Concerto in Chroma Major

by Naomi Tajedler

  “What is that supposed to mean?” Alexandra snarls as she stands and adjusts her shirt. She brushes her dark curls away from her face, but they bounce back.

  Halina sits up stiffly. “I only meant that you are—you were—horny.” Her voice lifts into a question as her defensive walls rise.

  “Uh huh.” Alexandra frowns. “So this had nothing to do with what you think of me?”

  “What I think of you?”

  “Your perpetual condemnation, how I can’t be trusted? How you had to lower your standards to put up with our relationship? Pick one.”

  “I do trust you, Xandra! I don’t judge you for dating men in the past; you probably didn’t know better. But do you expect me for one second to go through so much hormonal shit for someone I don’t trust, someone I don’t care about?” Halina jumps to her feet, wincing as the words replay in her mind. She regrets the sentence even before she finishes it, but there is nothing she can do to take it back now.

  Hands on her hips, Alexandra suddenly seems much taller than her five-and-a-bit feet. She’s formidable in her anger, and Halina is both frightened and aroused.

  “Well, excuse me, Miss Perfect Golden Lesbian.” Alexandra is seething. “Excuse me for being a fat, temperamental, greedy bitch!”

  “Xandra…”

  “And while we’re at it, excuse me for being too enthusiastic about too many things and excuse me for having my own priorities, for not worshipping the very ground you deign to float upon!”

  “Alexandra, I never—” Halina tries to cut into Alexandra’s rant, but there is no way to stop her now.

  They have a good thing going, but now it is clear Alexandra has more insecurities and grievances than she let on. As Alexandra catches her breath, Halina tries to reason with her. “I never said I wanted you to worship me.”

  “But you would be more comfortable if I were a perfect lesbian,” Alexandra retorts, eyes piercing, unforgivingly so. Halina has never found her more beautiful.

  “Do I wish I didn’t have to compete for your attention?” she replies, letting her own worries out of the bag. “Do I feel like I will never be able to trust you not to cheat on me? Do I wish fucking Leo wasn’t still in your life, in more ways than you let on? Of course I do!”

  Alexandra rolls her eyes, dismissive and condescending, and Halina’s own temper rises to match hers. “But it would be the same with any of your exes, with anyone who mattered for you before me,” she insists. Deep down, she knows she’s lying. After all, they met because of one of Alexandra’s exes, and Halina never spared a thought for her or any other woman.

  She quickly pushes the little voice to a more remote part of her mind, because now is not the time to admit that Alexandra might be right.

  “Would you, though? Be more comfortable?”

  Damn her for seeing right through me. Halina twists her hair into a messy bun on top of her head. “Listen, I have had some… difficulties, okay, accepting your orientation and what it could do to us, but you’re impugning my motive here, and—”

  “I don’t want you to accept me, Halina,” Alexandra replies, her shoulders sagging as her eyes leave Halina’s. “I just need you to love me as I am, not as you want me to be.”

  “I meant…”

  “It’s time for you to go.”

  “You can’t be serious right now!”

  “I may be impaired by my hormones,” Alexandra squares her shoulders, voice filled with irritation, “but I am fully capable of making a decision to ensure my well-being, and right now…” She pauses to take a deep breath. “…I need you to fuck off.”

  “Xandra,” Halina begs as she picks up her bag from the corner where she left it, “we need to talk this through, please?”

  Alexandra takes another deep breath and then hugs herself. “I think we both need some time to get a hold on ourselves and figure out what we want.”

  “There’s no n—” Halina starts, but she chokes on the end of her sentence.

  Alexandra cocks her head. “See?” She opens the door. “We can definitely use some time apart to clear things up.” She stops, biting on her lower lip. “Once and for all.”

  “Once and for a—are you breaking up with me?” Halina asks, shocked by the fragility she hears in her voice and even more shocked at how much the idea of Alexandra finding their coda in this fight troubles her.

  “No, Halina,” Alexandra replies, some of her usual softness returning to her voice, “I’m saying we need a break to find out if we’re what the other needs.”

  It’s hard to breathe, and tears build in her eyes. Halina doesn’t want to cry on Alexandra’s doorstep, not when she hasn’t let herself cry in so many years. She clearly fucked up long before Alexandra lashed out; what happened tonight brought it all to light. Tears won’t help them, not in their respective states of mind. So she swallows the tears and the sob and squeezes Alexandra’s wrist on her way out. She is relieved that Alexandra doesn’t recoil from her touch.

  Small mercies.

  “I—um, I brought a bottle of wine, it’s in the kitchen,” she says softly, voice barely above a whisper. “And… um, call me?”

  Alexandra’s eyes shine in the soft light of the lamp above the elevator door as she gives her a curt nod. “I will,” she replies, glancing up only once before she closes the door.

  Halina, alone with her thoughts and her questions, has only one certainty. Alexandra will call her, because her girlfriend has never lied to her, not once since they met. Why did Halina doubt her in the first place?

  Ch 16

  B-flat Major

  Brown, Orange, and Lilac

  The mirrored walls of the hotel elevator show a woman who is tired. Alexandra needed three days apart to stop aching, to mend her cracked heart while her mind replayed the whole evening.

  She sees now that her temper had taken over, and she’d let all the uncertainties she had about her and Halina boil into a maelstrom of emotions that made almost no sense when it came out. But her anger was genuine, as was the pain Halina’s words had elicited—words Alexandra has had to deal with since she came out.

  The prejudice against bisexuals, especially women, is strong, in both the straight and the gay communities; but until now, it had never been used against her by someone she was dating. Not even Leo had mentioned it while they were together.

  Other times she and Halina spent together replay in her mind, and Alexandra closes her eyes to focus on the moment they are in now. It’s more important than their willingness to build a relationship, more important even than discovering each other. This moment, the now, will determine if there is still a chance for a “them” at all.

  Stepping into the room is harder than she thought it would be, but Alexandra puts her fears aside to enter the ring ready for battle.

  “I’m glad you came.” Halina offers a glass of something glowing amber, but she refuses it. She’d rather keep a clear head.

  “I said I would, didn’t I?”

  “You did.” Halina exhales shakily. “I want to tell you I’m sorry.” Halina’s words trip over each other in her hurry to get them out. “And I won’t let it happen again.”

  “How can I be sure you won’t…” Alexandra’s words die on her lips; anger and disappointment are still fresh and bitter. She swallows them and glares at Halina.

  Alexandra was prepared for a confrontation, for Halina to be defensive and harsh, for an opportunity to unleash her resentment. She is unprepared for Halina to be contrite and apologetic as a misbehaving child who is aware she has done something wrong but can’t, in her self-centered ignorance, figure out what.

  If Halina truly understood what was wrong in what she did, what she said, if her apology was sincere and complete, Alexandra would be in her arms in a heartbeat for a hot, sweaty, debauched reconciliation on the fluffy pillows sitting on Halina’s bed. But as
it is, Halina’s confused frown is all Alexandra needs to clarify the mess they’re in. While her girlfriend is obviously aware she made a mistake, she doesn’t understand the gravity of the situation.

  Time to enlighten her, then.

  God, if she could borrow just some of Liz’s diplomatic talent.

  “What you said,” she starts all over again, slowly, taking deep breaths to calm herself, “was hurtful, Halina.”

  “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Halina replies, wringing her hands in front of her.

  “Whether you meant to hurt me or not, your intent has little to no importance when it did wound me,” Alexandra insists, “and it was insulting. I may have overreacted, sure, but the basis of it all stands.”

  “I’m sorry,” Halina replies, hands flailing in a definitely uncharacteristic fashion, “I’m sorry if I hurt you. I’m sorry I don’t even—” She pauses to take a deep, shaky breath, and Alexandra is shocked to see tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry I can’t even find what I said that set you off, what I did when all I want is for us to work for what we could be if you gave me a chance…”

  Alexandra’s first instinct screams at her to take Halina in her arms. After all, this is what she wanted to hear, desperately so, no matter what she claimed and wanted others to believe. Halina’s confession that they share more than a superficial attraction, more than a very beneficial friendship, is all Alexandra could ask for, even though she hadn’t put it into words for herself.

  But for once in her life, Alexandra listens not to her heart, but to her brain. Her brain is telling her to go through with this not-fight, this discussion, to secure a more balanced basis for them to get back together.

  “What you did, babe,” she explains, her voice soft, “is use my past, my sex life, as a weapon against me.”

  “Not a weapon,” Halina protests, but her voice is soft too.

  The quiet turn the discussion has taken lets the sounds from outside vibrate within Halina’s room. The ding of the hotel elevator, the roar of a couple of cars, the babble of an indistinguishable conversation: all these noises are yellow, wiggly lines, stark against the dark gray of heavy silence stretched between them.

  “You used my sex life against me,” Alexandra repeats, willing to amend her choice of words if it allows her to convey her thoughts to Halina. “You still consider my past relationships, with men at least, as some temporary lapse of judgment, a flaw you would generously gloss over, forgive, and move on.”

  “I’m sure there are some things in me you don’t find attractive and yet accept,” Halina replies, “such as my temper or my selfishness.”

  Alexandra groans; a wordless scream is on the tip of her tongue. “No! Right there!” she exclaims, walking in circles on her side of the room. The impression of entering a battle is back, more present than it ever was. “That’s what I meant! Me being bi is not a flaw of character I could work on if I applied myself and made a little effort!”

  Halina remains silent; her whole demeanor is the epitome of hostility. Nevertheless, her silence is proof she’s still listening.

  Thank God for small mercies.

  “The only thing I could use against you the way you have used my bisexuality…” Alexandra’s voice is back to its normal volume as she tries to find the proper argument to make Halina understand. “…would be to remind you how much of a slut you have been.”

  Halina’s reaction is immediate. Her hands close into fists as the apples of her cheeks turn bright red: exactly the reaction Alexandra was expecting, as if Alexandra just slapped her.

  “What does it have to do with you dating men? I’m not that person anymore; you can’t doubt it.”

  “You see my point, then.”

  “What point?”

  Alexandra’s shoulders sag as she feels the will to fight drain out of her. She must continue, though not against Halina—quite the contrary, for both of them.

  “The past,” Alexandra says softly, with her chin dropped to her chest and her emotions back under control. “What both arguments have in common: the past. I used to have sex with men before you, you used to have casual sex with many women before me, yeah, but it’s… in the past,” she adds with a gesture as if to brush all of it away. Tilting her head to find Halina’s eyes, Alexandra takes a deep breath, hoping her voice won’t shake. “And as for who I may date if we go our separate ways… it shouldn’t matter.”

  “It doesn’t.”

  “As long as it comes back in a discussion, fight or otherwise,” Alexandra exclaims, all of her emotions boiling over, as quick as milk from a forgotten pan on the stove, “it clearly matters and my bisexuality should. Not. Matter.”

  She punctuates every word with a clap of her hands, and the last one rings between them, highlighting the silence that once again suddenly stretches over the room, deep as molasses and just as dark.

  “The only fact that matters, Lina,” she says softly, “is that we love each other and we stay faithful to that.”

  It’s the first time she has used the “L” word. What a moment to cross that threshold!

  Halina nods; she keeps her eyes glued to her feet until Alexandra’s phone beeps a familiar melody. She takes it out of her pocket to make it stop. Halina queasily considers the device.

  “Do you—do you have to go?” she asks, her voice small and more fragile than Alexandra expected.

  “Punshki,” she replies. “I have to take care of him, walk him, and give him his pills.”

  “Of course,” Halina says sincerely.

  From anybody else, the two words might have been laced with malicious intent, but Halina’s concern for her furry companion is genuine. Good God, she loves her, flaws and incomprehension and all.

  Oy vey.

  “Can we—” Halina starts, wringing her hands around the hem of her top. “Can we talk? Tomorrow? After you’re done with your work, after my rehearsals are complete. Can we talk some more? Please?”

  “Sure.”

  “See you tomorrow, Xandra. Go home safely.”

  “Good night, Lina.”

  * * *

  The following day is filled with jitters and nerves, and Halina is completely unable to focus. She loses her temper at Ari, who remains mysteriously out of her sight for the rest of the morning. They don’t speak more than three words to her when they return. If this is what Love, actual Love, capital L, does to a person, she’s glad she didn’t have to deal with it before. It’s messy and complicated and it’s interfering with her true purpose in life; it keeps her from connecting with the music.

  Her brain disputes that statement. If anything, Alexandra’s presence in her life has brought a new dimension to her music, to her way of feeling the notes: a new depth and more emotion. Sure, it is difficult to focus on the sheet music when the only things Halina wants to read are Alexandra’s laugh lines and the variations in the gray of her eyes. But when her mind focuses on meeting with Alexandra later, Halina feels a weird sensation, a mixture of excitement and peace that is more difficult to understand than any thought.

  In a way, they’re worth it, all the difficulties they face, when she weighs them against all that Alexandra has brought to her life. How ridiculous: It’s worth it, worth fighting for, and Halina was stupid to let Leonardo Neri slither his way into her head and between the two of them.

  “All right,” the maestro calls, tapping his baton against the rostrum. “One last time for today, if you will. Miss Piotrowski, whenever you’re ready.”

  The tone is both judgmental and condescending, but Halina is not surprised. It’s common knowledge that the guest conductor has a special place in his heart for Prokofiev. He must resent Halina for not giving her all to a work by the Russian composer.

  Halina bows her head with her hands paused above the keyboard. The whole orchestra is here, though the concerto doesn’t require it; the conductor o
bviously wants to go with a symphonic interpretation. Now she has pulled herself together and shelved all the things she wants to say to Alexandra in the storeroom of her mind. Now she’s ready.

  Halina listens to the vivacious beginning of the first movement and closes her eyes to let it carry her through the quick pace of the composition. That’s where she’s been wrong all day, wasting their time with her personal block: She thought too hard about it and forgot that the music plays her as much as she plays it.

  The flutes, oboes, and violins take over, and Halina sits up, getting ready to get back into the melody. From the corner of her eye, she catches the collective breath of relief exhaled by the orchestra when the maestro keeps them going, finally satisfied with Halina’s performance.

  During her break, Halina ponders the epiphany she just had and how it can translate to the mess with Alexandra. Maybe it’s the same problem, because she has the same issues with her professional and personal lives. Maybe it’s the same solution too: She needs to learn to let go and stop blowing everything out of proportion. She stopped assuming the maestro worked against her; she trusted him to be there with her and the whole group with him. Now, if she were to apply that to her current situation with one glass artist…

  Her hands return to the keys and she touches them lightly, playfully, to match the circular melody Prokofiev wrote all those years ago. Halina closes her eyes once again.

  How will it look through Alexandra’s synesthesia?

  The thought lingers; it’s been present ever since she discovered Alexandra’s peculiar relationship with music, and Halina is glad when the bassoons play. Their astounding sound is what she needs to silence her brain.

  Whatever the outcome, there is a piece of music she wants to play for Alexandra; whether it will be an apology or a farewell is yet to be decided.

  * * *

  “You told her what?”

  The music on the radio fits Alexandra’s mood quite well, as the electropop at the top of the charts translates perfectly what brews in the studio: swirls of reds and light-green sparks build her increasing belligerence. Something Halina said about Alexandra and Leo’s relationship didn’t sit well with her and, if she’s not mistaken, Mr. Neri must have tried to play a dirty trick.