Face The Music

by Andrea K. Robbins

  He took the pen and lifted my hand to his lips. “I’ve never regretted kissing you. Not for a second. I just didn’t want to overcomplicate things.” He laughed. “Funny, right? But you’d been through so much with your grandma. And Paul.” He sighed. “I wanted to give you space to figure things out.” He studied me for a second before asking, “Have you heard from him again?”

  “No.”

  He traced his thumb across my cheekbone. Goosebumps rose on my arms. “You can’t tell me that you haven’t felt it- this thing you and I have.”

  Indeed I had. Just thinking about Chris made my heart race, but he couldn’t possibly know the effect he had on me. I’d worked so hard to hide it. “It’s impossible, Chris.”

  “What’s impossible?” He ran his fingers through my hair. I shivered again as more goosebumps rose on the back of my neck.

  “You and me.” My breaths were rapid and shallow.

  He nuzzled the base of my throat, his hot breath causing my knees to shake. “Why is that impossible?”

  I jerked away, taking a step back. “Because you’re, well, you!” I gestured towards him. “You’re a superstar, on your way to a life of fame. Cynthia was right, you and I, we come from two very different worlds.”

  “Cynthia?” He looked up in surprise, but I just shook my head, not wanting to explain.

  I turned to the small mirror hanging on the wall beside my desk. “I’m just me. A boring teacher from Chicago, someone who struggles to pay her bills every week. Just look at me.” I was a mess. Dark circles outlined the bags under my eyes. My nose was red and puffy.

  He put his arms around my shoulders and rested his cheek against my temple. “I am looking at you,” he said, gazing at my reflection. “Do you want to know what I see? I see an intelligent, sexy, independent woman. Someone who isn’t afraid of who she is. Someone who isn’t pressured to be like everyone else.” He paused. “I don’t see the problem. What’s wrong with there being a ‘you and me’?”

  I sighed as he brushed his soft lips against the skin on the curve of my neck.

  “Nothing is wrong with it. I’m just Allie. Things don’t happen this way. At least, not to me.” I closed my eyes to escape looking at our reflections.

  He squeezed my shoulders and spun me around to face him. “Well, guess what? It is happening.” He flashed me a dazzling smile. “And you’re not just Allie, you know. If you’d like, you could be my Allie.”

  Everything suddenly came into focus. The haze I’d been walking around in for the past week melted away. When I smiled, he pressed his lips against mine and kissed me with such tenderness that it took my breath away. And this time, he let me kiss him back.

  ***

  Chris had to go rehearse. My end of the building was quiet, and as I sat and thought about what had just happened, the white box Chris had left on my desk vibrated. I jumped; I’d all but forgotten about it.

  Cautiously, I picked it up. There was a phone inside. Not just any phone, an iPhone. There was a text message.

  I slid the bar on the touch screen to unlock it. The message was from Chris.

  I’m sorry I was such a complete and utter asshole. Forgive me?

  I laughed and typed back,

  Is that what this is? A ‘sorry I screwed up’ gift?

  Seconds later, it buzzed.

  Is it working?

  I responded with,

  Maybe.

  He replied,

  Your phone was an unreliable piece of crap. I hated not being able to get a hold of you.

  I kind of hated that, too.

  So is this phone more for you or more for me?

  I just barely pressed send when it buzzed in my hand once more.

  It’s for us.

  Chapter 20

  “I have a huge final on Friday. I probably won’t be able to get out much this week,” I complained to Chris over the phone. The end of the semester was upon me, and I still had tons to do. I was nowhere near ready for my test.

  “Anything I can help with?”

  “You could take the test for me,” I offered.

  This week was the three year anniversary of my mother’s death. I had been grappling with bouts of depression over the past few days, but was determined to not let it interfere with my “Chris” time. Whenever he was around, I put on a happy face and pretended that everything was great.

  “Can you come over?” he asked.

  “I shouldn’t. I’m studying.” Actually, I was playing on the phone, browsing through apps, but I wasn’t going to tell him that.

  “Take a break. Just for awhile.”

  Why not? It’s not like I was being productive. “Alright. I’ll be there in a few.”

  “Hi, come on in,” he said, pulling open the door. He kissed my cheek.

  I stepped in and gasped. Candlelight flickered about the room, casting shadows along the walls. A soothing melody played in the background, some sort of a wind instrument, I think. The aroma of warm coconut filled my nostrils.

  “What’s going on?” I asked, a nervous pang twitching in my belly. The couch, which normally sat in the center of the room, had been pushed back against the wall. In its place was some sort of a table. It was long and narrow and had some strange-looking, padded, horseshoe shaped object on one end.

  His eyes not leaving me, he walked over to the table and pulled back a sheet. “It should be nice and warm. Undress and crawl in. We’ll start with you on your back.”

  That twitch in my midsection pulled even tighter, rapidly expanding into a full-blown panic. Was this an attempt to seduce me? Not that I hadn’t thought about it. I had, a lot, actually. This just wasn’t the right time. Not with everything I had going on.

  I squirmed as I tried to think of what to say, my eyes not leaving that table. Or was it a bed?

  He chuckled. It was a deep, throaty sound. “Close your mouth, Allie. I’m only going to give you a massage. Strictly professional.”

  “Oh,” I breathed out my relief. I’d never had a massage before.

  “What did you think I was going to do?”

  I flushed under his amused expression. “That’s really sweet of you to offer, but-”

  “Are you turning me down?” He was frowning. “You don’t want it?”

  “Well, yeah, I just don’t think-.” I stopped. Don’t think what? That I’d enjoy it? There was no doubt that I would. Probably very much. Maybe that was the problem.

  He patted the table. “Come on, give me a chance. If you’re at all uncomfortable, I’ll stop. You just have to tell me. I’ll give you a minute to get undressed.” Not giving me a chance to object, he went in the bedroom and closed the door.

  I just stood there for several seconds, not knowing quite what to do. How undressed, exactly? Bra and panties? Naked? Was he really only giving me a minute? I kicked off my shoes and wiggled out of my jeans and t-shirt, made a half-assed attempt at folding them, and ran over to the table.

  The bed was warm. There must have been a heater in the cushion. And the sheets were velvety soft. I squirmed down in between them, pulling the top one up to my chin. After a second of hesitation I sat up, unhooked my bra, and flung it over to my pile of clothes.

  His bedroom door cracked open. “Are you ready?”

  Was I ready? What a good question that was. I thought I was ready, but what, exactly, was I ready for?

  “Allie?” The door opened wider, and he poked his head out.

  “Yep,” I said, my voice soft. “Whenever you are.”

  He opened the door the rest of the way and looked at me. I flushed and tried to wiggle further down the table. My heels were already at the edge.

  “I thought maybe you’d bolted. Thought I’d scared you off or something.”

  “I don’t scare too easily,” I said boldly.

  He grinned. “Good to know. I’m going to use coconut oil. It’s raw and organic, what my sister uses on her clients.”

  “What if I’m allergic to coconuts?”

/>   He froze and looked down at me. “Are you?”

  “No.”

  His lips twitched into a smile. “Funny girl. I’ll start with the back of your neck and shoulders. Then I’ll work on your arms.” He reached under the sheet and pulled my left arm out, tucking the sheet back against my side. He repeated the act on my other side and then returned to the top of the table so that he stood directly above my head. “Now close your eyes, take a deep breath, and relax.” He slid his warm, greased-up hands down between my shoulder blades, dug his fingers into my skin, and pulled upwards, dragging his hands toward my head. The pleasure was monumental.

  “I used to help my sister when she was in massage therapy school,” he said after a few more long strokes. “She’d practice a technique on me and then make me repeat it on her so she knew what it felt like.”

  “That was nice of you,” I murmured.

  I could almost hear his smile against the background music. Flutes and strings were playing soft, calming chords.

  He took my head in his hands and turned it, ever so slowly, to the left. His fingers dug into the muscles on right side of my neck.

  “Ohhh.” The sound was involuntary.

  “Sore spot?” He kneaded small circles into my skin. It hurt but at the same time felt so good. He pressed down on a tender spot. After a few seconds something slipped between his thumbs. He followed it and pressed down again. “Breathe,” he said.

  I didn’t realize I had stopped.

  That knot slipped again, and I moaned.

  “Too much?” he asked. I opened my eyes and looked up at him. His face was just inches from mine. “If it’s too much pressure I can go lighter,” he said softly. His eyes were burning.

  “No, it’s great,” I said, closing my eyes.

  He moved down my side, working on my arm. He then reached under the sheet and pulled out a leg. I tensed even though he immediately tucked the sheet against my hip.

  “Interesting,” he said. “Out of all your clothing you decide to leave on your socks.”

  Whoops. In my haste to get under the sheets I’d forgotten to take them off.

  “Do you care if I remove them?” he asked.

  “Be my guest.”

  Who knew removing socks could be sexy? He peeled each one off slowly, wrapping one hand around my ankle and pressing his thumb up into the sole of my foot as he slid the sock off. I wondered what it would be like to let him remove the other article of clothing I was still wearing.

  “Relax.”

  “I’m trying.” How the hell was I supposed to relax with him touching me like this?

  “You can’t try to relax, Allie. You just do. If you’re trying, you’re not relaxing.”

  I grinned at his logic.

  A beautiful piano melody started to play, a slow build of harmonious chords overlapping, building to a climax.

  I concentrated on the music and enjoyed Chris’s touch as he moved up the other side of my body. He then told me to turn over so that I was lying on my front.

  After going around my body once more, the sheet was smoothed over me. “This will rub off some of the extra oil,” he said. After a gentle pat on my back, he announced he was finished.

  I stretched my arms over my head. “That was...”

  “Arousing?” he offered.

  I pulled the sheet over my chest and sat up to face him.

  He grinned and eyed me darkly. “Not the word you were looking for?”

  “Not exactly,” I said, although it was pretty darn accurate. “Why? Did you find it arousing?”

  He flashed me a devilish grin. “I just spent the last hour rubbing my hands all over your naked body. What do you think?”

  I couldn’t believe he had just said that. I couldn’t even look him in the face. Instead, I stared at a piece of lint on the blanket.

  He chuckled again. “You can put your clothes back on now, Miss Banks. I’ll be in the bathroom washing up. Call when you’re done.”

  Getting dressed took a lot longer than getting undressed. I was so relaxed and moved slowly. “Okay,” I yelled after I buttoned my jeans.

  I eyed him wearily when he came out. “Do you do this a lot?”

  “What?”

  “Give women massages.”

  He ran a hand over his head. “I’m not going to lie about it. I’ve given women massages before.”

  “Did it always work?”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “Did what always work? What are you implying?”

  “I think you know exactly what I’m implying.”

  He just shook his head even though I had no doubt that he knew my meaning. I spelled it out for him. “I’m just wondering how well this works for you. It was the ultimate form of seduction. You must know that.”

  A hint of a smile touched his lips. “It’s worked. Quite well, actually, if you must know.”

  “Was that your intention with me? To get me into your bed?” My voice was unsteady, little more than a whisper.

  His expression fell. “No. Is that what you think?”

  The disappointment I felt was surprising. Rejection stung. “Maybe a little.”

  He moved over so that he was right next to me on the couch, the side of his thigh pressing against mine. “No. I promise. I did not bring you over for sex tonight.” He tucked a loose lock of hair behind my ear. “Don’t get me wrong, though. I sure as hell wouldn’t turn you down. But that wasn’t my intention.”

  I stared at my feet. “What was your intention?”

  His weight shifted. “You’ve been under a lot of stress this past week. I guess I just thought this would help take your mind off things.”

  ***

  I remember every detail of the day Mom died. She was at the university and had to stay late. My sister and I were at home. Emily was giving Molly a bath, and I was washing the dinner dishes. We’d rented a movie and were planning to watch it after Molly fell asleep.

  It was past ten when the phone rang. Emily and I looked at each other in surprise, no one ever called that late. I picked up the receiver and listened as the lady on the other end explained that my mother had just been brought into the emergency room and was suffering serious injuries from a car accident.

  Emily stayed at the house with Molly while I rushed to the hospital. I was frantic by the time I arrived and could hardly speak when I got to the nurses’ station. The doctor hesitated in telling me that Mom’s injuries were fatal. She was gone.

  The room spun around me as his words sunk in, my vision tunneling into darkness. I collapsed. When I woke up on the floor several minutes later, he was pressing a cool stethoscope to my chest. It was the worst day of my entire life. I was twenty-one years old.

  As if the memories themselves weren’t enough to stress me out, my test was scheduled for the anniversary of her death. April twenty-fifth. That day was always excruciating for me. In the years before, I would take the day off and disappear from the outside world. Unfortunately, this test wouldn’t allow me to do that. It would take a tremendous amount of focus for me to keep my mind on the exam, so I spent many hours locked away in my room, buried in textbooks and papers studying for it. I couldn’t be disturbed.

  Not all my time in seclusion was spent studying, however. Often, I would catch myself daydreaming about Mom and life before the crash. One memory in particular haunted me. When I was very young, six or seven, I had had a nightmare. In this dream, someone kidnapped my mom and left Emily and me all alone. I woke up that night in tears, went to Mom’s room, and crawled into her bed. She kissed away my tears and stroked my hair. “Don’t worry, sweet Allie,” she said. “No one could ever take me away from my girls.” In that moment, I felt happy and secure. Something I hadn’t felt again until Chris had come into my life.

  The day of the test, I was a total wreck. Half my grade came from this one assessment. Unable to concentrate on the questions, I frantically paged through the problems and answered the few that I could. I then spent the next two hours trying to pu
sh aside my grief so I could construct reasonable answers for the other, nearly impossible questions. By the end of the test, I was a complete mess.

  I didn’t go home right away. Instead, I took a cab out to the graveyard to visit Mom’s plot, stopping only to buy a bouquet of bright flowers.

  The cemetery was deserted, and I inhaled deeply as I walked around the twisting path towards the family plot, filling my lungs with the musty scent of rain. Tree branches rustled, and birds struggled to fly against the strength of the breeze. Dark clouds overlooked the horizon.

  The mere sight of her grave was upsetting. It was overgrown with weeds and vines. Disgusted at the neglect, I dropped to my knees and started ripping away at the tangled, obnoxious plants. Their roots held strong, and I became more and more frustrated with each tug. Prickly vines crisscrossed the headstone, but I tore at them with my bare hands and barely noticed the thorns cutting into my fingers. Tears streamed down my cheeks and damp earth covered my knees, but I didn’t relax until every last weed was cleared away.

  When the work was done, I sat back on my heels and, with a muddy hand, wiped away the tears.

  Emily and I had fought over what to have engraved on the headstone. She wanted something simple and less expensive, but I thought Mom deserved more. I worked and saved for nearly six months so I could get what I thought was appropriate.

  An intricate pattern of butterflies was etched around the inscription.

  Ann Marie Banks

  July 11, 1967- April 25, 2007

  Farewell dear Mother, Mentor, and Friend

  We love and will forever miss you.

  “Mom, why did you have to leave?” My voice cracked as I whispered to the grave. “I miss you so much. It isn’t fair.” Streams of silent tears ran down my face.

  I looked up to the sky as if expecting a response, but the only reply I got was a strong gust of wind and darkening clouds. It would probably rain soon, but I didn’t care. I didn’t feel like going home. I just wanted to sit and be close to Mom.

  The clouds opened up and a slight drizzle came down, but I didn’t move from my spot next to the grave. I continued my one-sided conversation. “So there’s this guy,” I told her. “He is amazing. You’d really like him, I do. I think I’m falling in love with him, Mom, and it scares me.” I closed my eyes, thinking of Chris. “I would give anything to have you here to talk to.”