by Hope Franke
“Do you have any ideas?” Sebastian shot back. Why was he the one who always had to come up with a start?
Karl unstrapped his guitar. “You know what, Seb? This funk you’re in? Let me know when you’re over it.” He left the rehearsal without looking back.
“That went well,” Markus said. “Should I be looking for a new gig?”
“No man,” Sebastian said. He unstrapped his guitar and laid it in the case. “We’ll work it out. It’s just a lot is going on at once.”
Sebastian killed the lights and locked up. “Hey, Markus. Can I catch a ride home?” He could take transit, but that would mean facing the public, which was always a crap shoot. Chances were he’d get home without issue, but there was always a chance he’d get mobbed by fans.
Markus dropped him off in front of his building. He hesitated at his front door. He wasn’t ready to face his empty flat. He didn’t want to be alone right now. He wanted Yvonne. He knew she blew him off when she said she was tired. But she was just angry. She’d have cooled off by now. He needed to apologize for assuming she’d drop everything and follow him. If he did that, she’d snuggle under his arm and kiss him. Maybe she’d ask him to stay the night. He swiftly walked the four blocks to her building.
He stopped at the corner when he spotted her leaving her building. She wore shorts and a light summer sweater. Her short pink hair was spiked up on top. Someone followed out from behind her and at first Sebastian thought it was another tenant. But the guy stopped and gripped her hand. Sebastian’s heart dropped. There was no mistaking who it was. He’d recognize that tall, thin form and mess of dark hair anywhere. What was Yvonne doing with Karl?
Karl lifted Yvonne off her feet and kissed her. A bomb went off in Sebastian’s heart. His legs moved without his bidding, and within seconds he tugged his girlfriend out of his best friend’s arms and right hooked him in the face.
Eva spent a couple days stewing over what Gabriele had said, but hid her bitterness by keeping a soft expression and smiling at appropriate times. Gabriele was a whirlwind of joy, more than enough to compensate for Eva’s lack of happiness.
At least she thought she was pulling it off.
“Seriously, Eva! You need to snap out of this blue mood you’re in. You’re raining on my parade.”
“What? I’m not doing anything to you.”
“Kind of my point. I’m about to get married and you are supposed to be happy for me.”
“I am happy for you.”
“If that were true, you’d be asking how you could help. You’d be interested in the details. Instead, you hole away in this room like everyone has a life but you.”
Everyone did have a life but her.
“Mama and Papa baby you, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to. So make some decisions, Eva. Do something.”
She hated Gabriele in that moment. Because the truth hurt. She had let her accident define her. She focused more on what she couldn’t do than what she could. She worried about what people thought and that if she looked slow and stupid. She saw herself ten years from now, still living with her parents, working in the soup kitchen, and with no boyfriend or husband or children to show for it.
If that happened it would be her fault.
What did she want to do? Her eyes landed on her guitar and she knew. She wanted to play at the Blue Note. It wasn’t a big decision like what to study at university, but it was a start. And she was afraid of it, so it was the first step to facing her fears. Open mic night was tonight. The fact that she kept track of that proved she should do this. She limped to her chair and began to play her latest song, and imagining herself performing it in front of a crowd.
She’d talked herself in and out of it a hundred times throughout the day, but at eight o’clock that evening she arrived at the Blue Note and signed her name. She sat in an empty chair near the door and held on to her guitar like her life depended on it. Maybe it did. The room around her buzzed with energy. The chatter of the patrons, clinking of beer and wine glasses, money being exchanged, energy of anticipation filling the place as each artist was called and performed. Eva felt strangely distant from the commotion, like she was a caterpillar in a transparent cocoon. The membrane squeezed her, taunting her. She wasn’t one of them. She was alone and invisible.
Herr Leduc called her name, and it was like a clanging bell. Her body froze, prickling with nerves and she swallowed dryly.
“Eva Baumann?” the pub manager called again. His eyes were on her face, and she subtly shook her head.
He called the next name and she shrunk further, growing smaller and more insignificant, the membrane squeezing the air out of her lungs. She felt dizzy and feared she faint. The magnitude of another humiliation caused her to take a huge breath, and she mentally tore out of the cocoon. Not so gracefully, she lumbered out, gripping her cane and guitar, head down, her long, straight hair sheathing her face.
Eva cried throughout the night, but put on a happy face the next morning. She asked Gabriele if she could help with the wedding plans, and Gabriele smiled. “So glad you asked, Eva. I have a million things to do, including studying for my exams.”
Eva checked the website of Hollow Fellows like she did every day. They were still in Neustadt apparently. Sebastian didn’t update the site, their manager did, and the latest entry was two days ago—an update on their interview schedule and new photos from a recent photo shoot. Eva kept her eye out for him when her mother sent her to the bakery for buns in the morning, but she suspected he slept in late.
She went back to the Blue Note on the next open mic night. Sebastian never seemed to be there anymore. He was too famous to show up at that venue now, she supposed. She signed up to sing again.
And again she shook her head no. She refused the next two times as well, and she knew it was becoming a bit of a running joke with the regulars. But she didn’t care. She’d shown up. She’d celebrate that small victory.
Maybe if she invited Annette to come along with her, it’d give her a sense of accountability. She’d be there to push her to perform. It was the very reason she hadn’t told her friend and invited her before, but Eva knew that if she wanted to make it to the next step in her personal journey, this was something she had to face and conquer.
Annette was more than happy to attend with Eva. She gripped Eva’s hand as they sat at a small table together.
“I can’t believe you’ve been coming here all this time. Alone!”
“I’ve never played. I always chicken out at the last minute.”
“But you came, and that’s something. And tonight you will play.”
Eva’s heart thrummed in her chest. Her breaths were short and tight and she hoped she wouldn’t hyperventilate.
Annette ordered them each a beer. “I think you need this, Eva. You don’t want to dehydrate, and it’ll help calm your nerves.”
Eva sipped her beer and concentrated on breathing. In. Out. Herr Leduc sighed before calling her name, his gentle eyes landing on her once again.
“Go, Eva,” Annette said, pushing gently on her back. “You’re going to do great!”
Eva stood and Herr Leduc smiled. He gave her an encouraging wave and somehow Eva managed to limp through the crowded, dimly lit room, guitar and cane in hand, without tripping.
The stage lights blinded her and she was glad she couldn’t really see anyone. She rested her cane against a stool, strapped on her guitar and stood in front of the mic. The crowd quieted, and she sensed the people’s anxiety. Would they feel embarrassed for her? She hoped not.
She closed her eyes and took a breath. She could do this.
“Sebastian, wait!” Yvonne’s tinny voice called out to him, and he heard the clopping of her shoes in quick succession as she ran after him on the sidewalk. He didn’t stop or turn to look at her. She made him sick.
Sebastian rubbed a hand roughly across his face. His head throbbed as if he were the one who’d been hit. The pain shooting up his arm testified that Karl had indeed
been the recipient of the punch.
He struggled to process the information he’d gained in the last two minutes. His girlfriend was cheating on him with his best friend. How incredibly cliché!
Yvonne grabbed his arm, and he tugged it back sharply, eying her with a blistering glare of disbelief and disgust. “You and Karl?”
“It’s not what it looks like.”
“What was it then? That wasn’t a kiss between friends. You said you were too tired to be with me. Clearly, you lied.”
“I’m sorry, Basti.”
Sebastian stopped to consider her. Tears ran down her face, and he struggled to remember if he’d ever seen her cry in the six years they’d been together.
“Why?” he asked simply.
“I don’t know. It was stupid. I was feeling bored, and I was angry that you put your career before us. You’re gone all the time.”
“Karl is gone as much as I am.” Was she acting out to get back at him?
“I know. I said I’m sorry. Please, Basti.” Yvonne clasped his hand and Sebastian stared at it for a moment before pulling it free.
“I never cheated on you, Yvonne. Not once. And I could’ve. On tour? Girls are throwing themselves at me all the time. But I didn’t.”
Yvonne sniffled. “What can I do to make this better?”
“How long have you been sneaking around?”
“Basti…”
“Tell me the truth.”
Yvonne stared at the sidewalk, and then glanced back at her building where Karl leaned against the door, his hand covering one eye as he watched them with the other.
“Two months,” she whispered.
Two months? That was before their last tour even started. The whole time Sebastian was on the road, staying loyal, Yvonne had already started something with Karl. Karl was the one who’d hooked up with groupies. This was why he had been so adamant that she not come along with him on their next tour.
“We’re over.”
“Basti, no!”
Sebastian stared at her small fist on his arm, and he grimaced. Yvonne’s grip loosened and she shrank back under his steely glare.
He didn’t care that he left Yvonne sobbing in public. He was glad she felt some pain. Hopefully, it equaled the scorching burn inflaming his shredded heart.
He walked briskly around the block, keeping his eyes averted when he passed anyone, thankful for the dark of night. He really didn’t feel like going home. What he needed was a good strong drink.
How could Karl do this to him? They’d been friends since they were eleven years old. They’d shared dreams about starting a band and making it big one day. They were inseparable in those days.
Then, when Sebastian was seventeen, he’d met Yvonne. She was in his advanced math class. It wasn’t love at first sight, or anything. She didn’t actually talk much, but she was a good listener. She was there when his dad kicked him out of the house. She was the one who knew some guys who were looking for a roommate, and she helped him find a place to live.
They just kind of happened. He was grateful for everything she’d done for him and he eventually fell in love with her. Karl watched the whole thing unfold, and the closer Sebastian got to Yvonne, the testier Karl got with him. He and Karl argued over her; Karl said Yvonne was like their Yoko Ono, bad for the band. They didn’t talk to each other for three days after that fight, and then Karl admitted to being jealous. He showed up the next day with a new girlfriend on his arm, and all was forgotten.
At least, that was what Sebastian had believed.
What a mess. Dirk expected them to write music for their next CD and Sebastian couldn’t even picture being in the same room with Karl right now. Or ever.
A door opened ahead of him and Sebastian heard the sound of applause. He looked up, surprised to find the sound was coming from the Blue Note. Somehow he’d found his way back to a place of comfort and familiarity. Maurice sold good beer, too.
He slipped inside, grabbed an open stool at the bar and ordered a drink. He pulled his cap low, keeping to the shadows of the darkened room. He took a moment to catch his breath, and wrap up the pain and anger to a manageable size. When his drink arrived, he gulped it back. He ordered another, determined to put Karl and Yvonne out of his mind. They weren’t worth his time. He wasn’t worth it. She definitely wasn’t worth it.
Maybe if he drank enough, he’d believe it by morning.
Maurice was on the stage calling the next act, and Sebastian watched with interest as a slender girl with shoulder-length brown hair and a limp made her way to the stage. It was awkward to watch her maneuver up the lone step, cane in one hand and guitar in the other. She managed to sort it all out and Sebastian caught his breath when she faced the audience. It was the girl from the soup kitchen. Now he remembered where he’d seen her. It was here. Maurice had called her name, but she refused to go on. He’d had a good laugh at her expense.
Looked like she finally found her courage. He worried that she might have stage fright, that she might not be any good. A lot of the acts weren’t. For some reason, he found that he really wanted her to be good.
She plucked the strings of her guitar, and her skill was immediately evident. It wasn’t a simple picking pattern and Sebastian focused on her fingers, taking in the sophisticated melody. She opened her mouth and her voice filled the room. The song was magnetic. The lyrics, haunting. The way the light glowed around the girl made her look ethereal and angelic.
By the time the song ended, Sebastian Weiss was enthralled. Who was this girl?
Thought I came to wet my lips
Maybe cool my feet
But you pushed me from behind
Thought I came to our safe place
By the riverside
Now I’m swimming
For a moment it feels so good
I am floating free
But the current and these clothes are against me
Body weakens, mind races I am far at sea
Nobody hears me
Now I fight to find the surface
Will my lungs explode
Heavy water pushing down on me
Your hand reaches in rescue
Then melts away
Now I am drowning
Now I’m weightless, now I’m breathless
Now you have your way
Feel the water flowing through my veins
This liquid embrace, this consummation
You are the water I breathe
Eva didn’t open her eyes once. Even after her last strum, she kept them close. The silence that settled on the room terrified her until dramatically, it erupted with the sound of clapping and cheering, at which point, Eva’s eyes sprung open.
She couldn’t make out faces but she could make out bodies. One by one they stood until the whole room was standing.
Her hand clasped her mouth and she blinked back tears. A standing ovation?
“So beautiful, ma Cherie,” Herr Leduc said as he approached, surprising her by giving her a quick bear hug. “I will assist you back to your table if you don’t mind. The crowd is wild for you and may not give you the space you need.”
She nodded and smiled. She didn’t mind.
“Excuse us,” Herr Leduc said loudly, “talented lady coming through!”
Annette gave her an excited squeeze before Eva finally collapsed into her chair. Her nerves shot off as she became aware of all the stares. Out of habit, she allowed a wall of hair to cover her face.
“None of that, Eva!” Annette said. She reached over and pushed Eva’s hair behind her ear. “You were amazing! You must stay in the moment and enjoy it!”
Herr Leduc called the next act and gradually the room quieted and refocused their attention to the guy on the stage. “Well, that’s a tough act to follow,” he said lightly.
After being somewhat blinded by the stage lights, Eva’s eyes adjusted once again to the darkness. Candlelight flickered, casting a warm glow on Annette’s face. Eva was so glad she’d invi
ted her friend to come along. Otherwise she wouldn’t have done it.
She basked in the euphoria, feeling stronger than she had in months. Years even. Then her gaze landed on a figure sitting at the bar. The man’s eyes bore into hers and she quickly looked away. Her heart hit the floor, bounced and ricocheted off the ceiling. She knew that face. She dared to look back and the guy’s gaze hadn’t shifted. He was watching her. Sebastian Weiss was watching her. He’d seen her play.
“Are you all right?” Annette asked. “You look spooked.” Then she turned to find what had captured Eva’s attention.
Annette swiveled back to Eva, her eyes wide with excitement. “No way!”
“Oh my heart, Annette. He’s coming over.”
Sebastian Weiss slid into the seat next to Eva and she felt like dying. Perhaps she could slip out of sight under the table? He leaned in so close she could smell his soap. Her hands trembled and she hid them on her lap.
“That was fantastic,” Sebastian said in a low voice. He leaned in close, his breath tickled her ear and she nearly melted. “The song, your voice—really hit me.” He pounded his chest over his heart. “Right here. Did you write that?”
Eva nodded. She felt light-headed, like she was floating from the ceiling watching someone else have a conversation with Sebastian Weiss. Well, it would be a conversation if she could actually say something.
To Eva’s surprise, he said, “I saw you the other day.”
She dared a glance at him. When? She was sure he hadn’t seen her when Annette waved at him from her window.
“In that soup kitchen,” he offered. “You were playing guitar.”
Oh man, if she could just move her tongue. Form at least one word.
“I’d like to see you again,” he said. Eva couldn’t hide her startled look and he quickly added. “To talk music.”
The act on the stage ended, so they were forced to break from the awkward chat and applaud. Annette shouted at Sebastian now that the room had grown loud. “I love your music!”