“Life is a roller coaster ride. Enjoy it or endure it.”
8
It’s two in the morning, and I sit alone staring at the starless sky from the hospital rooftop. I don’t mind the wind or the cold or the discomfort.
Ever since I was young, I have always loved the night sky. I used to spend my weekends on Warren’s tree house, just staring at the wide expanse of black velvet and indigo mist for hours. I always found the stars fascinating, soothing, like they are part of an ancient lullaby that the heart can only hear. Sky watching has been my reprieve before I even learned to channel my feelings through the violin.
I bet that if only one will spend at least a minute of his day just staring at the sky, appreciating its beauty, he or she will feel a little better. A bit less sad.
The night sky and my music.
As long as I have them, and I believe in myself, I can move on. I know I can. I’ll be fine. I’m sure that I’ll be fine.
Right?
“Wake up, Warren,” I whisper to the wind, “I want to know the truth.”
I have just finished packing the rest of my things when I hear three sharp knocks. My mouth purses as I spy my mother leaning on the door frame. “Mom?”
She enters the room with a soft smile on her face. “Are you ready?”
I nod, mirroring her expression. Today, I am officially discharged from the hospital. I can now go back to my apartment and my classes. I feel a little bad that I missed so much in the last two weeks I spent recuperating here, when in truth, I can just stay on bed rest in my own bed room.
It is my mother who insisted that I spend my recovery under the watchful eyes of the doctors and nurses. She doesn’t trust me with my medication. Not that I can blame her. I don’t have a smooth track record, after all.
“I’ll drop you off at your place before I head to the airport.”
She’s on her way to a business trip on the other side of Continental US. As I’m not an invalid, I don’t see the point of the hassle roundabout trip in her secondhand Toyota.
My brows draw together. “I’m fine. I can take a cab.”
“Carla…”
“I’ll be careful.” I kiss her forehead, hoping that it’s enough to calm her down. “Call me before you board the plane, okay?”
She sits on the lone chair beside the bed. Her eyes flit through the room, avoiding me.
"Is there something wrong?"
“It’s just that, you know, after your accident I realized that life is too short to be taken for granted.” She pauses, as if to measure my reaction. “I was so scared. I thought I was going to lose you."
"I'm alive, mom."
"I can’t stand it!" Her tone makes me feel like I'm a little girl again. "Come back, Carla. Live with me again. We’ll find a music school nearby where you can complete your practicum, and maybe a new college to transfer in.”
I am already shaking my head before she finishes her sentence. For her, straightforward answers work best, so that’s what I say. “I’m sorry, mom, but I can’t.”
“I’m worried – “
“I want to be independent.” She opens her mouth to protest, but I interrupt her before she begins. “Something like this doesn’t normally happen twice to the same person. You can’t… and I won’t allow you to suffocate me again.”
I remember my childhood and her strict guidance. I vividly recall her harsh words that made me almost give up on my dreams. She thought back then that I’m too much of an idealist, that I have no future as a musician. She takes pride in being a realist, but what she failed to consider are my feelings. Her words made me feel useless. Inferior. Like I really can’t achieve anything aside from the path she carved for me.
It upsets me to think that my own mother, who should be my number one fan, wanted to clip my wings before I could even try to fly.
I know she worries for my safety, but I’m already an adult. I must lead my life the way I see fit. If I break and I fall, then those mistakes are for me to experience.
If she’s always overprotective of me, how can I grow as a person?
She needs to let me go.
“I’m a big girl.” I hold her hands and squeeze them. “I can manage things myself. Besides, what are phones and Skype for?”
“If you need me and I’m so far away–“
“I love you, mom, and I’ll always need you.” I offer her a smile. “But you need to understand that children need to leave their parents. I can’t hide under your wing forever. I’ll be okay. Trust me.”
She hesitantly accepts my reason, but I can see the truth in her eyes. One chance. She’s willing to concede for now but if something happens to me again, she will bring me back home whether I like it or not.
Back to my cage. . .
. . . and this time, there will be no Warren to pry it open.
It’s a relief to finally return to the warmth of Bloomingdale School of Music. At least here, I can pretend that my worst problem in life is losing my precious violin.
I let out shaky breath as I walk the familiar hallways. I wonder if I can plaster a genuine-looking smile for the whole day, or will I be too distracted to conduct a lesson in a room full of wonderful kids?
I stop short when see movement on the other side of the door.
“Uh, good morning?” I greet as soon as I enter my classroom. A tall hooded figure has his back on me as he arranges the instruments on the cabinets. To say I am surprised is an understatement. It’s seven in the morning, a good two hours from the start of my Saturday class for violin beginners. Normally, I’m alone during this time.
The hooded figure turns, and I see a man about my age, maybe older give or take a couple of years. He wears a pair of purple sunglasses.
“About time you turn up.” His lips quirk to a half-smile.
I blink. A new instructor? “How may I help you?”
“Ouch.” He touches his chest in mock hurt. “I specifically told you to remember me, didn’t I?”
Huh?
“It’s me, Johannes.”
Who?
“Jo-han-nes,” he spells slowly. He seems to be enjoying my confusion as he makes his way to me with swag. “Come on woman. How many handsome guys with that name have you met?”
He stands in front of the podium and closes the distance between us by leaning closer.
“You just bruised my ego, Number Twelve.”
Recognition sparks inside my head. I gape, finger-pointing him like he is a mirage that is about to disappear. “Juilliard's Johannes?”
“One and only,” he grins lazily, like sudden visits to unsuspecting girls is the norm of society. “You’re slow. Not the type I usually go for, but you’ll do.”
“What, what…” I’m at a complete loss of words. Did he just insult me?
“My grandfather is a major donor of Bloomingdale,” he tells me like a well-rehearsed line. "I have access." He shows me his set of keys. "To everywhere."
And am I supposed to be impressed?
Arrogant, frustrating and a total jerk! I have a sudden urge to pick up the trombone lying in the corner and hit him in the head. Ugh. I never killed anyone in my imagination before.
"Please," I spit, "get out."
"Don't wanna." His brown eyes narrows in scrutiny. “When you said you’re from here, I realize that you cannot be a student here since this is a community school and only provides lessons, not bachelor courses. When I asked around, Mrs. Alkins told me that you’re here to do a required internship. So, you’re enrolled in UP, huh?”
I don’t know whether I have to run first before I call the police or call first before I run. I’ve never been stalked in my life, ever. I don’t want to end up like those girls in the movies who wind up dead in a barn hundreds of miles from the city.
“What… what do you want from me?” I squeak. I clutch my phone inside my pocket. Call or run? Or do I hit him in the head first?
Damn heart. Stop beating so fast. I can’t think clearly!
His smirk grows into a full-blown grin. Predatory.
Suddenly, my chest clenches uncomfortably. My gaze lands on the floor as I realize why. I remember Warren and his eyes that never looked at me the way Johannes' do.
Just a friend. Never as a woman, as someone desirable.
I wonder if this is a silver lining. Maybe I need a distraction. Maybe this spontaneous and obnoxious man will make me forget, even for a while, that my heart is breaking and my life is in a mess.
“For starters, how about a breakfast date?”
A/N
Simon Nessman as Johannes! Thoughts? (Picture at the side) --->
P.S. Have you experienced a day where something bad happens to you, and you expect the rest of the day to be just as awful, but then the unexpected happens? Something completely out of context? Like life is not allowing you to be entirely sad or entirely happy. Just... overwhelmed.
It happened to me... and thus, this chapter turned out like this.