Chapter 21

This Woman You See

He sat on the edge of the bed, looking around. This was home, where they had lived together for the last two and a half years. The secondhand dresser was exactly as he remembered it, his faded old Nirvana T-shirt never having made it into his half of the drawers. It sat on a stack of her folded clothes, forgotten when he had knocked on the door.

He smiled, remembering when she had taken it over. Move over, Mark Twain. The fabric had been worn thin, having been one of his favorites for years. He had handed it over so she could cover herself up, that morning that they had finally surrendered to each other. It was funny how she had swiped it, choosing not to wash his scent out. Janey had laughed about how Daria had gotten kinda gamey before she finally grossed herself out and threw it in the laundry.

"Ellie's gonna be pissed," Daria smiled, returning with a beer. She climbed on the bed, wrapping her arms around him from behind and playfully nibbling on his ear. "How'd you sneak off?"

"Didn't. It was her idea. She figured that you'd strangle her if she didn't hold off the media and let me come home for a few days. I still have to run back there for a few interviews, but I'm home for the next few days."

Daria listened for a moment. "Jane's out of the shower."

"I need a shower myself. Will you get my back?"

"Um…okay," blushed his fiancé. "Later." She pushed him out the bedroom door. "Jane, look who showed up!"

"Big Bro stinks, Morgendorffer. Go wash him," Jane smirked. "Lori's on her way over-"

"With food," finished Daria.

"With more food. Must be an island thing. Go. She and I will take care of dinner."

"Finally," laughed Lori, hearing the shower cut off. "He must have been really dirty."

"Of course," grinned Jane. "Those two used up all the hot water."

They were startled into silence when someone knocked on the door.

"Crap," muttered Jane. "It better not be some nosy fan or reporter." She peeked through the window, trying to catch a glimpse of the enemy.

"This sucks," said Lori quietly. She picked up the big frying pan, getting a firm two-handed grip on it. "I'll get rid of them. I can do a pretty good cliché impression of a crazy Asian cook." She crept to the door, and unlatched the door with her elbow, quickly raising the pan over her head.

"WAIT! STOP!"

"YAAAAAAHHH-"

"IT'S DARIA'S FAMILY!"

"Sorry about that," sighed Lori.

Helen Morgendorffer smiled. "It's nice to know that Daria has such a protective friend. "Jake, another drink?"

"Mom and Dad wanted to surprise you," Quinn laughed. "It is Thanksgiving, after all."

"Trent, my man!" Jake grinned and pounded Trent on the back.

"Hey, Jake. Hi, Helen, Quinn," Trent smiled. "It's cool of you guys to come. Thanks for bringing all this food. Are you staying for the show tomorrow night? It's sold out, but we can get you in."

"That won't be a problem, Trent," smiled Helen. "Jake and I have very good seats. We wanted to support our future son-in-law's career, after all."

"Quinn's got a backstage pass," Daria said dryly, shooting her sister a look. Quinn just shrugged. "I'll get two for you so you can join us after the show."

Dinner was spontaneous, and all involved proved flexible. The little table was barely enough to hold the food for the buffet, and everyone sat where they could, enjoying the most informal and companionable Thanksgiving meal anyone could recall.

Helen smiled proudly as she watched her daughters, marveling at the way Daria in particular had changed. Something was different about her, and it wasn't just the fact that she and Trent were walking around barefoot. She was more self-assured, more openly confident; without her ubiquitous boots- a long standing part of her armor- she was even more noticeably diminutive. Yet, the maturing beauty that she had become radiated strength.

My daughters. Helen thanked God- something that she didn't often do- for the gift of these two women. She looked across the little room and for the first time realized that Daria would one day raise children as formidable and stubborn as she herself had proven to be. What goes around comes around…payback, Sweetie.

She had no doubt that despite that selfish little self-indulgent thought, she would be the proudest grandmother on the damn planet.

"Is this a mandolin? Jake asked, carrying his plate to the curious instrument hanging on the wall. It was small, and had eight strings.

"It's Daria's Taro Patch," smiled Trent. "I bought it for her in Hawaii. It's sort of a ukulele version of a twelve string guitar."

"It has four pairs of strings, each pair tuned an octave apart," Daria explained. She took down the instrument, plucking each pair of strings in sequence. Noticing that one of the strings was slightly out of tune, she corrected it and played a few chords to check the tuning.

Trent reached for his Alvarez dreadnought and began to improvise around the chords Daria was playing. She gave him a tiny smile, and began to play with him, leading into the refrain for Honolulu City Lights. Trent fell back to follow the rhythm and flow of what she was playing.

Lori smiled softly, closing her eyes. "You're gonna make me homesick, you know."

Daria just smiled and turned the heat up. Trent grinned and leaned into it. Jane, who had learned a little drumming from Max as a little kid, began to slap out the tempo on the empty two-liter soda bottle that had been at her feet.

Daria began to softly sing the refrain and the first verse.

"Stop," Lori said quietly, wiping away a tear.

Daria set the instrument down and stepped over to Lori. Silently, she gave her a hug, which was returned. "I'm sorry," Daria said quietly. "I didn't mean-"

"It's okay," Lori smiled gamely. "Thank you. It really is my favorite song. I just kinda miss my mom and dad."

Quinn looked at her sister proudly, while Helen and Jake sat somewhat stunned..

My daughter can sing like an Angel? What else don't I know about her? I mean, I knew she could sing, but that…that was Daria singing a little gift to her friend.

"Hey," Trent chuckled, lightening the bittersweet mood. "I forgot. I had something flown in for dessert from Kauai!"

Daria beat Lori to the refrigerator. "Oh my God. Lilikoi haupia cake!"

"Time for us to get out of their hair," smiled Helen. "Trent must be tired. I'm sure he's ready for bed."

"Aww, Helen," moaned Jake. "It's still early."

"Come on, Dear," Helen smiled softly at Daria, who was openly holding Trent's hand.

The two sisters exchanged WTF? expressions. "Tomorrow," Quinn mouthed.

"Thanks, Sis," Daria said out loud. "Mom, dad, thank you."

It was beginning to get dark, and the landscape lighting around the Performing Arts Center began to flicker on and slowly build in brightness. The cue had started early; the tinted glass of the SUV provided enough cover for them to watch the milling crowd as the driver carefully made his way to the backstage loading area, past the security cordon. They passed by the limo that had just eased into a holding area; all eyes upon it.

Jake and Helen got out of the limo, to be met by a production assistant with a 2-way radio and iPad in hand. Jake waved to the disappointed crowd, already beginning to turn away.

"Nice trick," smirked Jane as they exited on the side away from the crowd, camera at the ready.

Ellie was waiting and motioned them through the backstage entrance. They made their way down stairs into to a large greenroom, where a number of tables were set with food and refreshments for the crew and the guests. After a bit of schmoozing and snacking, Jake and Helen waved as they were escorted into the auditorium with the other VIPs, as the doors were about to be opened for the public. The wardrobe, makeup and sound tech descended onto Trent, who turned to find Ellie and the women in something of a huddle. Wondering what might be going on with them, he was led off to a dressing room.

Half an hour later, he was ready. He smiled-there really wasn't all that much to be done, really; his stage persona was a carefully crafted, accessible informality. His "costume" wasn't much different than the clothes he had walked in with, just a tad more art directed for a better color palette and drape. After all, it was just him on stage, with messy hair, ratty sneakers and his trademark laid back self.

He had come a long way from the days of Spiral; no worrying if his crappy amp would make it through the night without blowing a tube or something. Hell, he didn't even have to worry about working a microphone; the body rig he had on cost more that all the gear Spiral owned. Near-invisible and weightless mic, in-ear monitor, no dragging cables. The audience would just see him and a guitar on a stool, with near-perfect sound.

"Good luck, Trent," whispered Daria, taking his hand, just offstage as he waited for the welcome and introduction to finish. Sam, the sound tech, stepped back, watching carefully to make sure that she didn't pull out any cables. She leaned in and kissed him carefully. "I'll see you later."

He smiled as she walked away. Sam leaned in for a final check. "She's really pretty, dude."

"You have no idea, man."

"Hot in five," nodded Sam, unmuting the transmitter.

He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Even after the years he'd had as a performer, it was still a little scary. That was good; it kept him sharp and focused. Still, it was funny how she seemed more nervous than he was. The energy in the house surged, and he stepped onstage to an enthusiastic crowd.

Daria sat with her arms wrapped around herself, not because she was cold; she was just so proud of him. She looked out into the auditorium from the backstage area, the spotlight casting a long shadow behind Trent, seated on a stool. The audience was his, quiet and focused, some staring intently at him onstage, others further back glancing back and forth from the lone performer to the images being projected on giant screens.

There were two camera operators near the foot of the stage, another on the stage wing. She glimpsed a movement in the dark over the audience and realized that there was a glidecam in operation as well. Nimbus had it covered; concert footage was being edited in real time and streamed to an online subscription audience.

Trent had really made it. He was a star. Part of the reason he had started down this path to prove to himself that he really was somebody. Still, this wasn't what had drawn her to this gentle soul; she was in love with him. She knew before all those people out there that this man could create art and beauty. Finally, others would know.

Oh God. The house was at capacity, no standing allowed because of the media coverage. There were thousands of people out there, and because she was part of his life, they all knew about her. She swallowed.

The last notes of the song rang out and faded; the sound was state of the art, she knew. Even the backstage monitors set up for the girls were crystal clear. The natural acoustics of the auditorium were nearly flawless, and Trent and his guitar were the only sound in the space. No backup band, just Trent. A minimalist, honest evening with an artist. When she closed her eyes, she could sense the texture of the strings beneath his fingertips, the flexing and snap of his pick, and the heat of his soul.

You can do this.

The applause brought her back to the moment, and she struggled to stay calm. The crowd was on its feet, unwilling to let him go. After a long moment, he raised a hand, and the crowd fell silent.

"Hey," he said plainly. "Thanks for turning out tonight, so soon after Thanksgiving. Guess I'm doing an encore, even though I really wanna get going. I've got a really special lady waiting for me, so this song, like, all of them, really, is for her. I guess you could say that this was kind of the first real song I wrote, and I wrote it for her. I know I kinda sound like a broken record, but…"

He stopped when a stagehand set another stool down to his right.

No backing out now.

"You're live in ten, Daria," came the voice in her in-ear monitor. Sam checked the connections on her microphone and guitar pickup transmitters, listened for a moment and nodded. She was vaguely aware of Jane nearby, silently moving about with her camera.

Quinn ran a fingertip over a lock of Daria's hair, and gently took her glasses off. She frowned for a moment, and made a show of quickly retouching the light makeup she had applied earlier. Daria really didn't need her help; but Quinn knew that she needed to believe that the theoretically artificial face she was now wearing was a kind of a shield, a tiny bit of something to keep herself private and unseen. Losing the glasses would help- they were so much of her identity that taking them off was like putting on a costume.

Inverted logic, but that was Daria for you. Besides, she was blind as a bat without them, so she really wouldn't be able to see the faces staring at her. She would be able to see Trent well enough, so he would be her anchor. "You look fantastic, Sis. Knock 'em dead!"

Daria swallowed hard. She could see a blur in the bright light that she knew was Trent, and she picked up her battered Martin and stepped forward out of the darkness. She hoped the guitar tech had tuned it to Trent's dreadnought; she'd probably break a string. Her legs felt like jelly; her fingertips tingled. She prayed she wouldn't trip over her own feet.

There was a collective gasp in the auditorium as they watched a petite woman nervously and silently approach Trent, carrying a guitar and dressed in a pale gray Raft sweatshirt, jeans and black combat boots.

Quinn smiled. You're dressed like a slob, sis, just like your man. But you guys look fantastic tonight.

He smiled as he reached out for her hand. "Hey, Daria," he said softly.

The house erupted in thunderous applause, which went on for what seemed like forever.

They fell silent, leaning forward as she raised her hand slightly to speak.

"Thank you, but maybe we should see if I manage to not screw this up." With that, she settled in, nodded out a tempo and began to play the intro to Roads.

A/N: the song Honolulu City Lights was composed by Keola Beamer in the 1970's. Lori would have likely found a copy of it while digging through her parent's vinyl and CDs. It was, and remains something of an anthem for Hawaiian Expatriates.