Thanks again everyone for the reads and reviews, and thanks to everyone who also checked out my new story - you all are the bee's knees, eh?
We're jumping in again with the lovable and quite irreplaceable Dr. Reid for this one, courtesy of a wonderful suggestion from Annber03. Here's hoping it's everything you hoped for!
And for those who want a peek into the inspiration for this conversation...the piece featured is an actual tune called "Sometimes I Just Go For It" by the Used. It served as my soundtrack while I wrote out this conversation. It's been a favourite of mine for years, and just seemed to fit nicely with the themes and ideas I was trying to work into the chapter. Give it a listen while you're reading if you have the opportunity - I happen to think it adds something...but that might just be me. :)
Happy reading =)
"One man by himself is nothing. Two people who belong together make a world." – Hans Margolius
As I walk up the front steps of the house, I find myself hearing a beautiful melody floating through the air. I pause and close my eyes as I try to identify the piece. I immediately rule out the more 'popular' composers, noting it doesn't match their distinct styles. I rule out some of the more modern ones I'm familiar with, though admittedly there are a large proportion that I have yet to hear and catalogue into my mind. I frown as I try to place it, and continue to struggle to identify it, unable to categorize it by any criteria I'm familiar with.
I open my eyes and continue toward the door, but stop once I reach it. The melody has shifted a bit into something a bit…darker. It's almost haunting now. Where the melody had been lighter and smooth, it was now dark and disjointed. I frown as my ears take in the angry clashes of notes, wondering what the composer of this piece had envisioned when they wrote it. But just as quickly as it had devolved, the light melody returns, with a renewed sense of hope about it. I listen as the notes begin to slow, and a natural end to the piece comes with a lingering note.
With the silence giving me an opportune moment, I raise my hand and knock on the door. A few moments later, Emily appears as the door swings open.
"Spencer," she says, her eyes widening in surprise. "What are you doing here?"
"I…um…" I begin, unsure how to respond to such a simple question. This day has me completely flummoxed. "Well, I was out doing some errands…and I saw some books that I thought I should get for Matthew and Tegan, and I thought I'd stop by to drop them off."
She smiles warmly. "Well come on in then. I'm sure they'll be delighted to see their Uncle Spence."
"Where are they?" I ask with a slight frown. They have a tendency to swarm the door and attack my legs with hugs in their excitement – at least, if any of my previous visits and interactions with them are anything to go by – so their absence is noticeable to say the least.
She chuckles lightly. "Out in the back with Derek and Fran."
My eyes widen. "Oh shoot, I didn't realize I was interrupting time with family," I say quickly. I certainly hadn't intended to infringe upon their time with Derek's mother. I know she comes around more often to visit with her grandchildren, but she still doesn't see them that often. "I can come back another-"
"Don't worry about it," she says, waving off my rambling. "They'll have to come in for snack soon anyway, so if you don't mind waiting…"
"No," I say with a quick shake of my head. "I don't."
"Good, I was hoping you'd say that. I haven't seen you in a while," she says with a smile, wrapping her arms around me for a quick hug.
I give her a lopsided grin in response and follow her toward the back of the house. She heads toward the piano and grabs the cover to close it.
"Wait," I say quickly. "Don't do that."
She frowns in confusion. "Don't do what?"
"Stop playing," I clarify. "I was trying to identify what you were playing before you answered the door. I couldn't place it – what was it?"
She shrugs. "Just something I fiddle around with now and then."
"Fiddle around with?" I repeat, looking for some clarity. Exactly what does "fiddle around with" mean?
"It's just a melody I came up with when I was younger."
"You wrote it?" I ask in surprise. While I knew she was a fairly accomplished pianist, I hadn't known she could write music as well. Though, I suppose once you master the skill of playing, it's not a far leap to begin writing.
"Yeah, when I was a teenager. It just came to me when I sat down today. I haven't played it in a long time."
"It was lovely."
Her cheeks tinge ever so slightly. "Thank you," she mumbles quietly and moves to close the cover over the keys.
"Would you mind to play it again?" I ask gently.
"Again? Why?"
"You know I love to watch people play."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," she says dismissively with a laugh. "What is it you say? It's like math in motion?"
"Hey!" I protest. "Any sound analysis of the mechanics involved in-"
"Whoa, whoa. Okay, I'll play. Just please, no explanations."
I grin sheepishly. Even I know that I have a tendency to ramble and go on excitedly when it comes to statistics…or math…or scientific principles…or literature…or…okay, pretty much anything I'm knowledgeable about.
"Have a seat, mister," she says, patting the space on the bench beside her.
I sit down beside her and fix my gaze on her fingers. I'd always been fascinated with her playing – there was something incredibly graceful and beautiful about the way her fingers danced across the keys. She made it look effortless, and somehow seemed the take the mechanics out of it and just simply play. My own playing was mostly rigid and disjointed – more step by step than anything – but hers was one fluid motion.
She begins with a part I hadn't yet heard, and I watch as her fingers slowly begin to move across the keys. The melody I'd heard before is already familiar, but I watch in fascination as I see her fingers perform the patterns that I'd immediately seen in my mind when I heard the notes. I'm struck by that same element of gracefulness as I watch her continue to play.
She reaches the point in the piece where it turns from light and fluid to dark and disjointed and I find my eyes fighting to stay focused on the keys. The profiler part of my brain kicks in, wondering what event in her teenaged years had triggered such a dark and confusing composition. I sneak a quick peek up to her face to find her eyes closed and a slightly creased brow. But as the music shifts to that lighter melody again the crease disappears and her face relaxes.
She finishes and drops her hands into her lap before turning to face me. "So, how'd I do?"
I frown. "I can't possibly judge your performance given that you composed it. Only you would know how it's meant to be performed."
She laughs lightly and shakes her head before wrapping an arm around my shoulders. "Don't ever change, you hear me?"
"Life is a series of natural and spontaneous changes."
"Lao Tzu?" she guesses. I nod. "Well, be that as it may, don't ever try to be anyone else, okay?"
"I don't' know how to be anybody else," I reply, echoing a statement I'd made to her years before. She'd been in danger then, not that any of us knew it at the time. Her cryptic response back then had made me pause, but I hadn't been able to put it together with her unusual behaviour, something for which I felt incredibly guilty about in the months after her "death".
"Hey," she says softly. "Don't go there. You couldn't have known – I wouldn't have let you."
"I know. I just-"
"Just nothing, handsome."
I let out a light sigh and give her a half smile, which she returns with a warm smile of her own. A thought occurs to me. "Will you teach me to play that melody?"
"Sure. Do you want me to teach you in parts, or just play it slower?"
"Just play it slower – I think I've got most of it already."
"Of course you do," she says with a shake of her head. "I should have known." She begins to play the now familiar melody again, this time slower, and I notice she's taking care to slow her movements as well, not just the speed at which she plays the notes.
I watch her play it a few times and then place my hands on the keys and begin to mimic her movements. It takes a few times through, but eventually I'm able to replicate it. She notices and then begins to add a few more notes each time through, until I've mastered a good portion of the piece. When we reach the section that was more sombre, I take my hands off the keys and she stops abruptly when she notices I've stopped mimicking her actions.
She looks at me questioningly, with confusion and concern in her eyes.
"What inspired this middle section?" I ask.
Her expression falls slightly, but she slips a smile on. "A tough time I had while I was a teenager," she answers vaguely.
I can tell she doesn't want to talk anymore about it, so I let it drop, content to let her have her privacy.
"So, are you going to tell me the real reason you came by today?"
I frown. "What do you mean? I told you – I wanted to drop off those books for Matthew and Tegan."
"And yet, you came in with no books…"
"Oh…" I say, embarrassed to have been caught in my lie.
"What's up, handsome?" she asks, nudging me gently with her shoulder.
My gaze drops to the keys of the piano as I try to put together my thoughts. "How did you know you wanted to marry Morgan?"
She smiles fondly. "Because he showed me that I didn't need an exit strategy."
"What?" I ask in confusion. Exit strategy? What was she talking about?
"I'd always been a person that tended to not stick around in any one place for very long. I drifted, and never really settled down. Maybe it was because of how I was raised, or maybe it was because of how I tried to never really let anyone in, but I always had an out. I always had an exit strategy. Derek convinced me that I didn't need one anymore. He showed me that I could stick around in one place, and let someone in."
"What about Morgan? Do you know how he knew he wanted to marry you?"
"I don't actually," she admits. "Why do you ask?" she asks, a knowing look in her eye. She knows exactly why I'm asking…it wouldn't take a profiler to put it together, after all.
"You already know," I say, shooting her a look.
Her eyes crinkle in amusement. "Maybe, but I want to hear it from you."
"I'm thinking about asking Amelia to marry me," I say quickly, the words tumbling out together.
She smiles widely. "Spencer, that's amazing!"
"What if she doesn't say yes?"
"She'll say yes," Emily says confidently.
"How do you know?"
"Because I see the way she looks at you. The two of you are like an old married couple the way you look at each other. It's like you've been together for years."
"So? That doesn't mean she wants to marry me."
"On the contrary, Dr. Reid. Trust me, the way you two are, I can pretty much guarantee she's thought about it."
"Thinking and doing are two different very different concepts."
"That they are. You would be a fine example of that very idea right now, would you not?" she answers with an amused expression settling onto her face.
"Well, yes," I admit grudgingly, but then fall silent as my gaze drops to my hands.
She turns to face me and then tips my chin up so our gazes meet. "Why do you want to ask her to marry you?"
"It's the logical next step in our rela-"
"Don't give me that logic mumjo jumbo. And don't give me "it's the socially accepted course of action" either. Answer me honestly, and don't think too much."
"I love her, and I want her to know that."
"She already knows that. And you know that she knows that. Why do you want to marry her?" she presses.
I frown in concentration, confused as to what she's getting at. "I want the world to know I love her?" I answer unsurely.
She smiles warmly and grabs my hands to give them a squeeze. "There it is."
My eyes widen at my own words. Is that why? I obviously love her, and even if my insecurities doubt it, I know on some level that she loves me too. But is the reason I'm wondering about asking her to marry me because I want the world to know I love her?
My thoughts drift to the other love of my life – Maeve. She'd been ripped from me before we had a chance to really explore our relationship, and before I'd really gotten a chance to tell anyone. I blink as the realization washes over me. It was the reason. I'd never gotten the chance to proudly tell people that I loved Maeve, to show the world that we were really something together. I suppose on some level that was what was driving me. Not that it was strange or twisted in any way, but having seen people lose their chances to have that 'happily ever after', I suppose my mind was screaming at me to take this chance.
Emily must sense the moment I come to this realization, because she gives my hands another squeeze, bringing me out of my mind. "So what are you gonna do, handsome?"
"I'm gonna ask her to marry me," I say with a smile.
She smiles widely. "Good. You're gonna get her a ring, right? You're not going to propose with like…a novel or something are you?"
I roll my eyes. I may be a bit…quirky, but social conventions aren't totally lost on me. "Yes, I'm going to get her a ring. Though there would be absolutely nothing wrong with proposing with a book – provided its worth could demonstrate my commitment and dedication."
She rolls her own eyes at my response. "Right…okay then."
"Sorry," I mumble. "Do you think you could go with me? I don't know much about rings…"
"You don't want to read a book on the subject instead?" she teases.
"Emily," I say in exasperation. Maybe I needed a bit of moral support as well…but she knows that. She's having a laugh at my expense.
"Of course, I'll go with you. You have your car here, right?"
"Now?" I squeak. I never said anything about going now.
"No time like the present, my friend. Let me just tell Derek we're headed out for a few hours."
"I thought his mom was here."
"She is, she won't mind. She comes for the twins, not me. Besides, we'll be back soon," she explains before opening the back door and heading toward her husband and children.
I'm left alone with my thoughts, and it suddenly occurs to me that I'm really doing it. I'm taking the next step, seizing the opportunity, taking the plunge, going for it... If all went according to plan, I'd be someone's fiancésoon. I blink at that particular fact.
Fiancé. Mid 19th-century, from the French fiancier "to promise, betroth".
"You ready to go?" Emily's voice pulls me from my thoughts and I find myself nodding. "You know, it's rather fitting that that piano featured as a setting to your realization."
"Why?"
"It's where I realized I wasn't going to go to London, and where I realized I was going to give letting Derek in a try. It's been the backdrop for some big decisions."
"Huh," I say in surprise. "I guess it's appropriate then."
"I'd say," she says with a grin. "You know, now that I think about it, it's also rather fitting I was playing that piece today when you came over."
"Why?"
"Because of what it's called."
"What's it called?" I ask, my curiosity piqued.
"Sometimes I Just Go For It."
So...did you "awww" at the illustrious Dr. Reid's revelation? Happy to see Emily playing piano again? How'd the song fit in? Let me know - reviews sure do make me smile. :D
Next time...perhaps some "Demily" is on order... ;)
And as always - any conversations you'd like to see happen? Let me know - I'm always happy to have new ideas to ponder.