Saved By The Music

by Selene Castrovilla

“I think I’m gonna have one of those lobsters I just paid $600 for.”

  I gave him a nasty look.

  “All right, just kidding. Why don’t we get a few dishes to share, and try ’em out?”

  “Okay. But I don’t wanna eat any meat. I can’t, after all this.”

  He was willing to humor me. “We’ll get tofu or something, then. We need some protein.”

  “Well, aren’t you Mister Square Meal.”

  The waiter came, and Axel ordered six vegetable dishes with different kinds of sauces. Some came with rice, some with noodles. He requested no cornstarch or MSG with anything. The waiter nodded his head a lot, real curt. He said “Um-hmm” every time Axel ordered a dish, before Axel even got the words out—like he already knew what we wanted, but was being forced to go through this formality. He grunted when Axel finished. “That all?”

  “That all?” Axel repeated. “We’re getting six dishes for the two of us. You think we need more?”

  The waiter gave Axel a dismissive brush of the hand, which I gathered meant no, and walked away.

  “Nice attitude,” I said.

  “Whatever.” Axel unwrapped his chopsticks, separated them, and started tapping out a rhythm on the table. “The food’s excellent here.”

  I looked across at my lobsters, to make sure no one was trying to cook one.

  “So, you interested in hearing about my little brother, or are you too fixated on your friends over there?”

  “I didn’t think you wanted to talk about him.”

  “Listen, I’m not gonna fall apart constantly, okay?”

  “That’s good to know. After all, when you do, it takes away from my time getting upset.”

  He reached across and took my hand. “You’re gonna be fine, you know that? You’re gonna rise above all the crap with your mom, and … everything else.”

  “Really? It’s nice that someone thinks so.”

  “You don’t need anyone’s help but your own to get through it all.”

  “Is this your way of cutting me loose?” I asked.

  Meanwhile, some kid with curly red hair a couple of tables away started screaming about an egg roll: “I want an egg roll now!” His mom said, “You have to eat your soup first.” “Nooo!” he hollered.

  Axel went on. “I just want you to think about that when you’re back home in the fall.”

  “Yeah … if I have a home to go back to. Maybe Mom will replace me permanently with Steve.”

  “It’ll all work out. You’ve got your aunt, and she’s not gonna let anything happen to you.”

  Now the kid flung his cup to the floor. Soup splattered all over his mom. “No egg roll!” she yelled at the kid. Then she yanked the hysterical kid away from the table, toward the rest room. “Egg roll! Egg roll!” the kid blathered.

  I watched the little feet in sneakers being dragged off. “I know,” I said.

  * * *

  Our heaping plates of food came. Axel told me that without the cornstarch, it was much healthier to eat. Under Axel’s close supervision, I took some of each dish.

  He was right: the food there was excellent. Of course, given that I was used to making a meal out of raw carrots, I probably wasn’t the best judge of any cuisine. I tried not to think about the calories I was consuming.

  “Eat a noodle or two, will ya?” he asked.

  I ate two noodles, then returned to the vegetables.

  Axel sighed. “Well, at least that’s a start.”

  “Okay, so tell me why you failed to mention your little brother to me.”

  “Well, it’s funny,” Axel started, then took a sip of his iced tea.

  What’s funny is that usually when someone starts off that way, what follows is almost never funny at all. He went on, “That kid loves me so much, but mostly he just pisses me off. I mean, I care about him and don’t wish him any harm, but he’s got everything I always wanted. My dad never gave two shits about me, but he does all kinds of stuff with Walden. I know it’s not Walden’s fault, but …”

  “Is that the boy whose picture is in your drawer?”

  “Yeah. I see I have to be more careful in giving out invitations to borrow clothing. You really went sifting, huh?”

  “I didn’t mean to… . I couldn’t focus and just kept pawing around.”

  He waved his hand indifferently. “Doesn’t matter anyway.”

  “I didn’t mean to invade your privacy—honest.”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  I leaned forward. “Okay, then. What does matter?” I asked, very seriously.

  He shrugged and toyed with his chopsticks. Then his eyes got watery. “Nothing matters,” he said, looking away.

  “That’s not true, Axel.”

  “If you say so,” he said, staring off at the swinging kitchen doors.

  “Axel, if you can be so confident about my future, why can’t you be about your own?”

  But he didn’t answer me. He just kept looking somewhere off in the distance.

  After about a minute, he turned back to face me and returned to the beginning of the conversation, as if he hadn’t gone to wherever he’d been in his pain, ignoring the path our conversation had taken.

  “My dad got married again, six years ago. His wife’s real young, of course, and gorgeous. She wanted a baby, and along came Walden. Dad went back to the ‘W’ names, I guess ’cause the philosophy thing didn’t work out.”

  Our charismatic waiter dumped a silver tray in front of us, with the check and two fortune cookies.

  “Go ahead, pick one,” said Axel.

  I tore open the plastic wrapper and cracked the cookie open. I read my fortune to Axel: “You are almost there.”

  Did I miss something? Where was I going?

  Axel’s fortune read, “An ounce of gold cannot buy an ounce of time.”

  “No kidding,” he said, tossing the slip aside. “Someone should tell that to my dad.”

  24

  What Dreams May Come

  Axel called Hank on his cell to pick us up out front, while I wished the lobsters good luck and bon voyage. We walked to the corner with our shopping bag full of leftovers. We passed electronic toys clanging and beeping at vendors’ outdoor tables, ice being poured at the fish market, and people yammering all over the street. In the midst of bright multicolored restaurant and store lights, we were silent and dim.

  We really knew how to have a good time.

  Axel stopped right before we got to the limo. “Hey, thanks.”

  “For what? Eating?”

  He laughed. “Yeah, but that’s not what I meant.”

  “Then what did you mean?”

  “Just … thanks.” He hesitated for a moment, staring at me, then gave me a quick peck on the lips. It was enough to send my mind spinning.

  He grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the limo.

  “You guys have fun?” Hank asked as we slid onto the smooth leather.

  Axel and I eyed each other. “You know, Hank, I don’t think we did. I think we’re gonna have to try again,” said Axel. “Head over to the Village, okay?”

  “Where you got in mind, kid?”

  “Starry Nights.”

  “You got it,” said Hank.

  “What’s Starry Nights?” I asked.

  Axel patted my hand. “You’ll see.”

  * * *

  Greenwich Village is this cool, happening, kind of whacked part of downtown New York City. It had this feeling of diverse pieces clustered together and working in harmony. There was something in the air there—a buzz of excitement, a vibe that attracted all kinds of people, all mingling together. You could wear a suit, tie-dyed jeans, leather, or next to nothing, and it was all good. There were funky shops to explore—something Aunt Agatha and I used to do a lot on Saturdays when I was younger—and all kinds of restaurants and cafes. Starry Nights turned out to be a cafe.

  There were tiny, sparkling, celestial-looking white lights strung all around the canopy, windows, and doorw
ay. Axel led me inside, to more lights twinkling all across the ceiling and along the walls. It was like we’d entered the heavens.

  The room was kind of dark. The strands gave off the only light other than the candles flickering at each small, round table. That really made me feel like I was in the night sky, surrounded by stars.

  Conversation hummed, jazzy instrumental music played softly, and the smell of coffee beans wafted through the room. It wasn’t crowded—about half the tables were filled. The hostess seated us near the darkened stage and handed us menus. “Sherrie will be out shortly,” she said.

  “Who’s Sherrie?” I asked Axel.

  “She’s the singer here. Wait ’til you hear her.” Axel grinned mischievously and added, “Of course, she’s not as good as you are.”

  I blushed, remembering my one night of drunken superstardom. I swatted Axel with the menu, then opened it. “So what are you having?”

  “Cappuccino and triple chocolate cake. How about you?”

  I shrugged. “Juice?”

  “Get out of here. You don’t come to a cafe and order juice!”

  “Tea?”

  Axel sighed. “Try a cappuccino, will you? I think a good shot of caffeine will do wonders for you.”

  I made a face. “I don’t like the taste of coffee.”

  “This is different. The foamed milk makes it smoother. Plus, you can sweeten it up with sugar.” Noting my reaction, he added, “Or in your case, Sweet’N Low.”

  “If you say so.”

  “And have a piece of angel food cake. It’s out of this world!” He laughed at his little joke. I didn’t.

  “No, thanks.”

  “C’mon. It’s lowfat.” Half of Axel’s face glistened in the candlelight. It made him even more appealing and mysteriously sexy.

  How could I refuse? “Okay.”

  * * *

  While we were ordering, the stage lights came on. There were more sparkly lights, but also spotlights beaming down. Then a blonde in a shimmering white dress that kind of matched the lights slunk up to the mike. The pianist struck some introductory notes, which I recognized as the opening to the song “Someone to Watch Over Me.” It was from the Broadway show Crazy for You. I knew it well, because Aunt Agatha had played that show and brought me the CD.

  Then she sang. Axel was right. She was good. Haunting, even.

  He touched my hand. “Are you up to dancing?”

  Looking into those eyes, I was sure gonna try.

  We were the only ones on the dance floor, and although I didn’t really know how to dance, I wasn’t self-conscious at all. Axel held me tenderly against him. Having his strong, warm arms around me was like being wrapped in a cocoon, safe. We swayed, taking baby steps.

  The song was about how this woman was waiting for the person to arrive who’d take care of her. It was sooo appropriate for us, considering how we were watching over each other.

  We were alone, despite all the other people in the room. That dance floor became the sky, and we were moving among the stars. Nothing back on Earth could touch us.

  As the song ended, Axel’s lips hovered near mine. I thought he’d kiss me again. But then his lips grazed my cheek. I didn’t take it personally this time.

  * * *

  Axel whispered to me in the dark when we were back on the sailboat: “Thanks, Willow.”

  “For what?” I asked.

  “For … for being with me today.”

  I felt his hand trembling against my back. I rolled over and held it. I was thoroughly awake, thanks to the caffeine.

  I held his hand tight and stroked his arm with my free hand.

  “Axel …”

  “I’m sorry… . I wish I hadn’t laid so much on you.” I could hear it in his voice that he was fighting tears. He went on: “I just haven’t opened up in so long … it’s like I couldn’t hold it back anymore.”

  I moved closer to him, realizing that there was no way I could protect him from Marianne. I knew that only he could help himself through this, and all I could do was warn him so he would be prepared for next time.

  “Axel … you were right about her. About Marianne. She’s not finished yet.”

  “What? What are you talking about?”

  I took a deep breath, exhaled, and told him about the rosemary. When I finished, he laughed. “You think it’s funny.”

  “The part with Agatha is,” he said. “The rest, not so much. Marianne always did have a flair for the dramatic. Actually, I have her to thank for introducing me to Shakespeare. She had a collection at her apartment, and I started reading it there. At least she did me that favor.”

  “You would’ve discovered Shakespeare eventually, anyway.”

  “True.”

  “What are you going to do about her?”

  “I don’t know. Ignore it for now. Once she’s done getting the money for Agatha, I can tell her off or something.”

  “Or something?”

  “I’ll tell her off. Period,” he said. He gave me a squeeze. “That was cute, you trying to shield me from her insidious plant. But don’t worry, I won’t bite into the poison apple.”

  “That’s good.”

  “You sound surprised.”

  “I guess I was worried … that you might decide to take the easy way out.”

  He got up, got out of bed, turned on the light, and paced the cabin. After a couple of rounds, he asked, “And that way would be?”

  To go back with her. Or worse … to use that razor blade again. But I couldn’t voice these thoughts. I was too afraid of them.

  “Axel, you said it yourself, when we first met. We’re kindred spirits. We understand what it’s like.”

  “What what’s like?”

  “To be so incredibly sad that you’ll do anything to escape the loneliness.”

  “Yeah.” It was a whisper; his voice was barely there. Then he stopped pacing. He was turned away from me, facing the closet.

  I went on: “That’s why … that’s why I was with Craig.”

  “I know.”

  “My mind … it’s just so dark in there sometimes. It’s like a forest. I keep looking for the light. I thought that if someone wanted me, accepted me … then I could accept myself. The other night, I wanted to give up… . I wanted out completely. You knew—you held onto me so tight. You knew.”

  He didn’t say anything.

  After a moment, I continued, “But I don’t want to die, not really. At that moment, it seemed like I did. But when I think rationally about it, I’m terrified of death. It’s—it’s even darker than life.”

  Still, he said nothing. His shoulders were slouched, his head bowed. I could feel his defeat just by looking at him.

  Finally, he turned around. He looked directly at me, seeming deflated no longer. It was quite a transformation. Then he asked, “What do you think now? About how to get away from the loneliness?”

  “I—I think I need to like myself. But I just don’t know how.”

  “Why don’t you call that counselor? I still have her card.”

  I considered that. She did seem okay, even though I was nasty to her. All I said was “Maybe.”

  He sat back down and took my hand. “It’d be a start, Willow.”

  “What about you, Axel? What’s your way out?”

  He stared at the floor. “I … I haven’t figured that out yet. That’s another reason I came here.”

  There was something about what he said that didn’t sound quite right. Maybe it was the way his voice was shaking. I squeezed into his hand.

  “Axel, can we talk about the razor blade?”

  “No.” He still wouldn’t look up and meet my gaze.

  “Why not?”

  He wriggled out of my grasp. “Drop it, okay?”

  “I can’t,” I pleaded.

  He faced me. His eyes seemed hollow, like something had gone out of them, leaving them empty. He spoke now, his voice flat and lifeless.

  “It’s just … it’s just an
other way for me to handle the pain. I control pain that way, when I give it to myself.”

  ”Axel . . ” I was trying to think of something to say. But what do you say to something like that?

  “I’d rather punish myself than have someone else do it.”

  What does that mean?

  “Why do you have to be punished at all?”

  He shrugged. “Let’s go to sleep. I have to practice with your aunt at dawn.” He got up and turned off the light, then climbed back under the blanket.

  “Good night, Willow.” He flopped down on the bed with his back to me.

  I lay there in the dark, trying to sleep. But I was terrified about what he’d said and even more concerned about what he’d left unsaid. It hung in the air, waiting.

  After a lot of tossing around, I leaned against him, reaching over to take his hand. I circled his wrist and then slid my fingers down to his hand, feeling something rough and raised along the way. It was a thin line, like a healed cut.

  What if my dream was right?

  Sick with worry, I finally fell asleep, clinging tight to Axel.

  25

  Their Exits and Their Entrances

  I woke up, sort of, when Axel tried to get free of my grip. “No…” I cried, half asleep.

  “I have to go meet your aunt, Willow. Let me go.”

  “Axel, Axel …” I moaned through the fog in my mind.

  “Willow, let go. I don’t want to hurt your bruises.”

  What he was saying finally registered, and I released him.

  “Axel …”

  “What?”

  What could I say? We stared at each other for a long moment.

  “Well?” he asked.

  “Nothing. Never mind. See you later,” I said, rolling over.

  * * *

  Axel went off to the barge with his cello, but I couldn’t go back to sleep. I needed to think of a way to help him.

  He needed more help than I could give him—that was clear.

  What if I can get him into therapy?

  Maybe I could get him to go if I agree to speak to that rape crisis counselor. Maybe we could make a trade, a bargain.

  Or I could tell Aunt Agatha. But what if he got angry? I sure did when he talked to her about me.