As Deborah's song drew to a close, she bowed her head politely and received a gentle smattering of applause in return. It felt so good to be on stage again, although there was something bittersweet about it when compared to some of her past venues. This one was just a simple hotel, not the grand, glorious, golden one she used to frequent; but at least it was a venue that was hiring.
And, Deborah realized, it was the first venue where she felt a peaceful sort of happiness rather than an energetic happiness. In all the other venues she'd ever performed at, the lights and crowds were always wild; but here, it was… serene. Deborah still smiled, but it was gentle and delicate rather than hyped up and nearly delirious with excitement.
She was just one of a handful of singers across all stages of life, coming together to help usher in the new year. That was right, oh how time flew! Of course, with Christmas preceding New Years, it wasn't as if the holiday had totally snuck up on her, but it was the first winter in years where she hadn't been locked in a recording studio belting out Christmas carols, or modeling in a fashion mag's winter catalogue.
In fact, she spent most of Christmas working on her own songs, writer's block finally lifted after that talk with Angela. Now she spent her time locked in her closet. That was her original recording studio, after all, pillows used to block out external sound; and even though Ambrose offered to help her get back into a more professional setting, she declined.
"Maybe one day, beloved," Deborah patted his arm appreciatively. "But for now, I'm actually happy to be back in my little closet." So the winter season passed without much fanfare, for once. But it was Ambrose who first alerted her to the hotel's New Year plan.
"Since it's the winter season, and people are traveling, they decided to capitalize on that and are running a mini–New Year concert in the lobby. Anyone can apply, and depending on how it goes, they will settle on a deal, and how much they're willing to pay for the performance."
Ah, even in the world of informal music, trade agreements still needed to be bartered. But Deborah knew already that this talk would be way easier than any board meeting she'd ever attended. As soon as she walked into the hotel, she could just feel it in the air that this place would be so much better than the one she left behind, even ifthey weren't able to shell out too much money per performer. But again, Deborah was privileged to say that money was not a concern, so she offered to sing for free.
"Of course I want to market my music again someday," she said. "But this is supposed to be a generous time of year, so…" Instead of taking money for her performance, Deborah donated instead. With her extra cash, she was able to help them hire more performers and get slightly fancier equipment. Even though it was going to be more like a "talent show" than a proper concert, they still deserved good equipment.
ooo
"Eleanor?" Deborah was surprised to see her older sister waiting in the hotel lobby.
"Ambrose and Angela told me," Eleanor gave Deborah a small smile, her dark eyes unusually soft and friendly.
"I didn't think you'd come." It was nothing personal, Eleanor seldom came to Deborah's shows just because they didn't interest her. In the same way, Deborah never read any of her sister's novels. Again, it was nothing personal.
"This is supposed to be a generous time of year, though…" Eleanor said. Ah, how similar they were, even though they lived states apart.
But Eleanor wasn't the only familiar face to stop by. "Ah! The two Ms. Lavishes! Fancy meetin' you here at this little ol' hotel, huh?"
"Shut up, Spatch." It was purely a reflex for Deborah at this point. Even though Spatch's time with Eleanor was long since over, she still followed the other Lavish around like a lost puppy.
"I heard you made a most generous donation, and that's why this concert is seeing its highest turnout ever!" Spatch tried to sound encouraging, but Deborah saw her hands tighten around her microphone. This time, though, Deborah wasn't able to get out of it.
"Shut it, Sp—"
"Oh, yes! Deborah! You should absolutely let her do a piece about this concert! It would be such a heartwarming st—"
"You shut it, too, Ellie!" The sisters went back and forth for several minutes.
"Uhhh, don't you guys think you're being just a little too harsh?" Angela interjected at one point.
"Sister things!" Eleanor's voice was calm, and Deborah's was annoyed, as they spoke at the same time. Their eyes widened in surprise, and they met one another's gazes silently. Eleanor smirked while Deborah scowled.
"Yeah, I've learned to just let them be," Ambrose whispered jokingly to Angela.
"You two would never understand! You're both only-children!" Deborah complained, and for once, Eleanor nodded her assent.
At last, though, Eleanor pushed Deborah at Spatch. Deborah gave her a death-glare as the reporter dragged her to the nearest empty room.
"I hope you don't send Ms. Spatch after Deborah too often," Angela said delicately.
"Sister things," Eleanor repeated, shaking her head and smirking. "Besides, it's also a pragmatic thing." Ah, classic Eleanor. "Ms. Spatch may not be a very powerful reporter, but she could easily become one if the right family decided to back her up. It's also nice to have someone from the press in your pocket." Ah, classic Lavish. "And you know what they say: friends close, enemies closer. I've been keeping an eye on her, making sure she never writes anything… determinantal about my family, or anyone else in it." So, Eleanor didn't trust Spatch either…
ooo
Angela was taken back to an event that happened just a month prior, closer to the Christmas season. Eleanor stopped by, but just due to poor timing, she wound up walking in on Lola and Deborah. After Deborah's realization that she could call Angela back just by making Angela feel wanted, they were all a bit more comfortable trying to talk things out with Lola rather than just "curing" themselves of her. The exasperation was still very real, but by that point, Deborah decided that she was willing to try to get along with Lola, for Angela's sake.
Also by that point, Lola acted more like a second Eleanor than the ruthless, jealous goddess she used to be. That meant the moment the real Eleanor met Lola, it went very much the same way as the day Eleanor met Spatch. They exchanged witty barbs, Lola intrigued by Deborah's older sister, but still attempting to assert some dominance. Eleanor let her, she didn't think it worth the effort to fight Lola. This managed to do more "damage" than any witty insult could've ever done. But after they were done bantering, getting to know one another by testing each other in verbal sparring, they did a bit of tag-teaming on poor Deborah.
"You know I'm a novelist and she's a composer," Eleanor said. "When were younger, we used to compete to see who could write the better lyrics or story. Because of that, Dad called me Webster, after the dictionary."
"Ellie! No!" Deborah whined. Lola looked immediately intrigued and leaned forward towards Eleanor, eyes excited.
"And he called Deborah, Debster."
"WEBSTER AND DEBSTER?!" Deborah's despairing and angry moans were drowned out by Lola's raucous laughter. "I think I found me a new favorite Lavish! You're on par with Enyo, you know?!"
Enyo hadn't been allowed out as often as Lola, but because she was a more primal, aggressive, fighter-being, she didn't mind as much. She only enjoyed being out when there was someone to rumble with. As such, occasionally, they would let her out to "play" with Lola, but that was about it. It seemed as though, in a way, she and Deborah had a more peaceful relationship than Angela and Lola. While Lola was built on Angela's self-loathing, Enyo was built on Deborah's simple desire to smash, smash, SMASH! But she did confirm that she'd spared the rats intentionally.
"Don't know why I did," she rumbled, voice impossibly low and gravelly. "Don't even remember how. Don't remember saving them. Just didn't want them to die such a dishonorable, lonely, painful death. Not befitting of a warrior," she said, gesturing to herself.
It was then that Angela realized they made up a very strange family…
"A true bisexual power move," Eleanor had said after Lola turned back into Angela. "Deborah took a man and a woman for a partner."
"We're still using my name though," Deborah joked. "Lavish-Jekyll-Moulton, in that order!" And even though it had only been a jest, partly in reference to Eleanor's own complete lack of desire for any sort of significant other, Angela realized that their little alliance really was something. There was her and Ambrose, two Lavishes, a Hyde, an Enyo, and… sort of a Spatch, although Deborah may have contested that last one.
In fact, in the earlier days of knowing Spatch, Deborah was hostile not just to Spatch, but Angela and Ambrose, too. She was quicker to talk about her feelings, though, so she did not allow the resentment to stew for long. She confessed that she was happy with just having Angela and Ambrose. She didn't want to keep expanding their family. Not yet at least. Maybe heirs someday, but she wanted no more partners. She didn't want to feel shoved aside. She didn't want to get left again. Being a third wheel was hard enough. The last thing she needed was to be a fourth.
But Angela and Ambrose were both more than happy to reassure her that as much as they liked Spatch, Deborah was the one they loved. And Angela, herself, knew that if she was ever in any doubt over the sincerity of Deborah's affections for her, all she had to do was watch how Deborah interacted with Spatch, or any non-Angela/Ambrose person. Angela used to think Deborah was sweet, flirty, charming, funny, and protective, and she was, but only to Angela and Ambrose. Everyone else, especially Spatch, did not receive such warmth, even though Spatch had actually done nothing but compliment Deborah since the day they met.
And yet, while she melts at my compliments, she reviles Ms. Spatch's… Angela felt a guilty satisfaction in knowing that only she got to see Deborah's softer sides, but she felt bad that Spatch was treated with such flippancy and disrespect…
A moment later, Spatch and Deborah emerged from their private interview. Spatch looked pleased and Deborah was still scowling, although she looked more exasperated than angry. Angela bit back a laugh. There was nothing to worry about, all was exactly as it was supposed to be.
ooo
The concert was a smashing success. Even if it was nowhere near as hyped as a stadium tour, every face in the crowd was beaming. The party, of course, ran very late into the night. The ball dropped, but the energy was still rising. Deborah felt like she was on cloud nine! But, just before the sun could rise as well, people started to shuffle off to their hotel rooms. Everyone went home, except for Angela, Ambrose, and Deborah.
Angela volunteered to stay behind and help clean up. Ambrose was speaking to the hotel staff, since he was the one who helped set the event up. And Deborah was at the hotel lobby's piano, softly plucking away at the keys. Her mind was back where it was earlier that day. How had the entire back half of the year slipped away from her so suddenly? It was already New Year's… But that was what rage and recovery did to a person: lots of stolen time. It was all necessary, but it felt so surreal. Time was still ticking; Deborah was just finally aware of it again.
It also occurred to her that she missed her birthday. Her 21st.
"And here I thought it was gonna be fun, turning 21…" But despite herself, the New Year seemed to bring in new hope, and even though there was still some regret on Deborah's part, she couldn't help but already feel optimistic about this year. It was the one thing Spatch was right about: new year, new Deborah. It was literally a new 22, and Deborah could feel in her bones that this year was going to be so much better than the last.
But… It certainly wasn't going to be easy. The year had only just begun, after all, and Deborah was looking at a new life trajectory. Even if it was happier than the old one, she was still acclimating to it. But in this quiet moment in the hotel lobby, the New Year finally arrived, everyone else asleep, time felt frozen again. This time, though, in a good way.
"There's glitter on the floor after the party, girls carrying their shoes down in the lobby, candle wax and polaroids on the hardwood floor…"
Deborah paused, eye catching one of the pictures lying on the tile. She gave it a tender smile. "You and me from the night before."
Angela and Ambrose paused from their respective tasks. Even though they were on opposite sides of the lobby, they were united by the sound of the piano, and Deborah's hushed voice. After looking at her, they looked at one another.
Oh, darling! She's composing again! Isn't it wonderful?
It sure is, my love, it sure is… Shall we go over?
"Don't read the last page, but I stay when you're lost, and I'm scared, and you're turning away. I want your midnights, but I'll be cleaning up bottles with you on New Year's Day."
When Deborah realized that Angela and Ambrose were watching, only inches away, she paused in her playing to turn around and smile.
"I'll help clean up in just a moment, I promise, but will you allow me to finish this song first?" she asked.
"Oh, we just came over to listen!" Angela said cheerfully. "Is… this something you're writing right now, or…?"
"Yeah, it just sort of came to me, watching you and him," Deborah's smile grew as her eyes flicked between her two greatest loves. "New Year's was wonderful, but… I think I realized something more important. The people I want to keep in my life aren't just the ones who are there at midnight, for the ball drop and the first kisses. The people I want to keep in my life are the ones who will stay even after the party's over, when the glitz and the glamor are gone."
There's glitter on the floor after the party... Candle wax and polaroids on the hardwood floor... I want your midnight, but I'll be cleaning up bottles with you on New Year's Day… More important than New Year's Eve was New Year's Day. That was the first and true test of the New Year.
Deborah thought back to the ride over. She still wasn't allowed to drive, so they'd taken a taxi. She sat in the back, in between Angela and Ambrose, worried and excited for the performance yet to come. But even more than that, she was nervous and excited for the entire year yet to come. New Year's might've snuck up on her in some capacity, but she'd been ruminating on endings and beginnings long before the clock struck midnight.
And long before the previous year was out, she'd started to realize that, similar to what she just told Ambrose and Angela, it was so much more meaningful and powerful to be loved in spite of all of her worst flaws than loved because of her best virtues. Of course, she wanted to be loved for her talents, successes, and good deeds, but how much more beautiful it was to be loved despite her weaknesses, failures, and bad decisions.
Of course, that was not to say she wanted Angela or Ambrose to be passive or complicit whenever she caused harm, but she wanted them to be there if she was the toast of the town, or if she struck out and was left crawling home. Home. That was the important part. Whether she won or lost, it was to them she'd always return.
And she wanted to be the same for them. She knew she hadn't upheld that promise at all for the last half of the last year, but if there was anything Angela's forgiveness, and the New Year, had taught her, it was never too late to try again, or to be loved like she was brand new.
"You two have my back, right?" she asked, voice full of emotions she couldn't identify.
"Of course, Deborah," Angela said.
"Forever and always," Ambrose agreed at the same time.
The three smiled at one another, then Ambrose suddenly leaned over and took Angela and Deborah's hands in his own before pressing them against one another. He held them together and they smiled at him before adding their other hands to the pile as well, six interlocked, not just three. They knew it was going to be a long road, but they were in it for the long haul.
"Don't read the last page," Deborah's voice, and the sudden sound of piano keys, brought her and her companions out of their reveries. "But I'll stay when it's hard or it's wrong or we're making mistakes."
"I want your midnight," Angela was the first to join in.
"But I'll be cleaning up bottles with you on New Year's Day," Ambrose jumped in with Angela on the next line. Deborah looked at them, pleasantly surprised, and then she felt something sting her eyes. Looking back at the keys, she swallowed the lump in her throat. Tears later, song first.
"Hold on to the memories, they will hold on to you. Hold on to the memories, they will hold on to you," she sang, insistent, repeating the line over and over again like a mantra. No, a prayer, and a reminder, and a resolution. Hold onto those memories, good and bad, for they will help shape and guide the future. Deborah may not have liked remembering her worst times, but if Angela and Ambrose didn't mind… then she would learn to accept it, and herself, as well. No more forgetting, that was part of what led them down such a dark path to begin with.
I lost sight of it again, lost of sight of what truly matters in life, and what truly matters in music. This was an epiphany Deborah came to after her late-night chat with Angela that suddenly restored her inspiration to her. Of course, there always had to be balance and compromise in the music industry, but she'd forgotten that the music was still supposed to be the heart of it all. Not the fame or the fortune or the friends (fake or otherwise). Even if those things were important to consider, it was writing about the things she loved that really set her free.
This world is so full of ugliness, of all kinds… I want to fill it with something beautiful, for once, pretty words instead of hatred and insults.
"And I will hold onto you…" she looked at her companions, they'd never seen her eyes so gentle and kind before, so delicate. She was already starting to remember, remember everything she forgot, including the night in the lab.
She couldn't help but wonder, already, how long it would take before they hit the next bump in the road. Back then, in their first time through, Deborah thought she had it all figured out. That night in the lab, so delicate and gorgeous, that was supposed to be the climax of the story. Instead, that was barely even a warmup. So who knew what would happen next? How long before the next major disaster? It was a grim thought for New Year's Day, but fear was very much a part of their lives right now, and Deborah wasn't going to hide from any part of herself any longer.
And she would hold onto the memories of every time things got better even when she thought they never would. Those memories would hold onto her the next time she went through a time of darkness, and they would see her through to the other side. She just had one more request. No matter what came next, whether it was tomorrow or the next year or the next decade, and whether it was predictable or not, she could only hope…
"Please don't ever become a stranger whose laugh I could recognize anywhere."
She didn't ever want to see them laughing without her ever again, and she never wanted to laugh without them again either. There would be no more smiles for perfect crimes or laughter for lies. She wanted to remember them forever, and she wanted them to remember her as well.
Even in a worst-case scenario where their stories together one day came to a close, that would not erase the past, and for once, Deborah liked that. She would hold onto them, and the memories of them, and those memories would hold onto her. Thanks to them, she'd been changed for good. They'd left two golden handprints tattooed on her heart. No matter what came next, she would remember them forever, and in that way, they would always be with her. They were forever bound by the red thread of fate, their musical, invisible string.
Please don't ever forget your dear old friend Deborah, even when the lights go out for the last time, and we reach the last page. I can only hope that you two, above anyone else, will still want me when I'm nothing new.
The song was quiet, simple, and looping; an endless round, a peaceful lullaby, and a reassuring promise. Even if they could not promise anything else, they would hold onto the memories so that the memories would hold onto them. Maybe then, they would finally be able make a story that would stand the test of time. It would be a fitting start to this new year, this new chapter in Deborah's life, this new 22. Maybe 21 hadn't been the best, but if there was anything Angela and the New Year had taught Deborah, it was never too late for a new resolution.
And maybe, by holding onto the memories, by holding onto each other, no matter what came next, they would be able to rest assured that they would never become strangers who could only barely recognize each other. No, after all they'd been through, they would never forget one another. Nobody was being left behind or forgotten anymore.
"Hold onto the memories they will hold onto you."
"Please don't ever become a stranger whose laugh I could recognize anywhere."
"Hold onto the memories they will hold onto you."
The soft sounds of a piano, and a trio, continued to float through the hotel, and then into the New Year, a New 22.
And I will hold onto to you…