The Story of Lansing Lotte (28 page)

“Lila, look at me,” he said softly.

I couldn’t look. I hadn’t been crying, which is what I think he assumed I would be doing.  I had no tears left for my sister. I had cried them all out years ago. When I didn’t look up at him, he forced me with his fingers on my chin to meet his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Lila. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

I sighed deeply.

“You’re doing something you know is wrong, that’s what’s wrong with you.”

I didn’t feel like sparing his feelings. He had obviously slept with Guinevere DeGrance, who was his best friend’s fiancée. His best friend, who was missing, and they had just determined was alive. I felt sick to my stomach and I didn’t want him to touch me. I flinched my face out of his grasp and he let his hands fall to my thighs. 

“Lila, I need your forgiveness. But I also need you to understand.”

“I don’t need to forgive you. You’ve done nothing wrong to me. And I don’t need to understand, because I don’t understand.”

Then, I told Lansing about Sara and Josh. When I was finished he was silent.

“It’s different,” he said.

“How?”

“We aren’t hurting anyone.”

“What about Arturo?”

Lansing wiped his hands through his hair. I noticed he’d taken a shower.

“What about Arturo?  He isn’t here. We don’t know where he is. And if he is alive, why isn’t he coming back? Why is he making us suffer? Why is he torturing Guinie like that? I’m getting sick and tired of thinking of Arturo. If he wants to play some sick game with us, then fuck him,” Lansing said softly.

“What if he can’t tell you what’s wrong with him?” I said.

“What do you mean?”

“What if he’s hurt beyond his control, and he can’t get back to you? To her?”

Lansing was quiet for a moment. I felt the need to tell him something, something I think he needed to know. But I wasn’t sure Lansing Lotte was ready for that shower of truth he desperately deserved at the moment.

“Why are you defending him?”

“I…I don’t know. Am I?”

“Look, all I want is my chance with her. I just want what was stolen from me years ago.”

I had no idea what Lansing was talking about. I was suddenly bone tired.

“Sometimes it isn’t a missed opportunity, Lansing. Sometimes, it’s Fate telling us it was never meant to be.”
 

I hated Lila’s words. Yet, I had that nagging feeling she was right, again. We parted on a truce with no conclusions, and the week passed slowly as she hardly spoke to me. We had learned that she would have her apartment back by January 3rd, which was in only a few weeks.  Thanksgiving was coming and the band didn’t know what to do with itself. We had always gathered together at Ingrid’s. 

Ingrid Tintagel had been like a surrogate mother to all of us, including her own son, Arturo. They had a weird relationship as son and mother reunited, while I had the opposite type of relationship with Vivian. Mother and son now estranged. I wasn’t sure how to feel about her after I learned the truth of the kidnapping. She had raised me. She had been good to me. She had given me what she could. But she had stolen me, and I had trouble forgiving that. Thanksgiving was a time to be thankful. Typically, I was thankful for Vivian, but that year I felt that bubbling anger again at her when I thought of the loss of Guinevere, all those years ago.

Guinie did call me, which surprised me, but I shouldn’t have been. Guinevere followed through on her word. Years ago, the band had been practicing at The Round Table. Guinie DeGrance was younger then, but I still remembered her and my lost opportunity. I had never re-approached her. I didn’t know what to say.

On that particular occasion, we were waiting our turn for the stage and Guinie passed through the empty bar. She stopped in her tracks when she saw the band. She had to have been eighteen, a senior at Performing Arts. I was well into my second year of college, but thinking of dropping out because of the success of the band. I hadn’t gone to the same place as the other guys, choosing to do the city college thing and take some basic courses until I knew where the band was headed. Either way, it had been two years since I had seen her. She looked beautiful. 

While she had been pretty at sixteen, she was stunning at eighteen. She always knew how to hold herself, upright and regal, and she had an air about her that suggested she was wise beyond her years. She didn’t act all silly and giggly around us, like most girls her age, and I was reminded at that moment of the first time I saw her. The thing that made her stand apart, even more so, was the fact that she was kind. She did not come across as arrogant, but rather shy.

She blinked several times on that occasion, when she saw the band hanging out at the table and it was Arturo who called her name, forcing her to join us.

“Guinevere, right?” he said. I knew Arturo. He wasn’t showing interest in her, he was too focused on his guitar at the moment, but she was zoned in on him. If I had to guess, I would have thought she had a crush on him, but I willed her to look at me. I wanted her to remember me.

“Can you settle something for us? That guy up there,” and he winked toward the stage, “thinks he can outplay my man, Lansing, here. It’s a battle of the bands, so to speak, and we need a judge.”

Another band had finished their set and were fixing up cords and picking up equipment, but the lead guitarist had stopped working and was now focusing on Arturo. He had challenged me earlier, jokingly calling me a punk, and insinuating that I couldn’t hold my own against a more experienced guitarist. He was a big guy, but I knew size didn’t matter when playing an instrument. Perk was huge, but he was gentle with those drums, even when he hammered away at them. All joking aside, Arturo had accepted a challenge on my behalf to play against another.

We’d been in situations like that before, Arturo challenging another band member or soloist to perform against one another. He seemed to thrive on the competition, and it always drew an audience. Suddenly, it seemed we had an audience here, too. Wait staff and groupies stopped moving, and the buzz of the background faded to silence as I felt people slowly gather around our table. The lead guitarist from the other band had jumped down from the stage and held his guitar loosely in his hand, his eyes burning fire into Arturo’s teasing eyes.

I wasn’t too concerned. Arturo had put me into those challenges before. It was a joust fest. Who could play the strongest, the fastest, to the finish. I knew I could win, but I was nervous with Guinie present. I wanted to win for her.

She still hadn’t looked in my direction, as her eyes seemed to be focused solely on Arturo, who didn’t seem to be paying a lick of attention to her in response.  He had only called her over as an impartial observer.

“Rules,” Arturo began. “Fair play to the finish. Here’s the song.”

Eruption
by Eddie Van Halen.

I’d played the song hundreds of times and it was a challenge. I felt confident again in my ability, but my mind kept shifting to the fact that Guinevere was watching. I wanted to impress her.

The other guitarist, who I learned later was Chaucer Chase from Road to Bath, was just as confident, as he gave Arturo a nod of approval. Chase, as he was called, turned his back on us and headed to the stage. He was taking the challenge seriously and wasn’t going to put on a show here in front of the gathered crowd. He wanted center stage, lights and attention.

At that moment, Arturo determined there must be a prize for the winner. 

“A kiss,” Tristan grumbled. He didn’t give into those spontaneous whims of Arturo. He called them Guitar Hero jack offs, and I always laughed because I kicked ass at that video game.

“A kiss?” Arturo laughed. “Willing candidates?”

At that point, Guinevere’s eyes did meet mine. She didn’t give away any hint that she recognized me. I tried to remain calm, despite the sweat trickling down my back.

“You?” Arturo said, pointing at Guinie.

She didn’t respond, only looked back at me after she realized he had addressed her again. She remained collected and composed, as I’d seen Guinie do, but I noticed the slightest hesitation as she swallowed slowly. I could almost taste that neck as I saw it roll. It could not be like the first time if I kissed her again. It would not be another challenge that forced us to meet.

“Leave her alone,” I said, standing to defend her honor. “She’s not involved.”

“Are you afraid it won’t be you that she kisses?” Arturo teased.

The thought of Guinie kissing that beefy guy on stage made my stomach roll, but I didn’t have a chance to respond. Guinevere spoke instead.

“I have every confidence that Lansing will be my champion.” She stepped forward and removed a ribbon from her hair. The front locks only were tied back with the ribbon around a small band. She wrapped the ribbon around my wrist and I noticed her shaking hands. She tried her hardest not to touch my skin as if I might burn her. Standing before me, I could feel the tension coming off her poised body.

She still had not acknowledged that she knew me, other than my name.

I played my heart out in that challenge. I accepted and defeated my opponent as I poured my anger at Vivian, my regret at losing Guinevere, and my determination to impress her into my play. I was sweating full force by the end, my fingers had actually bled and they ached, but I played like I’d never played before. The gathered group was quiet when we finished. I realized my opponent had given up long ago. I had been so into my own head, I hadn’t even noticed that the challenge was over.

I stood on stage breathing heavily when I heard a mumbled, “Pay up.” Guinevere approached the stage and remained standing before me. I actually fell to my knees in front of her and leaned forward on my hands, spent. 

“I knew you would be my champion,” she whispered, and she brushed each of my cheeks with her lips.

“That’s not a kiss,” Tristan Lyons burst from the table in the middle of the pit floor. He laughed whole-heartedly when Guinie replied.

“You didn’t say I had to make-out with him, just kiss him. And I chose a champion’s kiss.”

It didn’t matter to me. I knew in that moment I’d do anything she asked of me.

What I didn’t want to do was give Guinie up so soon, so I wasn’t prepared for Guinie to say we could never see each other again. I had finally gotten my chance to be with her and I didn’t want to let her go. We could tackle the search for Arturo together. I had planned to comfort her in ways that she would forget Arturo. And then I stopped. Guinevere DeGrance would never forget Arturo King. They were destined to be together.

But it wasn’t even realistic that I couldn’t ever see her again. The distance would give away our guilt too much, and that’s what consumed her then – guilt. When I met her at that coffee shop down the street from my apartment, she looked frail and thin, turned into herself, like she had months ago when Arturo disappeared. I’d returned her to that state and it ate at my insides.
How did I do that to her?

Her hands shook as she reached for her coffee and she sipped slowly. She hadn’t removed her sunglasses, even though we were inside the café. I knew without a doubt she had been crying and those tinted shades hid swollen eyes of regret. She couldn’t face me. I didn’t want to be upset, but I wanted her to look me in the eye and tell me the truth.

“It was a mistake,” she said softly.

I knew that. I did, but it didn’t make things any easier. I had wanted her for so long and been obsessed with my missed opportunity that I didn’t want to spoil the chance I had been given. I didn’t want to disregard that as a mistake. I didn’t know what to label it, though.

“Guinie, I…”

“I love Arturo,” she said confidently, but it looked like it pained her to say the words.

“I don’t know where he is, or what happened to him, but I know that he’s still alive. You saw him, or thought you saw him. I can’t give up yet that he will return. Maybe not to me, but he will return.”

Guinie’s guilt was so strong that she thought Arturo wouldn’t do whatever it took to get to her. That wasn’t true. He loved her. He only loved her. I knew that Arturo would be determined to find his way home to her. Only her.