Edward's New Groove

Saturday, August 14, 2004

"Da da da da da," he started.

"Ah ah ah ah ah," she chirped.

"Aaaaah ah ah aaaah," they sang together.

"Shuuuut the hell uuuuup," Rosalie sang, brushing past them to get to the garage. Her rich alto matched the melody perfectly. Edward told her so. She ignored him and kept walking. 'Leave me alone!'

"She'll come around," said Alice. She and Edward were sitting on the piano bench. They'd been singing for six hours. Edward was determined to get his new piece right. When Alice came along to help, he was grateful, despite that most of the time she simply danced around the room.

Jasper came over. "I hope so. She's got enough aggression right now to last a month,"

Edward shook his head. "A month? She'll calm down in three, at least."

"Want to place a bet?" Jasper challenged.

Edward agreed, mostly because it was nice to see Jasper a little more upbeat these days. The move had offered a bit of excitement for the southern vampire. Carlisle was supervising him a little less, all of them really, as compensation for what the sudden move.

Edward felt his guilt lessen a bit, knowing that for everything bad thing that happened, some good typically came out of it. Even he could admit that. Back in December, he wasn't so sure. After less than six months in Forks, the family had to drop everything and run off to Ithaca. The agreement with the Quileute tribal council had been to avoid the Washington state for five years as punishment for fraternizing with a daughter of La Push. Edward had scoffed at that. Five years? How would they even return in five years, looking exactly the same? They moved every six or seven years for a reason. Most likely, this move was permanent.

Maybe they didn't have to go to the other side of the country, but Esme had begged for a city this time and Carlisle, forever the doting husband, sided with his wife. Besides, there were many great colleges nearby, something all the "children" would enjoy when the time came. And after all, they were always free to leave. But nobody wanted to do that, (except maybe Rosalie, in favor of another expensive vacation).

He supposed they should have just been thankful Sam Uley didn't just rip them to shreds then and there.

Edward's song took a darker turn as he switched to a minor key.

'That's lovely', Jasper thought. 'What is it?'

"I don't know, really."

Alice grabbed Jasper's hand. "Are you ready to go now?"

In Edward's eyes, she was making the best of it. Ithaca offered more of an outlet for her energy than Forks did. There was much more to do, in the way of sightseeing and entertainment.

"Yes, dear. I'll start the car." Jasper headed out.

Alice asked Edward, "It's a cloudy day. Will you accompany us to the cinema?"

Edward declined. He was truly grateful for the invitation, but he knew what Alice was silently asking - that he come along as a babysitter. By Edward's logic, if Alice wanted to help Jasper grow used to crowds of humans, she should observe how he fared without a telepath hovering around to keep track of him. Alice's gift was just as reliable, anyway. Most of the time.

Edward continued to play his piano, humming along to his somber tune. He had bought a new one as soon as they arrived in Ithaca. It was sad to think he might never return to the one in Forks, but there was little point in taking it when he could purchase a higher quality one for this house.

He was getting better, which was something, seeing as how he was leagues ahead of most musicians (due to never needing rest and having enhanced brain activity). Edward closed his eyes, trying to feel the story of the song like she had told him. Of course, there was more to music than notes and rhythms. There were feelings, sure, else there would be no point in listening or playing. He always composed with the subject in mind, with the person or story for which he wanted to create music. But he wanted to get that bigger picture feeling, to see more than the song as he did that day last fall.

There was a shadowed glimpse…

A woman. Dancing along to the music. Moving with the grace of a ballerina. Her hands were in the air as if giving thanks. Her back was to him. She was lost in her own world. Why she would want to sway to such sad music, he did not know.

He wanted to cling to this fragment of a story, to step inside it and comfort the woman. Yet, little by little, the image faded from him. His hands stilled.

He would call the piece, "Leah".

Esme walked down the stairs. She paused at the end, smiling brightly at her son. 'This is beautiful', she said.

He might have been one of the oldest young men in the world, but it still did him good to see his mother proud of him.

He started over again, playing the piece through its long stretches of notes. At first, they were restrained and tranquil before lightening to a sense of unearthly...mischief. He hadn't expected that, for his breath to catch and his throat to ache to sing as the song quickened to the end of its first movement. Edward's hands flew along the keys, drawing out passion and pain, the crescendo ringing in his eardrums, echoing throughout the halls.

Rosalie came back inside, wiping her dirty hands on a rag. She must have been working on the cars again because she was in a much better mood. "Hey, that's not so bad."

Edward grabbed a piece of blank sheet music and penciled in what he'd just played. "It needs work."

Rosalie walked over to the piano and casually played a few notes of the bassline, adding her own flourishes here and there. She wasn't bad herself, the second-best musician in the family, actually. She'd studied piano with Edward, in her early years as a newborn before growing bored and moving onto the violin, then the cello, both of which she had abandoned at their house in Rochester. "You should change it up, it kind of drags in the beginning."

"Thanks," Edward said sarcastically. He didn't ask for her help or want it.

Rosalie rolled her eyes. 'I am right.'

"I didn't ask."

"Cut it out, you two," scolded Esme. "Or else -" She gasped a little, then immediately began reciting the numbers of pi.

"Or else, what, Esme?" said Rosalie curiously, her smile growing.

"Yeah, what's the big secret?" Edward teased. No doubt if Esme was hiding something, it was a great surprise. "If I and Rosalie don't get along, then what will happen?"

"Oh, rats, I wanted to wait until your father got home from work, but now is as good a time as any." Esme dug into her purse and produced a flyer. "A new jazz club opened over by that university."

Edward felt intrigued at first but came to his senses. "Then it's probably crawling with college students." Dozens of young adults under the influence only meant their thoughts became more disturbing and revolting by tenfold.

Rosalie was of no help. She was already planning her outfit, trying to figure out what would draw the most envy. "Don't be a grouch. I think it's a great idea, Esme."

Not wanting to upset his mother, Edward reluctantly added, "It could be fun."

"Great!" Esme dashed to her room to plan their outing.

Edward sat back at the piano, launching into a concerto with vigor.

Sunday, August 15, 2004

The jazz club was not as crowded as he had anticipated. There were still too many people for his liking. It was hard to complain at any rate when he marveled at the sight before him. Nearly every surface was glowing and sparkling, evoking images of Gatsby's famed mansion. Most of the visitors were even dressed in twenties' evening wear The band onstage was playing the classics. He hadn't expected that in an age where every genre was merely a melted semblance of its former self and anything good was far and few between. Edward exchanged knowing smiles with Esme.

Luckily, the club was pretty spacious, so no one was likely to disturb them or notice their presence. Especially those that were indulging in one too many drinks at the bar.

"I love this song!" Alice shouted pulling Jasper onto the dance floor. She clearly wouldn't be leaving his side for a minute, not when they were in such close quarters to humans. Carlisle had already warned them both to return home if it became too overwhelming for him.

The rest of the family ordered drinks for appearance's sake, then sat down by the stage to listen to the music. The alto saxophone player gave a lengthy raucous solo that had everyone dancing in their seats and cheering. Watching the players on stage, Edward felt a twinge of envy. The life of a musician was one still unexplored to him. It wasn't impossible, but nearly pointless. He'd spend half of his career turning down gigs to keep a low profile and trying to not play so well as to attract attention to him.

After the first song ended and everyone was sufficiently excited, the rest of the family paired off and headed to the dance floor.

Edward ignored the traces of pity from his parents' thoughts at the sight of him alone, leaning against the wall. This wasn't a high school dance and he wasn't some teenage wallflower. Why should they feel guilty because he was alone? It simply hadn't happened for him, and it still might not. It wouldn't be the end of the world if he never found his mate and lived out his eternity as the seventh wheel.

He rubbed his temple. Maybe he'd be able to convince them of that when he finally let go of that hope himself. He wished alcohol was effective on him because he would've downed at least a couple of drinks by now.

Someone was next to him, encroaching on his personal space. Before he could move away, the woman said, "Excuse me? I was wondering if you might like to dance."

His assessment of her stopped him short of firing off a dismissal. She was ordinary in every way except for her green eyes, which glittered in the darkness of the club, and her mind, which was dead silent.

Maybe if weren't currently drunk on self-pity, he might have been sensible enough to decline. But that wasn't the case, so he told her, "I'd like that very much."

He led her onto the dance floor, staying close to the corner of the room. Perhaps, with the heat of the crowd, she didn't notice the cold seeping into her skin from his hands because she didn't recoil at his touch. He pulled away when she tried to lessen the space between them.

"You don't have to be so distant," she murmured.

"Are you sure you should get so close to a stranger?" he said in an undertone,

"I'm sure you don't bite." She let go of his hand to lightly trace a bite mark on her collarbone. "Vampire," she mouthed.

His mouth went dry even as his face remained impassive. "That must have been some scuffle," he said, keeping his voice monotone.

"We have our ways."

"Who do you speak for, miss?"

"All fairies," she enunciated, looking at him as if he were a few screws loose.

"Perhaps you've had a little too much to drink."

"Perhaps you're a bit in denial."

"Am I?"

"Edward Cullen, a vampire, doesn't believe in fairies?"

He spun her out then caught her by the waist, bringing her close. "What are you playing at?"

"I'm not toying with you."

"You're coming pretty close to it."

She smiled. "We'll keep in touch."

Edward jumped a little when the rest of the patrons started applauding the last performance. The band took their final bows and a young pianist replaced them. He didn't need to look to know his dance partner was gone.