A/N: Another BIG sorry for not updating for a while: I had lots of camp and no access to a computer. But now I'm back and staying back, so the updates should continue as usual from here on in. Didn't mean to keep you waiting!
Chapter Thirty-Eight
One month, three days, and six hours later.
Alison and Sadie dragged the little red couch in to the room that would become hers. They pushed it into the corner and stepped back, breathing hard.
"There," said Sadie, smiling and brushing off her hands. "That should be everything."
Alison's side of the double room was a mess. Crumpled clothes and worn books lay all over her bed and the blankets were in a pile on the floor. Her suitcase hung open on top of the wooden desk. The couch was the only available surface that was empty.
Sadie surveyed the room and sighed. "I think you better clean this up before your roommate gets here."
Alison nodded absently, looking at the room without really seeing it. She imagined him sitting on her bed, wondering if there was a piano anywhere in this whole place. In her head, she nodded and laughed at his single-minded focus on music. He laughed with her, jumped up, and swept her into his arms…
Sadie snapped her fingers in front of Alison's face. "Alison! Are you even listening to me?"
Alison blinked, thrown by reentering reality. "Yeah, sure. Um, I'll clean up soon."
Sadie considered her for a moment. "You were thinking about him, weren't you?" she asked quietly.
Alison nodded her head once, short and sharp.
"You've been pining ever since he left. I hate to see you like this. Maybe this year you'll be able to get over him and you'll feel better."
Alison raised an eyebrow. "Mom, that didn't work when he was gone for three years. Why in hell do you think it'll work now?"
"I just think it's always worth a try. I'm sure there are other men out there who are just as wonderful as E– as he is, just waiting for you to give them a chance."
Alison looked at her, perfectly still. "There are no men as wonderful as he is."
Sadie pressed her lips together. "All right, fine. But I think you need to get your mind off it, just for one night. There's a really good orchestra in town tomorrow night at seven and I got you two tickets. Maybe you can take your roommate from freshman year…what was her name…"
"Kylie."
"Kylie, yes, or someone else like that. It's maybe not the most exciting music, but it'll be relaxing." Sadie tucked the tickets into the pocket of Alison's jeans.
"Why would any of my friends want to go to classical music? In case you haven't heard, Mom, classical isn't exactly the most popular. I know you guys like to listen to it, but…"
"I wouldn't recommend it normally, but they've just had open auditions and completely switched around the members of the orchestra. Everyone's saying that the first chair violinist is the best they've ever heard."
"And of course you actually know that," muttered Alison.
"Hey, don't go all teenager on me. You never know, it might be fun. Will you please give it a chance? It's only one night."
Alison sighed. "Fine. I'll go. And I'll probably end up bringing Kylie: she's the only one of my friends who would have a chance of enjoying it."
"Good." Sadie smiled. "I'll leave you to it, then–"
"Mommy!" Étienne ran into the room, crying.
"What is it, Étienne?" Alison asked, concerned.
"Are you really leaving again?"
"Yes, I am, Étienne." Alison looked at the floor. "But I'll be back, I promise. And I'll call you all the time. And we can do that video-chat thing. It'll be okay."
"I don't want you to leave," Étienne pouted.
"I know, sweetheart, I know. But I have to finish this year of college so that I can get a good job and we can be together all the time. After this year, no more college, and it'll all be okay." Alison picked him up and hugged him tight.
"I don't want to go either," she whispered into his ear. "But I have to do this. I'll see you soon, I promise." She pulled back and put her hands on either side of his face, thumbs rubbing his tears away. "I love you so much, Étienne, and I'll call you every day to remind you of that. I'll see you as soon as I'm able to get away."
"I love you too, Mommy," cried Étienne.
"I'll be back as soon as I'm able, I promise." Alison held him to her again for a brief second, letting a tear slip down her face. She hated saying goodbye to her son, but she knew she had to. College was important and she was almost done, anyway. She had to go through this year and one more semester to cover the one she missed when Étienne was a baby. But she'd be done soon, and then she would be able to make a new life for her child.
"Come on, Étienne." Sadie gently took Étienne's hand and drew him away from Alison. She came over to her daughter and gripped her in a hug, her arms saying goodbyes for her. Alison hugged her back, just as tightly. They held each other for a moment, then pulled away.
"I'll see you at Thanksgiving, if nothing else. I love you, Alison. I hope everything improves."
"I love you too, Mom. I'll talk to you soon." Alison kissed Sadie on the cheek, then bent down and did the same for Étienne.
Sadie took Étienne's hand and they left, closing the door behind them. Alison stared at the door for a second, wishing with all her might that it was about to open and he would come in. But the door remained closed.
Alison had spent a lot of time taking refuge in her imagination. As the days went by, she had imagined his presence more and more frequently. At night, she dreamed that he came back to her, they forgave each other, and everything returned to normal. The more she thought about it, the more she missed him, and the stupider she felt because of it. She shouldn't miss him. He had hit her and she couldn't trust him… but now their argument had just seemed so stupid. Nothing was worth losing him over.
The rational part of her brain rarely asserted itself, but when it did, the words hurt. You're pining over him like some Regency heroine. Your life doesn't revolve around him. Never did. You've WAY overdramatized this and made it into some kind of soap opera. Okay, he ran away, and okay, you miss him. But seriously, you need to move on with your life and get over him. Pick yourself up, start dating again, and Move. On. You've spent three years waiting for him and now an additional month, too. He's not coming back. Get over yourself.
She always pushed that voice down because she didn't like listening to what it said. Every day she would tell it, One more day. I'll wait for him one more day and then move on with my life. But she hadn't really stopped waiting. The hole punched in her chest by his three-year absence just hurt more because this time, he had chosen to leave. It wasn't an accident. He had deliberately abandoned her and walked out on her because of one stupid argument. Now she was left wondering if she could have done or said anything to get him to stay. But she had to try and accept that he really was not coming back. I don't care if he's left me, I'll still wait. One more day, that's all. Just one more day.
She sat down heavily at her desk, taking the suitcase off and dropping it to the floor. She took a piece of lined paper from the pile on the bed and took a pencil from the purple pencil case on the floor. Words jumped from her mind to the paper: they had started to come much more easily when he was away. She sat, absorbed in the writing and ignoring the huge mess of her room, until there came a knock on the door.
She jumped, her pencil stopping mid-word. "Come in!" she called.
Kylie opened the door and laughed when she saw the huge mess. "Alison, haven't you cleaned any of this up? Your new roommate will be here soon, and I don't think you want to give her a bad first impression."
"Yeah, well, whatever. It's only going to be a year, anyway." She got up to hug Kylie. After her pregnancy and subsequent depression, all of her friends had dropped away but Kylie. Kylie had held her when she cried and stuck with her though everything. By this point, Kylie was pretty much her only friend. "And I wouldn't have to worry about that, if you had said yes when I asked you to be my roommate."
Kylie stuck her tongue out at her. "Well I'm sorry, but Alana asked me first."
"No, it's okay. I get it. I was just teasing."
They looked at each other awkwardly for a moment before Kylie asked quietly, "How are you holding up?"
Alison bit her lip, debating how much to tell Kylie about her summer. "Not well," she replied finally, realizing that Kylie was waiting for an answer.
"I thought you were getting better," Kylie said, concerned. "What happened?"
A tight smile appeared on Alison's face. "A lot of complicated things."
"Does this go under the category of 'will not talk about'?" Kylie had learned over the past three years that there were some things that Alison refused to tell Kylie about, the main one being Étienne's father. She had always wondered, though, what had happened with him that was so bad Alison couldn't even say his name.
"Yeah," Alison told her softly. "Thanks for understanding, Kylie."
"No problem. I'm happy to help."
Alison sighed and changed the topic. "My parents gave me two tickets to this classical music thing that's in Boston tomorrow night at seven. They seem to think it'll help me relax or something like that. Do you want to go with me?"
"Sure! Sounds like it should be interesting. I would be honored to be your date," she teased.
A smile touched the corners of Alison's mouth. "Glad you can come. Meet me here at five thirty."
"Okay, awesome. But before I go with you, you better clean up your room. You never know who you'll get for your roommate."
"Yes, Mother," Alison mocked her.
"See you tomorrow," Kylie threw over her shoulder as she left the room.
"See you!" Alison said to the closing door. She shook her head, smiling, and turned to clean up her room. She took her laptop from her backpack, which was sitting by the door, and opened it to her music. Hitting shuffle, she turned to start putting her clothes away when a very familiar song began to play.
"On my own, pretending he's beside me
All alone, I walk with him 'till morning
Without him, I feel his arms around me
And when I lose my way, I close my eyes
And he has found me"
She turned quickly and hit the fast-forward button harder than was strictly necessary. I don't want to think about Erik. Not today. I need to move on with my life and think about a new start for senior year. The music switched to "Not Afraid" by Eminem, and Alison could hear Erik's voice in her head: "Why has the quality of things declined so much? Why is quality sacrificed for something like this? Why does anyone even listen to this?"
Grimacing, she slammed the computer shut and started to fill the chest of drawers in silence. Music was just too painful.
When her side of the room bore a semblance of neatness, she locked her door and jogged over to one of the dining halls on campus. She grabbed her tray, a grilled cheese sandwich, and an apple, then walked over to the tables to look with someone to sit with. As had been the case for the last three years, there was no one she knew. Or more accurately, no one who would want to talk to her. She walked to her usual table in the corner of the room and ate quietly by herself, as she had for the past three years. So much for a fresh start.
As she put her tray away, she noticed for the first time how little people really talked to her. She had never felt truly lonely: she had always just been sad. But now she felt like a ghost moving through a crowd of the living. No one looked at her or spoke to her, and when someone jostled her elbow pushing past her, they simply looked down and walked away. Have I always been that…invisible? Or have I just not noticed because I've been living in the past?
Unnerved by the thought, she sped back to her room and sat with a book until the sky grew dark. Too lazy to turn the lights out, she dropped the book and attempted to sleep, trying her hardest not to dream of him.
When she woke up the next morning with tears on her cheeks, she knew she had failed.
The day dragged by without a sign of her roommate. Alison made the room as neat as a pin, for lack of anything else to do. All that she really had on her agenda was go to the concert that night, but until then, she would just have to be bored.
It felt like ages before it was five o'clock and she could begin to get ready. She picked out a simple black dress and heels, not in the mood to do something truly elaborate. She took a while to do her make-up and loosely curled her hair because she had the time.
Kylie showed up at five forty-five, out of breath, looking absolutely stunning. Her make-up was perfect and she had straightened her hair. She was wearing one of the nicest dresses she had, a green strapless dress with ruffles.
"Don't you think you're a little over-dressed?" Alison asked, doubtful.
"Nope," Kylie said cheerfully. "You can never be too over-dressed. Besides, I've been wanting the chance to wear this for ages."
"If you say so. Come on, let's go. We don't want to be late for the bus to Boston."
They both ran and caught the bus just in time. During the ride, Kylie chatted about her summer, telling Alison about her job as a lifeguard. When it came Alison's turn to talk, she couldn't say much. "I hung out at home with my parents and Étienne."
"Nothing else?" asked Kylie.
"No," was Alison's only answer. It was clear to Kylie that she was lying. Something had definitely happened this summer, something that had made her more pensive and sad than usual. Kylie decided not to press her about it now, but she would definitely ask later.
When the bus arrived, they walked quickly to the concert hall and got to their seats fifteen minutes before the concert started. Alison flipped disinterestedly through the pages of the program, not focusing on any of its contents. She made small talk with Kylie until the lights began to dim. The orchestra filed into their rows, standing until the conductor entered, setting off a round of applause. He nodded his head in acknowledgement and shook hands with the first chair violinist. He was the one that Mom said was really good, wasn't he? There was something about the violinist's profile that seemed strangely familiar to her, but she couldn't place it.
The orchestra took their seats as they tuned to an A, then the music began.
Alison had developed something of an appreciation for classical music in her time with him. It was almost impossible not to. She noticed little things about the different instruments that he had taught her, but her attention waned after a while. She barely noticed that the piece had come to an end until everyone started clapping. Feeling a little guilty, she clapped along with them and resolved to pay more attention to the next piece.
The conductor acknowledged the applause again and turned back to his orchestra and lifted his baton, guiding them to start playing. This one was a piece Alison recognized: Scheherazade Op. 35 by Rimsky-Korsakov. Erik had played the violin solo for her many times during the traumatic nights after her rape. It had always soothed her back to sleep.
After about a minute, the solo started and Alison lifted her eyes from her hands to the first chair violinist. The rise and fall of the notes was exactly the way he had played it every time. The way the man swayed and gave his full concentration to the notes was exactly the same. Frowning, Alison watched him carefully for the rest of the piece, noticing a flash of white on the right side of his face. Or was that wishful thinking? It had to be, because it was absolutely impossible that the first chair violinist could be…
At the end of the piece, the violinist was acknowledged and he bowed with the same grace of movement that he had.
Anticipation and excitement at seeing what she thought was him thrilled through her again until she cut herself short. No, no, no. This is impossible. Don't fool yourself into believing that this man is…it's all in your head. Stop making things up. You can look in the program for his name and see for yourself that you're lying.
As soon as the lights went up for intermission, Alison was riffling through the program feverishly. "Kylie, how do you find the name of the first chair violinist in this program?"
Kylie looked through and stopped at a page towards the middle. "Here." She pointed to the name and Alison's heart stopped.
First Chair Violin: Erik Taylor
The first thought to cross her mind was He used my last name.