Page 88 of Phantom
But Sol doesn’t look offended. Although the painful sorrow that furrows his brow makes me feel just as guilty.
“In many ways… she is. Her world died when my father did a decade ago. The woman she used to be is a ghost. We only get glimpses of her every now and then. Music helps bring her back, but you saw today how it’s slowly stopped being as effective. We’ve tried everything. In this case, everything isn’t enough.”
My heart twists and cracks for him, but he asks his question before I can say anything else.
“Tell me about your parents.”
The command catches me off guard, so I think a second before answering. “My dad was a traveling musician and knew every instrument. When he first worked with a band, everyone wanted him, but he could never seem to keep a gig. They always parted ways for some reason. My mom… she was troubled. Let’s just say my psych thinks my bipolar disorder is hereditary. My mom died before I could ask her. It was just my dad and me my whole life.”
He only nods once in response and I resolve to go in a different direction than my last question. “How many eye prosthetics do you have?”
He laughs. “I have quite a few. Most of them are hand painted and I’ve needed them since I was fifteen, so I was pretty creative with ideas in the beginning.”
“Fifteen? Wow, that’s so young. What designs do you have? Can I see? Are they all normal or are they cool?” I ask quickly, my curiosity getting the best of me.
He grins. “I’ll show you sometime, how about that?”
A smile spreads on my face at the prospect of him opening up this side of himself to me. I open my mouth to ask more questions, like how it happened, but he beats me to it.
“Why did you come to New Orleans?”
That one’s easy. “My dad’s first love was jazz music and New Orleans is its birthplace. He wanted to make it here so whenever he could, we’d come back and he’d try to find a professional band gig rather than popping into bars. But again, nothing ever stuck. That’s why I came back. My dad insisted I try opera and I wanted to learn from the best music college in the world, in the best city in the world. Plus, New Orleans was the first opera city in the US, so it fit.”
“But you don’t want to do that anymore?” Sol inquires.
I shake my head. “Growing up, I thought my dad’s life was fascinating, but he thought his way was too unstable. Over time, I’ve realized that Broadway isn’t my dream. Now, I’m trying to make my dream my own… Okay, my turn. What aboutyourdream? Making music and traveling. Do you think you ever will?”
His fingers tap against my thighs as he searches my face. “Over a year ago, I would’ve said no. But I’ve been more… hopeful, lately.”
A low current of excitement runs in my veins over his implication. I have half a mind to just dwell on that little tidbit and ask him what he means, but I’m not sure how long we’ll be playing this game. My next line of questioning needs to be more serious if I’m going to get real answers.
“What happened the night your dad died, Scarlett?”
I freeze. The irony that I was just about to ask a similarly personal question,how did you lose your eye, isn’t lost on me. I only wish I’d asked mine first. Now I have to answer the one question I hoped he’d never ask.
“Um… what do you want to know?”
My hands fall from his shoulders, but he grabs them and holds them to his chest over his steady beating heart.
“Everything.”
He can’t know everything. Never everything.
I focus on my steady breaths for a moment, biding my time to figure out the CliffsNotes version, where to start, and how to end.
“It was a year ago. My dad and I were in the Garden District. He said he needed to see a friend, so we went to that restaurant, Commander’s Palace, across from Lafayette Cemetery No.1. He stepped out for his meeting during the main course. By the time it was dessert, he still hadn’t come back and I was worried. I paid with some of my stipend money so I could leave and find him. When I got outside…” I swallow and Sol squeezes my hands, but doesn’t let me get out of answering the question.
“Sorry, this is the first time I’ve talked about this with anyone besides the police.”
He watches me silently and I’m thankful he’s letting me gather my thoughts as I try to remember exactly what I told the police.
“When I got outside, I thought I heard someone talking so I went to see if it was my dad. Then someone came around the corner and…” I pull my hands from Sol’s and he rests his on my waist as I cross my arms. “Hetouchedme. Put me against the wall and tried to…”
Sol’s fingers dig into my waist and I focus on the pain there rather than the restricting agony around my heart.
“I screamed and he… h-hit me. That’s when I heard my dad yell for me. My attacker turned and saw him…”
“I’ve been waiting for you, Gus Day.”
