A Season of Eden (10 page)

Catching my reflection in the mirror, I almost laughed.

You sound ridiculous
. It’s just an umbrella. He probably has dozens of them. Stacey did. Dad did.

I had none.

I took it to school with me, holding it against my body like an infant as I walked the hall toward Concert Choir.

He would hate it if anyone saw me hand it to him, so I kept it tucked under my arm.

Chopin played from the CD player and a few students were already in their seats. Immediately, I searched for him. He was at the piano, minus his elbow-patched jacket, wearing a soft green shirt and a dark tie with his khakis. He was talking to some kids. My heart started to skip. I took in a deep breath.

I quickly crossed to the office where I would collect the day’s music. I stashed the umbrella by his coat, which he’d hung over a chair that was kept in the small space for utility use. My fingers lingered over the corduroy, traveling to the plaid patches. I smiled.

Grabbing the music, I headed into the classroom and started passing out the sheets. I meant to make things as comfortable for him as I could. Even though I had admitted that I’d gone to his church to see him that was all I had admitted. I saw no shame in that.

I expected a ‘hey’ at least. But I passed out the forty-three sheets of music without being stopped by him for anything. I didn’t look over, now afraid of what I might see if I did.

I took my seat in the back row when the bell rang and finally looked at him because everyone else did, too. The room fell silent except for Chopin.

Mr. Christian had both hands on the black music stand as if he was holding onto it for life. Or he wanted to huck it across the room. There was no jolly pleasure in his face at greeting his first morning class. Two knobs of bone protruded from the sides of his taut jaw. His eyes flitted over the body of the class.

When his gaze lit on me, I wanted to hide. The look pierced me. He gazed back over the class. “Sit up straight please.”

Everyone straightened without a word of complaint.

“We’ll go through Monticelli’s piece first. You should all know the words now. His hardened look pointed right at me. “Collect the music, Eden. Please.”

I made my way around the risers again and took back each piece of paper while he continued.

“No music anymore, people. If you don’t know it by now, well, then, you’ll be mouthing it I suppose. Our performance is this Saturday. Even though it’s Saturday, wear your dresses and suits Friday for advertising, please.

Show time is at seven-thirty but I would like you to come at six-thirty for warm up. Any questions?”

“Do we have to wear the dresses?”

“What other alternative do you suggest, Emily? We are a family-friendly choir here.”

A group laugh broke out, easing the tension that had strung the class together in apprehension. But when my smile met his, his vanished instantly. That stung. I looked away, trying to understand what was going on.

We practiced our two songs we were set to perform, James as intense as a lion tamer cracking a whip at a cage of lions. I’d never seen him angry and where I wouldn’t classify this display as ferocious, I sensed his raw impatience.

I couldn’t wait for the bell to ring so I could get out of there.

I almost made a dash for the door but thought better of it. Surely, his frustration wasn’t about me. Us. There was no us. It had to be about one of his classes. Casually, I gathered my things and walked right to him, my insides filled with frightened butterflies. When the last student had left, I stood in his line of vision.

He stopped stacking sheet music and looked at me.

“I left your umbrella in the office.” He didn’t react, didn’t even move. “I hope that everything is okay.”

Setting his fingers on his hips, he jerked out a nod.

“Yeah.”

The door swung open. I was glad. Tears were rushing through my head and I knew they’d give my wounded heart away if he wasn’t distracted. He didn’t look at whoever entered the room, and as I blinked to try to hold the tears back, he watched. His eyes narrowed briefly, the tendons in his arms shifted when he crossed his arms over his chest.

I started for the door, humiliated that he’d seen my eyes wet. I hadn’t cried in front of anyone since my mother had died. The bathroom was too far down the hall, but a deserted area of the parking lot was just around the corner, so I went there knowing no one would see me.

Tears streamed down my cheeks. Infuriated that I would react this way because of something so stupid, I wept even more. Every time the music room door opened and closed, I heard laughter. Chopin.
His voice
. The sounds wafted through the short hall right to my heart, as if to torment me even more.

I ditched the rest of that day. The deep red choral dress hung on the outside of my closet and I stared at it now.

Dad opened my bedroom door dressed in his suit and tie. “You okay, princess?”

“Fine.” I lay on my bed in my pajamas, staring at the dress. He followed my gaze. “New dress?”

I stared at him. “Uh, yeah.”

“I’m off. Hope you feel better.” Then he shut the door.

Rolling onto my back, I stared at the ceiling. My phone vibrated and I looked to see who was texting me. Brielle. It was her fiftieth text since yesterday.
where r u? r u alright?

where have u been? we need 2 talk. i have 2 tell u something.

I had no desire to hear about Matt, so I ignored her.

Matt had also texted me, wondering why I wasn’t at the plaza. At school. Was I in the concert Josh was talking about?

i’ll come see u sing,
he texted.

The day dragged by and I found myself out by the cliffs, looking at the endless ocean. I didn’t wear my robe. I wanted the freezing air to singe my skin in the flimsy cami and shorts I wore to bed. I deserved the discomfort.

Mr. Christian’s cold behavior left me feeling like I had lost something. Like I was empty, without more to take, and yet I knew that more would be gouged away still. I had felt this way when my mother died, and had stayed out on the cliff’s edge until my dad had found me and carried me back inside.

I couldn’t think about anything but how complete I’d felt sitting in that church next to Mr. Christian. About how I’d never felt so drawn to someone before, at first because of what I saw when I looked at him. But there was so much more to him than how he looked.

What was inside of him, what I couldn’t touch, was what I wanted.

I don’t know how long I sat out there, but my chattering teeth finally woke me from my daze. I looked at my arms, they were blue. My nail beds looked like smoky moons on an ashen sky.

Rising, I only spent one second feeling angry that Dad wasn’t there to carry me back inside. Besides, I shouldn’t need anyone to carry me anywhere.

Stacey’s prattling made me furious. If I was going to stay home and wallow in grief, I didn’t want her around.

Wallowing was private, at least for me. It had been since my mother’s death. Since I’d learned that the people around me that missed her could care less about my loss, they were too lost in their own.

I was relieved when Stacey finally took off at noon.

Around two-thirty, somebody banged on our front door. I hadn’t heard Camilla for hours and figured she’d gone grocery shopping or something, so I went to see who had gotten in through the gate Camilla had no doubt left open. She didn’t see security in the same light we did.

I opened the door to Matt. He stood with his hands in his pockets, his red baseball cap askew the way he knew I liked it.

“You okay?” His brown eyes swept me from head to toe.

“I’m fine.”

“Everybody’s wondering.”

“I know. I’ve gotten a million texts.”

“So, why didn’t you answer them?”

“I’m not feeling very good.”

Matt leaned in the doorway when he saw that he wasn’t going to be invited in. “So, what’s up? You barfing?

What?”

“I just don’t feel good.”

“Oh. Sorry. You singing in the concert tomorrow night?”

I saw Mr. Christian in my mind then, in his coat.

The memory of slipping that coat around me and the comforting warmth I had felt caused me to shudder. Matt came away from the door jamb.

“You cold?” He glanced at my chest.

“Matt!” I folded my arms. I doubted Mr. Christian would do anything so tacky.

He grinned and shrugged. “How about I come in and warm you up? You look good.”

Was he really saying this? I put my hand on the door, my signal that I was not about to invite him inside. “I really just need to crash.”

His grin dissolved. “Wait. You’re really… you and me… you really aren’t… don’t, Eden…”

My name sounded like tin scraping pavement coming from Matt, nothing like the reverent melody with which it floated from Mr. Christian’s lips. Still, I could see he was devastated by the realization, and he wasn’t afraid to show me, now that we were alone.

“Why?” Too much pleading was in his tone.

“It’s just… time, I think.”

“But we still have a half of a year of school left.”

We were obviously using different calendars for measuring time. “You’re a great friend. Let’s not let this get in the way, ‘kay?”

The vulnerability on his face snapped shut like a book.

“Fine.” He started backing down the walkway, glaring at me. Then he shot back toward me with such fury on his face, I held the door with both hands, ready to slam it if necessary.

“You’re doing this on purpose,” he hissed in my face.

“I am not. I don’t like you that way anymore, that’s all it is.”

“You wanted to be the first one to dump me. I should have never told you that.”

He was so wrong, I couldn’t believe where his mind was, tangled up in insignificancies I had long forgotten. “As if I would do something that retarded.”

“Why else would you cut me out? I told you I’d never been dumped and you had to be the first.” He stepped closer. “You hook up with somebody else?”

“No. I wouldn’t do that.”

He took an uneasy step back, eyes hurt. “So you really are just bored with me?”

I didn’t say anything.

“I thought you loved me.”

My eyes widened. I had never felt anything close to love for Matt. “I just told you, you’re a great friend. I hope that will never change.”

“I love you, Eden.”

The selfish whine in his tone spoke volumes over his words. Like a kid not getting what he wanted for his birthday. But I wasn’t in the mood, nor did I have the strength to argue with him. “I’m sorry if this hurts you.”

“No you’re not. You don’t care one bit. You think I can’t see it in your face?”

That scared me. Ours had been a surface-skimming relationship, mostly for show. To think he had had moments where he’d really studied me made me feel like a disgraced lover stripped naked before the man who had just sold her out.

“Whatever you see, it’s not what’s real.” My voice was tattered. I went to him and put my arms around him. “I mean it.”

His body went stiff. For a minute I thought he would let me hold him until he softened, understood and accepted. But he pulled my wrists down and pushed me back, his face harder.

“You think that’s going to help?” Then he turned and started down the walk.

Numb, I watched with the cold air chilling my skin to blue again. His car screeched as he backed it out the drive, then it roared as he took off down Paseo del Mar.

Feelings of uselessness washed over me with the strength of a tidal wave. I hadn’t felt this abandoned for years. My friends, parties and Matt’s company were always a place to escape to. Disbelief hung like a leaden shrug over my shoulders the rest of the night. I really hadn’t lost my friends and I could always find a party, but those were temporary shelters that would disappear with the ease of night vanishing into day.

Brielle had finally given up and stopped texting me. I had no idea what she was doing but I guessed Matt figured into it somehow, and he just might go for her, feeling rejected as I knew he was. I’d never been a rebounder, but at that moment, the idea had its merits.

Matt and I had been together for six months. For me, that was a record. Like him, I’d always been the one to end the relationship first. I’d never been dumped. He’d never been dumped. We thought things would be perfect.

I didn’t mourn the demise of our relationship. I felt bad that I had hurt him. That was a first for me. Maybe it was the time invested. I had the brief cheesy thought that I was really growing up, having this partial epiphany.