Page 8 of Fractured

“So, what did you think?” Harper gripped my thigh with both hands once she was seated. “He’s a keeper, right?”

“Sure, after two words and ten minutes in his presence, I knew right away he wasn’t a serial killer.” That was the thing about Harper. I had crazy in my blood, and Harper had a knack for forming attachments too quickly. They never lasted, so I humored her most of the time. And it worked great for our friendship.

Another thirty minutes went by as Harper waxed on the amazing qualities of Brett, and I listened like a good friend. At some point, she’d started to glance at me funny.

“Shit, I’ve been a horrible friend. Tell me what happened and who I have to cut?”

I laughed, shaking my head. “It’s fine. Today was just one of those days, but there’s nothing to be done about it, except maybe a few more drinks and time with you in the bar.”

But I did worry about it. Randolf’s announcement stayed in the back of my head the entire evening. It got so bad that even when Kenzo started to walk over when we stood up to leave, I fled the bar like the devil was on my heels.

Maybe I’d take him up on his offer someday.

Or maybe I would do him a favor and never see him again.

Three

Maybe there’s a little light left after all.- August 20th

“Don’t forget,you’re doing a solo this year for our Halloween performance, yes?” Randolf called to me as I was steps from the door, his German roots coming out just a little in his accent.

Breaking stride, I turned around and marched right back to him. Had I missed a memo somewhere? I hadn’t been told in person, and it wasn’t listed in the newsletter. I was sure of it. Not to mention it was out of the question. I did what I needed to do to be fantastic at my job, but I had never done a solo in my entire career.

“I’m sorry, Randolf. I think I misheard you.” I tugged on my earlobe as if to make sure it was working properly. Whenever Lauren would enter into a psychotic break, hallucinations were the first of several signs. Seeing things that weren’t really there, like a pink frog climbing up the wall or a snake in the spaghetti noodles on the stove. Although sometimes, the paranoia came first.

Was this the start of my break? Not a hallucination but a loss of memory?

“Oh no, dear. You didn’t mishear. I announced soloists at the beginning of our rehearsal today. And you’re one of them.”

I sighed in stark relief. I wasn’t crazy and this wasn’t the beginning of the end for me. I’d merely zoned out, and somehow, that made the day seem a little brighter. “I can’t. I’ve never done a solo before, and I’d be too nervous I’d mess up, considering the stakes.” Shaking my head, I took a step back, ready to pivot, but he caught my elbow with soft, gnarled fingers.

As an elderly man, he was in great shape, but playing instruments for most of his life had left his fingers twisted and bent. Still, he’d never let it stop him from doing something he loved. So instead of playing music, he created it and conducted the best symphonies this small town had ever seen.

“But you see, that’s exactly why I need you to play. I know how you feel about solos, but our orchestra is desperate. You have the most haunting quality to your music that I’ve ever heard, and you’re playing from the same sheet as everyone else!” His voice boomed around the quickly emptying room. “If for nothing else, do this for us.”

Damnit. He pinned his entire life’s work on the last few months of our season. I knew Randolf. If the doors shut, he’d feel like a failure, someone less than worthless, because he’d allowed something that had once flourished to wilt and die. I couldn’t say no. My problem wasn’t really a stage fright issue anyway. I got so lost in the performance, I often forgot I was even on the stage. What was the reason?

I wasn’t even sure. I just didn’t want to do it. The mere thought put a tremor in my fingers and an irregular thump to my heart.

“Okay.” Steeling myself against every instinct in my gut, I agreed. There was no good reason when my career potentially hung in the balance just like his. “What will the piece be?”

He gave me an odd look, then shuffled through a few loose papers on his music stand. “I announced that too, but I do happen to have an extra copy here.” He pulled out an incredibly complex piece and handed it over.

“This? This is what you want me to play? I’ve never played anything like this before.” My voice increased in pitch as I studied the sheet. The notes on the page seemed to have a life of their own, bouncing and taunting me with their beautifully delicate intricacies.

“Of course you have. And this is just a more elaborate version of the piece you auditioned with. Very similar.” He raised his eyebrows as if daring me to argue. “We have to increase our showing if we’re to have any chance for funding next year. All shows from Halloween through Christmas must be sold out. Or else, all bets are off.” A deep frown line carved right through the center of his eyebrows. A fine sheen covered his eyes, and he swallowed hard.

I was being an asshole. “I would do anything to help. My apologies, Randolf. I was just caught off guard. I must have zoned out earlier.”

“Ah, no worries. No worries at all.” He patted my shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yes?”

“See you tomorrow.”

Outside, the wind was strong, whipping my hair around my face, cutting across my cheeks.

“A storm’s coming!” Randolf called after me as he locked the front doors. “Best go on home now.”

“You bet,” I answered and climbed into my car. Checking my phone, there were no voicemails, no missed texts.

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