Page 4 of Fractured

“Phobia. Fear. Like mine is a fear of small pets.” He rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “What do you see Harper for?”

Oh. Oh! It was easy to forget she specialized in phobias, because that wasn’t why I saw her. “I don’t have a phobia per se. She’s more like a regular psychologist for me.”

“Ah, sorry, my mistake.” He tugged at the collar of his shirt as he cleared his throat. “Now I feel like an idiot. It’s not normally like me to lead with my mental problems.”

I grinned. “What’s normal? I tend to find normal suffocating, so I’d take your crazy any day. And don’t worry about it.” I jerked my thumb over my shoulder. “Harper is expecting me, so I better get going.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course. Maybe our paths will cross again someday. We can be not normal together.” He dipped his head in farewell and continued down the walkway.

I watched after him for a few beats, then headed inside.

Damn, how simple would life be if I could date a man like that? Someone easygoing and fun. One who could understand a little bit of the fear I lived with every day. Maybe I did have a phobia.

A fear of going crazy.

No, I wasn’t someone who could ever date anyone seriously. My genetics had seen to that. And the way I used my mother to remind myself of what not to be? It made me hate myself a little more every day.

Two

Why am I envious of the birds in the trees? - August 17th

I carriedmy case into Randolf’s studio, nodding and forcing a smile for everyone I passed. They were my fellow orchestra members, and most were fine people. But I hadn’t joined orchestra for the people, they were just a byproduct or a necessary evil.

The studio was separated into about ten small private rooms, with one large bay for the entire orchestra to gather and practice. Randolf’s Orchestra was mid-tier, playing shows in the local and surrounding performing arts theatres. Nothing big time, and that was the way I enjoyed it. For the most part, I made my own hours and only needed to attend two or three scheduled practices a week. More when an impending performance was looming overhead.

“Hey, Lilith,” Annie called as she exited one of the small rooms. “Randolf called a meeting, so don’t leave after your practice.”

“What time?” I moved my thumb over the worn leather of the handle as I paused. It wasn’t very often we had meetings. Most of the musicians were introverts and preferred email. Randolf, being the eccentric leader to these nutcases, usually humored us by sending out newsletters or emails with important updates.

I had to admit, I was one of them. And now this sudden change had my pulse fluttering. This could mean something good, or something very, very bad.

“Two this afternoon, so you have plenty of time to practice.” She shrugged and passed by me on her way to the break room.

Music was my safe haven. The lynchpin that held my life together when everything was falling apart. When Lauren was officially committed a few years ago, this opportunity had practically fallen in my lap, giving me something to escape into, and I found I excelled at being alone.

Letting out a slow breath, I claimed my favorite practice room on the end. They were all soundproof, but there was something comforting about being at the very edge. No one would pass my room. No one would have any reason to peek through the small rectangular window on the door. I could have practiced at home, like so many of the members did, but I loved the plain room with white walls. It was as if erasing everything around me but the sound of my cello made the music that much more powerful.

Much to my dismay, these rooms were community rooms and couldn’t be claimed by a single person. So I meticulously arranged the music stand and chair. They were such small things, but they brought comfort and familiarity to my routine as well as my music.

By the time I slid the bow over the strings and the first haunting note reverberated around the small space, I was in heaven. Hours, I played. Lost in time and absorbed into the feeling of the current piece we were learning, I smiled. A real genuine smile. The kind I could never seem to give to strangers on the street.

A knock on the door shattered the trance I had placed myself in.

“Yes?” I asked, even though I knew I couldn’t be heard.

“Hey.” Annie cracked the door only enough to poke her frizzy red head through. “It’s time for the meeting. I figured when you didn’t head out, you’d lost track of time.”

I tapped the screen of my phone. Five after two.

Shit. I had completely lost track of time. Hadn’t I set an alarm?

Clicking on the clock, there were no active alarms, so I must not have.

“Thanks, I’ll be out in just a minute.”

She dipped her head once as she let the door shut softly, and I rushed through cleanup. Snapping the case shut, I walked briskly down the hallway to the large common area to see that at some point, foldout metal chairs had been placed around a central location. It was usually where Randolf stood for our practices, but there was no music stand today and his conductor’s wand was nowhere in sight. But I knew this wouldn’t be an impromptu practice, didn’t I?

Instead of the bright-eyed and bushy-tailed expression he always wore, today his face was haggard and his shoulders slumped over.

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