Page 54 of Counterpoint and Harmony

Chapter Thirty

Disjunct motion:when a melodic line moves by leaps (intervals greater than a second) rather than conjunct motion, which moves by steps.

Damian

Things are stilted between Charlie and I for about a week after her pop-up show in Seattle. We see each other at breakfast the next morning in her room, as planned, but with Carla there, we can’t talk about anything meaningful. Charlie has reverted to her public persona, telling jokes, deflecting questions, getting Carla to talk about her favorite part of the show the night before.

When we part, it’s with a simple, chaste peck on the lips. Carla and I are leaving for the airport, and Charlie’s heading back to California.

But after my realizations at her show—namely, that I’m more in love with her than ever, especially now that I feel like I actually understand more about her and her life—I’m unwilling to drop our usual routine of texts during the day and phone calls at night.

She responds to my texts the next day, but not as quickly as before, and she doesn’t give as many details in her answers. When we talk on the phone that night, it only lasts for about fifteen minutes. Slowly, over the course of the week, we approach something like our new normal. She still seems distant, more reserved than I’m used to, but not like she used to be when I didn’t know she was famous. It’s not like she’s hiding anything, more that she’s less invested in our relationship.

I try not to let it get to me, but it’s frustrating. I almost say something about it, about her withdrawal in Seattle and her continued detachment, but swallow back the words. I don’t want this conversation to happen on the phone.

At least I should get to see her again soon. “You’re still coming to my recital next week, right?”

She’s silent for a moment, and I think my heart might stop waiting for her answer. If she says no …

“Do you still want me to?” is her unexpected answer.

“Of course.” The words are surprised out of me.

A soft whoosh of air as she sighs, but her voice sounds relieved when she says, “Okay. Then yes. I’ll be there.”

“Why would you think I wouldn’t want you there?”

“I don’t want to be a distraction. And I can’t be in the audience. I’ll have to do the same ridiculous sneaking that I did for Lauren’s, otherwise I’ll end up upstaging you. You’re risking that by me being in the building at all.”

“It’s okay to put Lauren through that, but not me?”

She huffs. “That’s not … I just wanted to make sure you were willing to put up with me and my crazy.”

“I can deal with your crazy if it means I get you.”

She sucks in a breath, but just says, “Okay.”

The recital goes off without a hitch. I nail the Dvorák. The Bach has a couple of wobbles, but only someone who knows the piece would realize it, and everyone loves the Brahms cello sonata.

Even Charlie sneaking in and out goes smoothly. Natalie comes with her this time instead of Gabby and keeps her company. They come to my parents’ house afterward for a celebratory dinner, and my mom hugs Charlie like she’s her long lost daughter returned home.

I catch Charlie wiping tears from the corners of her eyes, but they look like happy tears.

We don’t get any time alone, though. So no deep conversations about our relationship are possible.

And then I don’t get to see her again for several weeks, not until the Gem State Concerto Competition winners’ concert in Boise in mid-May.

It seems like an eternity away when all I want to do is talk to her. Alone. Face-to-face.

Boise’s where I made love to her again for the first time. It’s fitting that we should figure out where we stand with each other there too.

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