Three or four songs later, Eleanor was asking about “Happy Birthday” again, but Caroline—adamant—shook her head. She was obviously tired but still rosy and cheerful. With a happy sigh, she sat down beside Sydney.
“Why don’t we do a duet?” She smiled, her face dangerously close.
She was being touchy-feely and familiar with everyone, maybe because she was tipsy, or maybe because that was just Caroline: she was friendly, lovely. And now she put an arm around Sydney’s shoulders and squeezed her tightly. “Let me see. I’ll pick one!” She pulled some of the sheet music down and searched through it.
“We could just do ‘Happy Birthday’ and move on to the cake,” said Sydney quietly, but Caroline glanced at her with raised brows, shaking her head.
“Nope, we’re doing this. I’ve wanted to sing this song with you since our lesson—this one!” she said, brandishing the sheet music with a victorious smile.
It was “You Hold My Heart (In Your Hand),” the piece of music with the two women on the cover, including the woman that Caroline had thought looked like Sydney.
The woman Caroline had called “lovely.”
Sydney swallowed, thinking of how Theresa and Eleanor would react if she and Caroline sang these romantic lyrics. She glanced sidelong at Caroline. “Are you sure?”
But Caroline had already opened the music and propped it up on the piano. “It’s an easy one to play,” she said, tapping a nail on the first line of music. “Come on! It'll be fun!”
Sydney pressed her fingers to the piano keys.
And she began to play.
And Caroline and Sydney began to sing.
Together.
“When I first saw you, darling,
I believed my heart,
And I knew then, my darling,
From the very start,
That you were the girl for me!
Because you hold
(yes, you hold)
my heart
(my poor heart!)
in your hand.”
The lyrics were charming, simple, classic fifties kitsch, and Sydney found that, though her heart was hammering, and though her mouth was dry, she was smiling by the end of the first verse. Caroline still had her arm wrapped around Sydney’s shoulders, and as they started in on the second verse together, Caroline leaned her head against Sydney's.
This was a level of intimacy that Sydney was unprepared for. Her body stiffened, and she hoped that Caroline didn’t notice her tension. But Caroline, it seemed, had not, because she smiled warmly as she sang each word.
They ended with “because you hold my heart in your hand!” and everyone applauded politely, if not enthusiastically. Sydney didn’t want to ruin the moment by turning around to glance at the audience to see their reactions, but she couldn’t help it. She lowered her lashes and surveyed the scene behind her quickly before looking away…
Eleanor was scowling, her arms crossed over her chest.
And Theresa was nowhere to be seen.
As Caroline rose to her feet, Sydney stood up, too, and she realized that Theresa was in the kitchen, pouring herself another drink.
“Okay, let’s cut the cake now!” chirped Caroline.
As most of the women moved into the kitchen, Sydney felt her shoulders sag with a small measure of relief. The stress of sitting on the bench with Caroline, of being held tightly by Caroline while everyone watched, and of singing that very romantic song slowly drained from her body—and made her yawn.
It was a tension yawn, not a tired yawn, but Theresa noticed it, even as she raised the wineglass to her mouth.
“Isn’t it past your bedtime?” she asked Sydney, her voice sharp with sarcasm. Like Caroline, Theresa had imbibed her fair share of drinks by this point, but she was holding her liquor better. Sydney knew the comment wasn’t offhand.
Theresa was unhappy that Sydney was there.
Which meant that Theresa, too, suspected that something was going on between Sydney and Caroline.
The remark made Sydney wince, and the bright smile faded from Caroline's face as she reached out, curling her fingers lightly around Sydney’s wrist.
“Don’t be rude, Theresa.” Her voice was firm, and her blue eyes glittered dangerously.
Sydney was reminded of the time that Mrs. Williams and Caroline had run into each other in the grocery store. Here, too, Caroline stood a little straighter, lifted her chin, and stared at Theresa with a bright, unwavering stare.
This was not a cowed woman, or even a sad one. When she looked at Theresa, there was no wistfulness in Caroline's expression. No longing or regret. And as she watched this exchange, Sydney was suddenly convinced that, whatever Theresa and Caroline had once had, it was gone.
For good.
“It was just a joke,” said Theresa, chuckling. “Lighten up, Caro.”
“Don’t call me that,” Caroline snapped, her tone steely.
“All right, ladies. This is a celebration, remember?” Eleanor stepped between them, regarding Caroline with a broad smile. “Do you want candles on your cake, dear?”
Caroline blinked. “You brought some?” Slowly, the smile returned to her face, though it was dimmer than before.
“Of course. What kind of friend would I be if your birthday was ruined by something so silly?” Eleanor wasn’t looking at Caroline when she spoke.
She was peering over Caroline’s shoulder…
At Sydney.
Sydney smarted, but she made no outward show of her feelings. She had spent a very long time learning how to school her features, so that whatever she was battling on the inside was not visible on the outside. It hurt that Caroline’s friend—and a close friend, at that—thought she wasn't good for Caroline.
She couldn’t think it too much, because...what if Eleanor was right?
In her heart, Sydney knew that she was meant to be with Caroline. From the first moment she’d heard Caroline’s voice, something inside of her had been pulled inexorably toward her. From the first moment she’d seen Caroline, a part of her heart had belonged to her.
And now, standing in Caroline’s kitchen, surrounded by her friends—her disapproving friends—Sydney felt so small. Everything she thought she knew, everything she thought she believed, had been brought into question. Was she being selfish by loving Caroline? Was she setting the woman up for terrible pain?
In truth, Caroline hadn't expressed romantic interest in Sydney, not really, not that Sydney noticed anyway, so the questions were possibly moot. Sydney grabbed a can of Coke from the counter; she needed to occupy her hands, and shoving them into her pockets might make her appear sullen, and even younger than her nineteen years. Wrapping them around herself might make her look closed off. She wanted Caroline to believe she was enjoying the party. She wanted Caroline to have the most perfect birthday. She wanted Caroline…
Well...
Yes.
She wanted Caroline.
A cake appeared from a white bakery box. Candles were nestled into the fluffy pink icing. A match was struck, the bright scent of ozone permeated the air, and then it was time to sing.
Someone was sitting at the piano in the living room, because the opening chords of “Happy Birthday” rang out. Sydney glanced over her shoulder and saw Amy at the keys.
Chatting animatedly, the guests gathered around the cake, with Caroline positioned in front of it. Eleanor had arranged the candles in the shape of a heart.
And everyone began to sing.
Sydney sang, too, and as she did, she watched Caroline’s face. Caroline was staring down at the candles, her face warmly lit by the soft glow. But as the song progressed, she looked up. Her eyes lit upon each of her guests, and her smile deepened—until she came to Sydney.
When Caroline’s gaze found Sydney… Oh, the expression on her face. Though she was smiling before—widely, cheerfully—something happened.
Something changed.
Sydney felt the change from the inside out. If asked, she might ha
ve described the feeling as bone deep, a welling up of emotion. This surge of happiness moved through her, but it was more than mere happiness. There was joy, and there was affection, and the deepest, most poignant sense of longing she’d ever felt.
Sydney knew what she wanted, knew what she longed for. She longed for Caroline with every part of herself, with everything she was, with everything she could be.
It was impossible to explain—with words, anyway—the reason that Caroline’s voice had called to her, the reason that Caroline herself called to her. But there was something within Caroline that completed Sydney, ineffably.
The song ended, and Eleanor grinned, lifting the cake to hold it in front of Caroline.
“Make a wish,” Eleanor said.
Caroline closed her eyes, and when she opened them, they were shining.
Caroline looked at Sydney.
And Caroline—simply, sweetly—smiled.
She took a deep breath, and she blew out the candles in one go.
Everyone applauded, and Sydney and Caroline still gazed at one another.
“What’d you wish for?” Eleanor asked.
But Caroline didn't answer.
Chapter 17
The party had died down: several of the guests had left, citing the late hour and an early workday. Sydney, too, had work in the morning, an earlier shift than she was used to, and she was exhausted from the day's events.
Still, she couldn’t bring herself to say goodbye. Not yet.
Her body was wired, every nerve vibrating, tense. Theresa had given Sydney enough sinister glances to make her feel a little sick. The idea of leaving Theresa's company was delicious, enticing.
Because if she left, she’d probably never have to see Caroline's ex again.
She should get up, tell Caroline that the party had been lovely, wish her happy birthday one last time, and then walk down to her apartment. It would be so easy to remove herself from the judgmental, disapproving glares from Caroline’s friends, and to get some relief from these feelings of inadequacy, of less than, of worthlessness.
But…she stayed.
There was, of course, only one reason why Sydney remained in a situation that made her feel so uncomfortable. Only one reason that she endured Theresa’s hostile looks.
Only one reason.
And that reason sat in the center of the couch, women bookending either side of her. Caroline paged through her phone with elegant fingers as she laughed at something someone had said to her, her neck arched in a perfect curve.
Caroline.
Caroline’s high twist of hair had come loose during the evening, but it didn’t look messy. Her effortless grace always made her look lovely, made her every word, her every gesture lovely. She had stopped drinking about an hour ago, so she was no longer tipsy. She kept yawning, though, placing the back of her hand against her mouth and sighing.
“We should do this more often. Why don’t we do this more often?” she asked her friends, glancing around at them with an affectionate smile.
She did not, Sydney noted, look at Theresa.
“Probably because most of us are swamped with work, dear,” said Eleanor, lounging beside her with one brow raised.
Unlike Caroline, Eleanor had not stopped drinking as the evening wore on. She’d mentioned that her wife, Annie, was the designated driver, and said laughingly that this meant she was drinking for two.
Caroline glanced at her friend, her expression warm. “Ellie, you know I work, too.”
“Oh, yeah. Teaching music to kids who always cancel their lessons.” Eleanor rolled her eyes—much more dramatically than was necessary.
Caroline, looking a little bothered now, shook her head. “They don't all cancel. And I teach some awesome kids. I mean… Oh, I know! I wanted to show this to you, anyway.” She sat up a little straighter and started to type something into her phone. “Let me find the video. I was so proud when I saw it.”
She held up the phone to Eleanor and pointed at the small screen. “This is Eddie. He’s one of my youngest students. He wanted to learn this song for his grandfather’s birthday party, and he worked so hard on it. Really put his heart into every note. His mother recorded the video—”
But Eleanor was clearly uninterested. She waved the phone away—rudely, Sydney thought. “That's nice, very cute, but you're wasting your time teaching those no-name kids. You've got talent, Caroline. You’re a good singer. You’re amazing, actually. You know you could've landed work in New York if you'd tried. But, no, you stick around here, walled up in this apartment, teaching snot-nosed brats.” Eleanor scowled. “It’s demeaning. Embarrassing. It makes me feel sorry for you.”
Caroline, who had been listening to this speech with a blank expression, sat stiffly on the edge of the couch. She said nothing for a long moment, her jaw working. “Ellie,” she began finally, her voice quiet, “it’s not a waste of time if I enjoy what I’m doing. And I do. I love it. They’re all great kids—”
“Yeah.” The woman snorted, her head lolling until her eyes, narrowed to slits, locked onto Sydney. “I'll bet you love it.”
There was a moment of shocked silence.
Everyone had gone quiet.
Caroline turned fully to face her friend, and when she spoke, her tone was cold. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You know what it means.”
“No. Please. Enlighten me.”
“Caro, let it go,” said Theresa mildly, taking another sip from her glass of water. She was leaning against the wall and ignoring the affectionate overtures of Sassy, who kept rubbing on her legs, leaving little black hairs all over her perfect slacks.
Caroline lifted her chin, directed a hard glance toward Theresa. “I told you not to call me that.”
Theresa shrugged. “Why?”
But Caroline ignored her, faced Eleanor again. “Please don’t be hurtful, Ellie.”
“I’m not being hurtful. I’m being truthful. You’re throwing your life away. You could have been somebody. But you never will be now, and I pity you.”
“Teaching kids has an impact—”
“Christ, Caroline. You know damn well that’s not what I’m talking about right now. You lost your confidence because of...” Eleanor waved vaguely toward Theresa. “And you’re never going to get it back. You aren't even trying. You’re just...desperate.” Eleanor shifted her gaze to Sydney and said, “Desperate people make self-destructive choices.”
Caroline sat, silent, her shoulders stiff, her phone cradled in her unmoving hands.
Sydney could see the pain on her face—and she couldn’t just stand there any longer. She couldn't watch and listen and do nothing.
So she took a step forward, cleared her throat, anxiety rushing through her like water from a burst dam. “How can you talk to your friend like that?” Sydney asked.
The silence in the room deepened. Pins dropping would sound like bombs. Sassy chose that moment to make a hopeful chirp at Theresa, which the woman ignored.
“You say you’re Caroline’s friend,” Sydney went on, despite the pounding of her heart, “but if you are, why are you so judgmental of her? She’s happy. Isn’t that good enough? Isn’t that what every person should want for someone they care about?”
What she said was stilted, but that didn’t make Sydney's words sound any less passionate. The thickness in her voice, the way she stood there, defiant, hands curled into fists as she regarded Eleanor, conveyed her meaning.
Eleanor's face became ugly, then: she openly sneered. “Do you know, little girl, how much trouble Caroline could get into for sleeping with a stupid kid like you? And you think she’s happy with you? You have no idea what you're talking about. You don't understand—”
“I understand enough, thanks,” said Sydney, her voice a little stronger now. “I understand that Caroline is happy.” Sydney paused and shook her head. “And she isn’t sleeping with me. But…but if she was, I’d take care of her. I’d try my best to never let her down. I�
�d treat her like the amazing person she is, the most talented, the most lovely… She deserves to be listened to, to be cherished. I’d cherish her, if I could.” Her legs were trembling beneath her. “If I were worthy enough, I’d cherish her until my dying breath.”
And Sydney’s voice broke. She couldn’t say anything else. Her whole body was shaking, adrenaline and anxiety rushing through her in equal amounts, filling her with shame, with fear, triggering past memories that would normally bring her to her knees.
But she stood.
And she had spoken.
Even though her voice shook.
Caroline flew to her feet, her eyes wide. “If you’ll… If you’ll just excuse me…” Her heels clicked across the floorboards, and then her warm fingers were at Sydney’s arm, and she pulled the girl—firmly, but gently—down the hallway, into a dark room.
Caroline turned on the light, and as Sydney’s eyes adjusted to the brightness, she glanced around, swallowing.
They were in Caroline’s bedroom.
“Sydney,” Caroline whispered, searching her face. She let go of Sydney's arm quickly, almost as if Sydney had become too hot to the touch. Almost as if Sydney had burned her. “What…was that, out there?” Caroline gestured toward the living room. She had closed the bedroom door behind them.
Sydney couldn’t place the expression on Caroline’s face, but she wondered if it was dismay. She couldn’t bear it if it was.
But if there was ever a time to declare her feelings for Caroline…
It seemed as if that time was now.
Sydney stuffed her hands into her pants pockets as they stood together, only a few inches apart. She felt ill—dizzy, feverish, nauseated.
But she forced the words out, anyway.
“I have feelings for you,” Sydney whispered. “I’m...in love with you.”
Caroline stared.
And Sydney waited—in agony—for Caroline to give her some small sign, to express…anything.
But Caroline's face was still and unreadable.
“I’ve been in love with you from the first moment I heard you sing.” Sydney's voice broke, but she didn't care. “Maybe that sounds silly, but... I knew you were an angel from that first moment. I felt connected to you.” She winced as Caroline remained silent. “Please say something.”
The Longing Page 17