Vol.5, Chapter XV — The Recital, Part 2: The Muse and The Dilemma

Arriving at the musical hall was marked by us being ambushed, and by that, I mean Sophie. No sooner had she stepped inside the music hall, she was already being pounced by Claire who declared how beautiful she thought Sophie was as she gave her a big hub from behind and a kiss that left her lipstick imprint on Sophie’s cheek.

“Seriously, control yourself!” she scolded, although her lips were twitching into a smile. I knew that because I was with my face close to hers, me being the one wiping away the lipstick mark from her cheek with a bit of tissue paper.

“Oh, but I simply can’t resist seeing my woman all dressed up!” Claire returned, giving Sophie a pout as she leaned forward and wiggled her body, something that was utterly provocative, even more so than normal. She had a tight red dress on that did no attempts to hide her cleavage or curves, and the skirt had a slit showing off her right leg. Like Sophie, she had on some impressive stilettos, but hers were red too, same as the lipstick. Her hair was combed in a way that partially hid one side of her face and shoulder while the other side was pulled back, fully showing that side. She looked like a femme-fatale from a spy movie.

“Hi, girls!” a familiar voice called. It was Mathilda. She had a dress that, of course was, pink—a soft one at that, with a sleeveless off-shoulder top, and her feet were shod in white flat shoes. Her hair was the exact same as her sister, only, the sides were inverted, which was cute when seeing them standing side-by-side. “You two are looking great! You Violet in particular should consider making this your style.”

It is my style, I just never went about wearing stuff like this. That felt like discussing semantics, so I simply accepted the compliment and returned it just as Mrs. Fletcher joined in. She was dressed exactly like she always was, so yeah, imagine a proper, silver-haired, old lady that is flush with cash but knows the difference between flaunting the fact she has money versus having dignity and composure while being quiet about it.

“Greetings, my young friends,” she gracefully said, giving us all a warm smile. She then approached Sophie and took one of her hands between hers, giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze, still holding the same smile. “When I saw the roster of tonight’s performances and saw ‘Sophia Gardener’ in it, I just had to come watch it this year. Best of luck, sweety.”

“T-thank you, Mrs. Fletcher,” Sophie said, her voice showing some nervousness for the first time tonight. “I hope I live up to your expectations.”

“Oh, don’t worry about my expectations, sweet child,” Mrs. Fletcher laughed. “Just worry about your own, hmm? The rest will follow suit.”

“R-right!”

“Besides, I just know everything will go well. I can feel it in my bones.”

The way she said that together with the way she smiled and looked at Sophie… I always had the feeling that she knew more than she let out, but other than her having some sort of ability to see in the future or some other form of foresight, that simply couldn’t be true.

Then again, the girl hugging my arm as she glared at Claire—who had her arms and smile wide open, waiting for Abby to go give her hug, seemed to be able to read my mind, so having an old lady who could see into the future didn’t sound that out there.

“No way Claire!” Abby spat. “I can smell you all the way from here! Like cotton candy or chewing gum and something resinous!”

“Eh!? Is my perfume that strong today!?” Claire gasped, sounding legitimately shocked as she sniffed herself.

“It is quite hot tonight after all.”

“Paul!” Abby practically shouted, rushing to go tackle him, running past a Claire that for a second thought she was getting a hug after all, only to have her hopes dashed. I almost pitied her, were it not for how Abby’s nose would have been tormented otherwise. The hug was short-lived, as Abby pulled away immediately, rubbing her nose and snivelling. “Ach! You stink of her too!”

He crossed his arms over his chest, saying that there was no helping it since Claire is super clingy when he’s around. Claire laughed, fully admitting to that as she wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head on his shoulder.

He looked just like he did last time I saw it, and I mean it almost literally. The only differences were the lack of his cap, and the fact that he had an unstructured blazer on top of his t-shirt and jeans. That was literally it, he simply ditched the hat and put on a jacket to his getup.

“I almost didn’t recognise you without your cap,” Abby told him, still rubbing her nose and huffing.

“Not you too,” he said, his monotone voice showing just a bit of emotion. “I’ve been hearing that all day, even from my parents.”

“Pfft, hehe! Maybe for people, ‘Paul’ is the cap that wears the person?” Abby joked, not resisting the opportunity to poke fun at his frustration.

We moved away from the entrance to the large room where the performances would happen, Sophie having to go somewhere to prepare while Abby and Paul chatted away, him telling her about his university and his subjects.

“So, for how long will you stay?” Abby asked, her eyes sparkling with possibilities. “Is it the whole summer?”

“No, just a few more days,” he told her. “I’ll start an internship this summer at an oceanarium.”

“An oceanarium!? Awesome!” Abby said, speaking too loudly and earning a light tap on her hands from me to remind her that we weren’t at home. Do you think you can set me and Violet up with some free tickets? She shamelessly asked next, having turned down the volume of her voice a bit.

“Young ones, shh!” Mrs. Fletcher called out softly. “The recitals are about to start.”

They settled down, but before the room went almost completely dark, I heard Claire calling out to me.

“Before I forget dear, there’s a friend of mine who’s interested in meeting you after this,” she told me.

That was such a puzzling thing to say right after us being told that we needed to be quiet. I was burning up to ask all sorts of questions, like, who are they, what do they want, and how the hell do they know I even exist.

The first performance was a little boy, maybe eight years old, playing some sort of flute. Watching him perform made me feel a bit inadequate because he sounded absolutely brilliant playing the instrument even though he was clearly nervous. We did have to learn to play flute between fifth grade and seventh grade, but in those three years I was barely able to play ‘Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star’ without mixing up a note or two with the music sheet right in front of my eyes. What can I say, my lack of coordination goes beyond PE.

The following two performances were also impressive, although not as much as they were done by people around my age.

The fourth one however gave me a bit of a chill.

“Next up, we have Vanessa Penbrook playing Vieuxtemps Violin Concerto No. 5, First Movement.”

Hearing that name, it gave me pause, but what were the chances that it was the same Vanessa I knew? Not high, but looking at Abby, I saw in her eyes that it was the same person. Abby did know Vanessa’s last name, unlike me.

I was very happy that the room was dimly lit while the stage was flooded with light. That way, she couldn’t see my face in the crowd.

She walked up the stage with a simple blue dress and black shoes, her hair held back by a clip. She elegantly assumed position and started playing, and my God, did she know how to play. It was fast, dynamic, and I’m sure despite being an ignorant in musical performance, quite demanding of her technique, and yet I could tell she was dominating it and the room. It was honestly breathtaking seeing her play, always with the same focused expression, her movements elegant and efficient. By the end of it, I was applauding before even realising, and I’m not even mad about that. She definitely deserved the applause.

“Should I be worried?” Abby joked once all the clapping stopped. “Going from rivals to lovers?”

“You keep joking like that, and I’m having you sleep on the couch with just Mr. Sealy or Oliver,” I joked back.

After that, there was just one more performance between Vanessa and Sophie.

“Next up is Sophia Gardener with Fauré’s ‘Nocturne No. 6’. This is her first recital after a year of practice and having stopped playing for ten years, so give her a round of applause to her dedication and courage to return to playing music after so much time has passed.”

We applauded, both to show our support and as a thanks for the presenter’s kind words and introduction.

Then walked in Sophie, nervously smiling and thanking the crowd as she approached the piano that sat centre stage. As I watched her settle down and take a deep breath, it occurred to me that Vanessa might be aware that Abby and her family at least were there to watch, and that there was a possibility I was there too as I don’t think there are that many people with that family name in town and she might know Abby’s last name, but I set that aside when Sophie began playing. She was completely focused on her performance, her hands and feet being the only thing that moved noticeably. It was a warm melody with moments of sheer, aching beauty. As I watched her face as she performed, I couldn’t help but feel like it was a very introspective melody too. At first, it seemed to float and shift between melodies, but then the middle part was like it was built upon passion and turbulence. I found it to suit her. It was like her struggles over the past year of finding a purpose after being granted total freedom from her mum and the years lost being her mum’s perfect doll had found a voice to come out. It felt like she was pouring all that for the audience to hear.

When she was done, there were people standing as they applauded, having been impressed by her skills and hard work over the last year, me and the rest of her family and friends being part of that group.

We watched the rest of the performances that followed with a buzzing to meet her and congratulate on her successful recital.

She was beet-red when we got together, everyone of us congratulating her, Claire hugging Sophie around the shoulders from behind, bobbing the two side to side as Sophie rested her hands over her friend’s arms.

That moment was rudely interrupted by someone grabbing my hand and waist.

“Your body is absolutely perfect!” a girl older than me spoke, her nose almost touching mine. “I must have you! Please, be mine! Name any price!”

“I beg your pardon?!” I hissed as I pushed her away, barely holding the temptation of slapping her so not to create a scene.

“Claire, don’t just stand there, do something!” I heard Sophie bark at Claire.

I looked at them, my mind not able to catch up at all. I watched Claire sigh and reluctantly let go of Sophie and walk up to the girl who had just propositioned me.

“Jo, please make things clearer,” Claire said, putting a hand over the girl’s shoulder. “You’re getting my woman upset with me.”

“And stop calling me that in public!” Sophie ordered, tossing angry looks at our parents who couldn’t help but chuckle at her getting flustered by something that was a regular thing between them.

“Sorry about this Violet,” Claire began after winking at Sophie with a cheeky smile. “This is the friend I told you about. She wants you to model for her.”

“Huh!?”

“Nice meeting you Violet! I’m Josephine, but you can just call me Jo,” the girl said, extending a hand for me to shake. “Sorry about startling you, but when I saw you, I just couldn’t hold back my excitement. You see, I’m a fashionista in the making and I want to build up my portfolio during this summer and you’re just perfect! Exactly what I was looking for to a tee.”

My mind was still reeling from the shock of her approach. I introduced myself, and because it made me feel safer and more comfortable, I also introduced Abby and my relationship status with her.

“Oh, so you are already dating someone?” Josephine grumbled as we shook hands. “Why is it that whenever I find a girl that is just my type, they are already in a relationship?”

My alarm bells started ringing again, even more so than with Jessy.

Claire pointed out that, despite how I looked, I was still seventeen while she was going to become a third-year university student, so Josephine shouldn’t even think about it. I had chills when Josephine explained very matter-of-factly that, in our country, it’d be legal if we got involved as long as there was no coercion or monetary exchange. Seeing the face I was making, she immediately clarified that she wasn’t planning on doing something as she respects relationships and finds the law to be absurd in how it permitted that.

“Ahem, anyway,” she said, assuming a professional demeanour. “About my earlier proposition, let me clarify: I’d like to hire you for a couple of hours a day to put on some clothes I created and letting me take a few pictures. I’d also need to take some of your measurements to make some adjustments during our first session.”

“Sorry, but there’s no way I’m accepting that offer.”

“Why not?!” Josephine whined, completely abandoning her professional demeanour. “Weren’t you supposed to be having a hard time looking for a part-time job or something?”

I immediately glared at the two people who had to be responsible for her knowing that: Claire and Mathilda. Mathilda was pretending to dust off the back of Claire’s dress while her sister pretended to tidy up her half-sister’s hair. I then glanced at Abby and Sophie, the two of them getting the message. The four of them walked away to a more private corner, the Gardener sisters preparing a scolding to the other pair.

“Listen, erm, Josephine, I—”

“Just call me Jo.”

“…Josephine, truth is, I’m super shy and awkward around people I don’t know, and—”

“Yup, I can tell that much,” she giggled, making me even more aware of how much I was fidgeting.

“—and I hate getting my picture taken, so… I really must refuse.”

“Hmm… In that case, what if I don’t include your face in the picture?” she suggested, fully determined in persuading me. “I do have some hats to take pictures of, but those can be taken on a mannequin unlike the clothes. The clothes need a person wearing them to breathe life and motion into them, and like I said, you have the perfect build I’ve envisioned for my creations. Won’t you please at least give it some thought?”

“…”

“Your girlfriend can come too, of course! We might even get her included too. She’s really cute by the way, a real doll!”

I was in the middle of thanking her when she began fiddling with her wallet. I thought she was going to give me a card with her number or something, but imagine my shock when she pulled out a bunch of bills and started counting them before giving me an amount that got my head spinning. It’s not that it was a lot, but it easily covered the highest quote for the rings, making my eyes grow wide.

“I’ll even pay half of what I had in mind in advance if you want,” she told me as she held the money. “So, won’t you do it?”

I looked at my dad and William. They silently told me that it was up to me, but my Dad’s gaze also seemed to be encouraging me to accept and try something I never thought I would. Then, I fell a familiar warmth and squeeze around my arm. Abby had returned and was gathering the meaning of all this by our reactions, but mostly by my face.

“…You mean it when you say that Abby can come?”

“Of course!” she told me. “I’m sure she’ll love seeing you in the outfits I have planned out!”

Looking at Josephine’s dress, I had no doubts Abby would. Her dress was like buckets of purple, yellow and green got spilled and smeared over the fabric and her black hair with purple highlights was tied up in a bun on the left side of her head. She had thick, cat-eyed glasses on. If this was how she dressed herself… It was safe to say that Abby would have a field day.

I pondered for a bit whether I should accept it or not, but ultimately, I accepted it. I had started looking for part-time jobs too late into the summer, so all the good ones were taken, and beggars can’t be chooser.

I was practically hugged by Josephine once I said yes to her proposition, but she settled by rocking me back and forth by the shoulders before handing me the money and asking for my contact.

I was in still in a daze after she left when I thought I heard Mrs. Fletcher telling me something that would have changed everything if she had spoken up sooner.

“Sorry Mrs. Fletcher, could you repeat that?” I asked, hoping I had heard it wrong the first time.

“I said, I also have a part-time offer for you,” she told me with a wicked smile. “My B&B could use an extra pair of hands for Friday night dinner and over the weekend for serving breakfasts and doing some housekeeping. Margaret vouches for you, so I was looking forward to hiring you.”

My mouth slowly grew slack, Abby having to push it closed.

I looked at the wad of cash still in my hand and back to where Josephine had vanished repeatedly, wondering if I could still change my mind. That, of course, was futile as it went against my being to say no to something I had previously agreed to and crashing someone else’s expectations, so…

“Erm… Well… I guess I’m interested in hearing your offer,” I mumbled.