rehearsal. You should be touring on your own. You should have your own music published. There are lots of people in this town who will pay you very well to transcribe tapes—”

  “I’m happy doing yours!”

  “It’s not enough. It’s not enough for me, and it shouldn’t be enough for you. I’ve heard your work. It’s time you walked in your own light. You don’t need to be in my shadow any longer.”

  I couldn’t be hearing this. “I like being in your shadow!”

  “Well, you shouldn’t.” Helen’s face took on a stern look. “Get out of my shadow and start to make your own.”

  I jumped to my feet. “Then you never wanted me, did you? All you wanted was someone to copy your music. Someone to adore you and be at your beck and call. Someone to make your music look good.”

  She stared.

  I was overcome with the realization of what I’d said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I really didn’t mean that. I’m just so surprised. I don’t know what I’m saying. Please. You said you were happy to come home. You were happy that I was waiting for you.”

  She took out the little silk sack she always wore on a chain around her neck. It held the key to my collar. She opened it and grasped the key, then grabbed my collar.

  I shrank back. “No!”

  “Please don’t make this more difficult.”

  “I love you. I adore you. I’ll do anything for you.”

  Her hand stayed on my collar. “Then let go. Don’t make me rip this off you.”

  Tears fell from my eyes. “What have I done?”

  “Nothing,” she stated, her voice flat. “You’ve done nothing wrong. I just need to change things in my life. You need to change things in your life. Why must you turn this around?”

  Everything was upside down. “I…I thought you loved me,” I said, my breath coming in short gasps.

  “I do in my own way. But this is something I have to do. If you really love me, you’ll let go.”

  I pulled away, surprised she had such a weak grasp, and escaped into my room. What would I do? Where would I go? When would I wake up and find this was just a twisted nightmare?

  I wanted to throw things. I wanted to hear breaking glass as I felt the breaking of my heart. I felt out of control, flailing ineffectively in the dark. My stomach churned. My head threatened to explode. And my heart pounded a loud beat that seemed to put the sounds of the city in jeopardy of being silenced.

  My hand went to the collar. How could I breathe without this? I’d be naked…without an identity. I’d be without Helen.

  I threw myself onto the bed, tears exploding from me.

  * * *

  The next few days dragged by. There was no speech. We passed each other without recognition. There were times that I felt her reach out, but I was so hurt and angry that I didn’t make it easy, and she withdrew again. Even when I heard her hard hack of a cough, I didn’t ask if she was all right or if she needed something to drink.

  People came to pack things in the apartment, and I gathered my belongings in a box and suitcase to ship back to Boston.

  On the day I was to leave, I picked up the one thing I hadn’t been able to pack and carried it into the living room. “What should I do with this?” I asked, holding the collar out.

  She looked into my
face for the first time in over a week. There was a long sigh. “What do you want to do with it?”

  My mind went through a rapid whirl of conflicting thoughts. I wanted to ram it into her face or sink to my knees and have her place it around my neck again. “May I keep it? As a memory?”

  Helen stood. “I hope that’s not the only memory you’ll keep.”

  What could I say that I hadn’t anguished over in the past week? “It…it’s the main one. I think I understand what you want. But it’s very hard.”

  “I know, Mickey,” she said, obviously having a hard time using my real name. “But it’s best for both of us. Maybe there’ll be a boy or girl in the future who you’ll want to wear it.” I started to shake my head, but she reached out and stopped me. “I know. This is the most difficult part. Please understand that I have to go alone. This is my journey. You’ll have to find your own. The world is out there waiting for you. Find your own path. You’re an excellent pianist, and you’ll get even better. This town, this world, can be yours. It can be whatever you want to make it.”

  She picked up a couple sheets of paper. “This is a list of names that might help you, booking agents for some of the clubs in town, some of my friends who can use you to transcribe, and a few other people you should know in this industry. You’re good, and you can make a name for yourself.”

  I looked at the papers and folded them carefully to put in my bag.

  “There’s also one name I highlighted on the last page. Give him a call and bring him your tapes. There are a couple pieces in there that could make you a lot of money if he can get the right people to record them. You have quite a talent.”

  I was almost too shocked to respond. “Thank you.”

  “I expect great things from you. Don’t disappoint me.” She pulled my face to hers and placed her lips on mine. Slowly, she drew me into her arms and hugged me close, enveloping me in a passionate and all-encompassing embrace. I accepted, giving back what I could but not forcing the ardor I really felt. Then she kissed me again, warmly, lovingly.