Achievement unlocked: Making yourself AND your beta reader cry over a chapter of your own fiction. Thanks to the-social-recluse for reading over this.
Helena sat behind her desk and stared at the box in front of her. She rubbed and clenched her hands, her jaw working hard. With a huff, she leaned back in her chair and groaned. Her death glare hadn't any effect on the box so she gave up and opened it. Gingerly, she pulled out the device and turned it between her fingers while examining it. It looked interesting. One day she would maybe take it apart to completely understand how it works. The pianist pursed her lips and put the device back. Without closing it, she placed the whole box in her lap to move over to the grande piano. With a quick motion, the composer turned on the small electric engine next to it and positoned herself in front of the keys. Carefully, she placed the box on top of the piano and pulled the device out, turned it on and put it in the mouth behind her cheek.
Rolling slightly back, she stared at the piano's right pedal moving in reaction to her biting down on the device.
Helena smiled. Well, she had to practice this a little before she could master it, but it was a beginning.
Softly, she cracked her fingers and placed them on the keys. She took a deep breath. Mr. Jinks kept telling the pianist she had to focus on things she loved about playing piano. Running her fingers over the keys without pressing them, Helena pondered over this. Well, there had been the opportunity to express her emotions with it. This was clearly visible in her compositions after her daughter's death. When Helena Wells mourned Christina, the world had celebrated her music, because there had suddenly been so many intense and emotional pieces. The pianist sighed. That wasn't a positive thought, Mr. Jinks wouldn't be very pleased by it.
Another aspect had been the admiration of other people, her parents and her piano teachers first, then referees at competitions and concerts, later her piano professors and in the end: the whole world that admired piano music.
Helena had never craved this admiration. All she wanted was to play for her own pleasure. The composer knew she was good. Maybe she had known a little too well how good she actually was in playing the piano. She chuckled. Well, arrogance was definitely not helping her back behind the keys. HG felt them under the skin of her fingertips and allowed her mind to wander to completely different aspect she loved about piano music. This one was new and the pianist was sure her stubborn mind had destroyed any possibility that it could grow. But Helena wanted to heal, to recover and this was why she allowed Myka Bering's face to appear in her mind.
The pianist's fingers almost moved by themselves as she played a few notes. She opened her eyes and stared at her fingers playing the music she heard.
Tears were filling her eyes as she smiled. But then her right hand touched the wrong key and she moved back, horrified. The pianist's palm hit the keys with a loud plunk.
"Maybe..." Leena's voice said from the door. The composer's personal assistant leaned in the frame, her arms crossed in front of her chest. "Maybe Bach isn't the right decision for a beginning with playing piano again. I mean it needs skill and practice to play Bach perfectly and it's really hard." She shrugged. "Even though those 20 seconds sounded beautiful."
Helena glared at her and squinted her eyes.
"I also mean this piece is making me quite nervous. How about something relaxing instead?" Leena asked. The pianist pursed her lips and stared at the keys again. She took a deep breath and concentrated on the face that still filled her mind. She let the emotions connected to Myka's face flow and closed her eyes. What she loved about piano music... There was something that she linked with this woman. Helena's fingers started pressing the keys again. Leena smiled at the music coming from the piano. The pianist now played a little longer than the first time but as she hit the wrong keys she again slightly moved back and looked at her hands, mortified.
"Don't worry, Helena. It's like riding a bike. You don't unlearn how to play piano. You just need to practice again." The assistant nodded.
HG turned her wheelchair back from the piano and rolled over to her desk. With a quick move she took a tissue from the box on the table and put the device from her mouth in it.
"It frustrates me." She stated. Her hands played with the device wrapped in the tissue.
"What? That those were only 20 seconds of Bach and 30 seconds of Chopin?" Leena sighed. "HG, this is so much progress. You just played piano. Half a year ago we couldn't even think about you looking at one. And those were beautiful 50 seconds."
Suddenly Charles' office door opened. He marched through the hall and stared at Leena as he entered Helena's office "As I heard it, I finished my phone call as fast as possible. Did I just hear piano music? Sister, have you been playing? Is Helena Wells back?" He asked excitedly. Leena didn't even try to hide her big eyeroll.
The pianist cleared her throat. "No, Charles. This wasn't the great Helena Wells playing piano." She shook her head and moved to the window behind her desk. "It was just Helena. Just me." She spoke while staring at the first winter snow reaching the city.
"So...uhm... Why did you leave Miss Bering's office?" Mr. Jinks asked nervously and leaned back in his chair.
"Well, there was a misunderstanding about the nature of our relationship." Helena calmly answered the question. She lay on the couch in her office and stared at the ceiling.
"In which way?" Her therapist went into it.
"I would rather prefer to talk about the fact that I played 20 seconds of Bach and 30 seconds of Chopin this Saturday." The pianist replied and smiled softly.
"Yeah, that's a very great progress. We're doing great work together, Miss Wells. It almost feels like our therapy is working." Mr. Jinks spoke in a monotonous tone of voice. "And what was the misunderstanding about Miss Bering's and your relationship?"
"I'm a little frustrated that it were only 50 seconds of music, Mr. Jinks, but Leena keeps telling me..." She sat up. "Wait, Mr. Jinks why are we still talking about Miss Bering even though I said I wanted to talk about my music? Which is the main reason why we're working together, by the way. You're here to help me with my recovery and make me play piano again. Not to talk about my personal relationships."
"May... maybe your personal relationships are a part of you recover-" Mr. Jinks stuttered but was interrupted by Helena again.
"How do you even know about the incident with Miss Bering three weeks ago? I can't remember telling you about this." The pianist raised both her eyebrows.
"You sure told me after the..." The therapist began.
"No. No, I didn't Mr. Jinks. The only times I mentioned Miss Bering was after she furiously interrupted our first therapy session. I did that to explain to you that I see her as a love interest and can't work with her on a professional basis." Helena looked directly into Mr. Jink's eyes what caused him to shift nervously on his chair. "And when I mentioned I kept visiting her to bring her coffee. I did this to show you that I made progress in leaving my flat. But I know I didn't tell you about this incident. And I know that you're a good therapist so you wouldn't step into my private space trying to get information out of my employees."
"I...uhm..." The therapist scribbled nervously on his paper and broke the eye contact.
His patient sighed deeply. "Claudia and Leena probably already know that I will kill them. What did they do?"
"It could possibly be that Miss Donovan showed up in my office at the beginning of the week and forced me to listen to her." Mr. Jinks explained nervously.
"Oh, I know Claudia's interrogation techniques. What did she want from you?" The pianist asked with interest.
"She may have told me that I have to lead your attention to your relationship with Miss Bering."
"I won't even ask what she used to blackmail you, Mr. Jinks. I know Claudia can be quite persistent." Helena buried her face in her hands.
The therapist glared for a while anxiously at his patient, then he cleared his throat. "So, do you want to talk about Miss Bering?"
"There isn't quite much to talk about, Mr. Jinks. She sees me rather differently than I see her." The composer dropped herself back to the couch and crossed her arms. Vigoriously, she stared at the ceiling and huffed.
"And you know this why?" Mr. Jinks asked interested.
"Because I kissed her and she rejected me." The pianist answered his question with a sigh.
"Did she say that?"
"What?"
"Did she say that she's rejecting you?" The man went into it.
"No, instead she told me she was not rejecting me." The pianist shrugged.
"So what makes you believe she was rejecting you even though she clearly told you she wasn't?" Mr. Jinks raised both his eyebrows in confusion.
"Oh, come on. Mr. Jinks, we all know this nice and kind 'it's not you or your conditions, it's me and I can't deal with it' rejection." Helena snorted.
"So you think she was just playing nice by saying that she wasn't rejecting you?" Her doctor assumed with a tilt of his head.
"Yes."
"And what did she do so you knew that she was lying about this? I mean, I know a lot about lying. We could analyse this." The therapist smiled softly.
"She said I was a famous and brilliant pianist and she struggles dealing with my mental health." Helena explained slowly and with emphasis.
"That's what she said?" Her therapist sounded surprised. "It's hard for me to believe that, I mean, Miss Bering is a therapist. It doesn't sound like anything a therapist would say."
Helena groaned and rolled her eyes.
"Tell me, Miss Wells, please. I'm interested in this." Mr. Jinks said calmly.
"She said she's afraid to do anything to keep me from recovery." The composer spoke and allowed herself to think about this sentence.
"Did it ever come to your mind that Miss Bering doesn't see you differently than you see her, Miss Wells? But that in fact, she's just a little overwhelmed by your social rank and - far more interesting - she cares so much about you that she's afraid to hurt you? Or to do anything wrong that throws you back into your anxious behaviour? I think she sees the great progress you're making and she knows that she's just a human being and if she allows herself to fall in love with you she could behave like one towards you. Which could possibly not end very well for the both of you, in her opinion. Because she could frighten you away and you could maybe hurt her."
It was silent for a while in Helena Wells office. The pianist pondered over her therapist's words while studying the ceiling.
"Miss Wells? I know I'm usually the person who listens and am the one talking so I hope I didn't overstep a border here. Also I hope you have indeed listened and didn't fall asleep to my words." Mr. Jinks expressed his worries.
"Yes, Mr. Jinks. I have heard you and I think all the money I pay you for listening to me is well-invested." Helena said without looking at him.
"So... ehm... Miss Bering?" He asked shyly.
"I will think about this, Mr. Jinks. You can tell Claudia that you have successfully led me into allowing myself to consider talking to her." The Brits' tone of voice was slightly harsh.
"Oookay." The therapist sighed in relief. "So. Well, 20 seconds of Bach and 30 seconds of Chopin? I'm impressed, Miss Wells."
On Friday morning, Myka punctually arrived at her doctor's office and stepped through the snow to get the guitar out of her trunk. With a sigh, she allowed her view to wander over the street and the snow falling down in big flakes. The early December morning showed its beautiful side. There wasn't only the snow falling, the city had already installed all the little lights in anticipation of the celebration on the month's end. With a huff of steaming breath, Myka tightened her coat around her neck.
Helena had stopped visiting her after the incident and the therapist knew the composer wouldn't probably start it again. She honestly hoped the pianist hadn't wrapped herself again in her isolation cocoon. Myka would have been happy to see her or to know she was well but she was too hurt and too afraid to forcefully step into the composer's life again. Even though she knew Leena would like the thought of her running into Helena Wells' office, Myka had no energy to invest into this. She had expressed her feelings to Helena the day the pianist left her office and she couldn't allow herself to get more emotionally involved in this than she already was. Pete had said he could 'feel vibes' about her having love sickness and this clearly showed that Myka had allowed herself to be too deeply in Helena Wells' game of rejection and fondness.
Fondness, the therapist wouldn't admit she was craving for.
Taking big steps, Myka crossed the sidewalk between her car and the door of her office and pulled out her keys to open it. Some city worker had already cleared the snow from the sidewalk and Myka was grateful for not having to wade through the cold material reaching to her ankles. She anxiously eyed the few newly fallen snow flakes on the ground and hoped the sidewalk would stay usable until the evening.
The office's door was usually a little bit stuck and needed a slight pull with both hands to open properly, so the therapist put her guitar down while she concentrated on this task.
"I am sorry." A well-known voice said quietly behind her. Myka swallowed hard as she felt the tears form in her eyes. She stopped her motions, but didn't turn around. She couldn't bear looking at Helena.
"I am so utterly sorry, Myka." The pianist spoke again. "I know that you probably dislike the thought about seeing me again. I think this is a rather normal reaction to two rejections from me. But Myka, let me tell you that I realised my stubborness and I know that I have hurt you a lot. More than a lot." The Brit's voice trembled. Myka had to lean herself on her hands against the door to hold her balance. She took a deep breath to calm herself but she couldn't keep her tears from running.
"Myka, I'm such a fool for not seeing that you opened yourself up to me. That you spoke about your feelings for me. You care for me. You told me that you carry a burden too, so you know that my way of recovery will be a long one. I didn't quite see that you're afraid of interfering with my progress. Now I know you are." Helena slightly sobbed which caused Myka's heart to flutter.
"Mr. Jinks said you could possibly be part of my recovery and I know that you're afraid of this. No one suddenly recovers only because they fall in love with someone, you know that, and I know you're afraid that you can't handle it." At those words, Myka turned around and faced the other woman. Helena was in tears, but didn't avoid her gaze. She looked directly into the therapist's reddened eyes while she went on speaking. The cold wind hit Myka's burning cheeks and she gasped quietly in reaction.
"I don't want to put another burden on you by being part of my recovery process, Myka. But I want you to know that you are the reason why I want to recover. You are the reason I hired Mr. Jinks to help me. You are the reason why I want to feel better and why I want to leave my flat." The pianist took a deep breath. "Because I am in love with you, Myka. Utterly and madly in love."
Myka closed her eyes. The tears now freely ran down her cheek. She swallowed hard and allowed her eyes to open again to face the woman in front of her. Helena smiled shyly, her brows furrowed in worry. The American could see all the insecurities that weighed on the pianist's shoulders.
"You don't have to say anything." Helena spoke softly and with a slightly disappointed tone of voice that she completely failed to hide. "I just wanted you to know..."
Myka reached forwards. She crossed the sidewalk with just a few big steps to close the gap between her and the pianist. Helena's wheelchair swayed dangerously as the therapist bent over and leaned to the composer. Myka crashed her lips with such a force onto Helena's that the pianist's eyes widened in surprise. As she felt the therapist's hands cling onto her black winter coat and pull her closer, Helena's facial expression changed to a softer one. The pianist slowly closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around the therapist's neck. They stayed minutes like this, silently and without any words, just letting their lips and tongues meet and feel each other.