Page 113 of Crescendo

For once, Natália was slow to answer. I hoped that didn’t mean what I was afraid of. It was halfway through the last ring that Natália picked up.

“Lydia,” she said, her voice small. “Are you calling to yell at me?”

“What—no. Of course not. Natália, you have never and will never do wrong in my eyes. I’m only angry at Melinda, but that’s not why I’m—”

“Please don’t be angry at her,” she said. “I’m the one who initiated everything! She’s really wonderful and she’s so good to me and Ireallycare about—”

“Natália, it’s not—”

“It’s okay if you’re mad at me, but I don’t want to get in the middle of her friendships or make things worse for her when she’s so—”

“Natália,” I said, and she stopped. I gripped the phone tighter. “I know what to do. With the song.”

She paused, quiet for an eternity down the line, before finally—like she always did at the start of a call but had apparently been afraid to when she picked up this one—she switched to video. I turned on my camera too, looking at where she was wearing loose clothing sitting on Melinda’s couch. Ugh. God. They absolutely were having sex today. That wasn’t what I was calling about, but I could still be alittlemad. “You mean the song for Brett Downing and the—”

“The scene where Hedson takes the throne. It’s—”

“Melinda already helped me. She talked to some people and got the director to help step in and talk down Brett and accept what we were working with. I was just nervous to tell you because…”

I swallowed, gripping the phone tighter. “Well, we’re going to send him something else,” I said. “Something he’ll like.”

She went wide-eyed. “What is it? Also, did you just wake up for this? It’s, like, one in the morning there.”

“Couldn’t sleep. Was thinking. About Ella. About music. Forget that. The throne sequence—we take a completely different approach. The scene is crying out for a march, a driving 2/4 rhythm. But it’s not a powerful scene inspiring grandeur, it’s asadscene. Hedson is a child. He’s betraying his friends. He’s betraying his principles. He’s making a decision that we the viewers know will break him. His march to the throne isn’t a rise to power, it’s a walk to Death Row.”

“Lydia—”

“It’s a post-rock goodbye ballad. Hell, put vocals on it. The dialog in that scene is just formalities. Cut out all but the biggest parts and we have someone sing over the scene, ducking out for the big lines, ducking back in for the grand sweeping visual.”

“Isn’t that going to stand out against the rest of the soundtrack?”

“Yes. Of course. It’s the most important scene in the movie. Not in terms of what happens visually, but in terms of what happens to the characters. That’s the money scene to remember.”

“Lydia, you’re—”

“Tell Brett. He’ll sign off every line of it. We’ll redo the entire soundtrack from the ground up to fit it if we need to. Post-rock grunge over top of the symphonic score. Imagine that title theme you wrote, except after the motif, it gives way to crashing drums and spaced-out guitars—”

“And the underground scenes adapt it into a shoegaze style while the capital keeps the classical tone—”

“Hi-hats as textural elements, snare brushes, cymbal rolls, to bring the grunge to the forefront—”

“Lydia.”

“What?” I hadn’t even realized I was still talking. I was just thinking out loud, everything tumbling out of me faster than I could think. Natália absolutely glowed.

“It’s good to see you again,” she said. “Your girlfriend helped inspire you, didn’t she?”

I dropped my gaze, looking down and then away. If anything, the real raw, bleeding heart of my inspiration came from the whole journey this had been—meeting Ella, growing with her, falling for her, and then having to preemptively say goodbye to her. It wasn’t a happy story. But maybe it was the story I needed. I’d keep telling myself that, at least.

“She did,” I said, finally. “She really, really did.”

Chapter 24

Ella

Lydia was magnificent. She was vital and real and inspired. She was the exact person she’d always been while playing with me, only bigger, more. She was doing it with other people now. This was the Lydia she’d always been, the one she’d somehow lost along the road.

She raced around the music room playing different instruments, calling instructions to Natália, composing, directing, conducting—and she had to leave.

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