by Karis Walsh
*
Brooke was in her parents’ kitchen after midnight, the granite countertops covered with her usual mess of ingredients and utensils. She hadn’t been able to sleep since finding Andy with another woman, so she came downstairs to cook. Her dad had been dropping hints all week for chocolate mousse, so she decided to make his favorite dessert instead of tossing in bed.
She cracked eggs against the bowl’s edge with more force than necessary and blinked away the threat of tears. She wouldn’t cry over Andy, not anymore. Well, at least not tonight. Brooke was the one who had walked away, leaving Andy free to find someone new. She could’ve waited more than a week to do it, though, Brooke fumed as she fished some bits of broken shell out of her egg yolks.
Brooke turned a hand mixer on high and attacked the bowl of eggs and sugar. Brooke cared about Andy, she wanted her to be happy. Just not with someone else. She wished she could erase the picture of Andy with the elegant Adrienne from her mind, but everywhere she looked she saw them leaning close and laughing together. To be fair, they hadn’t been sitting any closer than normal for two people carrying on a conversation in a crowded bar. And they weren’t touching. Brooke watched the eggs change color and texture, her cheeks flaming, as she recalled the night she and Andy had met at Mickey’s. There had probably been no doubt in anyone’s mind where they were headed after they left the bar. The only evidence Brooke had to prove Andy and Adrienne were a couple came from Lyssa. Brooke switched off the mixer and wiped some splatters off the counter. She could almost hear her father’s voice, warning her not to reach conclusions based on the testimony of a hostile witness.
Her dad and Andy would probably get along well, Brooke decided as she set a pan of chocolate to melt on the glass stovetop. Andy was a lot like him. Irritatingly logical and in control. But never fickle, Brooke thought with conviction as she took the chocolate off the stove and idly stirred while it cooled. Maybe she had let Lyssa plant doubt in her mind about Andy’s faithfulness, but there was no denying a woman like Adrienne would be perfect for her. Someone talented and successful, confident and sexually self-assured. Not a woman whose life was still filled with question marks. Brooke sighed. She wasn’t sure which hurt worse. To believe Andy was involved with someone besides her, or to believe she should be.
Her own words echoed in her mind as she poured a dark ribbon of chocolate into the eggs. Andy should be with someone like Adrienne. She turned the mixer on again, to a lower setting this time so she didn’t decorate the kitchen any more than she already had, and started to blend. The new Brooke fought anyone who attempted to tell her what to feel or think, but wasn’t she doing the same thing now, deciding who Andy ought to care for? Because she knew the truth. She knew Andy cared for her, she had seen plenty of proof of Andy’s feelings over the past months.
Brooke’s dad had pushed her toward Jake because he thought it would make her happy. Andy had pushed her toward culinary school for the same reason. But her father didn’t seem to love her any less because she had made a different decision. In fact, he seemed to respect her more when she chose to stand up for her own needs, and their relationship had grown stronger as she had become more independent. And Andy had never tried to force her own passions on Brooke. She hadn’t tried to make her musical or compulsively neat. Instead, she had looked at Brooke, at what made her happy, and tried to offer it to Brooke in her own ungainly way. Brooke dumped a bowl of whipped cream into the chocolate and started to fold them together, stirring until the marbled mixture was smoothly blended. She sat on the kitchen stool with a spoon, just to taste, and contemplated her next move. She wanted to go see Andy now, to talk to her, but she didn’t want to drop by so late. She wasn’t sure if she was more concerned about disturbing Andy’s sleep the night before her concert or about maybe finding Adrienne in her apartment. Tomorrow would have to be soon enough.
*
Andy unlocked her apartment door and flipped on the light. It had been difficult to come home all week knowing Brooke wasn’t going to be there, but she felt a little less pain than usual tonight. The final rehearsal for the Clarke sonata had gone well, and she had actually enjoyed herself at Mickey’s afterward. The guest conductor from Chicago had been fascinating company, and their shared interest in music and women composers had given them plenty to talk about.
It had been a comfortable conversation, for the most part, and it helped to keep Andy from dwelling on Brooke. Thoughts of her were never far away, but at least they hadn’t been at the forefront of Andy’s mind all night. Except when Andy looked at the table where they had shared their first kiss. Or when she recalled the feel of Brooke’s fingers slipping across her stomach and into her waistband as she’d pulled her closer at the bar. Andy opened the fridge to get a beer, but changed her mind and took out a bottle of Chianti instead, as if to torture herself even more. She remembered shopping with Brooke the day they bought the wine, planning a meal that was never made because Brooke left only days later. Andy opened a drawer and found the corkscrew neatly in its place beside a paring knife. She sighed as she pulled out the cork. She could have found it in the dark. When Brooke was here, it usually took fifteen minutes of rummaging to find any utensil since she seemed incapable of putting anything back where it belonged.
Andy sat on the sofa with her glass of wine and looked around the living room. Everything was tidy and the surfaces bare in an attempt to erase any sign of Brooke from her life, but to Andy’s eyes the room was still cluttered with ghosts of Brooke and her rampant belongings no matter how much she cleaned. Her apartment had been neat before Brooke arrived, but now it was positively sterile.
Like her life, Andy admitted. Without Brooke, she was back to her usual routine of practice and teaching, but now she noticed all of the empty spaces. She had created a bare outline of a life, but Brooke had filled in the gaps with laughter and shared meals, intimacy and mind-blowing sex. Andy finished her wine and set the glass on a coaster. Brooke had brought passion to her world, a passion Adrienne had commented on this evening when she complimented Andy on her interpretation of the second movement of the Clarke sonata. She asked what inspired Andy as she played it, and Andy had surprised herself by mentioning Brooke. She had always thought of the vivace section as Brooke’s movement. It was full of fast-paced notes that challenged both the upper and lower ranges of the viola, as if the sonata were struggling to break free from the structure imposed on it. It required more agility in fingering and bowing than usual in the viola repertoire, and Andy felt both thrilled by and frightened of it. Whenever she played it, she played for Brooke.
Andy had started to list the differences between her and Brooke, but Adrienne had waved off her explanations. Instead, she told Andy about her partner, a scientist with little musical knowledge, and how they had worked to create a relationship even though they were so different. She is my counterpoint, Adrienne had said. We each face the challenge of accepting another person without trying to change her notes and rhythm to match our own. But, like Bach, once you allow each melodic line to have its own voice, the new harmony that emerges is worth the effort.
Andy got up and washed her wineglass, putting it neatly in the cupboard. She had wanted to protest and claim she had never tried to change Brooke’s unique melody, but she had some doubts. Maybe she had attempted to tweak a note here and there. Brooke had been unsure about her future and her career, and Andy might have pushed her to make decisions she needed to reach on her own. But Brooke’s choices threatened to take her out of Andy’s life. Was she willing to get close again only to lose Brooke once she found her way? Her life was empty and sterile without Brooke, but it had one benefit. Andy couldn’t worry about Brooke leaving if she was already gone.
Chapter Twenty-four
Brooke heard the muffled sounds of Andy fitting in a last-minute practice when she arrived at the apartment, but the music stopped when she rang the doorbell. She found herself trying to assume the distant expression she usually wore when nervous or worr
ied, but she couldn’t put that wall up in front of Andy anymore. She twisted her hands together and jumped a foot when Andy finally answered the door. Part of her had hoped Andy would grab her in a welcoming hug, but she clearly had no intention of doing so. Brooke had made Andy wait a long time while she figured out her feelings, and now it was her turn.
“Hi,” she said breathlessly, unable to hide her smile when she saw Andy in her usual sweats and baseball shirt. No bra, of course. Brooke clenched her fists to keep from reaching out, her determination to be patient dissolving with Andy so close.
Andy leaned against the door, her face a mask. She simply raised her eyebrows instead of asking why Brooke was there.
“I…I took the bus here from Pike Place,” Brooke stammered. “I wanted to see you before tonight. To wish you luck.”
“Thanks,” Andy said and started to shut the door.
“Don’t, please,” Brooke said as she pushed her way past Andy and into the hallway. “Just talk to me for five minutes.”
Andy sighed and shut the apartment door. “What do you want?” she asked in a more normal voice. It was a start, Brooke decided, so she pressed on.
“How have you been?” she asked. She could see the signs of sleeplessness on Andy’s face, and she wondered what Andy had been eating this week without her there to cook.
“Fine,” she answered. “And you?”
Brooke shrugged. “The same. I applied to the culinary arts program.”
“I’m glad, Brooke, I know you’ll do great there. Now I really should get back to my practice.”
She tried to herd Brooke toward the door, but stopped at her next words.
“I came out to my parents, Andy. I told them about you.”
Andy crossed her arms over her chest and wouldn’t meet Brooke’s eyes, but Brooke kept talking. “I know I hurt you so many times, and I’m sorry about that. And I know it might be too late to ask you to trust me again, but if there’s any way…”
Andy held up a hand to stop her. “I can’t survive another morning after, Brooke,” she said, pain etched across her face. “I can’t let you get close and lose you again.”
Brooke shook her head. “You won’t, Andy. I’ve made my choice, and it’s you. Can we just talk? Go out for coffee or a walk and start over again?”
Andy shrugged and wiped a hand wearily over her eyes. “I can’t deal with this now,” she said. “I have to concentrate on the concert. Maybe tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow,” Brooke whispered. She wanted to reach out for Andy, but her expression warned Brooke not to get too close yet. “That sounds good.”
She walked past Andy to the door. “Do you mind if I come to the concert tonight?”
“I got you a ticket a couple of weeks ago,” Andy said with a shrug. “I never cancelled, so it’ll be at the box office if you want it.”
“Thanks,” she said. Andy opened the door for her, and she paused close enough that she could smell Andy’s shampoo. “I almost forgot. I brought you these from Pike Place.” She handed Andy a sack of cinnamon-sugar mini-doughnuts.
Andy peered in the bag. “I thought these were sold by the half dozen, but there are only three in here,” she said suspiciously. “Do you have cinnamon on your breath?”
Brooke gave a half laugh, half sob of relief. That sounded so much like her old Andy that she felt a renewed hope they could work things out. “You tell me,” Brooke said and gave her a quick kiss on the mouth. “Now go finish your practice.”
Brooke walked away, torn between hope and dejection. Andy said they could talk, but one glance inside her apartment showed Brooke all traces of her presence had been wiped clean. Everything she had moved or touched was spotless and back in its proper place. She wondered if she had waited too long to make her choice, or if Andy might be willing to let Brooke disrupt her home and her life once more.
Chapter Twenty-five
Brooke arrived at the concert with David and Jonas, but separated from them so she could pick up her ticket at will call. She found a note from Andy clipped to the envelope, saying she needed to talk to her before the concert. Brooke showed the note to an usher near the door leading backstage and waited nervously for him to find Andy. She worried that it was a bad sign for Andy to summon her like this in a public place instead of waiting to see her tomorrow. She probably wanted to say they were through for good, Brooke decided, and get it out of the way so she could concentrate on her playing.
Andy finally appeared and pulled Brooke inside the door to an empty hallway as the usher returned to his post. They looked at each other in silence for a moment, the muffled sounds of the concertgoers reaching them through the door.
“I only have a few minutes, but I needed to talk to you,” Andy said, taking both of Brooke’s hands gently in her own. “I’ve been trying to figure out exactly how to put this, so can you just let me get it out before you say anything?”
Brooke just nodded mutely. She was afraid she might start crying if she made a sound, so she was glad to let Andy do the talking. She had been expecting the worst, so Andy’s first words took her by surprise.
“I love you, Brooke. I have probably since our first night together, but I didn’t realize it until Thanksgiving. I felt so close to you, but you still weren’t ready. Weren’t sure it was me you wanted.”
Andy paused. “I expected you to be at the same place, to be as ready to commit as I was. I felt like you were betraying me, but you never did. You never promised more than you gave, and you were always honest about needing until Christmas to decide.”
Andy squeezed Brooke’s hands and stepped a little closer. “I’ve made up my mind about us. I want you in my life, and I’m willing to take you on your own terms, not mine. I won’t organize your life, and I won’t try to force a commitment. You can have until Christmas, or Easter, or five years from now to make a decision if you need the time. No promises, no pressure, okay?”
Brooke barely managed a nod before the door opened and Adrienne came into the hall.
“Good evening, Andrea,” she said before smiling at Brooke. “And this must be your muse?”
Andy introduced them while making no move to hide their joined hands. Brooke had been fairly confident in her dismissal of Lyssa’s stories, but she didn’t mind having her faith in Andy confirmed. “I hate to break into your conversation, but we need to prepare,” Adrienne said. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Brooke. I hope you enjoy the concert, and I hope you can hear it when Andrea truly plays for you alone.”
“I have to go,” Andy said quietly, tucking a strand of Brooke’s hair behind her ear. “Will I see you after?”
“I’ll be waiting,” Brooke whispered, pulling Andy into a tight hug. “Good luck.”
Adrienne linked her arm companionably through Andy’s as they headed down the hall. Brooke pushed through the door and made her way over to Andy’s friends. She saw the other members of the quartet apparently engaged in a heated discussion. Jonas, Nancy, and a woman Brooke guessed was Tina’s latest stood to one side and watched the argument.
Jonas came over as she approached.
“You’re smiling,” he said with an answering grin. “I take it you won’t need a ride back home tonight?”
“I hope not,” Brooke said. “But I’ll have to let you know after the concert.”
They walked over to the group. Their brief argument was apparently over, and they had drawn Nancy and Tina’s date into their discussion. Brooke listened to the conversation as it jumped rapidly from topic to topic. She had been so focused on her own identity over the past months, she hadn’t noticed that Andy was already surrounded by a seemingly incongruous mix of friends.
“So how did Andy get involved with this quartet?” Brooke asked. “You’re all so different. I guess I would have expected her to join a group of people more like her.”
“Silly Brooke,” David said as he put an arm around her shoulders. “Andy didn’t join our group, she picked us to join her. She claimed she wa
nted four unique styles because we’d make the music more interesting, but I think she simply found us too charming to resist.”
*
Andy struggled to focus as Adrienne gathered the soloists together before the concert. The joy of seeing Brooke’s smile again, the feel of her in Andy’s arms, distracted her from the night ahead. Luckily, Adrienne’s words managed to bring her back to the music she was about to play.
“I want to impress upon you the importance of tonight’s concert,” Adrienne began. “When Amy Beach and Rebecca Clarke were composing, many people thought it was improper for women to write music. There were even people who did not believe they could possibly have written these works without a man’s help. And when Ellen Taaffe Zwilich was born in 1939, many large orchestras still wouldn’t allow women to join, yet she ended up being the first woman to win a Pulitzer Prize for music. For the very symphony we are playing this evening, as you know.”
She paused and looked at the four of them. “You deserve to play these sonatas because you are excellent musicians, not simply because you are women. But when you are onstage, remember that it has often been a battle to give women this opportunity to perform. Be grateful for those who fought for the right to fully express themselves musically, or in any other form. I know you will make me proud tonight, but do not perform for me. Perform for your composers, so that their work will live on.”
“Jesus,” Andy muttered when Adrienne glided away. “What the hell kind of pep talk was that?”
“I was nervous enough without thinking that I’m playing for all womankind,” Joan, Lyssa’s pianist, agreed. Even Lyssa looked a little pale after the speech.
Andy jumped when she and Maggie, her pianist, were called to the stage. They stood in the wings waiting for their entrance, and Andy nervously wiped her sweaty palms on her black pants.