by Lindsey Hart
Dallas spread out on the bed. His head hit the pillow and he let out a long sigh. His body hurt. His chest hurt. His head ached. His back and shoulders felt like someone had taken a rod to them. His damn jaw felt like someone had hit him with a baseball bat. His hands felt like claws. He wondered if the cramps would ever come out of his fingers. Worse, he ached inside. His soul hurt.
An image of Hannah from that dream, as sweet and innocent as she had been in life, swam before his closed eyes. He thought he loved her. With a start, he remembered what she’d said. Not anymore.
As though someone finally pulled the veil from his eyes, he realized what the tender glow was in Leena’s eyes whenever she looked at him. To her, he wasn’t any of the things that other people saw. He was just Dallas. She’d always seen right through everything else. She accepted that the person he was wasn’t like other people. He was never going to be what other people termed normal. His madness was a part of him. The music was a part of him. She’d stayed with him through the worst of it and the best of it.
She loved him.
Now that he finally, after nearly a decade and a half, realized it, he didn’t know what to do with the discovery. Did she know, now that her memories were gone? Was the feeling still there?
“I hope sandwiches are okay.” Leena’s voice filled up the room. Dallas’ eyes cranked open. She swept into the room carrying a plate piled high with pieces of bread, cheese, deli meats, pickles, olives. His mouth actually watered. He would have eaten anything, even if it was sand.
“Yes.” He forced himself into a sitting position. She put the plate on the bed. “I’ll get some water after. Please don’t eat too fast. You haven’t had anything for a few days. I don’t want you to make your stomach sore.”
“My stomach is like iron. It’s used to being starved.”
She shook her head slowly. “You need a break from this.”
“So, you said.” Dallas picked up a piece of cheese and crammed it into his mouth. He chewed slowly, savoring the taste.
“Please, play the lead role with me. We wrote that play together. It’s our play. It only seems right. You told me once that you considered being an actor.” He paused, hand halfway to his mouth. Leena frowned in confusion. “I don’t know where that came from. I keep getting these snippets of memory like someone has this book and they flash a page at me and I can read a few words and then they slam it shut.”
“I can’t,” Dallas protested. “I couldn’t stand up there in front of anyone.”
“You wouldn’t be going out though. You’d be right here, in your home. You have this tremendous gift. Your voice. No one has heard it. I would be right there with you. I’m having a hell of a time trying to replace the man you fired. We’re running out of time. You know the music. You know the part. I wrote it for you. It was for you and you should be the one to give the gift of it to the world.”
“I… I can’t, Leena.”
“Dallas, I know that I’ve never asked you for anything. I know it, even though I can’t remember. Please, please do this for me.”
“Leena, you know how I am.”
“I know that. But I also know that you’re going to kill yourself in here. You need a break. I think you might actually enjoy it. Would you just give it a try? Just one practice? See how it goes? Maybe you would do just fine. You don’t actually know because you haven’t ever tried. Please?”
He looked into her luminous green eyes. He wanted to deny her. It would have been easy before. Easy before he’d just sat there and told her how much she’d done for him. How she’s saved his life. Easy before he realized that she was in love with him.
“Alright,” he finally agreed. “One practice.”
The dazzling way Leena smiled at him lit up the room. It did something strange to his chest, to his heart, his soul. At the moment, he would have promised her the entire damn world and tried his best to get it for her.
CHAPTER 10
Leena
Leena knew the exact moment Dallas was spotted. The entire cast hushed, actors fell silent, dancers went limp. People turned to stare and soon the wild mumble of whisperings and hushed voices filled the empty auditorium.
There were two main aisles dividing three sets of red seats on the main floor of the auditorium. Dallas walked slowly up the far-right aisle and paused at the stairs that led up to the stage. There were no stairs on the other side.
It was impossible for Leena to hide her smile of delight. She and Minnie made the announcement that morning, that Dallas would be replacing Howard and playing the male lead. They had been met with silence. Dead, utter silence. No one voiced a protest, but she saw the looks of confusion and even outright hostility in some of the cast member’s eyes.
She walked across the stage, down the stairs and met Dallas halfway. She didn’t take his hand, didn’t touch him at all, but she felt the incredible burn of being near him. Her blood soared, and her pulse raced. Whatever they’d shared two nights ago changed something for them. Not that she remembered what it had been like before, but she sensed that something was different. She knew somehow that she’d always been aware of Dallas, but it was a new level of awareness. Her skin prickled, the hair on the backs of her arms stood on end and her blood surged. He looked at her like he was truly seeing her for the first time. It was strange, given that she didn’t even know who she was herself.
“I’m glad you came.” Her words were filled with delight, thick and rich with excitement. There was no point in pretending she wasn’t happy, excited and even overjoyed.
Dallas looked good. His long golden hair was tied back at the base of his neck. He’d shaved and his skin, though still pale, gleamed with the health of a good night’s rest and enough food to at least sustain him. His grey eyes were calm, the burning, driving force behind them stilled for the moment.
“I told you I would,” he ground out, voice gravelly. His eyes swept past her, over to the stage filled with tittering cast members. Behind them, someone actually laughed. Dallas bent to whisper in her ear. His breath was warm and gentle. “They don’t want me here.”
Leena whirled, anger building in her chest. She stalked up the stairs and stopped in the middle of the stage. People quieted around her as sets of eyes were slowly drawn her way.
“I want to say something,” she announced loudly, barely keeping her tone from being sharp. “You were told this morning that Dallas would be taking over Howard’s role. No one voiced a protest then. If you have something to say about it, please do it now. This is our theatre, Dallas and mine, and I won’t have people whispering behind our backs or undermining the show. This is important to me. No, that’s not the right word. This show means everything to me. As you know, Dallas and I wrote it together.” She didn’t say anything more than that, but her voice conveyed the feeling behind her statement. “So, I’m going to ask again, does anyone have anything to say? You are more than welcome to leave if you don’t like my decision. No hard feelings and no questions asked.”
A petite brunette, Shirley, an extra in one of the scenes, stepped forward. “It’s just that… we’re all trained actors. Some of us have spent years trying to get where we are. Howard was amazing. He was so good at what he did…”
“I agree, he was good, but he wasn’t right for the role. I was the one who wanted Dallas to do this. He certainly didn’t volunteer for it.” She couldn’t tell them what she already knew. That at the heart of it, this production was about her and Dallas. It was their story. She’d rewritten that ending to save him. It was symbolic of everything he meant to her. She now knew it was the greatest gift she could give him, those notes, those words, torn from the depths of her heart. “Regardless, he is going to give it a try. I feel for this role, it is only going to be right if he’s the one doing it.”
“No one has ever even seen him act though,” Shirley protested. “Or heard him sing.”
Leena nodded. “I know. None of you have, but I’ve heard him sing.” Her eyes swept to Dalla
s, who stood stock still on the stairs, eyes locked on her, watching her every movement, taking in every single word. “That man is a genius. He’s sold music around the world. He’s had his works performed in Europe, Asia and North America. He’s won awards for his scores. All he knows is music. He is music. This is his work. Will you trust my decision and welcome him?”
It took a minute, but finally, the stage was filled with nods and affirmations. A few smiles even graced the faces of some of the cast.
“Dallas?” Leena turned, extending her hand. There were no musicians in attendance. They would come later after they’d ironed out the kinks on stage. There was a piano in the orchestra pit just in front of the stage.
When she moved, walked over and joined Dallas again, he stood in the same place, unmoving, eyes blazing with uncertainty and possibly even fear. She wasn’t sure why he’d agreed to her somewhat wild, unconventional request. Maybe, somewhere inside of himself, he agreed with her. He knew that only he could stand up there with her, play the part that was always meant to be his.
“Will you come with me?”
He nodded. He followed her down into the pit, to the huge grand piano. The entire building was silent as Dallas sat. His hands rested on the keys, fingers still. Leena held her breath, hoping that just sitting at the piano, that just playing, wouldn’t send him into a tailspin. She knew how hard it was for him to come out at all, to face everyone, to do this for her.
Is he doing it for me? Or is he doing it for himself? Maybe this was something he needed to prove to himself, a step he needed to take back onto a path he wanted to be on.
“Will you play? Sing something. Anything,” she asked softly. She rested her hand on the piano’s smooth black surface.
His hands paused on the keys and for a minute, Leena’s greatest fear was that he was going to say no, that he’d get up and leave. And that would be the end of her idea, the end of whatever irrational hope she held out that Dallas would one day know how she truly felt. She felt like he was walking in the right direction, slowly becoming aware, opening his eyes to see her for the first time.
And then he played.
His hands moved, flew over the keys. He chose a scene from that production; a tormented near-final scene before she’d changed the ending and given his character the happiness he deserved. He played, the music flowing, perfect, stunning, beautiful. He didn’t sing as she’d asked him to. He stopped, the notes still ringing through the empty house, flowing up to the rafters, swirling around all of them.
Leena realized there were tears on her cheeks. Dallas stood, clearly ready to leave. She couldn’t let him do that. She couldn’t let him go. This was the way she wanted to reach him, the one way she hoped that he’d finally understand. Through music.
“Don’t go,” she whispered as she brushed past him. She grazed his hand, the warmth of his knuckles with her fingers as she sat.
He stared at her, frowning, eyes locked on her face. She adjusted the bench quietly, bringing it closer. And that was when she stunned everyone.
No one knew she could play, not even Dallas. She just knew, as she somehow understood the most elemental functions of objects, that she was a pianist. Or at least, she could have been.
She started as her hands hit the keys. Touching them brought back a flurry of memory, like a door had been opened or the floodgates of a dam had finally burst and poured forth. Her mother, bent over her, telling her that if she didn’t practice, she’d never be anything at all. The lessons, always the lessons. She’d wanted to go out and play with friends, but her mother drove her forward. Forward. Harder, always more.
As the first notes poured forth, Hannah’s face appeared. Hannah as a young girl, twelve maybe. She met her at her piano lessons. Hannah was going out as she was coming in. They’d hit it off, talked for a few minutes and knew right away they wanted to be friends.
Her fingers flew, creating the music, not as Dallas did, not with the heartbreak or the sorrow, not from the depth of her soul, but from somewhere close. She played perfectly, too perfectly, while Dallas played with a passion she couldn’t match.
She recalled Hannah, telling her she wanted to sing. That she felt she’d gone as far as she could with piano and that she longed to be an actress in a big city like New York. She wanted to be trained by the best. Her parents found Dallas, because he was the best, not only in Boston but in the entire country, as far as everyone was concerned. He was eccentric, his house dark and creepy. He was demanding, harsh. There was something wrong with him, Hannah as a fifteen-year-old girl had said. She pled with Leena to go with her, so she wouldn’t be so afraid. And she had. She was intrigued.
Her hands flew, her fingers caressing the keys, bringing forth life, her creation, the gift of her heart that she’d given to Dallas in hopes of saving him after Hannah died.
She knew then, with certainty, that, she loved him. She’d loved him from the minute she met him. He looked so lost, so alone. He’d hidden his heart, his fears, his feeling behind the music, cloaked himself in the shadows of his home, as if he didn’t go outside, he didn’t have to feel.
She finally glanced up, into Dallas’ face. He was turned towards her, his lips parted in shock. His eyes were clear, astonished, fascinated, held in rapt attention. She’d never told him, never even hinted at the fact that she could do so much more than sing.
She kept playing, playing in hopes that Dallas would sing. And finally, finally he did. He shifted so that he was neither facing her nor the stage but staring out at the empty house. He closed his eyes and rested his hands on the piano. His beautiful, rich tone filled up the entire auditorium. It was entirely captivating and enchanting. She didn’t have to look at those assembled up on stage to know that there wouldn’t be a dry eye as Dallas sang out his anguish and his pain.
No one knew it, but he was telling them, letting them in on his private grief. Except right then, it felt like just the two of them. Dallas with his eyes closed, his face a mask of pain, voice filling up the entire place, taking them all to another plane of existence. And her, with tears trailing down her cheeks, her hands moving flawlessly over the piano, bringing it to life.
When Dallas stopped, and her hands stilled, the silence that swirled around them was deafening. Dallas finally opened his eyes and when those ethereal, burning grey orbs met hers, she understood that a shift had occurred. She’d opened herself completely, taken him inside her heart, let him into her soul. He was there already, but now he knew he was there.
Leena finally looked towards the stage. There were tears glistening on a few faces. Others stood with their mouths hanging open.
And Dallas, because he was Dallas, simply walked away from her, out of the pit and down one of the aisles. She watched him go, frozen in place, until he disappeared out of the auditorium.
She quickly stood and instructed the cast to start rehearsing. She promised she would be back shortly. She turned and followed the same path Dallas had just taken. She still couldn’t remember anything, but the wall in her mind was beginning to crumble. She could literally feel it getting weaker and weaker and she knew with every fiber of her being that Dallas was the one who held the key to unlock it completely.
CHAPTER 11
Leena
“Why didn’t you ever tell me you could play? It’s been years… years! How did you even remember that you could?”
After leaving the auditorium, Leena caught up with Dallas as he tried to escape into the studio. She’d gripped his hand boldly and stared into his eyes. They’d stood like that for the span of a few long heartbeats. When she’d gently guided him down the hall into her apartment instead, he hadn’t refused.
Leena stilled, her hands still busy cutting up the lettuce she’d chosen for a salad. It was the least she could do. She liked the mundane task of making lunch. It was something to occupy her hands with while she tried to sort out the wild jumble of thoughts and emotions tumbling through her mind and heart.
She’d put the kettl
e on to make tea and its sharp whistle punctuated the stillness. She set the knife aside and poured steaming water into two mugs. She’d found honey and had it ready this time. Not sugar.
“I… I don’t know,” she said softly. She pulled out the tea bags and stirred honey into Dallas’ tea. “I don’t know why I never told you and I don’t know why I remembered that I could. It just seemed the right thing to do at the moment. You were going to leave. I couldn’t let you leave.”
“You should have let me.” Dallas sat uncomfortably on the antique settee in her small living room. It faced the kitchen and looked like it had never been sat on once. Unlike his apartment, hers was spotless. There was no piano in hers, no musical instrument of any sorts. Hers just looked like a normal home.
Also, unlike his place, her bedroom was off to the left, separated by a door. The kitchen and living area stood separately, the bathroom off to the right. Everything was neat and compartmentalized while his was open. She wondered if during the renovation, she’d had that door put there, those walls erected or if it had already been there and she’d chosen to just go with the existing floor plan and make it work.
“Why? I didn’t want you to leave. I wanted you to stay.” Leena set down the steaming mug in front of Dallas on the small dark coffee table. “Don’t drink that yet. It’s really hot.”
Surprisingly he rolled his eyes. He looked so well put together, in a fresh set of dark jeans and a black cotton dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up to the elbow, that she would never have guessed that just a few days ago he’d been too weak to even stand up.
Thinking of him that way made her think of him lying next to her in his bed, waking up tangled together. She’d loved the weight of his legs on hers, the heat of his body, the press of hard muscle into her softer curves. Her face heated and she turned, forcing her mind back to the methodical job of preparing their lunch.