Authors: Greg Herren
“It was an inspired moment,” Manon said. “I had no idea such tones could just appear. Out of nowhere.”
“Not out of nowhere,” Vivian stated. Her hair reflected the muted light, and she looked directly at Mike when she spoke. “We all carried them somewhere inside.”
Do the others realize she can hardly see us?
Mike ached, both for the beauty that they’d all given life to just now and also for Vivian. Her pain grew when she remembered she was destined to lose Vivian, perhaps before she got to know her. “Still, isn’t it amazing how new it sounded?” she asked, determined to not allow the agony to take over. “That’s so unusual. It’s almost impossible to create a new sound.”
“Too true,” Eryn agreed. “I’ve played since I was a kid and gone from punk rock to Eric Clapton and back again. I’ve listened to just about every genre involving electric guitars and have never heard anything remotely like that.”
“But can we repeat it?” Manon asked. “Can we do it again?”
“Are we supposed to repeat it?” Mike countered. “Perhaps we’re meant to explore further.”
“That’s brilliant, Mike!” Eryn exclaimed. “I think you hit the nail right on its freakin’ little head.”
“What do you mean?” Manon twisted on the small stool in front of the piano. “Just keep jamming?”
“Why not?” Eryn grinned. “We had a hell of a session, and it was our first. Can you imagine what we could find if we were completely unleashed?”
It was an almost frightening thought. Mike wondered if they’d find more of the same or risk losing it altogether. “I’m willing to try again,” she heard herself say.
“If Mike’s in, so am I,” said Vivian. “I can use the vocal exercise if nothing else.”
Manon looked back and forth at the other three, raising a trembling hand and smoothing her hair back over her bun. “I haven’t played with anyone else in years. It was fun to accompany Vivian the other day, and this…was amazing.” She glanced at Eryn and shook her head as if she couldn’t believe it. “I want to find those tones again. I don’t usually exaggerate and I’m not doing it now. It was magical.”
Mike’s hands moved again. The hi-hat began to whisper, and soon the bass drum picked up a lazy rhythm, the toms finding a muted, echoing beat.
Eryn grabbed her guitar and hung it over her shoulder. The mother-of-pearl plectrum glittered between her fingers as they hovered above the strings. When the fingers of her other hand fell in intricate patterns down the neck of the guitar, the plectrum moved so quickly across the strings it became invisible.
Mike kept the hi-hat whispering but allowed the snare and the toms to dance, challenging their pattern with the insistent bass drum.
Vivian remained seated, but her voice still carried easily across the room. It wept; it cheered and howled, only to fall into a well of despair before Manon began climbing up, octave by octave, on the piano. She pulled Vivian with her, created a new atmosphere where Vivian’s voice reached new heights. The high voice found joy as it followed the piano, and when Eryn’s fingers climbed up also, chased by the hi-hat and the snare under Mike’s hands, Vivian let go of the last sorrow, and her voice became as clear as a spring well.
The sound washed over them, and Mike couldn’t hold back her tears. She wept because of her traumatic day, and because it broke her heart to watch Vivian sing in a way an audience might never hear. Still, as Mike hushed the hi-hat and let the bass drum slow down and become the last instrument to grow quiet, she knew Vivian had never counted on creating such music.
I wonder what she’s feeling and thinking.
They remained silent for at least fifteen seconds. Eryn stood with her guitar in her hands, her eyes on Manon. “Beautiful is too imprecise a word,” she murmured finally, breaking the silence. “I don’t even know what to call this.”
“Music.” Mike cleared her throat, embarrassed.
“Yes, music,” Vivian said. “The very essence of it. I’m not being conceited, but to me, this was naked, unshielded music.”
“I reached the core of something,” Manon said. “I don’t know, but all those hours I practiced scales when I was a child finally made sense, and I certainly wasn’t thinking of music lessons or my teachers…I put my fingers on the keys…and played.”
“My guitar came to life. I moved my fingers where it told me to go. That’s all I can say. My shoulder still hurts, but when I was playing, I didn’t feel the pain.” Eryn shrugged and rolled her injured shoulder.
Mike watched her face but saw no sign of discomfort.
“Neither did I,” Vivian added. “My voice soared, and for the first time in quite a while, it was sheer joy to sing. I sang without inhibitions, without rules.”
And it made you relax enough not to feel the pain.
Mike wanted to take Vivian in her arms and just hold her.
As if Vivian had read her mind, she rose and walked over to Mike. Placing her hands on her shoulders, she leaned down and gently kissed Mike’s forehead, twice. “Are you all right,
cara
? You look stunned.”
Vivian was worried about
her
. Mike had no idea why, but when she rose to assure Vivian she was fine, she felt light-headed and wondered if she was as pale as she suspected.
I haven’t eaten all day.
“I need a glass of juice. Can I get you anything, Vivian? Manon? Eryn?”
“It’s time for me to go home, actually,” Manon said, leaving the piano. “This was…amazing, though.”
“We should do this again. Soon.” Eryn slid out of the shoulder strap and placed the Stratocaster into its case. “Why not meet Saturday afternoon when we’ve rested after Mrs. Dodd Endicott’s party.” She looked questioningly at the others. “If you have time, Mike?”
“A few hours on Saturday? Sure, as long as it’s after the lunch crowd, I’m in. Vivian?”
“Certainly.”
They all looked at Manon, who in turn raised both hands with a half smile. “I surrender. Of course I want to play together again. This was fun.”
“Fun? It was amazing!” Eryn laughed. “If this continues, we’ll have to think of a name for our band.”
“Need a ride home?” Manon asked Eryn. “Guitar and all?”
“Yes, please, neighbor dear. I’d never miss an opportunity to ride in that beauty of yours.”
“Let’s go, then.” Manon walked up to Mike. “Thank you for letting us visit you. It was so nice to see how you live.” She leaned forward. “And to see that you’re doing okay.”
“You’re welcome. See you Saturday. Two thirty?”
“Sounds good.”
After Eryn and Manon left, Vivian said, “Go get that glass of juice,
cara
. You look pale and you’re trembling.”
“Okay. Can I get you anything?”
“Actually, I’ll go with you and you can teach me to make that wonderful espresso.”
Mike was relieved that Vivian wasn’t leaving yet. “All right.”
They moved into the kitchen where Mike instructed Vivian. “Never open the top if it’s hot. You press water through the finely ground beans with at least a fifteen-millibar pressure. If you open this you can burn yourself.” Mike pointed at the top lid she had just screwed tight.
Vivian nodded, and Mike continued to demonstrate how to let enough water press through the beans and how to steam milk to perfect foam. Then she handed Vivian a café latte and watched with amusement as she savored it, eyes closed.
*
Vivian opened her eyes and let the taste of the coffee blend with the sight of Mike’s dark eyes. “Your juice.”
After looking at her a few seconds longer, Mike pulled out a carton of orange juice and poured herself some. Vivian, unable to take her eyes off Mike as she drank in large gulps, could barely make out a drop of juice that escaped the corner of her mouth and ran down the side of her neck.
Vivian didn’t think. She put her latte down and slid her arms around Mike, licking the trail of orange juice from Mike’s neck and holding her close. “Oh,
cara
. Did you isolate yourself down here today because of me? Do you regret—”
“No!” Mike buried her face in Vivian’s hair. “No.”
“I was afraid. I had to see you, and Martha said you weren’t working. I thought it was because of me…us.”
Mike moved and Vivian found the small of her back pressed against the counter. Mike’s quick fingers moved in her hair, and one after another, her hairpins ended up in a small bowl.
Slippery masses tumbled down, and Vivian groaned with pleasure when Mike laced her fingers through it, combing the tresses and arranging them around Vivian’s shoulders.
“You sang so beautifully,” Mike whispered. “I’ve never heard anyone sound like that. It was hard to focus on my drums. I just wanted to close my eyes and let your voice move closer, surround me…command me.”
“Command you?” Vivian felt a twitch within, and her voice turned into a husky murmur. “How do you mean?”
“The way you sang was hypnotic.” Mike’s eyes turned impossibly darker, filled with emotions and dreams. “I wanted to surrender. Just give in.”
“To what,
cara
?” Vivian caressed Mike’s cheek. “You can tell me. You can show me how you felt.”
Mike leaned forward and slid a hand around Vivian’s waist. “Can I? What if I shock you? What if you say, ‘No more of this’?”
Vivian knew Mike’s fear was talking. “I won’t.”
She felt Mike’s body press into hers and it stole her breath, made her inhale deeply several times. “Please, Mike, don’t hold back. Show me everything. Show me how.”
Show me yourself. Show me all those things I’ll never see again once you’re gone.
Mike caressed Vivian’s sides and her scalp. Mike balled her hands into fists full of hair, and Vivian tipped her head back to try and see at least something of Mike. Dark shadows outlined Mike’s features and created a mysterious puzzle of her face.
“Kiss me, Vivian.”
“Oh, yes.” Vivian raised her hands and framed Mike’s face. She angled her face and pressed her lips against Mike’s, vibrating with desire. As she parted Mike’s lips with her tongue and deepened the kiss, she tasted orange juice and something entirely Mike. Vivian whimpered into the kiss and felt Mike shiver as they clung together to keep from falling. The kiss erased all thoughts from Vivian’s mind except those of passion and lust, and a need so deep it frightened her.
“
Cara
,” she breathed into Mike. “Let me touch you. I need…to touch you.”
Mike drew a deep breath and reached for one of Vivian’s hands. “Here,” she whispered. “Here, Vivi.”
She ripped open her shirt with the other hand and pushed Vivian’s hand inside. Vivian held her breath as she filled her palm with Mike’s breast. The hard nipple tickled her, and Vivian instinctively closed her hand on the soft roundness and rolled the nipple between her thumb and index finger.
Mike gave a muted cry. “Vivi, please…”
And Vivian knew it was too late to stop now. Much too late.
The evening was pleasant, with an unusual calm, despite East Quay’s reputation for being beyond windy. “Watch out for the wind, girl. It’ll take your head off,” her father used to joke when Eryn left for school in the mornings. He wasn’t wrong. The exaggeration held some merit, since the wind had actually blown her off her bike and into a garden, crushing Mrs. Jenison’s award-winning rhododendron when she was twelve.
Now, Eryn stood outside Manon’s car after she’d closed the door and didn’t feel the faintest breeze. She blamed her vivid imagination for her fancy that perhaps nature was holding its breath for her sake. Eryn just wanted to level with Manon, to tell her how she felt up front and get it over and done with. But still, she tiptoed around Manon, afraid to unsettle her, to drive her away. The situation was driving her crazy.
“Beautiful night, isn’t it?” Manon walked around the car she’d parked by the curb outside their building.
“Yes, it is.” The street was practically abandoned, as if she and Manon were the last two people on Earth. “But it’s a little eerie too. So desolate. I mean, it’s only eight o’clock.”
“Yes. I’m going inside.”
“Right behind you.” Eryn followed Manon to the elevator. They had driven back in silence, and Eryn was still engrossed in the strange—amazing, but strange—event that had taken place. At first, she had found it almost too much to talk about. “That wasn’t half bad, was it?”
Manon pressed the button for the elevator, turned around, and leaned against the wall. “It was amazing.” Her low voice created goose bumps on Eryn’s arms and thighs.
“We’ve stumbled on something unique.” Eryn pressed the buttons for floors three and four. “It’s worth exploring, Manon. And did you see how Vivian related to Mike? They’ve grown very close these last few weeks.”
“They seem to have become good friends, yes.”
Eryn had to laugh at Manon’s proper reply.
She
really
has no gaydar.
“There was nothing
friendly
in the way Mike looked at Vivian, babe.” The sassiness was over Eryn’s lips before she had time to think.
Manon blinked but didn’t avert her eyes. “No?”
“No.”
“How did she look at her?”
The elevator stopped at Eryn’s floor, and she pushed the gate open to keep it from moving farther. “Pretty much the same way I look at you,” she said, her voice low. “With admiration…but also desire.”