Disclaimer: All Bust-A-Groove elements belong to Enix. I own nothing.
La Rima Tibia
(Warm Rhythm)
Chapter 4: Moonlight Tower
by ArchFaith (formerly known as the ArchPrincess of Saturn)
"Shorty...I don't want you to leave me, but sooner or later you'll have to."
"NO!" I screamed. My hand reached for him. I was able to grab his hand and hold it, hold it before the darkness claimed him. So that he wouldn't leave me and I wouldn't leave him. We'd be together. That's what I wanted.
His hand turned harder and bigger. Still, I held on, determined not to have him lost to me, as my parents were. As I was lost to myself.
"Ah, no, don't go away! I'm here!"
Oh...
I involuntarily kicked my legs. This action startled me out of my torturous reverie and back into reality. My eyes popped open, and I flew up in bed, the covers rustling gently around my polka-dotted nightie. My messy brown hair hovered behind, like a dark veil against my pillow. The clock read 3:47. I detected slight movement in the room adjoining mine; he was probably awake and wondering what I was doing. I pulled my knees under my chin and began to sob.
The evening after our arrival in Paris was pleasant. He took me out to an elegant restaurant, for which I was embarrassingly underdressed. There, I tasted a French specialty, escargot. I thought it would be disgusting, but it was actually quite good. I had tasted millions of things before, in my 13-year-diplomatic-daughter career, but never something like that.
The next two days after our arrival were a whirlwind of excitement. Every day, we would both rise at 6 AM, to beat the crowds going to the famous landmarks, such as the Arc de Triomph or the Louvre. We were able to reach the Arc and examine its frail, classic beauty. And as for the Louvre....it must be full of people all the time. To see the Mona Lisa, we had to elbow our way into the crowd and through the large room where it was displayed. It turned out to be smaller than I expected.
The next day, we got on a tourist bus and headed up to the Palace of Versailles, where the French royalty used to lead the country. It was very, very elegant, but seemed to be a little over-the-top with its decorations. Not to mention, the cobblestone streets did little to reverse the soreness of my feet.
Every night we'd go out to a restaurant and have the specialty of the day. I was learning to speak a few phrases from the French guidebook, and could already say, "I would like..." and "Where is..."
We used those terms a lot.
But the next two days after that, he told me the real reason he had come to Paris. And I discovered, it was not to be with me.
Sitting up late at night, my head in his lap, watching some anime dubbed in French. I was almost asleep, but soon he spoke and I was wide awake.
"Shorty...I don't think we'll be able to do anything for the next three days."
"Huh?!" I exclaimed, flying up. I stared at him. "Three days? But aren't we leaving in three days?"
"Yes, but there is something I need to take care of."
"What?"
"There's a convention going on in Paris right now. I was registered to go."
"What kind of a convention?"
"Business."
Realizing that if I asked him again he would not answer, I sighed and lay back down. Three days? We were leaving then? What did he have to do that was more important than being with me?
Plenty of things, Shorty. Stop being so selfish.
Alright, fine.
Waking up the next morning, I opened the door to his room, which was left unlocked. He was gone. There lay a note on his dresser, which read:
Dear Shorty,
I went to the convention and will be back by 8 tonight. Don't go out of the hotel without me.
I angrily crumpled it up and threw it in the garbage. Great.
So I followed what he asked me. I stayed inside the hotel, never setting a foot outside. I was able to go swimming in the indoor pool on the top floor, but it was tremendously boring without anyone to talk to. I tried watching French TV, but I couldn't understand a bit of it. Why? This excursion was supposed to be exciting and enjoyable. Instead it was turning out that he was leaving me alone again. Just like my parents left me. Did no one want to be with me? Was I that unlikable?
Both nights when he returned, I had asked him, "What was the convention like? What did you do?" He told me not to worry about it. But still, I wondered. What exactly was the convention about? Were the people there the sponsors who paid for our trip?
It was the second night, now. The second-to-last night before we would leave the City of Lights. This dream and all...it's too much for me. Why am I having this dream? Does it mean something? Would something happen to me in the future? Or to him?
I can't bear these thoughts. That's why you hear me crying right now. I just feel awful. You'd think that I should be happy, being in Paris with him. I was. But when he is gone, I am not. I'm not obsessed...
Just...lonely.
I got enough of this from my parents in Tokyo. I had no time to make real friends, since I was kept in that prison-like mansion all the time. The closest things I had to friends were my fellow competitors in Bust-A-Groove. Columbo tried to satisfy my hunger for warmth and friendship, but he could not, as much as he tried. I am lonely. And now that I have warmth spread all around me, I don't want it to leave, like everything else did...
Footsteps. He opens the door to my room, in his nightclothes. In the moonlight I see a concerned stance. He goes over to me and wraps his arms around me. "Shorty! Did you have another bad dream?" he asks, as if he spoke to a child.
"I'm not a kid anymore," I reply. He looks at me strangely. My answer had made no sense. I bow my head and stare at the pillow between my knees. "Yeah. I had that nightmare again."
"What was it about?" he questioned.
"Well, I really don't want to talk about it..."
"It's better if you talk to me about it..."
I look him in the eye. How could I tell him my dream? That I dreamt about him holding me and kissing me? Then things would be so uncomfortable between us!
"Please, don't make me talk."
He sighed. "Okay." He reaches for the tissue box on the nightstand. Delicately he wipes my cheek of the salty tears. "Don't cry anymore. It was only a dream. It wasn't real."
I nod. I lay my head back onto my pillow. He tucks the comforter around me. "Do you want me to stay with you?"
"Nah. S'right," I answer, snuggling against my pillow. He leans down and kisses me twice, on the forehead, and on the cheek. He smiles. "My ma always used to do that when I had bad dreams. Two kisses keep bad thoughts away."
"Wouldn't it be easier getting a dreamcatcher?" I suggested sleepily.
"Do you have one?" he queried.
"Nope."
"Then I'll get you one. So it'll fill in for me when I can't be there."
My eyes opened again. When I can't be there.
"Y'know, tomorrow's our last day in Paris," I say, hoping he'll take the hint.
"I know. I still have plenty of stuff to do at the convention," he replied.
I scowl, unseen in the darkness. "Night," I say neutrally.
"G'night," he answers, retreating back into his room.
Try not to think about all of this. Soon you'll be back in Tokyo, with your daily routine. Get up, eat breakfast, play video games, eat lunch, read books, eat dinner, play board games, go to sleep.
Darn.
-
That day he was gone longer than usual. Meanwhile, I packed all my things, folding my dirty laundry into messy piles, cramming into my case, along with various other souvenirs and items that I had bought. I went to the hotel giftshop and selected a postcard of the Eiffel Tower for Columbo. I'd give it to him when I arrived back in Japan, since it was too late to mail it.
Pack your bag: CHECK
Watch incomprehensible TV: CHECK
Take a swim by yourself: CHECK
Wonder what the convention was about: CHECK
Read the French guidebook: CHECK
I don't know why I was reading the French guidebook. It was my last night in France. I wouldn't be needing it anytime soon. Yet....I still hadn't bothered to look up "I love you."
Ah, here it is. "I love you..."
The door to my room opened. He stood there, a briefcase in one hand. As I looked up, I noticed that it was already ten o'clock.
I lazily sat up. "My stuff's packed."
He goes to me and grabs my hand. "We're going out tonight."
"We are?"
He nods. "Yes. C'mon, put on some clothes," gesturing to my nightgown.
"Where we goin'?"
"You'll see," he replied ominously. "Shorty, put on the same things you wore for BAG2." He went back into his room and shut the door.
Puzzled, I opened my suitcase. My familiar blue jeans peered back at me. I slipped out of my nightie and pulled the jeans on. Next came my long white T-shirt, then my red chain. I did my hair in my famous pigtails. Finally, my platform sneakers. All that was missing was a mouse on my head.
Looking at myself in the mirror, practicing a smile. I looked so much younger than I felt. But inside I would always be Shorty. The little pigtailed girl who had a mouse named Columbo, who gained second place in both BAG competitions.
But, I silently promised, I wouldn't be her tonight.
Just then, he entered my room. He was also wearing his BAG2 outfit. "Cool," I said as he walked in. "You look great."
He grinned. "I look like I do every day. You, on the other hand..."
We stepped out of the room and went down the hall. Into the elevator, out, past the lobby, on the curb, into a taxi.
"Where you going?" the driver asked in halting English.
He leaned forward and whispered something in his ear. He nodded and we sped away from the hotel entrance.
"What did you say?" I asked.
"You'll see," he repeated. "A surprise."
Paris was different at night. Neon lights lit up clubs and theaters. The people of the night came out. Men and women, dressed for action, walked along the streets, to clubs or dances. The more refined were clothed in formal dress, to an opera or a play.
The car zipped through the streets quickly, so I could only spot a few things as I went by. A woman walking a poodle. A man carrying a bag of long bread. A little girl with the saddest eyes...
Suddenly a piece of cloth deterred my vision. A blindfold!
"What're ya doin'?" I ask as he ties the cloth around my head.
"I really want you to be surprised. We're almost there," he explains.
I sigh and sit back, unable to continue my observations. Presently he tells the driver to stop. I can hear the exchange of money, the door opening, him getting out, pulling me after him. I was standing on cement, that was for sure. I wonder what the surprise was.
He took me by the shoulders and led me onto a patch of grass. There, he unfolds the blind from my eyes. "Take a look," he advises.
My eyes are unprepared for what they see.
The Eiffel Tower, mysterious and elegant, stands right in front of me. The giant moon looms behind it, like a backdrop specially created for the Tower. It's so beautiful...
For a moment it was all I could see. The Tower, majestically rising over me, the moon against it, hugging the steel structure to its luminous body.
I feel his hand on my shoulder. "Let's go."
"We're going up there?"
"Yeah."
"But isn't it too late?"
"Yeah. But we're going up there."
I wonder how.
We walk up the long path up the green patch to the base of the tower. I expected a guard to be standing next to the entrance of the elevator, but there is none. I look at him.
He holds up a tarot card that reads on the back, "POWER OF SLEEP". "Pinky gave it to me a while ago. I used it on the guard while I was coming back from the convention," he explains. "He'll be out 'till tomorrow."
He pulls me onto the elevator. Up, up we go. I feel a little scared, since the sides were not closed and I could see the entire city from the heights. I really did not like heights. Still, I stood tall and confident on the platform, looking out at the city before me. It was a black sea shining with the lights of a thousand boats, drifting against the silent darkness. And for a while, it seemed that only we were there-him and I, that no one else existed.
Finally the platform reached the very top of the tower. It was an outdoor observation room, with telescopes mounted on the railings and benches pushed against the sides of the elevator. I looked out upon the world. It seemed as though I could see everything, all the way from Paris to Tokyo, all things were visible. The moon hovered close to me, so close I could touch it.
I was enchanted.
I stood there for sometime, looking and watching. Footsteps approached and he placed his hand on my shoulder. A suggestion: "Let's dance."
"Up here?" I inquire, unbelieving.
He nods. "No one's looking. Why not?"
I smile. "Sure. But...we don't have a stereo or anything."
"We don't need one," he answers. "Pick a song and I'll sing to it."
I giggle at the thought of him singing. "Well...how 'bout Moonlight Party?" I had always loved Kelly's slow rhythms. I thought she had had the best theme in BAG2.
"Okay," he answers, positioning himself in the middle of the platform on which we stand. I hastily set myself next to him, ready to begin my hip-hop when he began.
"One, two, three, four," he said softly. He then began to dance and sing at almost the same time.
It was "Moonlight Party", but not everything was the same.
"Clap clap clap ya hands, clap clap ya hands!
It must'a been a lonely vision, alone there on the sea
She must'a had a real bad time, cause, I'm tellin' her, It's alright
I wish that I could have done somethin', I coulda made her believe
Cast it away, no more now! And then the whispers came tumblin' out!
Moonlight Party! Sway until you ache!
Moonlight Party! And don't ever forsake!
Moonlight Party! Just keep going up!
Moonlight Party! Night Party! C'mon, clap ya hands!"
It sounded so right for his deep voice. I had been able to complete all my dance moves perfectly to the rhythm he created. I waited for him to continue, but instead he gestured to me.
"Go on, Shorty-pie," he whispered.
"But I don't know if I can."
"You can do it."
"O-Okay," I answered, not knowing if I could sing AND dance at the same time. I took a deep breath and took off where he left.
"She'd a real hard time of it, driftin' there all alone
And the rain'd sting her eyes, ta the point of a blind
When'er she was sad or alone, she'd look to the land
See him standin' there, every hour, and the white light 'gins to shower!
Moonlight Party! Go up, don't get pushed down!
Moonlight Party! Smile until ya frown!
Moonlight Party! Just keep goin' on!
Moonlight Party! Night Party! C'mon, clap ya hands!"
"Mine wasn't as good as yours," I say.
"It was great!" he exclaims. "C'mon, let's finish."
We were grooving so much our bodies were bursting with blue light, a sign of the Groove-tron. We began to go for our finishing moves, swaying slowly, hand motions wild. And we alternated the last sections, making them up as we went along:
"Moonlight Party! You are my good friend!"
"Moonlight Party! Stay that way till the end!"
"Moonlight Party! My hope's begun anew!"
"Moonlight Party! Night Party! So, lemme kiss you..."
The last line ended with an ever-so-tiny kiss on the lips from him. On the lips. Did that count as a love kiss? Or...?
I went to him, threw my arms around him, and kissed him with all my might. True, I was only 13, but I knew that he was my beloved and I loved him with all my heart. I couldn't control it. What could I have done...
"Je t'aime," I whisper, into his ear.
"I love you too."
Paris is over. Back to stupid old Tokyo.....
Notes: Mushiness explodes in this chapter. I'm a real romantic at heart, that's why. And I really think it was about time Shorty gave him a real kiss. Don't worry, nothing dirty happens after this. It's the last thing Shorty remembers, but that doesn't necessarily mean they...! (She's only 13, after all.)
Readers will be in for a big surprise next chapter...