Page 102 of Crescendo

Tears sprung up and burned in my eyes, my chest tight. I knew what she was saying. I knew it better than most people. Life was so short and could hurt so much. To find someone who brought you back to life—made it rich and colourful and beautiful—wasn’t something that came along very often. Someone you wanted to hurt for if it meant another minute with them… It was something I actively avoided.

I hadn’t done any dating in the last four years, but what did I think it was going to look like after Lydia left? It would be a lifetime of missing her, of wishing she could be around every corner, of comparing every person I met to her—the one who brought me back to life.

Sian put a hand on my shoulder, ignoring the spot where the rain had been so relentless it had managed to penetrate my allegedly waterproof jacket. “I can’t tell you what to do, but I can tell you that I don’t think you should just give up something that means this much to you.”

“We went in knowing it was only two months…”

“No, you went in knowing each other less and thinking you only had two months. You weren’t feeling then what you’re feeling now. Whatever you said back then might have been true, but that’s the beauty of life, we change and grow as people and the things we want change, too.”

“It’s not even been two whole months yet. We can’t be—” Asking for life-changing things? Commitment? Promises?What?

“You’ve been living together. Most people who just started dating see each other a couple of times a week at most. You two have barely been apart. Your feelings are fine. And so are hers.”

I sighed sadly. “LA is really far away.”

“So’s the moon, but you’re telling me you wouldn’t go there to find her?”

I stared at her. “How is that remotely helpful?”

She smirked. “Tell me you wouldn’t. Just try it.”

“Of course I fucking would. Have youmether? She’s… incandescent.”

Sian laughed. “She’s a little obnoxious, but that’s clearly what you like and I support that. Plus, she’s ridiculously hot.” She twisted in her seat to look at me more seriously. “And I support you doing what you have to do to realise these aren’t ‘two months and it’s over’ feelings. She’s helped you find your way back, Ella. I honestly don’t think that’s ever going away, you know?”

I groaned. “Why does it have to be so complicated?”

“Welcome back to life. It sucks and it’s beautiful.”

“She’sbeautiful,” I said, a little petulantly.

Sian laughed again. “And you’re just trying to let that go? Yeah, good luck.”

∞∞∞

We ended the day by splitting into practice session groups. Each of us had to perform a small snippet of the composition we were planning to turn in.

Lydia sat beside me having just performed her snippet for the group. She was present physically, but that was all.

I wanted her to come back, be present. Be Lydia again. It felt like when she’d pulled back after my breakdown. She was still going through the motions, still touched me and kissed my cheek and spoke, but last night had shattered something in her too.

She’d hated her piece all day. Convinced it was something she’d never love. All I could think about was when she’d picked up the violin to join me and Clara last night. She’d loved that. Everyone could see it. And her piece was incredible, without a doubt the most accomplished piece that was going to be submitted. But I could finally see what she was talking about. The piece was beautiful and moving and technically perfect, but it was missing her soul. You couldn’t see that in her music if you didn’t know her—or you weren’t a career musician, I supposed—but, now that I knew her, now that I’d listened to her for weeks talking about music, teaching me music, and talking about the places she couldn’t get her spark back, I could see it.

I felt I’d spend the rest of my life listening to Lydia’s music and knowing exactly her emotional state when she composed it. Perhaps that was why we worked so well together musically—wespoke a language together that was something bigger than we could say with words. We understood each other through music more than I’d ever thought it possible to understand another person.

And maybe I was making life more difficult for her right now, but maybe there was something I could give her that would help…

Papa had texted earlier, in the family group chat, showing off a new outfit for tonight. A sequined suit with flared trousers.

Maybe Lydia needed some sequins right now.

Class ended and I slipped my hand into hers, trying so hard to ignore the emotional twist in my chest—something between excitement at being able to do that, devastation at the idea of it coming to an end soon, and the prickly fear that had spiked up every time we’d interacted since last night.

“Come with me,” I whispered, moving to pull her from the room.

She shot me a confused look, but allowed herself to be dragged along.

“Come on,” I said, feeling a little giddy. “We’re going to miss our train.”

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