Forgive Me Father For I Have Loved (22 page)

She looked down at her feet, hoping she didn’t fall on her face, and smiled at the thought... Even
that
unfortunate possibility she’d find a way to embrace because tonight was the evening she’d sing in front of some of her adult pupils, friends, business associates and strangers who’d come there just to hear her play.

She took a long, deep breath, exhaled, then stepped forward. When she emerged from the curtain, the place went silent, the only noise being her footsteps across the stage, tip tapping until she reached the piano bench and took her seat. She slowly closed her eyes, straightened her back and took another deep breath, then, looking out toward the audience, she spoke softly into the microphone.

“Good evening, everyone. We are now going to start our second set. So glad you all are spending the evening with me and these wonderful musicians.”

She waited for the loud round of applause to die down.

“For those of you that may have just come in, my name is Rhapsody Blue, and we are going to have one hell of an evening. I want to thank this band, ‘The Vice’,” she gave a slight of hand, causing the room to erupt in another appreciative wave of applause, “for allowing me to fill in for Sydney this fine full moon. It is an honor. I’ve done it a couple times before for them, but I was never asked to sing so...I hope you all enjoy it and if you don’t...don’t say a word.” She put a finger up to her plush lips and giggled, causing the roomful of people to laugh in turn. “’Cause like Ms. Erykah Badu said, I’m sensitive about my shit.” The audience laughed and whistled, encouraging her, making her feel okay to become one with them that night, to make love to the music, right in front of their very eyes. 

She turned away from the crowd and looked at the band. They gave their ‘We’re ready’ nod—Tony on base, Pete on drums and Andrea at the keyboard. Before she began, Rhapsody looked out at the audience once more and her heart pivoted, turning slowly, making Father Time stop and listen. There he was, he’d come...front row and center. Just like in the park when they’d first laid eyes on one another, he gave a gentle wave and tossed a sentimental gaze her way, making her feel as if she was the only person in the entire world he’d ever seen, or cared to envision.

Wow, he really came...

~***~

Absolutely stunning. She could not look any better.

Dane leaned back leisurely in his seat, taking a sip of his seltzer water. He stood in the back of the room during the first set, hardly able to view the woman who played the piano so splendidly. Once the crowd thinned, he raced down to the front during the intermission as if he were on fire, making himself comfy while others refreshed their drinks and took time to stand outside and make cellphone calls. He nodded at her and winked, and at first she held his gaze, then shyly turned away.

She knows I’m here now. I wonder if she expected me or remembered I’d planned to come. I can’t wait to hear this...

He’d dreamt about that supreme voice, that God-given expression that made his spirit and loins want to have conversations behind his back. It seduced him, never letting go. He’d come to hear her play the ebony and ivory, not expecting to be treated to this as well. He clasped his hands together, an empty glass by his side, and thin trails of smoke drifting past him. He was in a room full of music lovers, and they’d come to see this lovely lady. The crowd had lit up at the mention of her name from the MC. She had a gift, they knew it, so he watched them work themselves into frenzy, chanting in unison that she deliver a song, and they waited to collect. He desperately wanted to see her...needed to hear them again, the sweet melodies dripping in Rhapsody vocal wine. She was a living, breathing cure to all that ailed the world.

He watched her sigh, smile and gently place her fingers on the keys. As she leaned ever so slightly toward the piano, she let the first chord hit.

“Thaaaa
man, doesn’t stand...”

There it is...that voice. Jesus...so pretty...

Dane closed his eyes briefly then returned his gaze to that beautiful sight, and listened carefully...

“...But inside, he is ten feet tall...

On the outside...the thin shell, well,”

She looked out absently at the audience, smiling ever so slightly.

“He’s got it all...

He sits under swaying branch-es, bent like saddened bows, the tree limbs...become home...

he is stuck...rooted in the fear of....the unknown...

He flees.”

She closed her eyes, turning back toward the piano, her forehead etched with lines as her eyebrows furrowed.

“...inside himself, what a fight, he haaaas....

Better daaaays, My God...I promisssse, better daaaaays...

Are to be had...”

The audience sat quiet, swaying to her deep, rich, velvety voice wrapped around the painful yet beautiful lyrics. Dane tensed, feeling a bit violated and annoyed, yet, simultaneously, he felt honored and renewed. His ego screamed in his ear—
“You know this is about you, right?”

While his brain said,
“Yeah...it really is.”

He leaned on the armrest, resting his chin on his hand as he looked up at her, concentrating, deeply entrenched, wanting to say so much but forced to remain silent.

Hmmm, she thinks she knows me. She does, actually. In all of this time, have I opened up a lot? Enough for her to see inside? Yes, I have I suppose...and now, she sings about it...about me. She must’ve known I meant what I said, that I was coming. She believed it. Would she have sung it if I weren’t here?

He continued to listen, rocking to the music, but trying hard to remain impassive, while grappling with his emotions. He was used to being the one identifying issues, problems and struggles and with his words, offering a prescription in the form of prayer and Hail Mary’s. Now, he was on the other side of the fence. She’d heard his confessions, even though they’d mostly only resided in his head.

The woman made him stir. She knew him all right, and he hadn’t said a word about all the sordid mess, some of which he still couldn’t articulate into tangible sentiments, built from his own reflections and struggles, brick by brick. The structure was weak, and she helped him tear it down...

~***~

Rhapsody stood, beaming, taking a fluid bow as the clapping blended in with the final guitar chord strums. Wisps of spiraled smoke drifted past her under the dim lights. She averted his eye contact for a while, but not for long because she had to see what she’d stirred, what she’d provoked. And she saw in his eyes the shades of melancholy, before another wave of smoke drifted past his frame. She wasn’t sure what Fr. Caruso—
Dane—
would say or do about her performance, and now she felt slight regret as she enjoyed the audience’s reaction. Still, she kept a brave face.

His expression darkened and then he stood to his feet—not a smile in sight. He began to slowly clap, then it picked up momentum. She watched his large hands coming together over and over, faster and faster, forcing others to join, once again, in the applause.

He looks mad as hell...

I thought he might like it. Maybe it is too soon. I rewrote it, changing and tweaking the lyrics so many times...I mean...I wrote the song before I even had spoken to him but...

A loud whistle from someone in the audience pulled her out of her own mind, as if she were being chased with a broom. She regrouped and refocused. Time to start the next song. Leisurely taking her seat, she began to play an instrumental ballet, accompanied by the other band members...

~***~

Dane watched her slender, brown fingers move over the smooth keys, fascinated by her agility as they worked the long black and white rectangles that bended to her every musical whim. Her elegance and earthiness mixed with a dollop of uncouth truth lured him into a delightfully tempting snare he never wished to escape. Yeah, he was a bit unnerved, but more pleased than pissed. He had never discussed his internal battles with depression with her, the unhappy years as a teenager, pretending to be on top of the world so that his family could continue to play their perfect roles. Yet, in her lyrics, the ones spoken and unspoken, he felt she somehow knew. As she continued to play, he thought about the two of them in the park...

When she spoke, the light from the sun would hit the side her profile just so, illuminating her succulent lips. He’d find himself staring at them, half hearing her describe her day. And then he’d look into her eyes, and they’d both get quiet until one would turn away, breaking the eye lock, dismissing what was going on beneath the surface. They never got too heavy—the conversations stayed pretty safe, minus when he divulged his feelings about the death of his best friend and her recent telephone inquisition regarding his past intimacy. That was simply offered as an explanation, an excuse for his continued park presence. It was a half-truth, and now, he felt she may have known it was a lie dressed in melancholy clothing as soon as it left his mouth. He feared but loved that, in some way, he’d ended up emotionally naked in front of her, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it...

He clapped after each song, falling more under her spell as she owned the notes. Each note became her lover, and she loved them all the same. She bore their children and gave them to the world as gifts, and everyone greedily accepted them, screaming out, encouraging her with striking profanity in the aim of letting her know—she was bad...gifted...and beautiful...

“Girl, play that shit!”

“Do it, Rhapsody! You fuckin’ up my bad mood, baby!”

And Dane would smile at the crude words coming from all directions, and they didn’t faze him for they came from a good place, and he just wanted her to be herself. He didn’t want her to alter her behavior because he was before her or sitting next to her on a bench. He wanted her to keep her hand where it rested when he’d brush up against it. He wanted her to lay her head on his shoulder and he wanted to lie down beside her in the grass, stretch with her to the moon and back... He wanted to go wherever she was going, because wherever it was, it offered something he needed, something like perfect peace and golden days. With her. He wanted to bask in her glow...

He glanced back up at her on the stage, while his heart swelled with something new.

I forget about it all when I’m with her. But why is that so bad?

He shook his head and ran trembling fingers through his hair. The smell of a freshly lit cigarette stung his nostrils.

She lets me be me, without having to get into the gory detail. That’s why I want to be next to her. There is no performance, no expectations. Rhapsody, I believe you entered my life for a reason and I want to find out what it is. I gotta find out what it is...and... a part of me is concerned because...I think I already know...

~***~

She watched a fluffy ball of dust float past as the back door opened, ushering in warm night air. He’d stayed for each song, even as the crowd thinned out through the evening, and the drinks flowed less, yet, he was still there. The room became smaller and smaller and then it got to the point, where it felt like it was just the two of them, until finally, it was.

She sat at the piano, continuing to play songs for him. They hadn’t spoken; he just sat there, with that mischievous grin and perfect hair. His shirt was buttoned up too high and his pants too straight, and that made him even more endearing to her. She had no idea why after she knew he was a priest, she’d remained intrigued and even invested into forging
something
with him. What that something was, she still wasn’t sure, but they had a connection. No doubt about it.

He made her feel free and buoyant. He appeared so cool and relaxed, never seeming to break a sweat, even when she broached him regarding topics possibly deemed controversial. The opposite of what she imagined a priest to be, not at all like the arrogant jock she envisioned him being back in high school. And she realized now, that wasn’t fair. She didn’t know the guy at all back then; he could have been exactly how she knew him now, and maybe, if she’d paid less attention to enjoying him squirm as he’d stare at her too-tight shirts, she would have approached him, said something, any ice breaker at all...just
maybe
, if she would have, things would be different right now...

Rhapsody continued to stroke the keys, thinking of Dane—thinking of him in so many ways.

She’d occasionally glance down at the crucifix around his neck and that golden wedding band, she smiled as she reminisced about her investigation. Just to make sure he wasn’t full of crap, she’d looked him up online to make sure his ass
really
wasn’t married after their initial meeting at the park. And found out he truly was a priest after all, and in that same instance, relief and sorrow filled her heart. Incense smoke had wafted past her while she focused on her laptop screen, reading his name and seeing his profile photos.

Fr. Dane Caruso—

There he was – on the screen, his bio so perfect and clean-cut and even the most discerning eye wouldn’t suspect the man was fighting a demon. Tortured souls had a way of identifying one another. He felt like a twin flame. Dane seemed to want to be free from confines, and she wanted discipline. She knew, deep down, they’d find it in each other.