I let him sing melody, following along with his lips to the parts where I’d join in alongside him. We leaned in together, belting out the chorus like I was just a young teenager again. There hadn’t been more times in recent memory that I wished I could just hear it again, even for a moment. A few chords of my father and I singing together. A movement of Juliet and my duet’s. A verse of Lydia’s arias. By the middle of the song, there were huge streams of tears rolling down my face. I blinked through them, continuing to watch my dad as he rang through the remaining few lines of the song.
As soon as we were through, I had to leave the table, fighting to catch my breath. My father watched me, and I waved to him, signaling my quick return. After I’d made it around the corner out of sight, I let myself choke out a small sob, clutching the guitar to my chest. Long breaths of air rolled in and out of me, in an attempt to steady myself. I let a few more shaky breaths out before I wiped my face with the back of my hand and turned to head back around the corner.
My father was looking at me from the patio table, smiling. I could tell just by the way he was looking that he didn’t recognize me, but it didn’t matter. He was happy. We were together. In our element. It was enough peace for me in that moment.
“What else do you want to play?” I asked, sitting back down in the chair in front of him.
17
Juliet
THE CLOCK READ FIFTEEN after. Fifteen minutes after Harmony and Counterpoint had begun. Fifteen minutes with no Emma Harvey at my side. While she had ran just a minute late the first day of classes, she was never late otherwise. She’d most certainly never been absent. If it had been any other student, I wouldn’t have noticed nor cared. It was their education, their money, their time they were wasting. Emma was another story entirely.
Memories of her standing in David Geffen Hall that previous week had haunted me since. The way she had stared at me so longingly. I didn’t understand what she saw in me. The things that had kept her persisting, in spite of all the obstacles against us. It was agonizing trying to stop her. There was only so many times I could attempt to. This dangerous dance between us that would most certainly irreparably damage our careers and the lives we led. It made me realize how young and naive she still was, to continue with this game with such reckless abandon. It made me realize how captive I was to her, that I still let it happen.
I managed to force myself through the class. The minute it was over, I’d made haste to my office. Papers were left to grade on my desk. I didn’t give them half a mind. Instead, I fell into my chair, dialing Miranda the instant my phone was in my hand. It rang one. Twice. Three times. Just when I thought I’d get her voicemail, she answered.
“Juliet,” Miranda’s voice had a strange tone to it when she spoke.
“Have you spoken with Emma?” I asked, leaning back into the seat. There was a long bout of silence on the line. I was far too impatient to let it last. “Miranda?”
“Last week,” Miranda replied. “After she walked out on your exam.”
The words took a minute to sink in. I was about to say something entirely different when I finally realized what she had meant. “She did what?”
“She said it had something to do with you,” Miranda replied, her voice filled with concern. “Juliet, you have to stop this. Whatever it is you’re doing. It could jeopardize Emma’s career.” I wanted to argue. To say something, anything in my defense. Even though I’d tried to break free of this perilous dance we’d engaged in, I was just as guilty as she was. If not more. I had a duty as her professor to protect her future. My selfish desires were getting in the way of that at every turn.
Miranda muttered on about something as I fumbled through the stack of exams on my desk, fishing for Emma’s. When I found it, I’d realized Miranda had been correct. Not a single question had been answered on Emma’s exam. As I flipped to the fourth page, I’d realized why. It had been a stupid thing for me to do. The gesture had come out of guilt. I wanted her to know that I cared, in a subtle sort of way.
When Emma and I had played Tristesse the first day of her lessons, it had been for selfish reasons too. I’d prepared it on purpose. Ever since I’d played with her at her auditions, I’d wanted to hear that song. That song had said so many things in the span of only a few minutes. So many things that words couldn’t have possibly expressed, between two people who barely knew one another. It was the very song that expressed everything we were to one another and everything we possibly could be. The very wrong thing to put on a midterm examination for a student. A student who deserved an education worthy of her talents. What a fool I’d been.
I breathed a string of curses into the phone, my hand running across the page.
The rambling on the other end of the line paused. “Juliet, are you even listening to me? This is serious. You have to get a hold of yourself.”
“I need her address,” I interrupted her, searching for a pen.
“Are you kidding me? Timothy can go check on her. You don’t need to be anywhere near her right now.” Miranda’s voice had grown serious.
“You can tell me her address, or I’ll get it from her file, Miranda. One way, or the other. I know you’re concerned about her too. Let me at least make sure she’s all right. Like you said, this was my fault.”
Another long silence filled the line before Miranda let out a sigh, rambling off her address. It was a bit of a drive from campus, but at this point I didn’t care. Even as we were saying our goodbyes, I was walking out of the building straight to my car.
The entire way, I was formulating things to say in my mind. Usually I listened to music while I drove, but today the car was silent, outside of my rambling. If I saw her now, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself. Doing what I was about to do would change the entire course of our relationship, but I couldn’t torment either of us any longer.
I reached the curb of the old neighborhood where Emma’s apartment was. It sat in a shabby brick building, a convenience store underneath. As I pulled up, I took a few deep breaths, trying to convince myself that I was making the right decision. That showing up to my student’s apartment wasn’t the stupidest decision I’d ever made in my life. I gave myself very little time to think about it, turning off the ignition and starting out of the car.
Before I’d made it completely out, I saw a pair of individuals walking down the sidewalk. Instinctively, I drew back inside. I was lucky I did, because the longer I watched, the quicker I realized it was Emma. And shortly after, the constant thorn in my side, Lydia Beckham. They both looked lost in conversation, laughing about something or other. My body slouched back into my seat, trying to make myself as unnoticeable as possible. The car windows were tinted enough I doubted they’d see me. As they approached the building I’d pulled in front of, they stopped to talk a short while longer. I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but I almost didn’t care. Too wrapped up in the expressions on Emma’s face.
She looked calmer than she had the last time I’d seen her; far more relaxed and peaceful. I couldn’t get the image of her at David Geffen Hall out of my mind. Emma had looked so distraught then, filled with so many emotions. I’d left her with so many unanswered questions. Made so many reckless decisions in my constant desire to pursue her. Seeing her like this, with her friend, solidified the fact that perhaps I was more of a nuisance to her than I realized. That this game we were playing with one another was doing more harm than good.
Emma was young. She had a whole life ahead of her to live. A full career, filled with endless possibilities given her talent. I knew better than to meddle in her affairs. I knew better than to jeopardize everything she’d been working so hard to achieve.
I watched as she said her goodbyes, and the two broke off from one another. Instead of heading back to her apartment, Emma took off in her car. When I saw it, I couldn’t help but think back to the memory of our kiss in the rain. Every thought I had was out of control. Once the two had left, I let another few minutes pass befo
re I scribbled a note on the back of a piece of paper. Then I stepped from the car, making my way up the steps that lead to her second-story apartment. I folded the paper into the crack in the door and left.
Later that evening, I picked Kira up at her home for our outing. It had been a few weeks. I’d promised her dinner. The two of us headed out to a restaurant on the outskirts of Annandale-on-Hudson. According to Kira, it had the best macaroni she’d ever had. While she enjoyed her food, I ate a salad without much of an appetite. Kira seemed to pick up on my mood after a few minutes of talking to me about school.
What’s wrong? Kira signed, her big blue eyes staring up at me. All at once, I felt a rush of guilt hit me. I should have been more attentive. Kira very rarely had these kinds of outings. It hadn’t been fair to her to let my emotions run rampant.
Nothing, I’m fine. I shook away the thoughts in my head. How is your food?
Kira looked down at her mostly eaten macaroni and then smiled brightly. Amazing!
A smile crossed my face, and I reached out to touch the top of her head. For a few minutes, we chatted again about school, and I talked about taking her to the city over Christmas break, which was rapidly approaching. She seemed rather excited about the idea. My heart sunk when she continued her thought.
Can Emma come? Kira asked, pushing her empty bowl away from her after she’d signed. I could feel my breath hitch in my throat.
I’m not sure that’s the best idea, I replied, trying to be as delicate as I could be given the circumstances. Kira’s face dropped. Besides, I think Ms. Harvey might have other Christmas plans. We’ll have a good time still, I promised, offering a small smile. Kira nodded and went quiet again as she sipped on her drink.
I thought the awkward conversation had ended until she caught my attention once again. I like Emma, Kira stated. She’s really nice.
She is, I admitted. It was hard for me to reply. Once I’d said it, I scrounged for my wallet, leaving the bill and a sizeable tip on the table. Then I got to my feet. Let’s get you home.
I slept terrible that night. The next morning I arrived at the graduate school composition class barely able to keep my eyes open. Surprisingly, Emma was nowhere to be found again today. Lydia however, was sitting front and center, staring me down. I did my best to ignore her deathly glances as I lectured. For the most part, I was able to do so. Every once in a while, my eyes would meet hers, and I’d find myself distracted. Whatever it was that was on her mind had something to do with me, and, I was certain, about Emma Harvey.
I didn’t have to wonder long. As soon as class ended, Lydia lingered, waiting until the room had emptied. I’d been hasty to gather my belongings, hoping I’d manage to escape before I was forced to confront her. Unfortunately, I hadn’t been fast enough.
“Professor Hamilton,” Lydia said, getting to her feet. “Can I have a word?”
“I’m afraid I have a staff meeting to get to,” I replied, briefly glancing up to watch her approach. It was a terrible excuse for a lie. I doubted she even believed me with how much my voice had stammered in my reply. Lydia landed at my desk in a matter of a few seconds, her hands falling onto the wood top.
“Stay away from Emma,” Lydia said, her voice laced with a hint of a threat.
I forced my face to remain calm, unable to believe the tone she’d taken with me. “Pardon me?” I slung my satchel around my shoulder, and wrapped my hand around my violin case. I wanted nothing more than to make a run for the door, but I did my best to maintain my composure.
“You heard me,” Lydia replied, her voice having remained firm and serious. “Leave Emma alone. She doesn’t deserve to have her head messed with. Not to mention how unprofessional and inappropriate it is.”
“Ms. Beckham,” I replied, my body leaning into the desk towards her. “I suggest you change your tone with me before I report you for insubordination.”
Lydia refused to back down, her face twisting into an even more terrifying glare than it already had been. “You don’t scare me, Professor Hamilton. I think I have far more dirt on you than you’d be able to recover from.”
“You wouldn’t do it to Emma,” the words flew from my mouth before I had a chance to stop them. My admission of guilt seemed to satisfy Lydia.
“Did you know she keeps threatening to go back to NYU?” Lydia said, her voice having calmed slightly. Her face still looked as serious as I’d ever seen it. “She wants to drop out of the Bard. All because of this stupid game you’re playing.”
“It’s not a game,” I argued, fidgeting in place. I couldn’t help myself at this point. It was evident I was too far gone. “What Emma and I have is very real,” I assured her. “What I feel for her...” My voice trailed off. In a matter of a few seconds, I was angry at myself again. Angry that I’d admitted as much as I had to her friend. Angry that I wasn’t being more careful. Angry that Lydia wasn’t completely inaccurate in her statements. If she truly was thinking about leaving the school, it was worse than I ever imagined it being. “She really said she’s considering leaving?”
Lydia nodded, and I felt my chest hurt. “I talked her out of it, but if this doesn’t end I’m not sure what will happen. I mean it, you need to stay away from her. Just let her be.”
A long sigh escaped me. I had to look away from Lydia to keep myself composed. When I finally turned back to her, I nodded. “Perhaps you’re right, Ms. Beckham.” As soon as I said it, I watched Lydia’s shoulders relax. “I’ll talk with Ms. Harvey. In the meantime, you can let her know that missing classes isn’t the way to solve problems.”
“Have a good afternoon, Professor Hamilton,” Lydia said curtly, adjusting her backpack on her shoulder. She didn’t say anything else, only turned away from me and walked swiftly out of the classroom. I watched her leave, feeling very much at a loss for words. Realizing that unless I ended this, it would end badly for both of us. The thought of ending it hurt worse than the idea of it ruining both of our lives. And that, in itself, was terrifying.
19
Emma
Franz Liszt, La Campanella
Handel, Sonata No. 3 in F Major
WHEN I’D ASCENDED THE stairwell up to the apartment that afternoon, after spending the morning with my father and with Lydia, I felt more relaxed than I had in a while. That was until I’d seen the piece of paper stuck in the crack of my apartment door.
A note was scribbled on the back. As soon as I saw the loopy cursive handwriting, I knew who it was from. My stomach twisted into knots reading the short message scrawled across the paper. On the backside, I noticed it was the page of the midterm exam with the question about Tristesse. I was certain by now that Miranda had talked to her.
The apartment wasn’t much bigger than my father’s studio at the assisted living center. There was a small bed stretched along the far side, a mini-kitchenette, a bathroom on another side, and a small living room space. I’d done my best to make it homey, with thrift store pictures and curtains on the windows. It wasn’t much, but it was all I needed.
Once I’d made it inside the apartment, I laid across the beat up sofa, holding the note in my hand. Forgive me. It had read. Just one sentence, but undoubtedly left by Juliet. My stomach did flips that she’d been at my apartment. I couldn’t help but imagine what would have happened if I had been here. That things between us would have finally unraveled, neither of us able to control ourselves any longer. I wasn’t quite sure if I was grateful I hadn’t been here, or angry that I wasn’t. Either way, she was gone now. There was only a note left in her place. A note that I wasn’t sure how to take. What she had meant. It made an uncomfortable lump in my throat. I felt saddened looking at it. The fact that she hadn’t elaborated further made me feel as if it had been something finite. If that had been the case, I didn’t know if I could handle it. If I’d have the strength to just let go. Not after everything that had already transpired.
Miranda had left me messages on my phone. She’d confirmed my suspicions that it had been her th
at told Juliet about my apartment. There were a half-dozen messages, begging me to think about the consequences of my actions. Her words angered me. They’d sounded just like Juliet’s. Acting as if I was a child, unable to rationalize my own decisions.
By the next morning, I still had no desire to leave my apartment. I wrote Lydia telling her that I’d miss Composition later that morning, saying I felt under the weather. She didn’t reply, and when I found her at my apartment shortly after, I wasn’t surprised.
“Thought you could use some company,” she said, smiling softly at me. I studied her curiously, letting her come inside. After she sat the food down in my kitchen, she turned to look at me. “You said you were sick, so I figured soup would do you good.”
A smile spread across my lips as she divvied out the food. We sat on the couch together, across from one another. She’d gotten the best soup from the cafeteria at school. A Thai soup that I really liked, with coconut and chicken. The spicy flavor perked me up a bit. When we looked up at one another, I paused eating. “Thanks for the food.”
Lydia nodded. “You never miss school. I figured you were pretty sick.” I could tell by the way she was looking at me, she didn’t believe I was sick at all. We ate a few bites, neither of us acknowledging one another. Lydia didn’t ever question me, just letting me be.
After we ate, we absorbed ourselves in a court drama show on the television. I curled up next to her, laying my head on her shoulder. It hadn’t occurred to me until then how much I’d missed her company and how distant I felt from her. Our relationship was starting to feel back to normal. Which is why I hated myself when I finally pulled away from her and turned to face her.
I’m really sorry about the Red Door, I signed. I didn’t mean to hurt you.
Lydia offered a small smile, shaking her head. You didn’t hurt me. I knew better, but I couldn’t help myself. It was just so hard to see you falling for someone else. For Juliet, she was implying that I was falling for Juliet. I had a half a mind to argue with her, but I stayed quiet. It was beyond the point of lying about it any longer.
Forbidden Melody Page 15