by Rico, Lauren
“She didn’t want me, Jeremy. She left me there with him and forgot about me. She has a brand new family. It’s like I never existed…” I break down in sloppy sobs and he pulls me back into him.
He doesn’t try to make excuses for her. He just holds me and listens and whispers comforting things in my ear until finally there is no cry left in me. When I look up again he strokes the sides of my face.
“You are so beautiful,” he says softly, drinking me in. To have someone look at me with such intensity is both uncomfortable and mesmerizing at the same time.
I don’t have the energy to respond. I’m physically and emotionally exhausted.
After a time he maneuvers us both into a standing position and turns the shower off.
“Stay there just a sec,” he murmurs as he steps out onto the bath mat and shucks the soaked clothing from his body. He wraps a towel around his naked waist and pulls another one off the rack for me.
“Okay, come on,” he says, holding out his hand to help me from the shower. I take it and allow him to envelop me in the fluffy towel. Then his hands are on my shoulders and he’s pushing me gently out of the bathroom and into my connecting bedroom.
We pause at the dresser and he rummages around, eventually pulling out a nightgown. He gently pulls the towel from my body and has me raise my arms up so he can slip the gown over my head.
I’m visibly trembling, but I’m not sure if it’s because I’m upset or just cold. Either way, it’s not pleasant and Jeremy steers me to the bed as quickly as possible. He holds the covers up and I slip underneath them. Now he finds a pair of socks and, lifting just the very bottom edge of the comforter, eases them onto my ice-cold feet.
“I’ll be right back,” he says as he leaves the room.
When he returns a few minutes later he’s wearing a pair of Matthew’s pajama bottoms.
“I don’t think Matthew will mind, do you?” he asks with a little smirk.
I give him the barest of smiles and slightest of nods before he turns out the light and crawls in next to me. Under the covers he spoons me from behind, surrounding me with his warmth and his strength. I feel safe here with him. He doesn’t talk, just holds me. But suddenly I realize that I want more. I need more.
“Jeremy,” I whisper into the darkness.
“What is it, Jules?”
“I want to forget. I want to feel good for a little while.”
I can tell he immediately comprehends what I’m asking.
“Okay,” he says softly.
I feel him reach under the hem of my nightdress and his hand finds my breast. He traces my nipple with his thumb. Slowly, oh so slowly. He kisses the side of my face and the back of my neck and finally my shoulder. This isn’t passionate, so much as nurturing. He’s tender and gentle, deliberate as he moves his hands across my body. I gasp softly. Yes, this is what I want right now more than anything. He maneuvers his right arm underneath me, using it to draw me even closer and embracing me from behind. The right hand picks up with my other breast while his left gently caresses my side and the curve of my hip. When he slips his finger between my legs I cry out and arch my head back onto his shoulder.
“Ata girl, that’s it,” he whispers right in my ear as he gently, slowly moves his hand up and down the length of my sex.
I’m breathing heavily as he takes his time. Up and down, pausing just long enough to tease and nudge the tiny bundle of nerves at my center. Something unintelligible comes out of my mouth and he slides his hand down, dipping first one then two fingers into me.
“God, you are so wet,” he murmurs next to my ear. “That’s for me. All for me and no one else. You understand?”
I nod enthusiastically and feel him shifting behind me. I’m not sure what he’s doing until I feel his huge erection pressed against my back. Then there is the tear of the foil.
Ah, so the pajama bottoms are gone now.
I whimper when he pauses his languid caressing but it is only a second before his hands are on my waist, pulling me back even further to him. And then I feel him against me, pushing, prying, looking for the spot. When he finds it he wastes no time. He pushes into me with a guttural grunt that sends shivers through my entire body. He pulls out all the way and slams in hard again, eliciting a groan from me. And then he reaches back around and his fingers are on me again, pushing, teasing, circling even as he’s thrusting. It is more sensation than I’ve ever experienced at one time. I’m writhing against him and moaning.
“That’s it,” he whispers in my ear. “That’s it, baby. Come for me. I want to hear you come loud, Jules.”
It is out of my control at this point. I hear myself getting louder and louder as he delves deeper and deeper into me until finally, with one rough stroke, he sends me right over the edge. He’s only a few seconds behind me.
I lay in his arms, panting heavily as he reaches around to brush the hair from my sweaty forehead.
“A little better?” he asks.
I nod.
He kisses the back of my head and pulls me in close, my back to his chest. I drift off feeling the beat of his heart against me.
When I wake-up in the middle of the night, I sit bolt upright, panting and gasping. Jeremy scrambles to turn on the light in the pitch-blackness of my room.
“What? What is it? Bad dream?”
I nod, unable to speak because I’m breathing so heavily.
“Okay, you know what? You need something to help you get some rest.”
He climbs out of bed as I draw my knees up to my chest and rest my head on them.
When he returns it is with a glass of water and a bottle of pills.
“Here, take one of these,” he says as he pops the top off the prescription and hands me a small white oval to swallow.
I don’t ask him what it is. I don’t care. I just want to sleep. I want to feel… nothing. All I want is to be numb and that is exactly what washes over me. Within moments everything has faded away.
25
It’s taken every ounce of physical and mental strength I have to get me up on this stage. I’m not sure if it’s the emotional rollercoaster of my mother’s reappearance, or that little white pill that Jeremy gave me last night so I could sleep, but right now I feel as if I’m walking around in a dream. And not just any dream, either. This is one of those dreams where you’re late for the final exam and, when you finally get there, somehow you’ve forgotten to put on any clothes.
I’m clothed and on time, but I can’t seem to pick up my bow and play.
“Pssst!”
The accompanist is hissing at me from over his piano.
“Pssst! Are you okay?”
I look over at him blankly, then back to the music sitting on the stand in front of me.
“Miss James?”
That’s Nick Lautner, the highest paid cellist in the country. He’s sitting in the middle of the judges’ table. I’m not certain, but I don’t think this is the first time he’s called my name.
Jeremy was right when he tried to talk me out of this earlier today. I’m not up to it. And if I play poorly because I’m distracted… play poorly in front of these people, my career is over before it’s begun.
The only thing I can think about right now is my mother. It’s the only thing I should be thinking about right now. I clear my throat and meet the perplexed stares of the committee.
“I’m sorry... I can’t do this right now,” I say, standing up, taking my cello and bow and walking off the stage. I keep walking until I’m safely on the other side of the auditorium door.
That’s when I hear a familiar voice.
“Julia! How’d it go in there?”
Apparently Sam Michaels has decided to surprise me. Well, turns out he’s the one who’s about to be surprised.
The smile fades from his face very quickly as he gets a good look at me. Pale, drawn, dark circles under my swollen eyes.
“What is it? What happened?” Dr. Sam asks, gently grasping my arm above the e
lbow.
I can only shake my head. I’m afraid if I open my mouth I’ll start to cry and if I start again, I might not ever stop.
“Did you play?”
I shake my head again.
“Are you sick?”
I shrug.
He lets go of me and takes the cello from my hands. He gestures with his head for me to follow him down the hallway and I do, walking slowly behind and staring down at the floor. Jesus. What have I done? What am I doing? When he finds an empty room a few doors down, he holds the door open for me and I go inside. He sets the cello on the floor and turns to face me.
“Talk to me, Julia.”
I start to shake my head once again, but he holds up his hand to stop me.
“Talk to me,” he repeats.
I sigh, and take a seat at one of the desks.
“I couldn’t play,” I say softly.
“Why not? You’re more than ready for this.”
“No, it’s not that…”
I put my head in my hands.
“What, sweetie? What is it?”
He’s next to me now, down on one knee. Anyone peering through the window in the door would think he was about to propose.
Dr. Sam Michaels was the first cello teacher I ever had. It was rare for him to take a student as young as I was, but when he heard about my situation– the fact that I was a mute, abused, and abandoned child– he made an exception. At this moment, it is a relief that he knows all of the ugly details of my past. When I finally look up, the tears and the words start to spill at exactly the same moment.
It takes several minutes to get the whole sordid story out but he listens intently, nodding and sighing and keeping eye contact with me through every bit of it. When I’ve finished, he stands up and puts a firm, reassuring hand on my shoulder.
“Stay here. I’m going to take care of this.”
Take care of what? My totally fucked-up life? Sam is good, but he’s not that good. But before I can voice an objection, he has gone, leaving me alone in the empty classroom. When he returns twenty minutes later it is with Cal, who’s carrying the case and music I left behind when I ran out.
“So, kiddo,” Dr. Sam begins, leaning up against the teacher’s desk in front of me. “The committee has agreed to hear you in the last slot, tomorrow night at six.”
I look at him and wonder how he can possibly believe I’ll be able to play. I mean, right now I have to remind myself to breathe in and out.
“You can do this,” he says, guessing my thoughts. “And you will. Do you know how I know this?”
Because you’re an insane old coot?
“No,” I say flatly.
“Because I have been teaching you for a very long time, my dear girl. And over the years, I’ve watched you leave a horrific past behind you and find joy in your life. Joy that came to you through music. You’ll find it again. Don’t be afraid of the emotions that you feel while you’re playing; lean into them. Let them wash over you and carry you.”
He means well. And on some level I know he’s right. But at this moment I’m so exhausted I can’t even think about it. I just want to go home. I just want to curl up in Jeremy’s arms and have him tell me it’s all going to be okay.
“Listen, Julia, Cal here is going to see you home. You get a good night’s sleep and meet me in my office at two o’clock tomorrow afternoon. I’ll take you through your warm-up and we’ll ride over here together. Sound like a plan?”
I shrug, noncommittally
Dr. Sam nods at Cal who has packed up my cello while we were talking. I stand up and Sam Michaels breaks the rules, scooping me up in a big, warm hug, the way he did when I was a little girl. It feels good. It feels safe.
Once we are tucked away in a cab headed back downtown, Cal clears his throat.
“Are you… will you be home alone?”
I nod yes.
“Matthew is back on tour.”
“And Jeremy?” he asks cautiously.
“He’s rehearsing at McInnes with his accompanist and your horn teacher. He’s supposed to meet me as soon as he’s done.”
“Has he been supportive about this?”
“Yes,” I say firmly, wanting to prove to Cal that Jeremy has my best interests at heart. That he loves me.
“He must be worried about you,” Cal ventures further.
“He is. That’s why I don’t think he’s going to be thrilled that Dr. Sam wants me to play again.”
“Huh.”
“What?” I ask.
“Julia, if it were me…”
“Which it’s not,” I interject petulantly.
“…Which it’s not, I think I’d put more stock in what my teacher tells me than what a… friend… tells me.”
I sigh heavily and shake my head. Cal is never going to be able to get past this competitive thing he has going with Jeremy. He senses my frustration and drops the subject.
When we pull up in front of my building he makes a move to get out with me.
“I’ve got this, Cal.”
“I promised Dr. Michaels I’d get you all the way up to your apartment.”
“You know what? I’m sick and tired of everyone questioning every decision I make. And how interesting that it’s always a man. You, Matthew, Sam; get back in the cab, Cal. You’re not setting foot in my building.”
He nods silently and sits back as I take the cello and turn my back on him.
26
He fills the frame of my door as I open it; all lanky, scruffy, and crinkly. He’s a sight for my incredibly sore eyes.
“Hi,” I say, feeling suddenly shy as his hazel eyes settle upon me.
“Hi,” he says, stepping forward to hold me close to him.
“I’m glad you’re home,” I murmur.
“Home. I like the sound of that.”
I reluctantly extricate myself from him, and he follows me inside and drops his horn in the foyer.
“How was your rehearsal?” I ask.
“Seriously? You’re going to ask me about my rehearsal before you tell me about your audition?”
He takes a seat at the breakfast bar and watches as I open a bottle of wine and pour out two glasses for us.
“There’s nothing to tell. I walked off the stage without playing a single note.”
I set the glass down in front of him and take a long sip from my own.
“I knew it. Jules, I wish you had just listened to me. You could have spared yourself all this heartache.”
“Well, it’s not over yet.”
“What do you mean?” he asks, leaning forward, suddenly very attentive.
“I mean that Dr. Sam convinced the committee to give me one more chance, tomorrow night.”
He puts the glass down hard; wine sloshing over the side and onto the granite countertop.
“Do you really think that’s a good idea?”
“I don’t know,” I say with a sigh as I take a seat on the stool next to him. He puts a hand on my wrist.
“Jules, I’m going to respect whatever decision you make. But you need to give this careful consideration. You’ve already sent up a red flag with the committee by walking out. It doesn’t help that your teacher had to ask for a special favor to get you back on the roster. If you go in there and you have a meltdown in front of these world-class musicians, well… I’m afraid your reputation might take a blow that it can’t come back from.”
I look down at the wine in my glass and swirl it a little, creating a blood-red mini-vortex. He has a point; a very good one, in fact. I’m off my game, and there’s no telling how badly I might play. That is, if I can make myself play at all.
“You know what, why don’t you sleep on it. There’s something else I want to talk about,” he says, getting up and nodding toward the couch. “Come on, let’s sit.”
“Okay…” I say, following him into the living room and perching on the cushion next to him. “What is it?”
“Jules, I think we should move in together.”
Surely I’ve misheard him.
“What?”
“Seriously. Matthew’s on the road all the time, right? Let’s stay here together and give it a trial run. I think it’ll give us a better idea of where this relationship is headed, and then maybe we’ll get a place of our own. Of course it wouldn’t be as grand as all this…” he holds up his hands and gestures around the apartment.
I don’t know what to say. I mean, I know what I should say: Are you out of your mind? Only that’s not really what I want to say. Right now, there is no place I feel safer than here, with him.
“What are you thinking?” he asks.
“I– I don’t know. It seems a little soon, no? I mean we just started to date. We don’t even really know each other...”
“Here’s the thing,” he begins, eyes intent on mine. “I’ve been in a lot of relationships, with a lot of women. And not one of them has felt this way, this stable and secure. Julia, all I want to do is spend time with you. When I’m not with you, I’m thinking about being with you.”
As nice as it is to hear, I know in my heart that what he’s talking about is insane.
He sees me wrestling with this.
“Okay, I’m just going to say it out loud,” he says, putting his wine glass on the coffee table in front of us and facing me.
“Say what?”
“I’m falling in love with you, Jules.”
What? I’m shaking my head at him in disbelief, but he holds up a hand.
“And I think you’re falling in love with me, too.”
Well, maybe just a little. But still…
“Jules, you’re not like any of those other girls I’ve dated. There’s so much more… substance to you. You’re so strong, so caring. Not to mention the fact that you’re beautiful and sexy as hell,” he says with the hint of a naughty smile.
Really? My eyebrows go up.