Chapter Eight

        Now that I do not have to work at The Lost Bar, I have got nothing to do. I still feel upset and I keep telling myself that this whole singing thing is going to fail after all. I have been thinking about all these for the whole week. I just finished my call with Richard. He told me on the phone that he is sad because I am not going to show up at tonight’s concert. This is the first time I refuse to go to his concert. It is hard especially when it is Richard, who called me himself. It is a fact that it is hard to refuse people face to face, and when it come to Richard, the super rock star I always like, it is even crazier.

        Erik calls and texts me about ten times every day, but I never reply to any of those. It seems like the memory of him has faded within five days, though I can still feel my head on his warm chest that night.

Vivian stops by every day, too, after she is sick of the extremely slow computer at her house, she will drop by to see how I am doing. She is always here at 15:05, but she is late today. I sit by the window and start reading “Jane Eyre”. It is one of my favorite classics.

Just as I am about to turn a page and find out what John Reed is going to tell Jane (I know he is going to tell her that she is an poor orphan and she cannot touch the books at his house), the door bell rings.

I think it is Vivian. But I am wrong. The one who is now standing outside my door is a person I do not expect to see.

“May I help you?” I ask Louis Tucker, who is now stepping closer to me, leaning by the door. His eyes locking on mine, then he smiles. It is a smile that is so mysterious that if you do not see carefully, you might take it as a sneer. I really have no idea why I know it is not a sneer. I just feel like it is a smile. But maybe I am wrong. Who knows, anyways?

“I want to take a look at your song” is simply what he says, he says the words with his cold attitude. I look at him. I must look totally surprised because he changes his attitude . . . a bit. “I want to take a look at your songs, Miss Landelle,” he repeats.

“For what?” I ask. My voice turns cool, too. I cannot stand it when people have their bad attitudes toward me. I will become really quiet and calm myself down quickly, and then my tune turns into ice. It seems like when I am angrier, I am calmer. The calmer I am, the cooler my voice will be. I seldom cry in front of people, I hate to show people my weak side. So far Erik, and probably my mother and Richard, are the only ones that had seen my weak side.

“I had told Richard about it, I think you can write a song for me. I like your voice. Richard said that it will be good for us to work together. At least we can try to if you want.”

“I will think about it.” I tell him. He nods politely and walks away.

 

       My mother is cooking my favorite dumplings. She makes them the exact same way as Granny Mei-ling, we have all the steps, including what to put in the dumplings, written in a piece of paper by Granny Mei-ling and it was written in Chinese. Granny lives in Florida and we always go to her house on Chinese New Year. She knows all the kind of herbs and heals people with the different kinds of herb tea she makes herself.

        Vivian comes at dinner time with Erik.

        “Hello, Ms. Landelle.” Erik says, ordering his hand to my mother. My mother looks at him and then at me cheerfully.

        “You must be that cute young man Vivian told me about. Thank you for taking care of my little Rae.”

        I stare at Vivian, and then at my mother. I feel my cheeks burning,

        “What had you tell my mom, Vivian?” I ask.

        Vivian shrugs, “Well, I just told her there is a young man who is being really nice to you . . .”

        Erik is now talking to my mother. It seems like she really likes him. I can tell from the way she is talking to him, it seems like she is going to let him take care of me forever, like she trusts him so much.

        The dumplings are now ready, I put them onto the dining table. My mother, who has each of her arms on Erik and Vivian’s shoulders, leading them to the table.

        “So . . . tell me how you met my little Rae?” My mother asks, winking at Vivian and me.

        Erik smiles at me, Vivian smiles at me, too. I sigh, “Mom!”

        It seems to me that my mother does not feel my discontent. But it is worth it to see her laughing, talking nonstop like an excited little girl getting her own and first little puppy or kitty. Since how long ago had I last seen her like this? She had always been depressed or somehow blue these days, it is rare to even see her smile, and when she does, it is usually a sad one.

        They all laugh, and then I decide to join them. Why not relax and have some fun?

        My mother and Vivian keep talking during dinner time; Erik and I keep in silence.

Erik turns and looks at me for several times, he even mouths an “Are you okay?”, I know he is asking about the day I embarrassed Richard and him. I nod back at him, giving a weak smile.

After the dinner, I decide not to hide away from Erik anymore. I want to talk to him. I need to talk to him. Maybe even about that Louis Tucker was here earlier . . .

        Erik and I walk side by side along the road, the streetlamps light our faces. He reaches for my hand and holds it gently in his. I have known that an adult man’s love can still be so pure.

        We find a quiet corner and sit down. We talk, we talk about everything; we dream, in our dream there is a paradise full of music and angels, a paradise where no one can find except for us . . . The time is like a river, running fast, too fast for us to chase. For some minutes, we just sit there, doing absolutely nothing. When I lean my head onto his shoulder, he smiles a gentle smile and place his arm around me.

        “Richard wants you back,” he suddenly says, looking at me, as to make sure that I say yes.

        “Tell him I miss him,” I joke, finally sure of the truth that I had already recovered within these half an hour we spent together. Then I think for another three seconds before I tell him that I will sure be back.

        We both laugh in relief. What I need to do now is try my best to deal with my big problem, nervous, and kiss it good-bye as soon as possible.

        “It is getting late,” Erik looks at me, asking me if I want to go home. We has only been out for forty minutes and it is now nine o’clock.

        I nod, and then we stand up, heading our way back to my place. Erik’s car is parked by my house.

        We hold hands and swing them up and down like kindergartens, singing “Close to You” together as we walk down the street. The quiet corner we just sat is now far, far away, and then it is soon out of sight.

 

        “Well, it is awesome to sing like that, but you need to be more confident. You’ve got this voice that is a little bit hoarse, I mean in a good way, and you need to make it shine!”

        Richard is sitting at his usual seat, looking at me as I sing the last few notes. The only difference is that Erik and Louis Tucker are sitting with Richard, looking at me. Well, double pressure.

        Erik keeps smiling his encouraging smile and sends it from the audience seat; Louis Tucker looks at me with a smile . . . probably a smirk, his eyes reveal the feeling of concentrate or something like that. He bites his under lip and is going to light a cigarette, but Richard stops him.

        “Please don’t smoke here, dear Louis, not in front of this little lady . . . and you can never, ever, smoke in a music hall.”

        He nods, “Of course I know. But this cannot count as a music hall, can it?”

        I agree with the last part. This place is just a regular studio, only it has about thirty comfortable audience seats and a little stage. But I do not like his tune.

        As I sing out the last sentence of my own song “This is not the End”, Richard claps and throws me a chocolate bar. I find chocolate bars surprisingly useful to lessen my nerves.

        After the lesson, Richard, Louis Tucker, Erik, and I, go have lunch together at a café near the studio. Richard promises us that he will pay, so Mister Louis ordered as much as he can. Erik and I share a plate of spaghetti and chocolate cake.

        Louis Tucker is now holding a cigarette, and then I find out that it is like a master art piece. When he smoke, he has this attraction that will make every woman fall for him. I mean, seeing an extremely handsome man holding a cigarette and smoking like an artist (he really is an artist) is just like looking at a fair naked woman in the Renaissance painting. It feels sacred. It is art.

        “So . . . did you think about what I told you yesterday?” The artist speaks.

        I nod, “Yes, I did.”

        Erik listens to us absorbedly, Richard’s eyes move from Mister Artist, to Erik, and then to me.

        “So . . .?” He looks at me playfully, with a smile that only half of the corner of his mouth is up. A bad-boy kind of smile. I feel Erik’s warning gaze sending straight to Louis Tucker.

        Louis Tucker shrugs, lighting another cigarette and waiting for my answer.

        “Well, I think I can do it.”

        Richard smiles, Louis nods a polite nod, only Erik does not know what happened.

        Louis and I keep on talking about the songs that he wants me to write for him, from a new start of love, lost of love, family life, to what is called the rock music. As for Richard, rock music is his live, his air, his soul, and everything you can think of to describe something important.

        After the meal, Richard and Louis go back to the studio together; Erik and I decide to take a walk for a while and then come back to the studio by dinner time, there will be a party tonight, and Richard, Louis, Erik, Vivian, and I are all going.

 

        “I want to take you to a place.” Erik takes my hands in his and turns me around as if we are dancing. We both laugh.

It is about five fifty-six after walking for two hours and talking about anything that came to mind.

        “I’m a little bit hungry,” I say, ruining the small romance feeling.

        Erik laughs, “Chocolate bar?”

        “Yeah.” I smile.

        We keep walking until we are now near a cove, the sun is about to set, everything looks beautiful and peaceful. The trees surround the cove, it is a little private place that people can share their secrets. Besides, it is hard to find the way to get here, so I bet that not many people know this place. It is so quiet around here. We are all alone right now. Not even a little bird can annoy us.

        We just sit there, looking at the slowly setting sun. I place my head on Erik’s shoulder, and he places his palm on the back of my hand and softly moves his head near mine. This is a pure, cute moment that I want to enjoy.

        Suddenly he turns to face me, our noses collide. He raises his finger and tickles my nose, where our noses just bump into, saying nothing. But his eyes show all he does not say. A huge smile is now forming in his deep eyes, his hand is now on my cheek.

        My rational knowledge is telling me that we are going to kiss, and this is my first kiss, so it is a bit awkward for me, but my perceptual part is telling me not to stop, just wait and see what he will do.

        So I wait, and I see.

        It is a tender kiss. He moves his hand to my back in snail speed. He kisses my forehead, my cheeks, and finally my lips. The kiss on the lips lasts longer than the other two.

        His lips are soft, and he smells like always . . . the mixture of milk and honey. His finger is now drawing lines and circles on my neck. I shiver by his light touch. But he does not get any further than that. He stops and kisses my forehead one more time, smiling at me, and rests his forehead on mine.

        “Promise me we can be together forever,” Erik whispers into my ear, “and the death will not part us.” He looks so innocent, and what he just says is not like what a twenty-three-year-old man will have said.

        “I promise you,” I say. This time I become brave. I kiss him and pull him closer to me, but just for a little, little while. My heart skips a beat. No passionate kisses, we both understand. We both try to keep the childish, cute feeling, and are both afraid that it will fade away. He is also protecting me, I can tell that he still thinks that I am too young to do anything crazier. I agree, and I appreciate.

 

        Erik walks me back to the studio and helps me get ready for the party. Vivian is on her way, and together we are going to take a bus to the place where they hold the party.

When Vivian comes into the room, Erik is helping me make braid.

        “Awww . . . you guys look so cute!” Vivian shouts and quickly gives me a hug. She winks at Erik and also gives him a hug (well, she is my best friend, so it is okay for me).

        “Girls’ talk,” I say, smiling at him. He nods and walks out, putting a little piece of paper in my hand before he leaves.

        “Unbelievably cute,” Vivian says, “how far have you guys been?”

        I decide to keep everything a secret for now, so I ask, “Are you staying at my house tonight?”

        Vivian nods, “Sure, why not?”

        I make sure I do not forget to take important things such as my cell phone and purse, and then I close the door. The bus is already there, waiting for us all.

Reviews

[R J Askew]

Ach, there is sadness and disappointment, but things soon get back on track. This is my favourite passage:

This is a pure, cute moment that I want to enjoy. Suddenly he turns to face me, our noses collide. He raises his finger and tickles my nose, where our noses just bump into, saying nothing. But his eyes show all he does not say. A huge smile is now forming in his deep eyes, his hand is now on my cheek.

This is how life should be for all of us, just now and again. And then this, which seems to capture what your story is all about:

We both try to keep the childish, cute feeling, and are both afraid that it will fade away.

[Singer-Songwriter - Miya]

:-)
Thank you! ^_^