Background Noise [HS]

TWENTY-FOUR

The third of December was the last time Violet heard from Harry.

He no longer sent her texts in the early hours of morning or the late hours of night, nor those between. One night passed without communication, and then all the days following. She thought it strange, how the messages once flooded in only to abruptly cease. It was like Harry had woken up one morning and simply thought better of it. Like the last day they spoke was the night he decided to turn his phone off and leave it at his bedside.

In reality, he'd just woken up and realized the dream was over.

On the fourth day of December, Violet sat opposite of her mother at the kitchen table, phone positioned to the right of her breakfast.

She would check it every now and then as Scarlett talked. Her mother was halfway through telling a story when she noticed her daughter's distant state.

"Violet," she called. "Violet."               

The young girl glanced up, phone held in hand.

"Did you hear a word I just said?" Instead of receiving an answer, Scarlett was left to assume, and assume she did correctly. "I bet you couldn't even tell me what I was talking about."

Violet looked to her mother with someone resembling an apology, though the older woman waved her off. "I understand I'm not the most interesting person in the world, but you could at least act like you're paying attention."

"Sorry."

"Who's got your attention then, eh?" Scarlett tipped her nose forward, leaning in, though the light of Violet's phone faced away from her. "Is it a boy stealing my daughter from me?"

"No one is stealing anyone, Mom. That's actually quite illegal."

Scarlett leaned back in her chair, glass tipped to her lips. "What's his name?"

Violet was only halfway paying attention, now. "Who?"

"The boy you're texting."

It was then that her daughter paused, thumb mid-swipe across the lock screen of her phone. She stared the device in the face for a moment, and then her mother. Scarlett was sure she'd struck a nerve.

"Believe me," Violet told her, voice steely. "I'm not texting anyone."

It was the first time in a long time that Scarlett had seen her daughter so serious, and although that in itself was something to wonder about, she couldn't help but notice how hurt her daughter'd been by the question.

On the seventh day of December, Harry considered canceling his late-hour performance.

Though as he hovered over the telephone, number dialed, there was nothing he could think to say. He wasn't ill—not in a way anyone could see without magnetic resonance imaging, anyway. He had no interfering plans—those were all thrown out the window the night he came upon the music store and kept going, albeit the strong urge to turn round and head back. He might open his door for some delinquents to pile in, but that never stopped him from performing.

While there was no real reason for him to cancel, fear planted him there.

It was easy to maintain distance from afar. Out of sight and out of physical reach, Harry could slip away into the shadows. He could remove himself from Violet's life and fade away as if he'd never been part of it. Living a life doomed to temporary things, he would make himself so. It was not something he could do stood center stage beneath a spotlight, hundreds of eyes watching his every move.