I turn my hand over so we can lace our fingers together, palm to palm. “I suppose you have questions about Lucas…”
“Ah, the young gentleman who defended your honor. Yes, please, tell me about him.”
I laugh a little at his characterization. “Gentleman? Didn’t you call him your blond friend and that he needed to go back to his daddy’s money corner of the room or something?”
“That was pretty tame compared to the things I was thinking. How do you know this Lucas? He seemed to have fairly intimate knowledge of you, Petal.”
“Lucas and I met when we were teenagers. He models as well, and we booked some jobs together.” I trace my finger along the edge of my wine glass while I talk. “He was my best friend instantly. Once we hit it off, there was no going back.”
“And he’s always been simply a friend?”
“We tried that path for a moment, but it was clear very quickly that we felt more like siblings than anything else. His family treated me like one of their own, even. He’s an important part of my life.”
“I take it he’s completely unaware of us. Is that how he treats all of your would-be suitors?”
“He’s never seen me with a man. He knows I’ve had a boyfriend here or there, but he’s never met them personally.”
“I found his reaction to me to be quite hateful, not that the feeling isn’t mutual.”
“I’m not happy with his reaction either, if that wasn’t clear, but like I said, he’s like my brother. You’ll cross paths again at some point, I’d imagine.” I freeze, then glance up at him. “Not that I’m making assumptions that this is something long term. I… I’ll shut up now.”
Foot enter mouth.
“Relax, Petal,” he chuckles. “You can’t frighten me away.”
“I need you two to like each other. If you can’t do that, at least tolerate each other. I will be having the same conversation with him. Tristan… what are we doing here? I mean…I don’t know what I mean. Fuck.”
“Look at me,” he commands and I do, without question. “We are exploring one another spiritually and physically. I enjoy your company very much, and I enjoy our time together. I don’t see why it needs to be more complicated than that.”
“It doesn’t. I suppose I just don’t know what to feel. I’m scared of letting go of the edge and slipping into the deep end with no life preserver in sight.”
I look down at our entwined hands but he places a finger under my chin and brings my eyes back to his. “Let me be that life preserver.”
“You’re asking to lead.”
“Only as far as you’re willing to follow, Petal. Did you get enough to eat?”
“Yes, I did. Your cooking is another work of art.”
“Another thing you’re the muse for. May I interest you in a nightcap in the living room?”
“I’d like that.”
I try to help him clear the table, but he insists that I go on into the living room to wait for him.
I slip my heels off before I take a single step down into the lowered living room area and wiggle my toes in the lush, grayish carpet. His place is basically a museum. I’ll never tire of being here.
The large, L-shaped sofa is calling my name, and I can’t resist sinking back into the comfy corner portion, relaxing back against the cloud-like cushions.
Tristan
I find my Petal in the corner of the sofa looking so petite against the vastness of the material. She reminds me of a kitten Raissa and I had when she was little. That tiny thing could grow tinier the tighter she curled up. That is how I see Nora right now. “If there is a word greater than comfortable, Petal, that’s what you are.”
“Did you purchase this sofa from heaven, because it feels like you absolutely did just that.”
“Actually, my interior designer purchased it. I have no idea where though. I simply said yes.” I offer her a glass of whiskey on the rocks. “I’ve added a twist of orange to yours. I think you’ll much prefer it that way.”
“Maybe I like it neat.” She takes a whiff across the top.
“The more ways you like it, the better it is for both of us.” I smirk. “Petal, you were curious about my violin the other day. I don’t do it often anymore, however, would you like to hear me play?”
“Would you? Would you really?”
“I’m offering, aren't I?”
“Then yes, please. I’d love to hear you play something.”
I haven’t played since before Raissa died. This was her favorite thing to hear. She was always my biggest supporter in this portion of my life.
I take a drink of my own, but leave the glass on the small coffee table before retrieving the violin from the large, glass topped case. The neck is smooth and perfectly fits my hand and the bow quickly feels like an extension of my arm. It’s like riding a bicycle.
I pluck each of the strings to see if they’re in tune. I have to make minor adjustments to all of them. No wonder since this fine piece of craftsmanship has not been doing much more than collecting dust for more than two years. With one draw of the bow, a shiver runs down my spine. I feel a surge of panic run close behind. I close my eyes and pace out a metronome in my head. I need to get into the music so I can chase away the sadness of playing again without my reason for playing unable to hear me.
Time ceases to exist at this moment. It’s myself, the instrument in my hand, and the beautiful woman on my sofa.
I’m not sure how long I play. I’m not even sure how many pieces of music I play through. It’s all blending together in a therapeutic mash of notes, chords, and feelings.
I open my eyes just a bit in the middle to catch a glance of Nora, and she’s on the edge of the sofa with her hand on her chest, watching me like I’m an ethereal being that will disappear if she looks away for even a moment.
I stand nearly painfully still after the last draw across the strings. I can feel my heart beating in my ears. I also have the strangest sensation of a hand on my shoulder. There is a chill where if someone were touching me, there would be heat. My arms slowly drop to my sides as my eyes open. They are lost for focus at first. When I’m able to anchor myself to the only point in the room that matters, I find her with a tear sliding from the corner of her eye.
“Was the rust that evident?” I ask.
“That was beautiful, Tristan. Truly beautiful. Thank you for sharing that with me.”
I place the violin and bow back in the case and walk over to her, stopping right in front of her and cupping her cheek softly, using my thumb to wipe the tear away.
“I don’t like when you cry, even if it’s for something you would say is good.”
“I couldn’t help it.”
I trace her lips with the tip of my index finger. “Petal… stay the night with me.” I want that more than anything. Being in her presence is like I’m surrounded by the purest oxygen in existence.