Finally, Axel was on deck. “You all right?” he asked. “You look about ready to collapse.”
“Let’s just get this over with,” I said.
I linked my arm with his, and he opened the door. Of course, the new workmen hadn’t left a light on and it was pitch black, as usual. I had to let go of Axel so he could slide his bag off his shoulder and leave it with my suitcase by the door.
My heart started doing the mambo. Then I latched onto his arm again, and step by step, we felt our way in the dark to the lamp by Aunt Agatha’s cot.
As soon as he flicked the light on, my eyes went right back to the scene of the crime. Sure, there was a brand new sofa bed there now, but that didn’t block the hideous memory. I saw Craig’s red, angry face… .
Axel noticed right away. “Hey, hey, you feel like you’re registering an earthquake of 10 on the Richter scale,” he said as he held me close.
“Close your eyes,” he said. “Just focus on me, not him. He can’t hurt you now.”
I squeezed my lids so tight I saw a kaleidoscope of colors and shapes.
“How’s that? Any better? ” he asked.
“Oh, yeah. I’m in a colorful earthquake now.”
He laughed. “Look, I mean … no, don’t look. I’m gonna carry you to the couch. You can just relax and not even open your eyes at all—not until you’re ready.”
“Will you lie down with me?”
“That was the idea of me coming, wasn’t it?” His lips pressed on my cheek. “I’m here for you.”
He lifted me, and I wrapped my arms around his neck and held on. We weaved through the piles of construction debris and materials until we got to the back of the room near the sofa bed. Then he put me down.
“One sec. I’m gonna open up the bed.”
I couldn’t bear to look. I just waited, eyes shut tight, and listened to the hinges doing their work.
“Okay.” He lifted me up and laid me on the mattress with my head against the pillow.
He took my sneakers off and dropped them onto the floor, and then I heard him drop his own. The bed squeaked as he climbed on and put his arm around me. “How’re you doing, Willow?” he asked.
My heart was halfway to my throat, and my pulse was racing. But Axel was so sweet that I just said, “Good.”
“Liar,” he replied.
“Axel … ” I wanted to tell him how wonderful he was, how much I appreciated him, but nothing would come out. My expanding heart might have blocked my vocal cords.
“Shhh, I know. You don’t have to say anything. Just relax and let your mind float.”
It floated right off to sleep.
* * *
The next thing I knew, it was morning. Aunt Agatha and Axel were playing music together again. So I took a chance and opened my eyes, and it really wasn’t so bad. It helped not being on that horrible couch, and with the side doors of the barge both open, the place was flooded with morning sunlight that brightened the entire chamber. What a difference light made.
And there was that beautiful music; it cleansed me and soothed me as it swirled through my soul.
I got up and maneuvered my way over to them. It was awesome how they made something so difficult seem so effortless, their playing so perfectly meshed. For an instant, I regretted giving up the violin, but only for an instant; I knew I could never do what they did—let the music flow like that. I just didn’t have it in me, couldn’t feel what they did.
I loved watching their expressions as they bowed: they went from smiling to deep concentration to sheer amazement—like they discovered something new as they played.
But even more than that, I envied the partnership they shared. They were on a musical journey together, a thrilling ride I couldn’t share.
“Good morning, dear heart,” Aunt Agatha boomed when the last notes faded and I’d applauded their work.
“Hey,” Axel said with a sly smile.
“Morning, guys,” I said.
“Feeling better?” Axel asked.
“Yeah,” I answered, and it actually was the truth.
“Axel, would you be a darling and get us some coffee and rolls from the delivery truck before the construction crew arrives? Willow, did you bring your carrots?”
“Willow’s been off the carrots, Agatha,” Axel said. “Doesn’t she look good, now that she’s been eating a little more?”
“My, my. Yes. You do look healthier, love. I’m so glad. I just didn’t know how to talk to you about that. You were so adamant about those carrots.”
I shrugged and looked down. This talk about my eating habits was making me think about gaining too much weight.
Axel must have sensed it. He said, “You want me to see if they have a fruit cup, Willow? I know a buttered roll is just too far for you to go just yet.”
“Yeah, okay. Thanks, Axel.”
He headed off.
Aunt Agatha looked into my eyes and asked, “So, Willow, how are things?”
“Well, to tell you the truth, last night was really, really hard. I kind of freaked out when I got here. Axel—he really took care of me.”
“I’m so glad you have him, dear heart.”
She sounded so sincere. And knowing how much she liked Axel, I almost poured my heart out about him. But I didn’t. It felt like I’d betray him if I told her what I knew about his past.
“How did it go with your mother? I ran out so fast yesterday, I didn’t get a chance to ask you.”
I told her all about it.
“Do you think you’ll be all right there in September?”
“Do I have any kind of a choice?”
“You can always come live with me. I feel that you’re old enough to decide what’s best for you. And I’m buying a house in Brooklyn to be near the barge. If things get bad with your mother, you’ll always have a haven with me. And even if they’re good, which I certainly hope they are, I hope you’ll come visit me on weekends and in the summer.”
Amazing. I actually did have a choice. I felt so light now, knowing I could get away if that was what I wanted—or needed—to do.
“May I give you one piece of advice?” Aunt Agatha asked.
I nodded, quite happy to be asked first before she made a suggestion. This really was a whole new side of my aunt.
She said, “Always cultivate your garden.”
“Huh?” I’d never had the slightest inclination to plant anything, so I didn’t know what she was getting at.
“What I mean is, no matter what your mother says or does, no matter how she tries to manipulate you or convince you to do things her way, you have your own garden, your own patch of earth in this world. You can let in or keep out whoever you want.
“Fill your garden with flowers, trees, bushes, vegetables, whatever you like. It’s your spot and your place in the sun. Take time to weed, take time to sow, and you’ll reap life’s finest rewards—on your own terms.
“And dear heart, the same applies to me as it does to your mother. If I act bossy or push you around, you have the right to expel me from your garden. It’s yours, not mine. I might forget that sometimes, so don’t be afraid to remind me.”
I hugged her tight. “Okay. It’s a deal.”
That’s when Axel came back, and it was just as well that he’d missed all the talk about gardens, figurative or not. He’d found me a cup of melon, and he handed Aunt Agatha her roll and coffee.
We were just finishing our breakfast when five big guys came in, wearing work clothes. Three were middle-aged, grey, and beefy. But the other two were close enough to Craig in age and studliness to send a shudder through my heart. I edged my chair closer to Axel’s, as close as I could get without ending up on his lap.
Aunt Agatha introduced us, then directed them to their tasks.
“So what do you think, kids? We’re on our way, thanks to you, old boy!” She said this standing behind Axel as she squeezed his shoulders. “Are you two going to stick around today?”
“Maybe we coul
d paint outside for a while,” I said, needing to keep my distance from the workers, at least for the moment.
“Fine with me,” Axel said. “But I have to make a couple of phone calls. I’m gonna make your appointment too, okay?” he asked.
“Okay,” I agreed.
* * *
I’d been painting on the back deck for half an hour when Axel came back from his calls. “It’s all set. You have an appointment tomorrow at noon.”
“And you?”
He looked past me, at the water. “I found a therapist near where you’re going. I can walk there, actually, so Hank can drop us off together.”
“Oh, Axel. I’m so glad.” I gave him a big hug, but he was kind of stiff. I guessed that the thought of therapy was still making him nervous.
But I was sure it would help him.
It had to.
27
The Course of True Love
August was quite an improvement over July. Going to counseling helped. It made me feel so much better.
Outwardly, my bruises healed, and I was on the way there on the inside, too. My counselor, Jamie, found me a therapist in the Five Towns who I could start seeing in September, when I moved back to my mom’s.
Axel didn’t talk about his therapy, but he kept on going. That, to me, was the main thing.
Marianne never called back, at least as far as I knew.
And Aunt Agatha and I talked about my problems. I mean, we really discussed them. I didn’t expect to iron everything out overnight, but I just wanted her to allow me my feelings. And to my surprise, she did.
* * *
Meanwhile, Axel and I divided our time between helping Aunt Agatha and just relaxing and unwinding. We talked, read books, and managed to get some laughs.
We went to the city a lot, first on therapy days, and then more and more often.
We did all the touristy stuff, like Madame Tussaud’s wax museum, where we checked out everyone from F. Scott Fitzgerald to the Dalai Lama, all in wax. I told Axel he should have worn leather pants and stood really still in the rock and roll section. People would have started taking pictures with him, sure he was the wax Jim Morrison.
We went to the Museum of Natural History, where we hung with the dinosaurs, and to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, where we sat in the middle of the Monet room and marveled. We found out we both loved Monet, and Axel’s aversion to plants, luckily, didn’t include paintings.
One night, we were headed down 34th Street, toward the Midtown Tunnel. At least, that’s where Hank was trying to drive. We were stuck in a tangle of traffic, behind a crosstown bus spewing grey exhaust, right in front of the Empire State Building.
“I’ve never been there,” I said.
“Let us out, Hank,” Axel said. “We’re goin’ up.”
* * *
We stared at the dazzling city from behind the tall, elaborate sky deck fence on the observation deck of the skyscraper. No one was taking a plunge off that roof. And there had to be at least a million lights up there. And probably a million more in Times Square alone. I was captivated by the tiny cars moving through the streets; they looked like they were moving through a maze, trying to zigzag their way out.
“It really makes you think, doesn’t it?” I asked Axel.
“About what?” he asked.
“About all the lives, all the people out there. So many people crammed together in one place. How do they all get by?”
“I don’t know, and to tell you the truth, I have enough trouble figuring out how I’m gonna get by, let alone anyone else.”
“Yeah. It’s interesting, though. I feel like if all those people out there can find their way, I will too.”
Axel shrugged. “Whatever works for you… . You wanna see where the barge’s berth will be?”
“Sure.”
We walked around the sky deck to the section facing downtown on the east side. He pointed through the metal. “See the third bridge? That’s the Brooklyn Bridge. Your aunt’s berth is just to the right of the bridge.”
I grabbed onto the cold silver barricade, peering through it intently. “Cool.”
I turned to Axel and took his hand. “I don’t think I ever thanked you for doing that for Aunt Agatha.”
“You didn’t have to. Agatha still thanks me every day!”
“Axel … ” The honking noises below suddenly seemed loud.
He studied me. “What?”
“If I didn’t know you and someone described you to me, I don’t think I’d believe them.”
“Too fucked-up to be true?”
“You can joke all you want, but you are the most incredible, giving person I’ve ever met.”
The air was cool up there. A chill ran through me, and I shuddered. Axel pulled me against him.
“No, I’m not,” he said, running his free hand up and down my arm to warm me. “You and Agatha just happen to bring it out in me. I feel like giving to you.”
“Some people never feel like giving anything to anyone. But you, you’ve given me—” I stopped, afraid I was going to cry.
He gave me a shy smile. “I feel the same way about you.”
We held hands in the night sky, watching the twinkling lights just beyond our reach, just past the looming silver barrier along the ledge. We watched all the cars carrying people trying to find their way and the skyscrapers filled with people trying to get by.
It was dark there in our corner of the sky deck, but I wasn’t alone.
I was no longer alone.
* * *
It was one of those “Duh, why didn’t I think of this sooner?” moments.
“You know what we should do?” I asked, giddy with my realization.
“What?” Axel asked, looking up from The Taming of the Shrew. We’d just finished working—stripping wood these days—and it was chill-out time.
I put Pride and Prejudice down on the arm of the sofa. “We should go see Shakespeare in the Park!” Every summer, Central Park features a Shakespeare festival. How perfect was that for Axel?
“I don’t think so,” Axel said quietly, shifting his position on the couch.
“Why not? Of all things I’d think you’d love to do … ”
“Nah.”
“Nah? That’s not an acceptable answer,” I said, crossing my arms.
“It’s—It’s the park,” he said.
Ahhh, the park. I hadn’t thought of that. “Have you talked to your therapist about not wanting to be near foliage?”
He fidgeted, staring at a cocoa-colored strip of mahogany that was propped against a sawhorse, finally saying, “Haven’t gotten to that yet.”
“Well, I think we should go. Just like I had to climb back onto the barge… you need to embrace nature.”
“I don’t want to, Willow.” He sounded so sad—back to being an abandoned, hurting boy.
“Axel … you’re punishing yourself over and over by denying yourself things you love.”
“I don’t love plants.”
“Even if that’s true, you do love Shakespeare.”
He didn’t say anything else, just stared at that piece of wood.
“How about we both do something brave? You know how I’m terrified of painting the roof? I’ll do it.”
He turned my way. “You’re willing to do that for me?”
“It’s for me, too. Aunt Agatha’s right—we should face adversity, not run from it.”
He thought for a moment, then nodded. “Okay,” he said.
* * *
So then I actually had to do what I’d promised—paint that horrific roof.
The next morning, we stood before The Utterly Vertical Ladder—as Aunt Agatha called it. I called it The Steel Terror, because terror is what struck me when I even thought about climbing it. Fastened flat against the outside wall of the barge, that ladder went straight up to the roof.
Axel went up first, carrying the red rust-resistant paint, rollers (which he’d somehow convinced Aunt Agatha were our frie
nds), and a paint pan. He leaned over from the top, waiting for me.
I hoisted myself up, feeling the cold steel under my hands as I moved from rung to rung. Everything was going well—that is, until I looked down.
Axel groaned. “Why’d you do that, Willow?”
I didn’t know. It was just in my nature to look back at where I’d been.
And now I was totally panicking. I froze right where I was, partway up the ladder.
“C’mon, you’re almost there. Hey, wasn’t that in your fortune cookie?” He smiled reassuringly and held out his hand.
I closed my eyes for a second. But when I opened them, I was still stuck right there, in the burning sun, on that infernal ladder. “Axel … ”
“You can do it.” He gave me a bigger smile.
I thought about Aunt Agatha’s words when I’d crawled across the plank that first day. I put my mind in the soles of my feet and didn’t worry about them meeting the rungs. I just had to know that they would.
Axel helped me over the ladder on top. “Whatever you do, don’t look down from up here,” he ordered.
“’Kay.”
It wasn’t that bad up there. As long as I stayed away from the edges, I could pretty much forget that I was on a roof. But still, I stayed close to Axel—just in case.
We got down to the business of painting, sitting on our heels and inching in patches across the long hot roof. Even with the rollers, it would take forever to finish. Still, it was cool the way the paint spread so smoothly over the metal. It made me feel like I could smooth other things over, too—like I could just roll right over my problems.
Axel and I were so intent on our painting that we rolled right into each other, painting each other’s knees a deep red.
“Hey,” I said. I bopped him on the nose with the roller, leaving a nice red dot.
“Hey,” he said, bopping me back.
We were ready for the circus—or to guide Santa’s sleigh.
He laughed, then guided his roller across my shoulder.
I returned the favor on his.
Then he pushed me down gently and painted me from my neck to my ankle with his roller. It tickled, and I giggled like a lunatic.
Then I did it back to him. He actually kind of let me.
Saved By The Music Page 17