Symphony of Light and Winter (17 page)

I nodded. He could have played
Chopsticks
and I would have been happy.

He began with the solemn phrasing of the piece. Every languid note held so much emotion. My fingers mindlessly stroked the side of his leg in the slow melodic tempo of the first movement. The mournful timbre accented the sadness I felt knowing that every minute I stayed with him, it was going to be much harder to accept I could never have him.

I had only heard the first movement of the piece but as the somber melody transitioned into a more energetic strain, I knew it would be an experience I would never forget.

His enthusiastic gestures, the bounce of his hair as he pounded out the rapid notes, all added to the look of determination on his face. The notes were saturated in passion, and violence defined him. I watched him with intense concentration and wondered if he brought that same passion to his kisses, his bed, and his love. It would be a miracle if one person could harness him.

When he played the last note, his breathing was heavy and a thin film of perspiration coated the skin of his brow and neck. He looked down at the floor and then slowly into my eyes. That instant, the connection formed again. He reached up and brushed the hair from my face and I did the same to him, draping his thick, dark, sweat-moistened locks behind his ear.

“That was magnificent. I’ve never…”

His hand reached up to cup my face. His thumb caressed my lower lip as I spoke.

“Heard…or seen…anything like you. I mean that.”

He smiled and continued to outline my lip.

“Linden…” he said with a breathy whisper, “there are so many things I want to show you, teach you. I want you to make me a promise.”

I answered without hesitation. “Yes.”

“The way you are looking at me right now… Please, always look at me this way. Stare into my eyes and see me for who I am and know that there is nothing more than this. When the world calls things into question, you need not question me because I will always be here for you. The comfort I find in your eyes is new and frightening.”

I found it difficult to believe anything frightened this man. He cupped my cheek and with tenderness that mirrored his words, he caressed my face and trailed his hand to rest on my chest just below my neck. I wrapped my hand around his wrist, holding him to me.

He leaned in, pinning our arms between us, and breathed, “Promise me.”

I closed my eyes, reveling in his closeness, his scent, his heat. “OK.”

“Good.”

He inhaled. “I will make you a promise in return. I cannot bring you into my world as I would like, so I will not ask you to indulge me further. I should let you go, but I’m sorry, I am far too selfish to break all ties. I do promise to always be your friend, your mentor.”

Deep down, hopeful he might love me and see me as a woman, I opened my eyes and managed a smile filled with sadness and disappointment. Protégé was the title bestowed upon me, not girlfriend, lover, or wife. I looked away from him to try to pull back the tears that escaped my eyes.

“Already breaking your promise?”

I looked up and he brushed my tears away with his thumb.

“I’m not immune, Linden. I feel it too. I just need to be stronger than this, for you.” He pulled me into his embrace.

His arms were tight around me. He smiled but something sad lingered behind it. “It’s getting late. I should get you home.”

Chapter Ten

Ritual

For Thanksgiving, I cooked a turkey and several sides for my aunt and me. After dinner was over, I took some leftovers to the cemetery.

To my surprise, Cyril ate them. Thanksgiving dinner never looked as appetizing in leftover form.

“Wasn’t sure you’d like it.” It was funny to see a man his size try to cut turkey with a plastic knife and spork.

“I love it.” He opened the second Tupperware container and handed it to me to hold for him. “No one has ever made me a Thanksgiving dinner.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“I never can find time to celebrate, and my family isn’t what you might think of as normal.” He made a sound like a muted chuckle and placed a hand on my knee.

“Strange families are something I understand.” I looked out over the mountain vista.

As he chewed the steamed asparagus, I took my opportunity to speak. “Matt invited me to a party in two weeks.”

He showed no emotion. “Are you planning to go?”

“I don’t know. I don’t get many party invites. Plus, the shirt came in today. It might be a good place to unveil it.”

He continued to chew. I never realized how much he looked at me until he wasn’t. Emptiness expanded in my chest.

“The T-shirt has a caricature of me with hair straight out of the eighties. I almost look evil.”

That caught his attention. Our eyes connected and even though air filled my lungs, I felt breathless.

“Impossible! There is nothing evil about you, Light.” The serious look on his face gave me pause.

I smiled. “Well, thank you, Mr. Cranberry Face.”

I reached up with my thumb and swiped away the bit of cranberry at the corner of his mouth. My hand palmed the side of his face and without conscious thought my thumb began to caress his full bottom lip. He closed his eyes. I continued to stroke back and forth until his tongue darted forth and wet the very tip of my thumb in one languid movement. My body went rigid and raced with impure thoughts. I longed for my thumb to be other parts of my body, to have his tongue tease me in more desirable places. It was only thirty-four degrees out, but my body coursed with heat.

I prayed and hoped he’d carry it further; he’d kiss me with that mouth. If he showed interest, I would give myself to him. But his signals were mixed. He stared at me for a long moment. Please…

He pulled away and went back to eating. He acted as if the last few minutes never happened. “So, are you planning to get your first kiss from Matt at the party? It sounds like the perfect opportunity.”

I was about to throw myself at him and he was encouraging me to kiss someone else!

“Yes, I guess it would be,” I said through gritted teeth. I needed some distance. “I have to get back.” I stood and crossed my arms. The frustration of dangling from the edge of hope made my eye twitch.

He swallowed the last bite, and rose, brushing crumbs from his pants. “Here, let me drive you.”

“It’s OK, I need to get a walk in today.” I needed to walk off the confusion. “Happy Thanksgiving.” I hurried away.

He didn’t call out. He didn’t say anything. In one weak moment, I looked over my shoulder, and saw him staring after me. The breeze ruffled his hair and he looked like a majestic angel holding a white plastic spork.

* * *

I didn’t go back for the next two weeks. I found myself staring out the window to see if I could spot his car, but no luck. I needed to figure out what I felt. I had no business lusting after Cyril. Unfortunately, what I felt and what I should feel were two very different things. He was too old and not a logical choice for someone my age. I didn’t think I would ever stop fantasizing about him, but I had to get a hold on my teenage crush. I decided to attend Matt’s party.

After those two weeks of convincing myself I could face him, I returned to the cemetery. His car was there. Shocking. I figured he’d stop coming.

I was surprised when he made eye contact through the window of the car. The door opened quickly and he closed the distance between us. He placed both hands on each side of my face and started searching my eyes for answers. “Are you OK? I’ve been so worried.”

“Why?”

“You looked upset when you left on Thanksgiving and you haven’t been back. Did I do or say something to upset you?”

“No,” I lied. “I just needed some time to think. I’ve been acting like some foolish little girl but I think I’ve got that all under control. I was just coming to say good-bye.”

His eyes narrowed. “Good-bye?”

“Yes.” Before I could think to stop myself, the truth started to spill from me. “You confuse me. I don’t understand my feelings for you. I don’t think they’re healthy and most times I doubt that you’d appreciate my thoughts. Plus, I have no idea what you are thinking. Maybe I’m reading too much into it? Maybe I’m not giving you enough credit? I need to have my own life with people my own age, a life I can understand. I’m going to go to the party tomorrow and as you suggested I’m going to take my opportunity. I need to start living in reality, not this…this…fantasy or whatever it is.”

He released my face.

Tears threatened my eyes, stinging. I fought to keep them at bay. I knew he didn’t feel the way I did, so continuing would only hurt me. “Thank you for everything you’ve given, taught, and done for me but I can’t trust myself with you.”

He looked down with an expressionless face. “I thought you cared for me as I cared for you.”

“That’s the problem, I care too much and don’t know where the line is and I’m afraid I’ll cross it and lose everything, including you. This way I still keep you in my mind and nothing is risked.”

“If that’s how you see it.” His voice was stern.

“It is.”

I mouthed
thank you
and turned to leave. I didn’t look back. The pain of walking away from him felt like being drop-kicked in the chest, muscles tight and aching. I knew this was right; I cared too much. He could never care for me the same way. I marched back to reality with him making no effort to stop me.

* * *

The next night I readied myself for Matt’s party. I wore jeans and a black shirt that read
Matt.
It would be funny since he was unveiling the T-shirt with my picture. I styled my hair using way too much hair spray. Sexy was what I was going for, but I had a feeling I might have missed the mark.

I wanted Matt’s kiss to push Cyril out of my mind, as if that were possible, but I was willing to give it a try. After pulling on a pair of high-heeled boots, I grabbed a denim jacket that matched my jeans. It was cool out, but unseasonably warm for late December. I looked at myself in the mirror, and decided I improved as much as was possible and walked outside to wait for my friend Stacy.

We arrived at the party by ten p.m. The music coming from inside the house was so loud, I felt the ground shake. I thanked Stacy.

“Catch me later if you need a ride back,” Stacy commented before she made off toward the stairs.

I followed Stacy up the stairs to the doorway, as the smell of beer and vomit grew overwhelming. “I will. Thanks again.”

Unable to take it, I stepped outside. I was never much of a party girl. If I smelled vomit I had the urge to do just that; so stepping inside was out of the question. I walked across Matt’s front lawn and found a garden bench seated in a small rock garden. I decided it as good as any place to scope out the night. I really just wanted to see Matt.

About ten minutes later, Jason from science class parked his car and made his way to the house.

“Jason?”

“Yeah?”

“Could you tell Matt that I’m out here?”

“Sure thing.”

How he could stand that smell I would never know. Several minutes later, Matt stumbled through the door and onto the porch.

He looked around, not spotting me at first and when he finally did, he exclaimed, “There you are!”

He tripped over the top step and fell flat on his face, obviously drunk. I stood and raced toward him. He could have easily broken his nose, but when I got to him, two things were apparent. Nothing was broken, and he was the epicenter of the putrid smell. He had puked all over me, or rather, all over the T-shirt with my likeness.

“Matt, what happened to you?”

He giggled. “The whiskey didn’t sit too well, so I switched to beer. I don’t think the beer liked me either.”

“Really?” I said sarcastically. “Did you ever consider not drinking as an option?”

He laughed and tried to stand up, but instead fell into me. I was forced to support his weight; unfortunately, I also came in contact with the puke-covered shirt. I helped him to the bench. He sat down and I made sure he was downwind. He saw my shirt and started to laugh. He pointed at it, but instead of gesturing he ended up poking me in the boob, making him giggle even more.

“God, Matt, you stink. Let’s get you inside and changed.”

He was laughing hysterically now. “Are you going to help me take my pants off?”

“No!”

The way I pictured the night couldn’t be further from reality.

“You know, I really want to kiss you.”

I glared at him. “That’s impossible, you smell way too bad.”

He laughed again and suddenly moved in to kiss me. I narrowly avoided his attack and as he fell off the bench, I spotted something out of the corner of my eye. In the distance, about a block away, sat a black BMW and there were only about five people in my entire town who could afford that car. My attention returned to Matt only because he looked like he was about to throw up again.

I patted him on the head. “You look like you’re going to be sick again. Go ahead and puke. I’ll be right back.”

My little diversion would serve two purposes. I wouldn’t be there to witness him vomiting, and I’d be able to find out if it was Cyril’s car.

I cautiously approached the vehicle. No one was inside. The windows were up and tinted dark. I carefully looked around to make sure no one was watching me while I searched for any sign it was his. The moment I saw the jacket folded across the seat and several classical music CD cases, I knew it was. Why was he here? Was he spying on me? I looked in all directions but didn’t see him.

I stood there for a time, but decided I needed to get back to Matt. I jogged back and helped him up. He was barely capable of walking. I got him to the door and persuaded big guys to help him to the couch. Covering my nose, I sought out Stacy to tell her I didn’t need a ride. She didn’t ask how I was getting home.

The walk would be several miles, but not impossible. I made my way to the door and closed it behind me. I didn’t bother to say good-bye to Matt. I smelled like puke, felt disgusting, and kept thinking about how near Cyril had been. I was still hurt he didn’t stop me from leaving yesterday, even though I had no right to expect him. I decided to walk past the car again on my way home.