Page 90 of Crescendo

“I’m a grown woman, Eliza. She didn’t force me into anything. I wanted her just as much.” This was a dangerous topic of conversation with Eliza at any time but especially when she was already so hurt. Still, she looked at me with a level gaze.

“You don’t know what it’s like, what it’s going to feel like…” There was something so small about her suddenly. It helped the pieces slot into place a little more.

“Is that what happened with you and Hannah?”

Her eyes flashed, her mouth tightening, but she took a steady breath and shrugged. “Not exactly.”

I watched her sip the tea and she reminded me so much of versions of myself that I’d been in the past. So trapped, in so much pain, and feeling like there was nowhere to turn, nobody who could help or even care.

“You obviously don’t have to,” I said, moving to sit in one of the armchairs, “but, if you want to talk about it, I’m here.”

“What, so you can run back to Lydia with even more of my tragic life?”

“No. If you want to keep it between us, that’s what I’ll do. Doctor’s promise.”

She barked a sharp, single laugh. “As if I’m some—”

“No. As if you’re someone who could use a friend and a safe place to talk. Just like we all could.”

More tears streamed down her face, but she held my gaze. “She doesn’t deserve you, you know?”

I smiled. “She’s a better person than you think. I’m aware you have your whole competition thing with her, but I wouldn’t be doing nearly as well as I am without her.”

“And, clearly, Hannah agrees, doesn’t she?” She huffed. “Running off with your girlfriend and fucking Dodge and playing all that rock stuff we used to do.”

“Hannah’s fucking Dodge?” I asked lightly, sipping my tea.

She scowled at me, but I could see the first hint of amusement underneath. “She’s a lesbian.”

“Ah, Dodge will be devastated, I’m sure.”

She pursed her lips, considering. “She’s not really… It’s not—she’s—whatever.”

The afternoon light streamed through the window in sharp lines, filtering through the buildings around Crescendo. There was something oddly poetic about it as I watched Eliza struggle with whatever was bouncing around her brain, giving her space she sorely needed. Whatever she was dealing with, it was too much for her to bear. I could see it in the tense way she held her body, the way she looked through me. She was all sharp lines and cold shadows, but there was something soft and light lurking under all of that.

“She told me to go on that date,” Eliza said eventually, so bitter. “She told me to go and she just used that chance to sneak off with Lydia. Why wouldn’t she even tell me? What did I do wrong?”

It was my experience that the latter question was most people’s question. Most hurt came from not knowing what you did wrong, from the desperate, human desire to have everythingmake sense and feel tidy, even though the world seldom made any sense at all.

“I think she was scared of hurting you,” I said.

“Ha, well, now she has.”

“She wasn’t trying to. She just needed a space to be herself in this whole thing, and Lydia asked her to jam with her and Dodge, and… she’s really good.”

Eliza looked at me with sad, betrayed eyes again. “Better than me? Is that what you’re telling me?”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying. She’s not even trying to be better than you. She’s cheering so hard for you. All she wants is for you to be happy. Even here, she tried to put her own music away to do what you needed. It’s not a case of who’s better. You’re both amazing, but you have different musical goals. Playing with Lydia and Dodge was simply a way for her to stay connected to that.”

“Yes, well, did she tell you she got better feedback than I did on our last pieces?”

“She didn’t say a thing.” My heart raced. I wondered what the instructors had said to her. This had been Eliza’s dream even more than Hannah’s.

“Hm.” She paced in front of me. “So lively and different. So fresh and attention grabbing.Do you know what they said about mine? Technically perfect but boring.Boring.So, I guess Lydia was right. We do different things and it creates contrast. Except that contrast is my piece being crap and hers being amazing.” She groaned loudly and gripped her hair so tightly with one hand I worried she might tear it out at the roots. “And Iwanther to be happy. I do. I want her to do well. But she said I needed to be different. We left Liverpool and we agreed we needed to change—to do things differently… That we didn’t want to lose… We couldn’t…”

“Eliza, what happened in Liverpool?” I asked, sensing that it was key to everything.

“Lots of things. It’s a big city.”

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