Fan Fiction
Heather
I stand on the stage with the microphone in my hand. The dirty rag hanging out my back pocket swings back and forth. I look around to see there are about 10 people paying attention. They are our regulars in the bar; people who usually come around here about this time every day for lunch and a drink. Dave, the piano guy, starts playing the entre of "Music of the Night" from Phantom of the Opera. Slowly I breathe in and sing the first words of my part.
"Slowly."
"Gently."
"Night unfolds it splendor."
"Grasp It."
"Sense it."
"Tremulous and tender."
"Hearing is believing."
"Music is deceiving."
"Hard as lightning, soft as candlelight."
"Dare you trust the music of the night."
After I am finished I nod in approval of everyone standing and clapping but as I start to leave, I see this woman that I have never seen before sitting at the bar. Her strawberry blonde hair fell to her shoulders, her blue eyes staring at me from across the room. She had no motion. She didn't clap, stand, nothing. She just sat there with her hands folded in her lap and stared at me. She was beautiful. God she looked amazing but she was different. I could feel it.
Barbra
My agent called me and said I had at least 20 appointments and 1 interview today. I told him I was going to my local bar and I was going to sit there, eat a sandwich, and drink. I love my job. Love it. But sometimes it's a little boring when all I have to do is go talk to people about me. It's always about me, me, me, me, and me. Why can't I talk to someone about them for once? Anyway, I walk into the bar, order a whiskey, and sit down at one of the stools. I look around remembering this place from my early years. I didn't have many of those due to the fact I signed at Columbia records at 19, but I did have a few days. I see a woman standing on the stage. She had a microphone in her hand and was getting ready to sing. I told the waiter that approached me I wanted a sub. She had a white stained tank top, jeans that were too big, and boots. She had a way of masculinity to her. A rough edge. A diamond in the buff. It was like she was different... She looked like she worked too much, honest jobs. The piano guy started playing the entre to "Music of the Night." I love this song. I remember when I sang it with Il Divo, and Michael Crawford. She started to sing the opening bars.
"Hearing is believing."
"Music is deceiving."
"Hard as lightning, soft as candlelight."
"Dare you trust the music of the night."
Oh God. That was amazing, impeccable even. That was unbelievable. Holy shit. I need her to sing for me and my company. I have to have her. I realize I'm staring directly in her eyes and she is staring back. All of a sudden my nerves rage into a maelstrom. I've never had this happen before. Chills cover my body like a blanket of lightning. I don't know what's happening but I just feel like I need to run to her and just touch her… What the fuck am I saying? I am NOT attracted to women. I'm not attracted to anyone right now! I don't have time for it. This is so unwonted of me. I clear my throat and sit up and break the eye contact. I realize my drink and my sandwich had arrived. I'm not even fucking hungry anymore. She jumps off the side of the stage, grabs her cloth from her back pocket. She glances up at me and then back down making my insides twist. She starts wiping down tables and clearing the dirty plates from another. She works here apparently. I don't see why. She clearly got talent. She should be singing in real revenues. She is making her way to the empty table in the middle of the room. I grab my sandwich and whiskey and sit at it before she can get there. She has her back towards me wiping the table next to me and swings around, knocking my drink and sandwich off the table and into my lap.
"Oh shit."
"It is fine, it's okay." I said annoyed.
"No it's not let help you and get you a new drink." she says.
I agree and we walk into the bath room. We walk into the back behind some beads. She sits on the counter of the sink and fiddles with it to get the hot water on. She jumps off and turns around to see me taking off my dress, stripping into my slip which also has whiskey on it. She stares and stutters a moment.
"I have some extra clothes in the back if you need them."
"I would greatly appreciate it."
I wait on her to return. I notice something fell out of her pocket. It is a folded piece of paper with some writing on it. I read it.
Her eyes are luminous.
They are tiny discs replaying the same song over and over again.
They spill the tune of a graceful lack-luster melody.
They sing of hurt and despair, but also grace and beauty which come from deep within.
She knows the meaning of love.
But she knows heartbreak even better.
Her eloquent etiquette exceeds expectations.
And her soul lets her fall into oblivion to get away from it all when she needs to.
She can never tell when someone loves her.
She exudes intoxicating passion, but doesn't know what it feels like to be given passion.
She doesn't know what true and complete love is.
She deserves to be relished upon.
She deserves to bury herself in someone's arms and to never be let go of.
She deserves true and desolate love to feel like a breezy Saturday morning inside every second and to be touched so gently she has to cry.
Her eyes are luminous.
And they reflect the love she has to give, but has not been given.
God. She can sing, write, and she works, she's kind. What can't she do?
Heather
I can't believe I fucking did that. The most beautiful woman I have ever seen in my life shows up and I spill fucking Whiskey all over her Jesus Christ. I walk into the bathroom and she is sitting there on the counter with nothing but a black slip on. The sight of her like this makes me stutter. I notice she's got something in her hand….. That's my poetry.
"Where did you get that?"
"It fell out of your pocket, I read it I hope that is ok." she says.
"Yeah it's fine…"
"Here are the clothes. I know they are probably not something you are used to wearing but it's all I have."
I handed her the huge white T-shirt, and the red pajama pants.
Barbra
She handed me the white T-shirt and red pants and I went into the stall to change into them. They smelled like her. Her natural smell was intoxicating; the unusual combination of cigarettes, red wine and sweat. I held the clothes up and buried my face in them breathing in and out heavily. Realizing how long I was taking to put on a T-shirt and some pants, I scramble to put them on and step outside.
"My shift here is over now." she said.
"Oh... okay well it was nice to meet you."
As I turn to leave she shouts "Wait, would you like to come to my apartment for a moment let me get you that drink you ordered." she said.
"I'm busy"
"You didn't seem too busy a minute ago." she said almost sounding like a plea.
Realizing she had a point "Fine." I said.
She led me up to her apartment. What the fuck am I doing? I would never do this I just met her. I would never do this with anyone if I had just met them. We went up on this horribly rickety worker elevator for what seemed to be eternity. Oh god she is going to live in a disgusting apartment and then my whole impression of her is going to be…. The elevator stopped at a white hallway with a gold curtain at the end of it. Holy Shit. She walked through the curtain and unlocked her door. We walked in and I saw nothing but a beautiful glass wall with an overview of the city. She had a red couch and a yoga room over to the side of that. I shouldn't and I don't judge people for what they have but oh my god this is amazing.
"By the way my name is Heather."
"Barbra, Barbra Streisand."
I must tell her I have to leave, this is so unprofessional. After all I want her as a client, maybe a coworker.
"I'm sorry but I must go now. I hate to leave on such short notice but I do have to go."
"Ok nice to meet you." she said nonchalantly.
She didn't care I was leaving? How rude! Whatever… but she is a good singer. I turn to walk out of the apartment. I open the door and she has yet to turn around and look at me.
"Heather."
"Yes?"
"Is there any way I could get your number for…professional reasons?"
"Sure, 843-639-1319."
"Thanks, goodbye."
"You know you sure are funny girl Barbra."
I nod and exit.
Heather
I know she won't ever call but there is a little hope in side of me. Maybe I should have shown more sadness when she left. She is so distinguished. Her etiquette exceeds expectations
Barbra
Ugh. I hate myself… I look down at my watch and realize its 5:00 in the afternoon. Dear god, my agent is going to kill me. I call him and tell him I need to go home and to send me a limo. I realize I'm standing outside in public with an oversized T-shirt and some red pajama pants on. Dammit! I forgot my dress and everything in her apartment. How does she make that kind of money to have an apartment like that? A thousand thoughts run through my head jolting me alive from this boring world I live in at the moment. She did this to me. My limo pulls up and I get in and tell the driver to take me home. I love New York. I was born here and I am fortunate enough to work here as well. We pull into the back entrance of my loft. As soon as I step foot into my house I exhale. It feels like I've been holding that since I saw her in that bar. I remember her number. I walk up the stairs to my room and toss the slip of paper with her number onto my nightstand next to my bed telling myself that I'm never going to need it. I take those putrid clothes off of me and stand in my bathroom looking in the mirror. I start a bath, but when I start to take my bra off I realize how old I am. That woman could have never been attracted to an old hag like me. I slip out of my underwear and slip into the bath.
Heather
I grab my book from the side of the bath tub and open it to page 69. I feel empty. Everyday since 11/16/2011. I have felt bored or depressed in life before but ever since then I have felt like I am torn open. My heart has been mangled and there is no way to fix the throbbing inside. But when I saw her… my heart felt like there was some sort of hope, some sort of possibility that I could feel normal again. I press my knees to my face and settle my chin in the parting of my knees. I try to remember the way she smelled. Her hair naturally smelled like wine and cheap perfume as she walked by me in that bar. I can't let these thoughts control me. My emotions towards her are irrelevant and this whole thing is just going to end in hurt. It's not even a thing. I mind as well just forget about her. She probably has forgotten about me.
Barbra
I lay in bed sleepless. I hate the way she made me feel. I don't know what is going on with me. Maybe it was just the excitement of getting out of the daily routine the only way to know if what I feel is true is to see her again. That means I have to… call her. This whole thing is infuriating! I sound like some immature school girl. I am a distinguished woman who never shows emotion unless it's a musical or a wonderful piece of work or music. But she is a wonderful everything. HOW THE HELL AM I SAYING THESES THINGS WHEN I HAVE ONLY TALKED TO HER OR MET HER ONE FUCKING TIME! I must meet her once more to know I don't have feelings for her. I slip into my bed, clad in my birth suit I cross my legs and lay my hands over my chest and simply cry. I sob at every thought I have about her. Every tear falls a certain distance, but the ones that make it to their destination have no were else to go.
Heather
As soon as I get up in the morning I hear my phone ringing.
"Hello?"
"Hi is this Ms. Heather Powell?" they say.
"Yes, this is she."
"Ms. Streisand would like to make a lunch appointment with you at um… say 7:00 today. Is that ok for you or would you like to reschedule?"
I stutter through my words trying to find the answer.
"Yes. That would be fine."
"Ok she has asked you to meet her at the café down the street of your apartment. Thank you. Goodbye."
I slowly panic about everything. How did she know about that café? I don't understand she has people to call me instead of her. Maybe this is just a professional thing. I have no idea. I almost puke. I wonder what this. Is this a date? No, it can't be I mean she would have personally called me for that wouldn't she? I guess not I mean she is so distinguished and controlling. I know that I have only talked to her once. I decide it's time to go so I walk outside and hop in my truck. MY scarf gets stuck in the door which leaves black marks all over it. Shit that was a nice one. I was at least trying to look somewhat sophisticated. I guess that got fucked up. I fling the scarf in the back seat and leave. As I'm pulling up I see her stepping out of the limo into a crowd of photographers with a white bald man behind her. She had her face covered and ran into the café. What am I doing here? With her. I can't believe I am doing this. This is so stupid I start to pull out of the parking lot when a guy with a tux on stops me. I pull back into the space and get out.
"I'm here to escort you into the building." he says
"I can walk into the building perfectly fine." I say as I remove his hand and start to walk to the front entrance.
"No, you are coming with me."
I follow him as we enter the back way through the alley where there are no cars or photographers. When we enter he takes me to a back room where she is leaning up against a table.
Barbra
She walks in to the room and I lose my breath. She is wearing jeans and a button up flannel shirt She has dog tags hanging around her neck. I can't control what I'm feeling right now. What am I feeling? I really don't know anymore.
"Hello." she says warmly.
"Hello."
"How are you?"
"Fine, how are you?"
"Great now."
"And why is that?"
"You called."
"No I didn't, my people did."
"Why is that again?" She says this mockingly which annoys me.
"I want to know where you learned to sing like that."
Heather
Really? This is what she fucking wanted from me? I know it isn't. I know she wants me. I know she wants me just as bad as I want her. I have been so unsure of my feelings until now. Every time I see her my breath is taken away, my nerves explode into chaos when she gets close to me. I can't take this any longer. She is being so distinguished and anal about this. I'm going to make admit it. I'll make her say she wants me. I can see it in her eyes and I'm going to make her pay for it. I'm going to make her knees tremble.
I walk over to her chair and pull it out for her to sit. She looks hesitant, maybe fearful.
"Let's be a little more casual with this." I almost whisper in her ear as I push her chair in for her. I stay for a moment letting that linger. While I'm right next to her cheek I tuck the blonde hair behind her ear and whisper "Loosen up a little." She closes her eyes and arches her neck a little, not realizing what she's doing.
Barbra
God her whispering in my ear sends chills down my spine making me close my eyes and eyes arch my neck. Realizing what I was doing I cough and straighten up, pretending that had never happened. She sits back down in the chair in front of me. "So, why did you have your people call me instead of you?" she said. I know the answer to this but I'm going to lie. "I have my people call if it's a professional meeting." She looks at me with unsure eyes. I know she saw right through that. "So this is a professional meeting?" she says. "Yes, what did you think it was." curious is she was going to say it or not. "Nothing really, just a lunch." she says innocently. "Speaking of food," I say "… Why don't we order something to eat? That is why we met here right?" I call for the waiter and tell him to bring us menus. I order a salad and she orders the same with a glass of red wine. I tell him to bring us the two glasses and the bottle. I figure we are going to be here for a while. We wait a few awkward moments. I debate on whether to ask her to be in my business or not. "Would you like to be in my business?" I ask her hesitantly. "No." she says with confidence and a smile. Why is she smiling? She just turned down one of the best opportunities of her life… and she's smiling. "Why not?" I say infuriated. "I want more." "You want more? What do you mean you want more?" What kind of bullshit is this? "I want more…" I feel like leaving this very instant. What the hell is she talking about, she wants more? What the fuck? "You do realize what I'm asking. I'm asking you to be a part of my company. Barbra Streisand's singing label. You don't want a part of that!" "No." "Why." "I don't want to be close to you like that." Oh now I have my answer, she doesn't want to be close to me like that. "This is a strictly professional relationship, and it will always be a strictly… professional… relationship." I say toned down and hurt. I'm no longer mad but disappointed. "I know that's why." "You just said you don't want to be close to me? You just said you want a professional relationship." "No I didn't say that. I said I didn't want to be close to you like that. You just assumed I meant more than a professional relationship." She stands up and starts to slowly walk around the table towards me, talking. "I want more than a professional…" she kneels down next to me so we are at eye level "relationship. I want a relationship…" she sets her hands down on my knees asking permission to hold my hands , I let her (I don't know why the hell I do, but I do) "with you. Not Barbra Streisand. I want a relationship with you, not your company, not your name, not your fame, not your voice, but you."
Waves of sensitivity wash over me. I have wanted someone to say that to me for the longest time. I expected it to be a man. But I don't even fucking care anymore. I want her to be close to me. I all of a sudden have this urge to touch her; to reach out and grab her face and bring it to mine and to stare deep into her eyes for eternity. We are at eye level holding hands in a café. And I am secretly falling in love with her. And I don't even know her last name.
Heather
I've got her right where I want her. She is putty in my hands. I just need to know whether she feels the same for me she hasn't spoken a word since I told her. "I… I don't know. I…" "Do you want the same?" "…yes." That's all I needed to know. I grab her face and pull it into mine passionately crashing my lips on hers. I slip my hands behind her ears and pull her closer into me as she gently touches my chin and neck. We stand together from the kneeling position we were in. I push her against the table and we just stand there as our tongues danced together a gentle waltz in the middle of the café. We break away for air. Still holding onto her face, I push some loose strands of hair behind he hair so I can look into her eyes when she opens them. Slowly those beautiful blue eyes appear. I could stare into them all day if I could. I realize somehow we got on the floor. "God you are beautiful." I say to her.
Barbra
I am lost in eternity. This feeling inside of me is irrational, indescribable, terrifying. But it is exhilirating