Composing Amelia (20 page)

Amelia was a big part of the problem. Every time they spoke on the phone these days, he sensed something was off with her, and his worry for her compounded how much he missed her. Maybe a visit would help. In person, he could see for himself that she was as fine as she insisted she was, reconnect with her, and hopefully clear his mind so he’d be more focused when he returned.

The thought of seeing her again brightened his spirit considerably. Forsaking the rumble in his stomach, he got on the Internet the minute he reached home and looked up flights for the next two weeks. He wouldn’t be able to visit long, just a couple days, but he could leave right after church and get into LA in time to watch one of her productions, then spend another full day and come home the next morning. He found a flight two weeks from that Sunday that wasn’t exorbitantly expensive and booked it before emailing Dane to tell him he’d be coming into town.
Don’t tell Amelia,
he wrote.
I’m going to surprise her at that night’s
Pippin.

He couldn’t help smiling as he sent the email, then changed clothes to go for a run with the new energy his plans had given him. He wasn’t sure how he’d make it two more weeks, but just knowing he’d see her before the month was out made him feel better.

Amelia burst through the door of the theater five minutes before curtain. The look of relief on everyone’s faces made her palms even more damp than they already were. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she muttered as she set up her keyboard in the pit. “I overslept.”

“Musta partied hard last night,” said their violinist. The sarcasm wasn’t hard to hear—she’d been showing up late more frequently—and Amelia’s embarrassment grew. She hadn’t joined the troupe for a post-performance get-together since opening night, and she could tell everyone else’s friendships were deepening and slowly shutting her out. Just another thing to pile onto the heap along with the temperamental flu that wouldn’t go away and the persistent thoughts of giving up on life.

Amelia set up her things in what felt like record time, but when Ross gave them all his final eye-to-eye check, Amelia’s hands were shaking so hard she could barely line her fingers up on the right keys. She gave him an “Okay” nod anyway, knowing she’d already stressed everyone out enough—to make them all wait for her to calm down would only irritate them more. She didn’t want to give them any more reasons to be mad at her.

Her head was a jumble of chaos and fear—par for the course these days, but exacerbated by the last forty minutes she’d spent scrambling to get to the theater on time. She kept her eyes on her music as she played, something she hadn’t had to do since the third week of rehearsal, and in between songs she dug her fingernails into her forearm to give her mind something else to think about other than her restlessness
.
She needed to stay focused. Even Ross’s forgiveness would expire eventually.

She prayed harder than she’d prayed in a long time—and for the first time in weeks.
Don’t let me screw up. Don’t let me mess up the show. Please just get me through tonight.
She blinked several times, then began to play. Her playing sounded emotionless—ironic, given how emotional she actually was—and she kept expecting Ross to throw her dirty looks. When the show was over she almost collapsed on the keyboard, so spent was she from wrangling her concentration and trying to herd her emotions away from what felt like a drop-off into insanity. She couldn’t do this again. She had to get better. She had to stop feeling sick all the time, and thinking about a sleep from which she never awoke, and struggling to follow through on the simplest of tasks. She couldn’t live like this much longer. She’d go crazy. If she wasn’t already.

“Coming out?” asked the guitarist while everyone packed up. She could hear the note of challenge in his voice. She hated how they must all think of her now, but the thought of socializing made her almost physically ill. She just wanted to get home and call Marcus, even though he’d already be asleep. She needed to hear his voice.

“Amelia?” A voice—a familiar one—called out to her.

She sat straight up.

“Amelia, over here.”

She spun, hope almost suffocating her, and saw him standing at the door to the orchestra pit holding a bouquet of roses.

“Marcus!” Her voice broke as she called. She dodged equipment to get to him, and she literally fell into his arms and began to cry.

“Hey, babe—whoa, it’s all right, calm down.” His arms tightened around her and she felt safe. Strong, stable, levelheaded Marcus. He’d help her get her head back on straight.

“Are you okay?” he said into her ear.

She nodded, holding him tighter. “I’m just—so glad to see you.”

He chuckled and squeezed. “Me, too. I hope you don’t mind that I surprised you.”

“No, not at all—but I can’t believe I played so badly, the one night you actually get to see the show.”

He leaned back a bit, frowning at her. “You played great. What are you talking about?”

“It was awful.”

“You’re too hard on yourself. You were fantastic.” He glanced around. “So what do you need to do? Post-show meeting? Or can you just go home?”

“I can go home,” she said, wiping her eyes on her sleeves. “I have to pack up my keyboard though.”

“I’ll help you.”

She led him to her setup, and as he helped her pack she had to fight the urge to cry again. She wasn’t happy—she couldn’t even remember what it felt like to be happy—but she was so relieved she thought she might actually be able to sleep tonight. She thanked God over and over as she led Marcus from the pit to the exit and out to the sidewalk. He carried her bag on his shoulder and wrapped his free arm around her waist. “I’m so happy to see you.”

“I can’t believe you’re here. This feels like a dream.”

“I made the reservations two weeks ago and have been going crazy ever since. I couldn’t wait to get out here.” He stopped, tugged her beneath a storefront’s canopy, and set her keyboard on the ground. Then, his arms sliding around her, he pulled her close and kissed her.

She felt uncoordinated, as though she’d never done this before, and she almost pulled away. She had wanted to experience this very moment for two months, but now, when Marcus’s hands slipped beneath her sweater and pressed against her bare back, she fought the feeling of violation it evoked. But she couldn’t deny him, not after two months apart. At least they were in public; she had until they got home to figure out how to gently turn him down when he tried to go further. As much as she wanted to be near him, sex sounded like too much work—physically
and
emotionally.

She kept him talking as they rode the bus home, not wanting to give him a chance to ask her how she was. She needed his help and knew that would require telling him the truth about how she truly was doing, but even so, she wasn’t about to admit the depths of her brokenness, not when he was in town for less than forty-eight hours. He wouldn’t be able to fix her entirely, and she didn’t want him going back to Nebraska with worry. She would have to tone it down, ask for some general advice, that sort of thing. And then be vague if he pushed for more details.

Dane and Jill were asleep when they got back to the apartment. Amelia led Marcus silently through the living room to her bedroom, and once they were there Marcus wrapped her in a bear hug and whispered, “I’ve missed you so much.”

“I know, love. I’ve missed you, too. But … I’m still fighting the flu, and I’m so incredibly tired. Maybe, can we. … tomorrow …?”

He nodded, lips pressed tight, but understanding in his eyes. “No worries. Get ready for bed. It’ll be nice just having you next to me.”

She agreed with that completely. Just his presence in the same room as her made her feel a little better. They changed into their pajamas and snuggled together in the dark, and for the first time in weeks, Amelia slept through the night.

Marcus, still on Central time, awoke before Amelia did the next morning. He was glad she had Monday mornings off from the deli; he would have accompanied her to work, but it wouldn’t have been the same. Instead he moved closer to her and draped an arm over her hip, relishing the feeling of her beside him again. How was he going to leave tomorrow?

She stirred but didn’t wake. He knew she’d been sick; better to let her sleep in on her day off. He slowly rolled off the bed to go shower and dress. They’d have the whole day ahead of them once she was up.

Jill was in the kitchen when Marcus went to get breakfast. “Hey, Jill!” He gave her a hug, then smiled down at her growing stomach. “Wow, look at you. How are you feeling?”

Jill gave her belly the signature mother-to-be rub. “Better than I was. But man, pregnancy is
hard
.”

Marcus smiled. “Yeah, but think of what you get for your trouble.”

Jill smiled. “That’s what Dane keeps saying, which, as you know, is an improvement.” Her face changed when her eyes met Marcus’s. She crossed her arms and leaned against the counter. “So, forgive me if I skip all the catching-up conversation, but I have a question for you. Has Amelia … shared anything with you? About how she’s doing?”

Marcus didn’t like how that was worded. “Um … I know she’s been fighting the flu.”

“She hasn’t mentioned anything else?”

He thought back to the night before. “No. Why are you asking? Do you think something else is going on?”

“I don’t know, to tell you the truth. She just … doesn’t seem herself these days. When you emailed to say you’d be coming out I was so relieved—I had been debating whether or not I should say something to you, because I figured if she was giving me the whole ‘I’m fine’ thing, then she was probably saying that to you, too.”

“Well … yeah, she has been.”

“I was afraid of that.”

He crossed his arms. “So what do you think is going on?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. And for all I know it’s just a matter of us not connecting much these days because of our schedules. I wonder if the pregnancy is weird for her—I mean, I’m sure I’m changing, and will keep changing once the baby’s here, so maybe she’s just anticipating that our friendship might change too, and she’s bothered by it. But …” She stopped, then shook her head. “I don’t know, Marcus. Something’s up.”

He nodded slowly, processing. “Thanks.” To have his fears confirmed didn’t make him feel any better.

Just then Dane joined them, and after the three of them had finished breakfast and Jill and Dane had left for work, Marcus went back to the bedroom to wake Amelia.

“Hey, babe,” he said, kissing her forehead and trying to keep his energy light. “Wake up and play with me.”

Amelia stirred and faced him with a lazy half smile. Slowly the smile morphed into a grimace and she rolled out of bed. “Be right back.” She disappeared from the room and reappeared a couple minutes later. “Sorry,” she said as she slipped beneath the covers again. “This stupid stomach thing just comes and goes.”

“Poor baby.” He joined her beneath the sheets and held her close. “So what do you want to do today?”

“Um … could we just stay home?”

He gave her a squeeze. “Sounds good to me.”

Twice her breathing seemed to catch and he expected her to speak, but nothing happened. When it happened a third time, he sat up and looked down at her. “Say it already.”

“What? There’s nothing.”