Darien Grace
I'd been in new York for nearly two months, but today was the first day I ventured out into the depths of the city alone. Most days I split my time between my classes, the McKenney's townhome, and the University's practice rooms. I avoided my favorite room—the corner studio covered in windows—opting instead for one of the smaller spaces on basement level. Most students hardly ever wandered down to the lower levels, still I made sure the blinds obscuring the view from the small window set into the door were always shut. Caleb was the only one who knew where to find me. He'd pop by every evening to usher me home for dinner.
It didn't matter how many shields I took out onto the New York streets though, I still felt exposed and vulnerable. I knew that I'd have to face my demons sometime. New York City was magnificent—there was every possibility to become lost within its confines, but I knew that I wouldn't be able to hide much longer. I was running—I knew it. I also knew that I couldn't run forever. I needed to stop to rest, to breathe. So, when I woke before the rest of the McKenney's this morning, I'd forced myself to stop—or at least slow into a jog.
I hadn't gone far, only a few blocks down the street really. I'd let the flow of the near constant foot traffic carry me. We weren't terribly far from the townhouse and the University campus, but it was early on a Friday. Most every student and faculty member would still be in bed or at home—I hoped.
"Darien Grace?" I paled, freezing immediately at the voice behind me. I'd had had all but balled my hair up and shoved it under the blacked out Yankee's ball cap I'd stolen from the frat house a few years back. I'd knotted the shorter violet locks at the base of my neck and pulled the front of the cap low over my face. My hands began to shake and I suddenly wished I'd stayed in the fucking house—hell, I wished that I'd never left France.
I glanced up.
"Dr. Hernandez," I grumbled, only moving enough to nod in acknowledgment toward the professor. Her dark hair was styled into loose waves that hung around her face, dark eyes haughty and appraising. Her tight smile showing just enough to display the small gap between her two front teeth. I'd always wavered on whether or not I liked her. Sure, I'd taken a few of her courses—she was a fine teacher, that wasn't the problem. Maybe it was the fact that she didn't age. I swear, the woman looked as if she couldn't be more than five years my senior, but I knew the truth. Madame Dupond has thrown her a small party in the Music Hall for her thirty-ninth birthday. There was no doubt in my mind, though, that she was still bitter. I'd surpassed several of her students in order to secure my slot at the Gala—and well, we both knew how that had ended. I wasn't exactly in the mood to face her or anyone else for that matter.
"So the rumors are true?" She mused, motioning toward me with her hands. She followed me as the line for the to order moved forward—there were still three people in between me and the liquid caffeine.
"Excuse me?" My heart was racing and venom colored my voice. I knew that I never should have left the fucking house.
"I'd heard that you'd come out of hiding, but I refused to believe it until I saw for myself."
"Well now, seeing is believing," I muttered, anxiety surging through my blood stream. I needed to go, now.
"You pulled quite a stunt last December. The University is fairly upset with you, Miss Grace."
"Gotta stay true to form. I have a reputation to uphold." My control was wavering and I was ready to just fucking leave. There would be another Starbucks within five minutes from here or at the very least a coffee cart. My feet wouldn't move. My pride refused to take the hit. Ren Grace didn't run.
"That you do. I can't say that I was anticipating this day," she said before her expression softened, "but I do know that Dr. McKenney and Jonathan are glad that you're home." I paused at her words, guilt overpowering my previous anxiety. I knew that I'd spent more time with Jas, Caleb, and John during a single week when we were in France than I had the entire two months that I'd been home. I regretted the distance, but most days I couldn't bring myself to focus on anything other than the notes dancing across my mind. They still didn't know that I'd seen Harry that first week. I'd thought that he'd been in the coffee shop that morning—I'd sworn that I could actually feel him. I'd refused to let myself think about it though—that was until I'd heard the screaming an hour or so later. He'd followed us.
Seeing him—actually seeing him—had ripped the air from my lungs. I'd dreamt about Harry for nearly every night during the first few months. He'd haunted me. The dreams still came while I was in France, but the longer that I stayed, the less frequent they became. The moment I set foot in the city, they'd come screaming back. They kept me up most every night and the only few hours of solace I found came when I shut my brain off and allowed my fingers to drift across the piano keys.
I wasn't truly ready to face Harry yet. Everything in my life—the brief bit of sanity I'd managed to find—was still too tenuous. I didn't want to know the effects of the strain that Harry's very presence was sure to cause.
I still hadn't found the words to respond to Dr. Hernandez when it was my turn to order. It wasn't until she collected her latte that I found my voice, "It was good to see you, Dr. Hernandez."
"You may be able to fool the rest of the world, Miss Grace, but don't bother trying to humor to me." She touched my gently on the arm, an uncharacteristically soft smile pulling at her lips, before she turned to head towards the exit. She turned back at the last second, pushing the door open, "I expect that I'll be seeing more of you." Her words were more of an order than a suggestion. They were enough to spawn a small grin.
"Skinny, triple-shot caramel macchiato for Ren?" I cringed when the barista yelled my name into the crowded shop. I ducked my head as soon as I grabbed the heated cardboard cup.
"Thanks," I muttered, dropping a few crumpled bills into the jar on the counter and heading out the door.
I'd originally been planning to just grab my drink and bolt to the music hall, but Dr. Hernandez had screwed with me. I now felt more than a little bit guilty for my disappearing act and for the time I'd spent hiding away. Groaning, I shoved my pulled my beats back on and cranked the volume up as I stalked across the campus.
* * *
Madame Dupond hadn't been in her office when I arrived. After scouring the University's class catalogue I'd found that she didn't have a class for another hour. I was almost tempted to just give up and go back into hiding in the practice rooms, but I couldn't. I needed to know exactly how much of a stir I'd caused with the University. Madame Dupond had vouched for me, and I needed to know just how much damage my disappearing act had caused.
I'd gotten the University's voicemails and the emails for the first couple weeks. The Gala hadn't been the only event that I'd been asked to appear for. There were a few smaller gatherings that the alumni had planned and even a meeting with a representative for the philharmonic. I hadn't cared. I'd been ignoring them—I wasn't interested in any part of the life that I had been trying to leave behind.
Now that I was back though, I had to know if my actions had effected one of the few people that I actually cared for.
Throwing my bag down into one of the chairs, I crossed to the other side of her desk. There were a few new additions to the familiar space. A picture stood next to the iMac. I couldn't breathe as I picked it up. It had been taken the night of the Gala. I stood there smiling politely, while she pulled me close to her, a soft, proud smile turned toward the camera. I didn't remember taking it, but it had to have been some time earlier in the night. I looked genuinely happy. None of the fear or heartbreak had happened yet. The girl in the picture had no idea what was to come. She was blissfully clueless—completely in love.
I looked away, replacing the image back to where I found it. A bright pink post-it note caught my eye. It was pressed down onto a cased disk lying next to the keyboard. My name was written there in the Madame's elegant script and below was the date—December 16, 2015—whatever was on that disk was from the Gala.
With shaking hands, I fumbled to extricate the disk from the case and insert it into the computer. I didn't allow myself to stop to think before I pressed play. The sounds of the audience had been all but removed—only a low murmur remained in the background. Then the music started. It was enough to send me to my knees.
A hollow ache expanded in my chest, choking me as I struggled to breathe past the pain. I'd thought that I'd endured the worst of it those first few months in France. I'd thought that it couldn't possibly get worse. I'd told myself that I was over it.
I had to be.
As my musical confession continued, following the path that I once believed capable of leading me to paradise—to Solla Sollew—the truth emerged with blinding clarity.
Harry. I needed Harry. I needed him before I even met him and that basic necessity had only grown, increasing and mutating as time progressed. He'd completely broken everything that I'd built to protect myself. My walls—my armor against the world—had been leveled in a single moment. That single memory still haunted me—in that solitary moment I'd seen them together. I saw his hands on her, and hers on him. I saw their connection as they devoured each other. There hadn't been the carnality that I knew from our time together. There was only been innocence and love. It had been everything that I'd only just begun to allow myself to hope for, and it had been thrown back in my face. The Universe had mocked me. It ridiculed me for my foolish hopes.
Tears burned behind my eyes, threatening to fall as my composure slipped. The new phantom melody echoed across my mind, the notes bending and swaying, blending to fall into an accompaniment to my sonata.
No.
I threw my hat down onto the desk, running my hands up into my hair. I dug my nails into my scalp, pressing urgently, willing the pain to bring back some semblance of clarity. No, this piece wasn't about him. It wasn't about us. I had no fucking clue what it actually was about, but it wasn't his. It couldn't be.
I was Darien fucking Grace. I was better than this shit. I'd mourned the loss of my Otherwise, but it was time to get the fuck over it. I was health. I was home. I had a family that loved me. I was happy. I had to be.
Sucking in several deep breaths, I held each in until I felt the smallest bit of the tension unravel from within the pit of my stomach. Finally, I found the strength to move and I slammed my hand down over the pause button, halting the music. An eery quiet filled the room, unsettling me further.
Trembling, I ejected the disk and struggled to close it back up into its case. I just replaced it on the desk when the door to the Madame's office opened. I jolted, eyes going wide as I looked toward the person standing in the doorway.
"Et bien, n'est-ce pas là une merveilleuse surprise," (Well, isn't this just a wonderful surprise,) Madame Dupond cooed, stepping further into her office and closing the door behind her. She moved past me to place the stack of sheet music in her arms down onto her desk. "Ce cours a été bien ... monotone en ton absence, ma belle." (Class has been quite... uneventful without my beautiful girl.) She smiled gently at me before holding her arms out toward me. Sniffling ridiculously, I wiped the tears out from under my eyes and collapsed into her arms. I didn't have any words for a response. I hadn't realized just how much I'd missed her.
She held me for several long moments before she pulled away, "Maintenant, laisses-moi te regarder." (Now, let me look at you.) She held me at arms length, her gaze appraising, "Tu es partie depuis tellement longtemps." (You have been gone from us for far too long.)
"Je sais. Je suis désolée." (I know, I'm sorry.)
She waved my apology away, her eyes still searching my own. I knew that she'd found what she'd been searching for when she turned away from me. "Assieds-toi, si'il te plaît. Je vais faire un peu de thé et nous pourrons discuter." (Sit, please. I will make some tea and then we will talk.)
She handed me a cup of chamomile a few minutes later. She settled down into the chair next to mine, cradling the elegant, steaming cup in one hand and holding the saucer in the other. She was grace and elegance personified.
"Maintenant, dis-moi. Qu'est-il arrivé à ma chère enfant?" (Now, please. Tell me. What happened to my darling girl?)
And just like that, the floodgates opened. Before I could even pause to think about it, I found myself telling Madame Dupond everything that had transpired over the past year. I didn't care about the "consequences" that revealing my Otherwise could cause. It didn't exist anymore. I told her about the beginning, about our fears, about the sheer frustration that Harry had caused.
I told her about my birthday, about when everything had changed, about that first weekend we spent together. I told her about Caleb's strained approval and about my terrified acceptance of what had been building. I told her about thanksgiving, about the days before the Gala, about my realization. I told her that I'd finally figured out what it was like to love and to be loved.
Then, I told her about the end.
I told her what I'd seen. I told her how it had broken me; shattered me to my core. I told her about the first few months in France—or at least what I could remember of it. I told her about the all-consuming heartache, about the loss, longing, and regret. I told her about how it almost ended entirely.
And finally, I told her about Jas and Caleb coming to France.
"Ils m'ont sauvé. Je- sans eux, je ne pense pas que je serais jamais arrivée à revenir ici." (They saved me. I—without them, I don't think that I'd ever have even made it back here.)
"C'est merveilleux," (That's wonderful,) she mused, staring absently into her now cold tea. She'd been silent the entire time I'd been talking. She allowed for me to air everything that had been coiled up inside of me and a pressure had released inside of me. I'd given voice to all of the anger, fear, and regret that I'd kept inside of me for months. A knot that I hadn't known to be in my chest ] released with my final exposure. I felt freer than I had in what felt like an eternity and yet, I knew that there was something she was holding back from me.
"Qu'est ce que c'est?" (What is it?) I asked, setting my empty teacup and saucer onto the edge of the desk. She gazed pensively back at me, a new and strange sadness coloring her gaze.
"Je savais que quelque chose n'allais pas.Je le savais. Je le voyais, mais je ne pouvais rien y faire." (I knew that something had to have been going on. I knew it. I could see it, but it was not my place.)
"Quoi?" (What?)
"L'autre soir, au Gala. Je n'ai jamais été aussi fière de toi. On pouvait voir que tu étais en peine et confuse. Tu as créé de la magie malgré tout." (That night, at the Gala. I've never been so proud of you, my dear. I could see that you were hurting and confused. You created magic in spite of it all.) She reached forward, taking my hands into her own after setting her own cup aside. She squeezed my hand gently, her kind eyes searching my own, "Tu étais magnifique." (You were magnificent.)
"'Etais' vous faîtes bien de le préciser." ('Were' being the operative term.) I couldn't stop the sad half-laugh that slipped past my control.
"Penses-tu ton don disparu?" (Do you believe your gift to be gone?)
"Quel don?" (What gift?)
"Renne, tu as de la magie en toi. Tu as le don de la création et de la musique. Ça coule au plus profond de toi." (Renne, you were blessed with magic, bathed in it. You have the gift of creation and music. It runs through to your very core.)
"Parfois, j'ai peur que ce ne soit plus une malédiction qu'un don." (Sometimes, I fear that it is more of a curse than a gift.)
"C'est une part de toi, et en dépit de ce que tu as bien pu te convaincre, tu es magnifique. N'en doutes jamais. Ne laisse aucun arrogant prétentieux te faire croire le contraire." (It is a part of you and despite what you may have led yourself to believe, you are magnificent. Never doubt that. Do not let one arrogant bastard steal that from you.)
That time, I really did laugh. It never ceased to shock me each and every time that I heard the Madame use any sort of profanity. It seemed far too out of character for her and yet perfectly plausible at the same time.
"Maintenant, en ce qui concerne ces Harry, le seul conseil que je puisse te donner est d'avoir confiance en toi-même. Ne bases pas ton bonheur tout entier sur ce que t'apporte une autre personne. Tu ne réalises pas encore ce dont tu es capable. Un homme ne saurait te rendre 'complète', Bien souvent, Il ne peut que réchauffer tes nuits." (Now, as for the matter of this Harry fellow, the only advice that I can give to you is to trust yourself. Do not base the entirely of your happiness on the necessity of another's influence. You are capable of far more than you yet realize. A man is not 'completion', often, he can merely serve the purpose of keeping your bed warm.) She grinned playfully at me, squeezing my hands once more.
"Et si je prenais la mauvaise décision?" (What if I make the wrong decision?)
"Tu vis avec, acceptes les conséquences et passe à autre chose." (You live with it, accept the consequences and move on.)
"Je n'ai jamais été très douée pour 'l'acceptation'. J'ai tendance à passer directement à la fin. Tergiverser n'a jamais fait que me causer de la souffrance." (I've never been good at the whole 'acceptance' bit. I tend to skip to the end. Dwelling has only ever caused me pain.)
"Je ne t'ai jamais demander de 'tergiverser'." (I have never once told you to 'dwell'.) She frowned at the word, as if she was uncomfortable with the terminology. "L'acceptation est un aspect nécessaire de la maturité." (Acceptance is a necessary aspect of growth.)
"Fuck," I groaned, closing my eyes as I struggled to find the words, "J'ai juste l'impression que mon coeur est en guerre contre ma tête. Je déteste tout. C'est juste que je ne comprends pas pourquoi je souffre toujours autant?" (I just feel like my heart is at war with my mind. I hate everything. I just can't understand why or how this can still hurt so much?)
"Le bonheur et l'amour ne sont pas interchangeable, ma chère," (Happy and love are not interchangeable, my dear,) she smiled sadly at me, her gaze softening, "Tu dois découvrir la différence entre les deux. Le bonheur peut parfois accompagner l'amour, mais il n'est pas toujours là. L'amour est quelque chose de plus. Il est bien plus...complexe ce qu'une personne puisse espérer connaître. Il est...—" (You must discover the difference between the two. Happiness may sometimes go hand in hand with love, but it will not always be there. Love is something more. It is far more... complex than any one person can every hope of knowing. It is...—)
"Tout autre," (Otherwise,) I breathed, renewed fear strangling what little hope had risen.
"Oui, je suppose que c'est une description appropriée. On ne peut pas forcer l'amour, Renne. C'est à la fois une bénédiction et une malédiction. Certains le cherchent toute leur vie et pourtant..." (Yes, I do supposed that would be an appropriate word for it. You cannot force love, Renne. It is both a blessing and a curse. Some people search for their entire lives and still...) She paused once more, shaking her head sadly. New tears sprang up behind my eyes and I struggled to wipe them away before she noticed. She suddenly looked back at me, her lips twitching into a small smile, "Vous avez peut être bien raison," (In fact, you may be better off with a dog.)
"You may be on to something," I laughed sadly. My heart still swam with unresolved fears that had mutated into something new. I trusted the Madame, but now there was still so much more that I'd yet to come to terms with. I left her office with my mind swirling with thoughts of the impossibility of love and happiness. I doubted that they would ever truly work in tandem. It was terrifying.
In spite of everything though, I felt somehow lighter. The pressure that I had been drowning in for months was finally beginning to lessen and for the first time, I was actually grateful that I'd come back to New York.
A/N: And we have our first reader-inspired character with jarrylu coming in as Dr. Hernandez! Thank you so much for reading, love! I hope I did you justice!!!
Now, if any one of you could also be featured in future chapters! All of my new characters going forward from here on out will be named after you. All you have to do is comment up a f.ucking storm! Comment here and head on over to the chapter at the beginning of this book "So You Want to be a Character" and fill out my small questionnaire. I'd love to include as many of you as possible!
Also, two more small things.
1. Please check out The Famoux and The Classix by my dear friend Kassandra Tate (famouxx ). Her work is a stunning social commentary with the perfect amount of drama, mystery, and romance. I am forever in love with Emeray and Chapter. BRING IT ON #FMXFriday.
2. Head on over to THE AROTTIR by hannahgrowe .It's a a bit different from the norm here, but packed full of action and stellar writing... if I do say so myself. Updates are coming at you every #ArottirTuesday.
Thank you so much for hanging out with me again this week. My lovely friend/editor lexlexgarci flew into town for my 25th birthday so we are going to go forth and drinketh.
See you next #SonataMonday!
---xE