Seven Days

by Charles, Rhoda

  “Well, thank you. I’m sorry you had such a bad night. I missed you, too.”

  “Aww, go on. You didn’t even notice I wasn’t there.”

  He’d noticed. He’d been waiting for her all night. “Not true. We could have used your calming presence,” he said and gave her a quick summary of the night, pausing periodically to wait for Cera’s giggles to die down as he described the evening’s events.

  “I’m trying to picture Milan alone at the bar. I’m so sorry I missed it. All the good stuff happens when I’m not around. I’m going to have to do something about that.” She reached up to adjust the scarf she wore in hair. It managed to hold back just enough of her halo of golden brown curls to allow her a clear view of her face.

  “We’ll have to make up for it tonight. Okay?”

  “Okay. What are we going to do?” she asked without hesitating.

  “I have no idea. But I am sure we can find some trouble to get into.”

  Julian could only guess at Milan’s mood. He hadn’t spoken to her since the night before. He waited patiently for her to open the door while holding the two packages of Chinese food he’d picked up on the way over to her apartment. He was greeted with loud silence. “Hi,” he said.

  She looked him over for a few seconds, taking in the bags he was holding, her hand still on the knob. “What’s this?”

  “Dinner.”

  She raised an eyebrow, swung the door open, turned and went down the hall leaving Julian standing alone in the doorway. He walked inside and kicked the door shut with his foot. “This is going to be a fun night,” he muttered.

  He placed his packages on the dining table and then followed the sound of the television down the hall and into her bedroom, where he found her propped up in the bed staring at the screen. She didn’t bother to acknowledge his presence at all, so he decided to make himself comfortable. He removed his jacket and tossed it on the bed. Her eyes focused on the discarded item for a second and then returned to the screen.

  He plopped down crosswise at the end of the bed so that he was laying perpendicular to her with her feet touching his stomach. He got little response even though he was now right in front of her and she had to look past him to see the TV. He turned his head to see what she was watching. Julia Robert’s recognizable smile flashed across the screen.

  Oh God, Pretty Woman.

  He took a deep breath and turned back to Milan. She had been watching him but crossed her legs at the ankles and looked away when he turned around. He continued his efforts to force a response from her. He put his left hand on her shin and slowly started to rub her leg. She ignored him and he decided to try a different strategy.

  “Do you want to eat in here or in the living room?”

  “Who says I want to eat at all?”

  “I brought your favorite. Chicken lo mein. I even got chopsticks.”

  No response.

  “Hey, you remember that time when we went to that Chinese restaurant and we—”

  “I am trying to watch a movie, Julian. Do you not see the TV on?”

  “Yeah, I see it,” he said, “I also know that you’ve seen this movie a hundred times and can recite it verbatim from memory backwards.”

  Milan rolled her eyes and reached for the remote control to raise the volume. Julian grabbed her wrist and held it against the bed. “You are obviously mad at me. Why don’t you just go ahead and tell me in words what you’re trying so hard to say in actions.”

  “Let go of my arm, Julian,” she tried to pull away but couldn’t. “Julian! Let me go!” He relaxed his grip and let her pull away.

  “God, you are such a jerk!”

  “There you go,” he said smiling, “let me have it.”

  “Do you know what time it is?” she picked up the little alarm clock that was on her night table and tossed it at him. “I could have been dead for all you care!”

  “You’re not dead. Geez!”

  “You left me at that bar last night to find my own way home. Did you even wonder how I got home?” she asked. “Then you come in here with greasy food, demanding that I eat?” she stopped and waited for an answer. “What is that?”

  “It’s me trying to apologize.”

  “Yeah, it’s working,” she said with obvious sarcasm.

  “I’m sorry about last night.”

  She was quiet for a few minutes. “You left me at the bar.”

  “I know.”

  There was no excuse for what he did, no words to make it better.

  “How could you do that? And why?”

  Julian didn’t know how to answer. “I was in a bad mood. I don’t know.”

  She looked at the screen, unhappy with his non-answer.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “You know I’m sorry.”

  “All I know is that that hooker,” she pointed to the television, “gets more respect from her boyfriend than I do from mine!”

  They sat in silence for a while. Julian couldn’t think of anything to say because there was a note of truth in her words. Leaving her at the bar like that was a pretty ignorant thing to do. He didn’t even know why she had gotten on his nerves so much last night, only that she had. Now, coming over here with bags of Chinese food to appease her, he felt like the jerk she accused him of being.

  She was right, too. Sure he knew now that Luke had taken her home, but last night he hadn’t even thought about it. She had disappeared and he had dismissed her. Shining a light on it at this moment, he was really surprised that he hadn’t even thought about her. He had assumed she was okay and went on with his evening.

  Milan had turned her attention back to the movie. Onscreen, Richard Gere was timidly climbing up the fire escape to Julia with a rose in his mouth. Julian watched Richard declare his love for the hooker with a heart of gold. What am I doing?

  Milan hit the rewind button on the remote and the VCR started whirring. She got out of the bed and left the room, disgust written all over her face. He found her in the dining room forking lo mein noodles into a plate. He wrapped his arms around her waist from behind and rested his chin on her left shoulder.

  “I am truly sorry, Milan,” he apologized again. “You are one hundred-percent correct. I behaved badly and I’m sorry I left you.” She leaned into him a little. “And I’m sorry if I embarrassed you,” he hugged her a little tighter. “I hope you’ll forgive me.”

  They clung to each other for a few minutes. Milan heard genuine remorse in Julian’s voice and felt it in the way he was holding her, but she was worried. How could he have just left her there last night? He hadn’t even called to see if she was okay. It took him all day to make any kind of effort to contact her. She was his fiancée! They were getting married in less than a week.

  Milan turned around in his arms, “I know you think I’m overreacting—and I probably am,” she began, “but I don’t understand why you were so upset with me and quite frankly I’m a little hurt by your apparent lack of concern. I mean, Julian, we’re getting married soon. Is this what I have to look forward to?”

  He gave her the respect of maintaining eye contact as she spoke and she saw the impact her words had on him. She was absolutely right and she knew he knew it, yet instead of admitting that, he dodged the issue.

  “Please don’t make this into something bigger that it is. Yes, I overreacted to something you said. Honestly, I think it had more to do with Rhys than with you.”

  “Rhys? What do you mean?”

  “I’m not sure. I guess it’s just that now he’s back it’s all becoming really real to me. We’re getting married. Rhys is my Best Man. He’s here and it’s going to happen.”

  She stiffened, “And that’s not good? What are you trying to say? Are you having second thoughts?”

  “No, no. Don’t misunderstand me,” his arms tightened around her waist, locking her in place, “It is good. It’s great. It’s just that I wanted everything and everyone to be happy last night. Perfect, particularly for you, and it wasn’t turning o
ut that way. I guess that turned me into Idiot Julian.”

  Good, he was finally starting to get it. “Big, dumb, idiot Julian!” she agreed and saw the corners of his mouth twitch briefly.

  “I took it out on you. I’m sorry,” he leaned down and rested his forehead against hers, “forgive me?”

  She nodded, “I guess so.”

  He pulled her so that she was flush against him and they swayed slightly together, he asking forgiveness, she giving it. They’d worked it out. That’s what couples did, right? Even so, standing in her dining room with the man she was going to marry, Milan was uneasy. She couldn’t deny the feeling that Julian was having doubts and it was making her very nervous.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “So this is the club,” Rhys said with admiration.

  “Yep. It sure is,” Cera said quietly.

  She had brought him to a small brick building in Chestnut Hill with an inside that was the color of burnished wood. Gold and russet finishings highlighted the room, which was more long than wide, yet somehow not narrow. Small cocktail tables were arranged throughout the room, all facing a small raised stage whose main occupant was a gleaming black baby grand piano. It was intimate, but not crowded, atmospheric, but not pretentious. It was Cera all over.

  “It’s great. It really is.”

  “Thank you” she said.

  Cera’s whole body felt like it was smiling. She was so happy. She had finally made her dream come true and she couldn’t quite believe it. She was actually standing here in her very own club. Even the few customers seated in various tables and booths didn’t seem to convince her that she had really done it.

  She had been working so hard on getting the place together that it was hard to believe that things had really worked out. Now standing unobtrusively in the shadows, she watched Rhys take in the place.

  Rhys was the first of her friends that she had told about the club. In her own neurotic way, Cera hadn’t wanted to tell anyone about opening her own piano bar until she had actually done it. She feared jinxing it, though she wasn’t remotely superstitious. She had put all of herself into this place and it was a big risk. If it didn’t work out she would lose her entire inheritance, and then she’d have nothing.

  Watching Rhys take in the place, Cera realized how glad she was that he had come back home. If anyone could appreciate this club, it was Rhys. She knew exactly when he saw the centerpiece of the whole place. He walked over and smoothed his hand against the black wood of the piano, which stood alone and silent on the stage. He ran his fingers lightly over the ivory keys, caressing them so they wouldn’t make a sound.

  Rhys caught Cera’s eye with a toothy grin and a gleam in his eyes and silently asked permission to play. She inclined her head, watching him slide onto the bench to test out the instrument.

  Cera had always enjoyed watching Rhys play. He was like a different person—totally free of whatever responsibilities and obligations tugged at him. He seemed to physically lighten as if he were floating above himself. A peaceful smile settled on his face while he was playing and she knew he was lost in the moment.

  Music filled the room and echoed off the walls. Some of the customers paused in their intense conversations to listen to Rhys, while others kept eating without seeming to notice. At the moment, she did not care what her customers were experiencing. Rhys had come to life in front of her eyes and that was something she would not miss.

  Rhys finished his warm up with a flourish and was surprised to hear a smattering of applause. He looked around and remembered that there were other people in the room besides Cera. He was a little embarrassed and smiled sheepishly at his audience.

  Cera slid onto the bench next to him, put her arm around his shoulder and gave him a quick squeeze. “You were great. I’m always amazed by how good you are.”

  “You better stop it. You’re giving me a big head.”

  Rhys truly was a little self-conscious, but he had to admit he had enjoyed himself. It had been a long time since he’d played. Living in New York, he didn’t have access to a piano and he missed playing.

  “Impossible,” she said. “Go on. Play something else.”

  Rhys moved his fingers across the keys and filled the room with music once again. He played an upbeat, modern tune and Cera started to hum along until one of the customers came onstage and requested a song. Caught up in the moment, Rhys and Cera looked at each other as the woman returned to her seat and Cera broke out into giggles.

  “I am so happy right now.”

  She didn’t need to tell him, he saw it all over her. She leaned toward him and pressed a kiss on his cheek, “Thank you. You were the magic that I needed to make this place work. My piano bar is now complete with requests!”

  Cera reached behind the curtain at the side of the stage and pulled out the microphone stand, which was hidden there.

  “Ready?”

  Rhys nodded and started to play. Cera came in right on cue. Her rich voice melded nicely with the tones of the piano. She was watching him closely, looking for cues as to what he was going to do next and he decided to let himself stretch; he knew she could keep up with him.

  It had been a long time since they had goofed around like this. He worried for a moment that they’d make fools of themselves. Somehow, that didn’t happen. They were right in sync with each other and managed to finish their impromptu performance with panache.

  Rhys looked around the applauding audience and saw smiling faces looking at them with admiration and acceptance. The mood in the club was electric. He couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride in the fact that these strangers had judged him and found him worthy based on what they had seen of him—not on what they had expected of him. He felt at home sitting on that piano bench, doing what he loved best as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

  He took Cera’s hand and kissed the back of her palm. She was the true magic. He hadn’t felt this good in a long time and it was because of Cera. She was the reason that he finally felt like he had come home.

  They stayed at Cera’s Place until closing, continuing to sing off and on throughout the evening and occasionally surrendering the mic to other talented folks in the room. The sweetest music of the night, however, was what Cera heard standing by the door as people left: the repeated refrain of how much the evening had been enjoyed and promises to return with friends.

  When the last customer was gone, Cera turned the lock and leaned her back against the door. Rhys was still sitting at the piano playing random chords as if composing a new piece.

  “I’ve been holding my breath for what seems like months,” Cera said, “but now I think I can finally breathe!” She whirled around in a circle and then ran across the room and bounded onto the stage.

  “I’d say that’s probably a good idea. Cera’s Place is a success!” Rhys emphasized his point with an appropriate flourish of triumphant trills. “Congratulations.”

  She was quiet for a few moments taking in the moment. “Come on. Let’s go before I wake up from this dream.”

  It was late when they got to Cera’s home, so she suggested that he stay over rather than call a cab.

  “You know what I’m in the mood for?”

  Rhys had no idea. He waited for her to answer the question rather than guess.

  “Hot chocolate,” she said with a devilish grin on her face. “Would you mind making us some while I change?”

  “Sure, no problem,” Rhys said, but she was already out the door. He fumbled his way around her kitchen until he found what he needed. It had been a while since he’d been a regular visitor and knew where everything was. He made two steaming cups of cocoa and brought them into the living room.

  Cera came out of her room bundled up in cotton jammies. She handed him an old tee shirt and a blanket.

  “This might be more comfortable to sleep in,” she said, “and this is the softest blanket I own.”

  He recognized the gray shirt immediately, the big blue V recognizable to any Vi
llanova alumnus. She had given it to him freshman year and he’d worn it all through college. And after.

  Rhys cleared the sudden lump in his throat, “Yeah, this will be great.”

  She turned away as he swapped shirts. He draped the blanket around his body and sat on the floor with his back against the sofa. Cera, wrapped up in a blanket of her own, sat in the armchair facing Rhys and sipped her cocoa.

  As late as it was, he wasn’t tired and didn’t think she was either. They started talking like the old friends they were and spent most of the night touching on everything from Cera’s fears about the club to what color nail polish she preferred.

  Things took a serious turn when Cera asked him about his life in New York. Maybe, if he hadn’t been half-asleep by that time, he wouldn’t have shared what he’d promised himself he would keep secret.

  “You want to know something?” he started, “I really hate New York.”

  “Oh come on!” Cera wasn’t buying it.

  “No, I mean it,” Rhys said seriously and Cera narrowed her eyes at him. “New York is for a different kind of person than who I am. I just could never get into the whole mentality—that whole ‘I’m so cool’ thing. It was all so fake,” he paused, “I didn’t like it. I don’t like it.”

  “Wow, I figured you had would have fit right in. There’s so much opportunity for a guy with your talent to really find his place,” she stopped to sip her cocoa and, Rhys thought, to digest what he’d just shared. “Did you get to play at all when you were there? I know you went to be Joe Businessman but it’s also a haven for artists.”

  “No, which is weird. I felt really cut off from the one thing that I really enjoyed. I was so busy all the time too. Work took a lot of my time and I didn’t have too much time to experience the softer side of the city I guess. If there even is one.”