Saved By The Music

by Selene Castrovilla

  I checked the names on top. Mostly two names, husbands and wives. The signatures all seemed to be the wives’.

  “What is all this?” I asked.

  “Donations for your aunt’s barge, to finish it. That’s what rich folks do, to feel better about having so much. They make tax-deductible contributions. I just let them know, via Marianne, about the worthiness of Agatha’s cause.”

  “How’d she get so many, so fast?”

  “She probably worked a cocktail party.”

  I flipped through the checks. “Did you sleep with all of these women?” Oh my God, did I really ask that?

  He shrugged. “Probably not all of them. I haven’t looked at the names.” He pulled himself up, leaned against the counter. “I didn’t contact Marianne because of my history with her—though it helps that she owes me, I guess. That, and that I could technically have her arrested.”

  He shifted his feet and stared at them. He still wouldn’t look directly at me.

  “But really it was because she loves to climb up on her little soapbox and plead her case for her charity or arts organization of the month. She gets to be in the spotlight that way. So I knew she’d get the job done.”

  He breathed in and out deeply. “I just assumed she’d use a courier.”

  Another breath. “I told her to use one next time … a courier. I just … I just hope she does.”

  “You think she’ll come back?”

  “Let’s just say Marianne can be a bit persistent. And she was awfully glad to see me. She backed me into that pile of books… . ” He shuddered. Just then, he looked like a little boy, trying so hard to act tough, but not succeeding.

  “You should have her arrested. You made me press charges against Craig.”

  He let out a weak laugh. “Willow, when it happens to a girl, it’s sexual assault. When it happens to a boy, it’s a rite of passage. It’s a high five. “

  ”She shouldn’t be allowed to get away with it.”

  “The damage is done. And I’m sure my dad would be less than thrilled with having his best friend the councilman’s wife arrested for the rape of his son.”

  “Your dad wouldn’t be on your side?”

  He shook his head, still looking down. “No. No one would be on my side. There was no violence. No one held me down or beat me up. She said it to me just now, that I didn’t seem to mind. I didn’t. Until … something snapped.”

  “Where was your dad during all this?”

  “He was always working or something. Not hanging out with me, that’s for sure. I was raised by nannies… . I think the only criteria for getting their job was that they were hot.”

  “Hot?”

  ‘Yeah. Dad found time to visit whoever my nanny of the month was, in the middle of the night. I heard them, sometimes, when I woke up, couldn’t sleep, or took a walk around the house.”

  “That’s disgusting.”

  “Yeah, well. It gets worse. Because dear Marianne wasn’t my first. When I was twelve … one of my nannies …”

  I was speechless, again. What could really be said about all this? I mean, besides all the moral crap he knew without me spouting it.

  I kissed him on the cheek. “Axel, I’m gonna tell you what you keep telling me. It’s not your fault.”

  “Thanks.” He attempted to smile, but it looked more like a grimace. “The only problem is, it’s not about guilt for me. It’s about the weight. Life’s just too heavy to bear.”

  I totally knew what he meant.

  * * *

  We finally sat down to eat breakfast. Axel grabbed up the Caesar and Brutus salt and pepper shakers and chucked them into the trash without comment. I remembered he’d said they were a gift, and now I knew from whom.

  I actually ate more than I wanted to—almost all of my eggs—because I didn’t want to give Axel any more grief. He was really worried about me.

  He drank a whole pot of coffee. I guess it was better than drinking vodka.

  I was really worried about him.

  Weren’t we the pair?

  Finally, it was time to tackle the hair. I thought about taking another shower, but the last one hadn’t been so thrilling, so I figured I’d put it off another day and give the bruises a break.

  I wet my hair, then went back in the bedroom and sprayed the heck out of it with the anti-tangle stuff. No more knots, it promised. Sure, all you had to do is actually comb your hair out sometime before it dried.

  I managed to get the top layer smoothed before my arm bruises throbbed so much I had to stop. What lay beneath would have to stay unattended for now.

  Then, I took off Axel’s baggy clothes.

  I was dressed in my own clothes, had semi-brushed out hair… . You’d think I’d feel better. I didn’t. It just doesn’t work that way.

  Then there was a knock at the door. Oh, good. What could it be now?

  Axel called, “There’s a police officer here, Willow.”

  Fabulous.

  “He’s one of the guys from the other night, at the hospital. Can you come out?”

  I could … but I didn’t want to. Those cops saw me at the lowest point of my life, and I was only slightly higher now. The only person less desirable was Dr. Personality at the hospital. And Craig.

  “Willow, did you hear me?”

  “Yeah.” I sat on the bed, trying to calm my speeding heart. There was no reason to be uptight, after all. Nothing was my fault, so how could anything bother me?

  Yeah, okay.

  “Are you coming?”

  “Yeah.”

  I must not have sounded very convincing, because Axel said, “Can I come in there for a minute?”

  “Yeah.”

  The door opened. Axel stepped in and closed it again. He sat next to me, put an arm around me. “It’s not a big deal. He just wants to update you on what’s going on.”

  “Is—is he out?” I didn’t know if I wanted Craig to be out or not. I felt bad at the thought of him in jail, and I felt threatened at the thought of him out.

  “No.”

  “He’s been locked up all this time?”

  “Yeah.” Axel didn’t seem too choked up about that. “C’mon, it’ll take two minutes. You’ll get some closure.”

  “Closure?” I doubted I’d ever close the door on Craig, but I got up anyway.

  I didn’t even remember the cop in the galley as one of the cops from the hospital. That’s how messed up I’d been. He was young, in his twenties. Nice eyes, sympathetic. You’d think I’d recognize them, but I didn’t.

  “Hello, Miss Moon. How are you doing?”

  I stared for a moment, holding back several sarcastic answers that came to mind. “Um … all right, I guess.” There you go.

  He smiled. “Glad to hear that.”

  So glad I could make you glad. That makes it all worthwhile. I must have been recuperating, because my inner obnoxiousness was making a comeback.

  I just nodded.

  He continued, “I’m here to inform you … ” Good lord, cops could be so formal! “that Mr. Craig Culligan has entered a plea arrangement in the matter of his sexual assault on your person.”

  Okay, did we have to bring that up again? I knew why Mr. Craig Culligan had been arrested.

  He went on, “Mr. Culligan is beginning his sentence of two to four years immediately.”

  “Two to four years?” I asked, shocked. “He’s going to jail for two to four years?”

  “Ma’am, the assistant district attorney felt that even though he had a prior record, in the interest of sparing you testimony—”

  “No, no. I’m not complaining about too little time. I’m saying … good God, he’s going to spend the next two to four years of his life behind bars?”

  “Yes, Ms. Moon. That’s correct.”

  That had to suck. Had he really done something so awful to me that he deserved that? I led him on… .

  “Okay, officer. Thanks for letting us know.” Axel shook the cop’s hand and sent
him on his way, and fast.

  Then he came over to me, lifted my chin, and stared into my eyes. Funny how he could do that when the pressure was off him.

  “Don’t you dare feel sorry for him. I saw you run for your life. Do you realize that?”

  Big surprise, I was crying again.

  Axel said, “Why is it you have compassion for him, but not for yourself? Aren’t you allowed any sympathy?”

  I didn’t answer.

  I didn’t actually know the answer, but I suspected that it was no.

  * * *

  So I cried another river into Axel’s shirt. It’s a shame they couldn’t collect my tears to use in the next water shortage.

  I was just pulling myself together when we heard a knock at the hatch. Then “Helloooo, my dears!”

  By now, my head felt like it was going to spin off of my shoulders. “Axel … ”

  He patted my hands. “She’s gonna do better this time. You’ll see.”

  I sat on the bench and watched Aunt Agatha prance down the stairs in her tattered, paint-splotched sneakers. She ran over and hugged me. “Willow, are things improved today?”

  Did she want to hear the truth? Oh, what the hell. “Not really. Maybe a little.”

  “It takes time, sweetheart.”

  Did she really just say that?

  She grasped my hand for a moment, then released it.

  “I’m gonna go practice,” said Axel. He went into the bedroom and shut the door.

  Aunt Agatha seemed different, somehow. More relaxed. More allowing. Her whole body looked looser, and I swear to God, she was giving off this peaceful, forgiving aura. It was like one of those ocean waves subliminal tapes telling your subconscious over and over that things are going to be just swell.

  Her eyes were full of sympathy. She said, “When you were two, you were afraid to be alone. I used to watch you, sometimes, in that tenement where you lived before you moved to Long Island. And you were terrified that I was going to leave. You must have been left alone at some point.”

  From the bedroom came the sound of Axel’s stirring music. It sounded like his cello was crying.

  Aunt Agatha continued, “You’d go to sleep clutching my hand through the crib bars. If I even moved my fingers, you’d wake up and cry. I sat there for hours, holding your hand. I’m willing to do that now, Willow, if you need me.”

  I let out a tremendous sob and fell into her arms.

  Axel’s cello cried, and I cried, and Aunt Agatha held me close.

  She loved me, she really did. She loved me even though I wasn’t perfect and even though I’d screwed up my life, couldn’t wipe my mind clean, and I’d probably never be what anyone would describe as normal.

  She wasn’t going to leave.

  “Do you want to talk?” she asked when I’d stopped.

  “Not right now,” I said.

  “Whenever you’re ready,” she said.

  “Thanks.”

  We listened to Axel play. “That boy is such a talent. I hope he decides to go to Juilliard.”

  “Axel’s got a lot to deal with, Aunt Agatha. Just lay off him about Juilliard, okay?”

  She sighed, then laughed. “I guess if I can learn with you, I can learn with him. We all need our room to breathe, I suppose.”

  I smiled. “Yeah, we do.”

  Axel’s music was interrupted by a weird synthesized version of the opening of Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony. “Da da da dum.” Then at a lower pitch, “Da da da dum.”

  “What, pray tell, is that?”

  “It must be Axel’s cell phone,” I said.

  He came in a few moments later. “Agatha, I have fantastic news for you. I just got off the phone with someone at the mayor’s office. I got you a berth.”

  “Excuse me, dear heart?”

  “I got you a berth. It’s in Brooklyn. Near the Brooklyn Bridge.”

  Aunt Agatha looked stunned. “How …”

  “I know a city councilman.”

  “You know a city councilman?” Aunt Agatha stared at Axel and his straggly hair in disbelief.

  “Actually, it was his wife who arranged it. She called the mayor’s office, and they called me.”

  “A city councilman’s wife.”

  “She owes me a favor.”

  “A city councilman’s wife owes you a favor.” It was a rare thing for Aunt Agatha to be reduced to repeating things.

  He nodded. “At least one.”

  Aunt Agatha’s mouth hung open.

  “What’s the matter?” Axel asked. “Is Brooklyn no good? I can push for Manhattan.”

  Her eyebrows raised. “No, no, Brooklyn’s perfect. Better parking.”

  “Hmm, parking. I didn’t think about that. I’ll ask for a parking lot, too.”

  “Just who are you, young man?” She gave him a poke in the chest. “Are you putting me on?”

  “Axel’s last name is Ridge,” I cut in. “His father is Wade Ridge.”

  Aunt Agatha looked Axel up and down as though she’d never seen him before. “My word … the Wade Ridge?”

  Axel nodded.

  “Your father has quite a reputation. They say he’s invincible in the business world, godlike.”

  “He’s something, all right,” said Axel.

  “My word,” Aunt Agatha said again. “Wade Ridge. A city councilman’s wife. My word.”

  “So it’s cool?” Axel asked, probably trying to steer Aunt Agatha away from the topic of his father. “You’re happy with the site?”

  Aunt Agatha jumped up and embraced Axel. “It’s cool.”

  “I’ve got something else for you, too.” Axel picked up the checks and handed them to her. “Here are some donations for you to finish the barge and get the concerts going.”

  Aunt Agatha shuffled through the checks, color draining from her face. “Axel, my dear, I’m overcome. Why did you do this?”

  “Well … I told Willow that I’d do the work on the barge, but I’m not all that good with a hammer. I might have set you back, like, ten years. Now you can hire a work crew.”

  She eyed the checks again. “I certainly can.” She hugged Axel again. “Dear boy, you’re a miracle. I just don’t know what to say.”

  “Just say thanks,” I suggested.

  “Evermore thanks, dear heart,” Aunt Agatha said, squeezing Axel’s arm. “Evermore thanks.”

  * * *

  Axel made more coffee, and Aunt Agatha hung out with us for a while. They talked about music. I sat next to Axel. Actually, I slumped next to Axel, elbows on the table, head in my hands. I was feeling a little light-headed, kind of zoned out.

  I didn’t know or care about the differences between Bach and Schubert’s work. If they both sounded good, what else mattered? Personally, I’d rather hear Jim singing “Roadhouse Blues.”

  After about an hour, she stood and kissed us both. “By the way, Willow, I ordered you a new sofa, with a pull-out bed. It’s being delivered tomorrow.”

  I bugged out at the news. I shook, and grabbed Axel’s shirt.

  This wasn’t the reaction Aunt Agatha had expected. “Dear heart, what is it?”

  “Axel has to stay with me, please.”

  She clearly thought I was losing it. “Calm down, Willow. We’ve put Axel out enough, don’t you think?”

  I wrapped my arms around Axel’s neck like she was going to pull me away at that moment. “Axel, tell Aunt Agatha you want to stay on the barge.”

  He looked into my eyes. I was sure he knew the driving reason for my behavior.

  I didn’t want to be alone on that couch, it was true. And I was afraid of the dark—and the nightmares, too.

  But the thing that scared me most was on the sailboat. It was that razor blade in Axel’s drawer.

  “Willow, chill out, okay?”

  “Tell my aunt you want to stay with me.”

  He sighed. “Agatha, I don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage of Willow or anything… .”

  “No, no, darling.
Quite the opposite,” she said. “You’ve helped her through the hardest time of her life. But you have your own life—”

  “I don’t mind staying with Willow, as long as you’re comfortable with it.”

  Aunt Agatha looked from me to Axel to me again. She said, “Willow, I won’t pry your fingers loose from a hand that you need to hold. But you have two hands, and I hope you’ll see your way clear to letting me hold the other one.”

  I let go of Axel, got up, and hugged Aunt Agatha.

  “You can have my other hand.” I said it low, practically whispered. “I was always … I was always that afraid my grip wasn’t strong enough to hang on to you.”

  “Dear heart, we’ve suffered from acute failure to communicate in the past. But that is in the past now. Let the record show that I love you more than anything.”

  “I love you, too, Aunt Agatha.”

  “I’ll see you both tomorrow,” she said, offering a final wave. She pointed at Axel and said, “I expect you at sunrise, mister. Cello in hand.”

  22

  Remembrance

  “Feel better, now?” Axel asked.

  “Much,” I said.

  “Good.” He slammed his hands decidedly on the table. “Let’s go celebrate.”

  That might be pushing it. “Where?”

  “Chinatown.”

  “Chinatown?”

  “Yeah. I didn’t forget about your little eating thing.” He wagged his finger in my face. “So if you want to watch over me—and I know you do—you’re going to have to put up with my demands.”

  I hesitated about what to say. This was a possible re-opening of the razor discussion. But I knew he didn’t want to go there, and hadn’t he had enough anguish for one day? “What are your demands?” I asked.

  “There’s really only one—you have to eat. And I mean really eat, not just pick out a few bites of burrito filling. Chinatown is a good starting point. Okay?”

  It wasn’t. I was so scared to be a blimp again… . To be on the outside how I still felt on the inside. I went over to a bookshelf and pretended to browse through titles.

  “Willow, you need to gain some weight. But that doesn’t mean you’ll gain all the weight back. I promise.”