The Violinist: Chapter 11

The light flickered on, but I didn’t like it. I switched it off again, pouting. It still did not look right. I flicked it on again, but I groaned in disgust. The shadows produced by the lamp on my painting made it look bulgy and out of shape, and yet with the light off I could not decide what to do next. I was stuck.

            Denise Sheldon had taken over the backroom again in a matter of days, filling it up with drawings of certain patterns and beautiful sketches. Apparently, all that talk of eyes and seeing truth inside them brought Denise out of the funk and back into her painting life. She painted interpretations of what she could see in peoples’ eyes. Some of them were gloomy and some of them were very cheery. I especially liked the one of Eli’s eyes. She put his beautiful, endless, dreamlike eyes onto paper, and it turned out just right. I couldn’t have done it better myself.

            Well, Denise wasn’t heartless enough to kick me out of the backroom completely, so she let me have half the space until I finished my collection for the art showcase. Since all of this fresh creativity was flowing into the great artist’s mind, she was having difficulty keeping all of it at home. The backroom was there specifically for her messiness.

            “Em, could I ask that you please tone down that flickering? I’m sorry, but it’s making things complicated,” Denise objected, bent over her own project.

            “Sorry,” I sighed. “I can’t see in this light, but the lamp makes it worse.”

            “Take the window,” she said, absentmindedly waving at the space next to her.

            “But that’s your side,” I said, hesitantly.

            “What are we, five?” she smirked. “I can share.”

            I smiled and began moving my canvass when I heard a light knock on the open door behind us.

            “Coffee break, ladies?” said a familiar voice. I grinned, forgetting the canvass and turned around to see Eli holding a cup holder with three hot drinks in it, one of them labeled “tea”.

            “You’re my hero,” Denise said, rushing over to him.

            I took a step and heard the canvass crash to the floor behind me. I winced, but didn’t look back. Eli smiled and handed me the tea, mentioning something about my canvass falling. I wasn’t really listening because I was too busy looking at the suitcase that he left outside the room.

            “What’s that?” I asked, pointing at it as though it were a dead rat. I had a feeling that Eli was preparing for yet another journey far from home. The orchestra was still performing on tour, meaning that it was moving further and further away from California. Eli would make trips that would last up to two weeks at a time in performances out of the state.

            He smiled sheepishly, shrugging his shoulders. “It’s just San Francisco this time for a short two-nights-only show. I’ll be back before you know it,” he said.

            “That’s a long drive. Won’t you be lonely?” I asked.

            “I’m used to lonely,” he grinned.

I didn’t smile.

Eli rolled his eyes. “Come on, it’s no big deal. I do this all the time.”

“That doesn’t make it better,” I sighed. I hung my head in defeat and leaned into him. He put an arm around me and kissed the top of my head.

“Oh, Leah,” he chuckled. “You’re so dramatic.”

I pouted. “I am not.”

“Are too,” Denise interjected quietly.

Eli laughed. “Well, if you’re so worried about it, why don’t you come with me?” he suggested.

I had already considered that, of course. I went with him to his concerts all the time, but the longer trips I had to stay home for. Denise couldn’t run the studio alone; that was what she hired me for. Eli knew that.

“Yeah, just go with him,” Denise waved, not looking up from her painting. She was layering a shade of blue with a light green to bring out the shadows in the pattern. I was almost jealous of how good it was turning out.

“Don’t you need me here? He’ll be gone until Saturday afternoon at the earliest,” I reminded her. Denise, on occasion, would forget what day of the week it was.

“That’s fine. I could use a day or two off,” she said. “You go have fun in San Francisco.”

            My eyebrows raised in surprise. I was unsure of what to say.

            “Problem solved. You can stop complaining now,” Eli snickered.

            I hit him lightly on the shoulder. “Thank you, Miss Denise,” I laughed.

The Violinist: Chapter 10

“Well, maybe you should try apologizing to him,” Amber suggested sympathetically. She had raced over to my house the minute I called her and told her Eli and I had gotten into a fight. We were sitting on my couch eating mounds of chocolate ice cream while watching Sex and the City, the movie, but nothing we did helped me feel any better.

“You didn’t see his eyes,” I moaned. “He probably won’t even look at me again after that monstrous screaming match.”

“I still don’t understand what happened,” she said, her eyebrows furrowing. “Why did you fight again?”

“To tell you the truth, I didn’t know half of what I was saying. God, I’m so stupid!”

“Did you try calling him?” she asked, ignoring me. I had been making rash outbursts like this for the last hour and a half, so she had gotten used to it by now.

“He didn’t answer,” I groaned.

Amber handed me a cold, wet washcloth for my face to help relax me; or maybe it was to cover my mouth, I wasn’t sure which. I listened to the movie playing in the background and couldn’t help placing some of the characters into my own life.

I was Big, the man who left Carrie Bradshaw on her wedding day, but I regretted it. I had done something that was too reckless before I even realized how it would affect my significant other. I had broken Eli’s heart because I was a coward that he couldn’t trust, just like Carrie couldn’t trust Big.

“Just give him a few days to cool off, and he’ll come around. You’ll see,” Amber said. “That boy loves you too much to let you go over this.”

I sighed, rubbing my temples as the coolness of the cloth calmed my nerves. I could think of a million different paintings that would describe my mood at that moment, but most of them would have a gaping hole through the heart of them.

*****

            Work was stressful. I sat at my desk and stared at three customers arguing with each other about the affects of global warming. It was quite depressing because they weren’t even looking at the art and probably wouldn’t remember this place as providing positive energy. They stayed for about a half an hour before they left for coffee without purchasing anything.

            At about one o’clock a group of obnoxious teenagers entered the studio making a ruckus, and looked as though they were only there to make fun of the art. I sighed, watching them warily as they ran to each painting. I only prayed that they wouldn’t knock anything over. After about twenty minutes Denise finally had to ask them to leave.

            Other than that, the store was pretty much dead, and I only sold one small painting to a young woman at around four. I put my head in my hands, trying to cope with the stress and boredom that I was suffering. I wanted to go to the backroom and paint, but I was afraid that in my state of distress I would ruin the entire collection with sad themes that didn’t make sense.

It was nearly five o’clock on that long, miserable day when I heard someone enter the studio behind me as I messed around on the computer. I was pretending to enter in sales, but really I was just punching in fake numbers and then erasing them to make it seem like I was doing something.

I didn’t turn around to see who it was, but I said somberly, “Hi, welcome to Sheldon Arts.”

“Thanks,” mirrored the same sad tone in a man’s voice. My heart tightened, and I froze. I heard Eli walk over to Denise’s office, and out of the corner of my eye saw him lean against the doorframe and say a few words to her. He did not speak with his usual light air, but had a gloomy look about him. He almost looked extremely tired, like he wanted to shut himself up in his bedroom for a day or two.

I sighed sadly, and turned to watch his back as he talked to my boss. She handed him something, a small key I thought it was, and gave him instructions for a certain job. He nodded and turned around abruptly, catching my eye.

I inhaled too quickly and spit flew down my throat into my lungs. I began gagging reflexively and my choked coughs made me sound like a dying hyena. I felt like an utter moron. Eli quickly turned his face away and snuck into Denise’s office. He returned a few seconds later holding a water bottle from her refrigerator and held it out to me. I could tell that he was trying with extreme difficulty not to laugh. The corners of his mouth twitched and the light had returned to his eyes which had so suddenly disappeared.

Then, as quickly as he had come, Eli turned to the door to leave.

“Eli,” I said feebly in between a swallow of water. He stopped in the doorway and sighed, listening. “Can we talk?”

He turned his head to look at me. His eyes were sincere, and searched for trust behind mine. I couldn’t take being away from him any longer. I had to prove that he could trust me again.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Why don’t you come by after work? You can let yourself in.”

With that, Eli took his leave into the brisk, autumn air.

I sat and watched the place where he stood. The clouds darkened outside through the windows. What an odd exchange that had been.

Another dreadfully long hour passed and Denise switched off the light in her office. She appeared through the door, jacket in hand, and looked about ready to leave. She strolled over to my desk and said, “I guess you can go ahead and close, Em. It doesn’t look like we’ll be seeing any more customers tonight.”

I nodded and began shutting down my computer and gathering my things together, all the while feeling Denise’s eyes burning a hole in my back. After a minute of her unchanging stance from beside me, I decided to stop and look at her. She smiled, but it didn’t seem like she was all there, like she was missing a piece of her.

“Miss Denise,” I began, trying to think of some form of conversation, “Do you think that people know when you’re telling the truth by looking into your eyes?”

“Well, I suppose,” she thought, “but perhaps the feelings being conveyed through the iris can show the heart what the answer is.”

And then she gasped, as if a sudden realization of something had hit her like a pound of bricks. I grin lit up her face, one I had not seen in months, and she clapped her hands together happily.

“You’ll have to excuse me, Em, but I’ve got something to paint,” she piped, hastening out the door and off to her house. I laughed with joy and surprise. Denise had gotten her groove back.

After I locked up the studio, I got into my old blue Mustang and made my way to Eli’s apartment. I didn’t really know what I was going to say and I didn’t try to plan it. I wanted him to believe that every word that came from my mouth was from my heart, and that I meant it.

I got out my keys from my purse pocket and rifled through them until I found the one to Eli’s house. He had given it to me for our four month anniversary about three weeks before.

I fumbled with it in the door lock, and finally conquered my shaking hands long enough to get inside. I closed the door behind me, loudly enough to let him know that I was there, and hung my jacket on the coat rack in the entrance. Then, I walked into the living room to find Eli standing next to the television while tuning a violin. He didn’t look up when I entered, nor did he speak.

I stood there for a moment and watched him work until I realized that he wasn’t going to stop anytime soon. It wasn’t his violin that he was tuning, but a very old one that looked like he had gotten out of an attic. It was very rusty and didn’t sound right, but Eli was persistent.

“I’m sorry,” I said quietly during an interval of complete silence. He continued with what he was doing, almost as if he was ignoring me. “It was wrong of me to snoop in your business and I understand if you never trust me again. I just want you to know that I never meant to hurt you, and I take back everything I said. I said those things in the heat of the moment, but I didn’t mean them.”

He nodded, and fingered with his strings. “Thank you,” he said sincerely, though he continued not to look at me. That was all he said, and it didn’t seem like he was going to speak again.

“Eli…” I hesitated. I hated this distance between us. There was a barrier that separated me from him and him from me. The tense feeling in my heart did not ease even after I apologized. There was something else I needed to tell him. “The thing is, normally I wouldn’t be brave enough to face someone after a fight like we had. Normally, I would give up and lose that person… but I couldn’t do that with you. Even though we’ve only known each other for about six months and five of those have been in a serious relationship, I couldn’t forgive myself for letting you go. The reason for that is… well, I think I might love you.”

He froze, his eyes widening. He turned to look at me, but his face did not look angry. He was stunned. “What?” he asked, his voice weak.

I smiled sheepishly. “Nobody has ever made me feel the way you do,” I shrugged. “Go figure.”

He set down the ancient violin on the coffee table, and took a few steps closer to me. “But how could you ever love me?” he asked, an unbelieving look on his face. “I lied to you, I kept secrets from you, and I yelled at you about something you didn’t even understand. You want to be with that kind of man?”

I was taken aback. Eli wasn’t ignoring me because he was mad at me; he was ignoring me because he was mad at himself. He was angry that he yelled at me, and he felt like he didn’t deserve me anymore.

“But, you had good reason,” I protested. “I mean, obviously you don’t like talking about your past. I should’ve let you tell me on your own.”

Eli shook his head. “You were right. I should have just told you. I knew you’d want answers and eventually you would ask questions.”

At that point I couldn’t believe how everything had turned itself around. I had become the victim in the situation somehow.

“I’m sorry, Leah,” he said. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth. Will you forgive me?”

“Only if you forgive me,” I told him.

“Deal,” he agreed, a small smile on his lips.

His eyes glowed again, returning to their amused state for a moment. Unfortunately, the happiness only lasted a short time before it returned, once again, to a more serious atmosphere. Eli sat me down on the couch beside him and licked his lips nervously.

He closed his eyes before he spoke and sucked in a deep breath. “You know that when I was sixteen I was kicked out of my dad’s house,” Eli said slowly.

“Yes,” I replied.

He opened his eyes. “Well, I didn’t get into a car accident that night. I went to the hospital for a different reason.”

I felt my stomach churn with uneasiness. Where was this going?

“My father was an alcoholic, so he was always in a bad state, always dangerous. Half the time I spent living with him, he spent hurting me.”

“What do you mean by hurting?” I asked, immediately concerned. “He didn’t… physically hurt you, did he?”

Eli paused and looked at me hesitantly. Then, he slowly began to nod his head.

I covered my mouth with my hand, unable to speak. Eli took this as the opportunity to continue.

“One day, when I was sixteen, I got fed up and threw all of his liquor bottles out on the front lawn. Most of them broke open, which made easier for me to set them on fire. Well, when Dad saw this, of course he freaked out. I think he was so mad that he turned purple,” he snorted. There was a look of smugness of Eli’s face as he explained how he retaliated against his father. It was as if he was reliving the moment he had blocked out of his memory.

“So,” he continued, “Daddy took the little piss off, me, down to the cellar where no one would hear.” My heart twisted with anxiety. He was scaring me. “He tied me up, and… did this…” Eli stopped speaking, and started to unbutton his shirt. My breathing had turned shallow, and began to quicken as he revealed to me what was on his chest.

My heart sped up and my stomach lurched as I beheld two huge ferocious-looking scars that ran from the top of Eli’s left shoulder across his torso and wrapped around his right side below his ribs. They were bumpy and jagged; painful even to look at.

“He, um… used a pocket knife,” he said quietly. “I thought I was going to die that day, but for some reason my dad let me go. I ran to my neighbor’s house and told them I had been in a car accident, and they called an ambulance. Of course, there was no such car wreck to be found, but I didn’t tell anyone what really happened.”

“Why?” I murmured.

He looked at me with a sad smile, and then I understood.

“Because you still loved him,” I said, answering my own question.

He began to button up his shirt again and nodded slowly. “I guess I always hoped he was going to walk in and tell me that he actually cared, or that he appreciated me. Well, that was a waste.”

I buried my face in my hands. I couldn’t take it anymore. How could this happen to someone? It was downright merciless.

“What is it?” Eli asked.

“It’s not fair,” I sputtered. “You’re so kind. Why did this happen to you?”

He stopped, considering that. Whatever he had been thinking of suddenly washed a wave of realization over him about how harsh his life had really been. “I don’t know,” he said. He got up from the couch and stood a few feet away from me. I watched him, wiping my eyes on my sleeve.

He looked down at his hands, muttering, “I never really thought about it like that.”

“Well, if it makes a difference,” I began, “I’m glad you turned out like you did.”

Eli turned to me and smiled. “I guess I did alright, huh?”

I nodded. “Better than alright.”

He paused, watching me silently. His face was very concentrated, but he wore an amused smile.

“What?” I asked.

“Well… I think I just fell in love with you. Go figure.”

The Violinist: Chapter 9

Thanksgiving weekend ended quicker than I had wanted it to. We stayed in Maine the correct amount of days, but they seemed to fly by at extreme speed. The dread of telling Eli was hastening every moment of the day. I could barely enjoy any of the dinner that Thursday night because of my stomach lurching with every glance Eli gave me.

            Even the trip home, with its long hours and dreadful boredom, seemed to pass within minutes in my despairing thoughts. Eli fell asleep for most of the plane ride which eased the pain of having to look at him with a fake smile.

            I squeezed his hand, and whispered, “I’m sorry,” while he slept soundly. “Just remember that.”

*****

            The taxi pulled up to my house and halted to a stop at the sidewalk. Everything was moving in slow motion. I got out of the car and watched the door swish closed behind me. My shoes hit the pavement slower and slower as I approached the house. Eli had led the way and placed my luggage in the living room while I followed behind stiffly.  He was going to stay for a moment or two and then take his car home and unpack. It was in those few moments when I was going to have to tell him. If I didn’t tell him then, I wasn’t going to tell him at all.

            “Eli,” I said, my voice shaking. “I need to… talk to you about something.”

            He didn’t say anything, but sat down on the couch and looked at me in anticipation. “Do you?” he asked, folding his arms over his chest.

            I stopped, looking at him strangely. “Huh?”

            “I know what you’re going to say, and I guess I’m glad you finally decided to come out with it.”

            My heart increased its beat. I didn’t speak.

            “Denise called me that afternoon and let me know that she told you,” Eli said, looking at the ground.

            “Oh,” I mumbled. I stood there awkwardly, biting my tongue for being such an idiot. Of course Denise told him already. She wouldn’t keep something like that from him, and probably didn’t expect me to either.

            “Why didn’t you just ask me about it?” Eli asked, looking me in the eyes.

            “Are you serious?” I said, speaking finally.

            Eli’s eyes widened in astonishment.

            “You hate talking about your family!” I exclaimed. “Every time I even try to bring it up, you always change the subject! What was I supposed to do?!” Where was all of this coming from? This was not what I meant to say.

            “I may not like talking about it, but I would have told you!” Eli yelled back. “You didn’t have to go sneaking around for answers!”

            “Okay, I just don’t understand what was so bad about it that you couldn’t even tell me! I know it was painful and everything, but was it horrible enough that you had to keep something that happened eight years ago all to yourself? Surely, you got over being kicked out of your father’s house by now.”

            “Don’t even fucking pretend that you know anything about me! Because you don’t! You don’t know a thing!” Eli roared. I had never seen him so furious before, and the anger behind his eyes was beginning to scare me.

            “There you go with the secrets again!” I screamed. “Why do you care so much that I know?! I thought honesty was the best policy!”

            “BECAUSE THAT’S NOT WHAT HAPPENED! I lied! I lied to everyone! There, happy now?!”  He was breathing hard, staring at me ferociously. We were both quiet, and it suddenly occurred to me that there was more to the story that I did not know. Not even Denise knew.

Eli grimaced and stormed out of the house, leaving me standing there with my mouth hanging open in surprise. He slammed the door behind him, and I heard his car engine roar to life in the driveway. I sunk to my knees as I listened to the vehicle drive away down the street.

“What have I done?” I asked to no one. I hated myself. Eli knew the whole time, and I had been such a coward. How could I have said those things? I had barely known anything about what I was saying, and I blew it. He would never talk to me again.

The Violinist: Chapter 8

“Miss Denise?” I asked, poking my head into her office the next afternoon. She was entering in shipments into her computer, and paused to spin around in her chair to face me.

            “Yes, Em?” she replied. She seemed very glum that day, or maybe it was just boredom. Denise had gone all these months without any good artwork. Her ‘painter’s block’ had not yet worn off, and she had lost several sales. She had not made nearly as much money as she had made that month when she had created my favorite display.

            “Do you maybe have a small stool I could borrow? I can’t reach the top of my canvass very well, and I’m trying not to smear the paint on my arm,” I explained.

            “I’m afraid I don’t, but I can bring one for you tomorrow from home. I haven’t had to use it in awhile,” she sighed. I was astonished at how much older Denise looked in these past few months. It was as if the loss of creativity had taken the life right out of her.

            “Are you alright, Miss Denise?” I asked solemnly.

            “I’ve been better,” she nodded, “but I am happy to see you doing so well. Your work is quite inspiring. You seem much happier lately.”

            “I think a lot of that has to do with Eli,” I said, smiling.

            “Oh, I don’t doubt that,” she laughed. “I think there is something about him that gives you the strength to be yourself. He seems to help you realize who you are.”

            I closed my eyes in thought, thinking about how right she was. Before I had locked myself inside a cage, and I would not express who I was. Ever since Eli arrived he had been picking the lock to my existence. He was setting me free in a way.

            “There are still things I don’t understand about him,” I said, opening my eyes. “He seems like the perfect man, and yet there is something missing.”

            “Yes, that makes sense,” Denise said. “He isn’t very open about his past, is he?”

            “No, he’s never really talked about his past, or his family.”

            Denise nodded. “Well, for one thing his family was very broken. He didn’t grow up in an average home like the other kids.”

            I cocked my head to the side. I felt invasive for hearing it from Denise, but I felt like Eli was never going to tell me.

            “His mother left when he was five, and she never came back,” she began. “The woman left her son with a wretch of a father. He was an alcoholic and he didn’t care about anything except for his stupid welfare check and a bottle of vodka. Anyway, he kicked Eli out of the house when he was only sixteen years old for some reason he won’t tell me. That same night Eli got in a car accident that left two huge gashes in his chest, and he spent the next month and a half in the hospital. After that, he lived with me until he was about eighteen and won a scholarship to Julliard music school.”

            I stared, my eyes wide, at Denise. I was in shock. “Wow,” I whispered.

            “I know,” she said. “Such a great kid like Eli would never make you think he had a background like that.”

            “But he’s so kind,” I said, my heart in my throat. “Why is he like that? Why isn’t he mean and hardened?”

            “I honestly couldn’t tell you,” she smiled. “He’s just… different. He loves different.”

*****

            I didn’t have the nerve to confront Eli about what Denise had told me… at least, not yet. Thanksgiving was a few days away and I didn’t have the heart to bring up a touchy subject that would cause drama for the entire weekend. This was supposed to be fun and relaxing, and Eli wasn’t going to enjoy the fact that I knew something he didn’t want me to know.

            Our trip to Maine took a total of seven hours, the first six being from the flight, and the one other from driving to the house an hour away from the airport. Overall, we were completely drained by the time we arrived on Wednesday morning after a red eye flight.

            “Excuse me,” said the taxi driver, trying to rouse us from our sleep in the backseat. I had my head rested on Eli’s shoulder, and his face was pressed against the window, leaving a foggy blob on the glass from his breath.

            We both yawned and stretched tiredly, enduring the first horrid minutes of jet-lag. I blinked, adjusting my vision, and looked outside to see that we were almost around the corner to my parents’ house. The wind shook the trees wildly, and I instantly regreted not grabbing a jacket out of my suitcase at the airport. I had forgotten that Maine weather was significantly different than California weather.

            “Thank you, sir,” I mumbled unenthusiastically as I paid the taxi driver while Eli unloaded the luggage from the trunk. “You have a good day, now.”

            “Aunt Leah!” called a familiar voice from the front porch of the house. I looked up to see my sister’s daughter running frantically across the front lawn to see me. Her curly blonde pig-tails bounced against her shoulders with every step she took, and her brown eyes were big with excitement.

            “Hi, Laurel!” I grinned, remembering the sweet five-year-old’s face. I embraced her in a tight hug, letting her squeeze me as hard as she could. “My goodness you have grown nearly six feet since I last saw you.”

            “No, I haven’t,” she giggled. “I’m still smaller than you, see?”

            “Oh yes, now I see,” I smiled, playing along. Eli just watched with an amused look on his face.

            “Aunt Leah, who is he?” Laurel asked, pointing at Eli.

            “Oh, this is my boyfr– … I mean friend,” I said, catching myself. I had forgotten that all boys have cooties until about fifth grade. “Eli this is my niece, Laurel.”

            “Hello,” he said casually, waving in a friendly manner.

            “He looks very tall,” Laurel said, still speaking to me. “Is he bad?”

            “No,” I laughed. “Eli is a very nice friend. Now, where is James?”

            James was Laurel’s three-year-old brother who did not know me quite as well as she did. In fact, James always gave me the stink eye whenever I came around. I used to think that it had something to do with the fact that my hair was brown instead of blonde like my sister’s, but he seemed to like my brunette father just fine. Apparently, there was just something wrong with me.

            My mother and father appeared in the doorway of the house and my sister trotted down the porch steps to greet us.

            “Hi Leah, how are you?” Diana asked wrapping her arms around me uneasily. She was pregnant again, and her huge stomach made it difficult to give good hugs.

            “I’m great, thanks,” I replied. “How are you and the family?”

            “Oh, honey, don’t even get me started,” she groaned. “Dyl’s big promotion is coming up so he’s been working late every night for the past couple of weeks. It’s just been me at home with the kids all day, and you can imagine what that’s like.”

            I smiled sympathetically and waved to James as he gripped my father’s leg in the doorway. The little boy stuck his tongue out at me, devilishly. I grimaced.

            After we successfully got our luggage into the house, I introduced Eli to my family. My mother and father seemed really impressed with his manner and politeness, and my sister mouthed the words, “Oh my God,” to me after taking a good look at his gorgeous face. Dylan, Diana’s husband, was forced to carry the screaming James out of the room once he caught sight of Eli. I was quite relieved to know that I wasn’t the only one the little boy hated.

            My brother, Roy, had joined us for drinks once we settled in and introduced Eli and I to his partner, Paul. Paul was rather quiet, but Roy did enough talking to accommodate for the both of them.

            I was happy that Eli seemed comfortable with my family. He looked relaxed, as though he had been a part of this family for years.

            “So, Eli,” Roy says, leaning towards us across the coffee table. He takes a long swig of his wine before he says, “Leah tells us you’re a musician.”

            “Oh, yeah,” Eli says, turning slightly pink. “She mentioned that, did she?”

            “She says you play the violin,” my mother added. “And quite well I hear.”

            “He’s excellent,” I told them. Eli beamed.

            “You should play something for us,” Roy suggested. Paul raised his eyebrows and nodded.

            “Did you bring your instrument?” asked my father. He had been studying Eli since the moment we arrived, making absolutely sure that his youngest daughter was in good hands.

            “I’m afraid I didn’t,” Eli said, frowning. “I didn’t think I would need to practice, so I left it at home.”

            “That’s too bad,” Diana said. “We would have liked to hear it.”

            It was then that I decided to jump in and say that I had snuck Eli’s violin into my suitcase to end everyone’s disappointment. Even he was surprised.

            After dinner, we all gathered in the family room and listened to Eli play. I could see almost every one of my relatives faces melting into awe as they heard the sound of pure pleasure. At first, he played two songs that he knew from his orchestra’s score, and then he invited my family to give requests because he couldn’t think of anything else to play.

            “I don’t really know what you like to listen to, but I do know a lot of songs,” he explained.

            “You can play any song we ask?” my mother inquired. “Don’t you need to learn the notes first?”

            “Try me,” he challenged.

            “I got one,” Roy slurred. He had had about six full glasses of wine and he was becoming a little unstable. I shook my head and smiled. Knowing my brother’s personality, he was bound to choose a song by Lady Gaga or one of his favorite eighties bands. “Play ‘Clocks’, by Coldplay,” he said, surprising all of us. I was wrong.

            “I love that song,” Eli commented quietly as he began pulling the bow across the strings in a manner he already knew of.

            Once he finished, I decided to test Eli with something I knew he had not played before. He raised his eyebrows and smirked when he heard the name of the song. Then he looked at the strings beneath his fingers and pretended to play notes that we couldn’t hear. He was running them through his head before he performed them to us. It took him a minute, but he finally got it down and played it with a very concentrated look on his face. After the first chorus, Eli got the hang of it and relaxed. We all applauded at the end. Eli bowed with an embarrassed smile on his lips.

            “You’re too kind,” he laughed.

*****

            “Where in the world did you find that guy?” Diana asked, joining me on the back porch after everyone had settled down to go to bed. I had gone out there to look at the stars because I wasn’t quite sleepy enough yet. Eli had been in the bathroom taking a shower, giving me an opportunity to seek alone time.

            “At an ice cream parlor,” I joked. “Do you really like him?”

            “Hun, if there was one man in existence that was perfect for you, it’s him. He adores you,” she said.

            I grinned. “You really think so?”

            “I can tell by the way he looks at you,” my sister winked. “Boy, there sure aren’t enough men like him in the world.”

            I sighed. “I’m just not sure that I’m right for him, though. I mean, he’s got all this stuff that he’s not telling me, and I’m just afraid that he doesn’t trust me.”

            “Well, Leah, you’ve only known him for about five months, and if he’s got some dark past then maybe he’s just waiting for the right time to share that with you. It’s obviously not something he enjoys talking about, so when he does tell you, you will know it will mean a lot.”

            I felt the weight of guilt squeeze my chest painfully, and I heard myself ask, “What if I already know?”

            “What do you mean?”

            “I mean, his old guardian told me what happened to him. She’s my boss, and I kind of asked her, but Eli doesn’t know that I know.”

            Diana made a face. “I hate to tell you this, but that’s not good. You have to tell him. You don’t want him finding out from Denise, and then coming home calling you an untrustworthy coward.”

            I buried my face in my hands. “I just feel so bad about it. It’s a lot worse than I thought it was going to be, and I have no idea how he is going to react. I’ve never seen him mad before.”

            “The sooner you tell him, the less mad he will be,” Diana pointed out. “Honesty is one of the most important qualities of a relationship.”    

            “You’re right,” I agreed. “I’ll tell him as soon as we get home.”

The Violinist: Chapter 7

             There I sat in the backroom of Denise’s studio painting my own work for the New York showcase with my arms covered with paint, wearing a stained shirt. I had completed about two pieces already that had been pretty good, but now it was time for the main focus of the collection. I was working on a larger version of my tree that I still hadn’t mastered yet. Instead of using a paintbrush for this one, I tried using only my hands like kindergarteners do for finger-painting. I had started with the sun-set in the background, using only what I seen from memory to mimic the colors in the sky. It seemed to be working so far.

            I reached for the top of the canvass, standing on my tip-toes to mesh the blue and purple along edges, when suddenly I felt someone’s arms wrap around my waist tightly and swing me away from my work. Eli spun me around to face him and kissed me passionately.

            “Eli,” I breathed, pushed him back with my elbows. I was trying not to get paint on him. “Not here!”

            “Aw, come on, Denise is in her office,” he whispered irresistibly against my neck.

            “Does she even know you’re here?” I asked quietly, struggling to get free.

            He shrugged, returning to my lips. As much as I was enjoying this, I did not want my boss walking in on me making out with my boyfriend when I was supposed to be working. The backroom was not made for that purpose.

            “Eli, stop,” I laughed. “You’re going to get me in trouble.”

            “I’ll tell her it was my fault,” he murmured, not giving in.

            It was hopeless. I did the only thing I could possibly think off, and wiped paint on his nose with my finger. He jerked back in surprise.

            “You asked for it,” I said.

            His eyes narrowed and he said with a sly smile, “This isn’t over.” He wiped the smudge of blue from his face with his hand and backed out of the room mysteriously. I was quite puzzled.

            “Sorry,” I said sarcastically.

            It had been about four months since that first night in July when Eli had revealed to me that he was the world’s greatest musician. He and I had been seeing each other ever since then, and everything about him was amazing. I couldn’t find one flaw, which was starting to worry me. In any case, he made me happy, and he was always there for me. I almost felt as though I loved him, but it was too soon to say.

            I found out that Eli was not close with any of his immediate family. In fact, he often referred to family members as players in the orchestra, or Denise. He never told me about his parents, only that he didn’t have any, and there were no brothers or sisters in the equation either. As far as I knew, he felt very lonely sometimes.

            Mr. Masters and Mr. Spalding had gotten back to me about the contest, and even after my little spill backstage, they were still willing to sponsor me. I had actually grown quite fond of them stopping by the studio and examining my work from time to time. Denise also seemed pleased with their appearances; especially of Mr. Spalding’s.

            I had until about mid-January to finish up my collection for the art showcase, and then it was off to New York City to present my display to the judges. Every time Eli caught me painting in my living room or in the driveway when he arrived, he told me I was going to win. He would often say, “That contest is yours, so just keep going.” I was starting to appreciate it more when people complimented my work. I would smile and say thank you instead of getting sick or fainting.

            Eli’s work took him all over the state. He had shows every two weeks that performed for five days in a row. He had taken me with him to different parts of Los Angeles, and once played at the El Capitan Theatre in Hollywood. I felt so famous whenever I went with him to these kinds of events, but no matter how many times I had heard the songs before, I never missed a show. I loved Eli’s music, and I wasn’t the only one. Thousands of people came from everywhere just to listen to the heavenly sounds of the orchestra.

            By that time, I had gotten used to the cameras and newscasters that would wait outside for my boyfriend after the show. He would try to avoid them most of the time, but occasionally he said a few words to the interviewers. Usually, he was just trying to help keep me away from the spotlight so that I wouldn’t get swarmed if I was seen at another musical production.

I sat on Eli’s couch with a small bottle of purple nail polish and painted little flowers on my toes. The apartment was very big compared to my house, and I spent most of my time there when I wasn’t working. On the coffee table next to the couch sat my sketchpad and a few of Eli’s composition notes. The television was on some cooking channel, but it was muted so that I could hear the music coming from upstairs. Eli was practicing in his room with the door closed even though his violin could be heard clearly throughout the entire house. I liked to listen while I painted or sketched at his apartment.

After I finished painting my toes, I hopped off the couch and crossed the living room to the bottom of the stairs. I figured this was the best time to ask if I was going to invite him to come with me.

“Hey, Babe?” I yelled up the stairs at the closed door. The song quitted in mid-note and I heard Eli shuffle around before opening the door and poking his head out.

“Yeah?” he asked.

“You know Thanksgiving is in a couple of weeks, right?”

“Yes,” he replied. “Why?”

“Well, my parents called the other night and were wondering if I wanted to come home to Maine for the weekend and spend it with them. My brother and sister are going to be there as well, so I asked if I could bring you. They said it sounds great, that is, if you wanted to come,” I explained.

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. “You want me to meet your family?”

“No, I just want to bring you so you can hide in the closet,” I said sarcastically. “Of course I do. I’m pretty sure they want to meet you, too.”

He grinned. “I’d like that.”

“You don’t mind flying all the way across the country?”

“I do it all the time,” he nodded.

I smiled. “My brother is going to be so jealous.”

“Brother?” he asked in confusion. “Don’t you mean your sister?”

“Oh no, Diana’s married. Didn’t I tell you that my brother is gay? He has a weakness for musicians.”

“Guess it slipped your mind,” he snorted.

“I’m only kidding,” I laughed. “Besides, his partner is going to be there.”

“Even better,” he joked.

“Be nice.”

The Violinist: Chapter 6

The song ended, and the audience erupted into screams, cheers, and claps. Eli looked very proud up there on that stage. It was almost as if he belonged there; like it was his home.

After his standing ovation from the entire crowd, Eli took a low bow and returned to his seat among the other players. He continued to play other songs with the band, occasionally having a small solo among the rest, but none of the other ten violinists beside him could play as remarkably. He even looked more elegant than the rest the way he dragged his bow along the strings. I smiled, my heart filling with a warmth I had never felt before. Eli was extraordinary. He was amazing.

After the show, I found Eli backstage speaking to a couple of the gentlemen who played with him that night. He looked very excited, and was gesticulating with his hands a lot. I tried to stand off to the side to let him finish his conversation, but he caught my eye and quickly waved me over.

“This is her,” I heard him say to the others as I approached. I smiled shyly when I realized that he had been talking about me. “Leah, this is Harvey Masters and Jake Spalding. They’ve seen your artwork in my apartment and they wanted to speak to you.”

“Oh!” I said indifferently. “Wow, okay. Hello, I’m Emelia Young. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“The pleasure is ours,” said Mr. Masters. “To be such a talented artist at your age is quite an accomplishment. I am quite surprised that you do not have your own line of work.”

“Yes,” agreed Mr. Spalding. “Being art collectors ourselves, we see your talent, and I can tell you now that you will go very far Ms. Young.”

I was astonished. “Thank you! Thank you so much. I’m so honored,” I said, my head spinning. My legs had started to feel wobbly.

“Anyway, we wanted to tell you that there is going to be a big showcase in New York City for young aspiring artists like yourself. The winner will be awarded the grand prize of one-hundred thousand dollars and their own brand new art studio right there in the big city,” explained Mr. Spalding.

“And, since every artist needs a sponsor, we were wondering if you might give us the pleasure in being your sponsor,” said Mr. Masters. “That is if, of course, you would like to enter.”

My vision had gone fuzzy, and I couldn’t think properly. Was this the opportunity I had been waiting for? I leaned forward slightly before swaying backwards and losing my balance. The next thing I knew everything had gone black.

*****

“I still can’t believe you fainted,” Eli smirked.

“Oh, shut up already,” I snapped. “You were the one who said it wasn’t that bad.”

“It would have been if I hadn’t caught you. You could have hit your head pretty hard. You’re lucky nobody called an ambulance,” he chuckled. We were in the car driving back to my place, and I held an ice pack to my forehead while whimpering about how mortified I was.

Apparently, Eli had “saved me” when I lost all my senses, and he had lowered me onto the floor. I was only out for about fifteen seconds before I woke up to a crowd of people looking at me with worried looks on their faces.

“Now I bet those two guys probably never want to see me again. I ruined everything,” I mumbled.

“Oh, come on, don’t talk like that,” he sympathized. “Just because you blacked out it doesn’t change their opinions on your artwork.”

“Well, if that wasn’t enough, news had to get to those stupid paparazzi about the master musician’s new girlfriend.” I put my face in my hands. Why me?

“The cutest girlfriend ever,” he joked. “Hey don’t worry, that’s just newspaper headlines. It’s not like I’m famous or anything.”

“You weren’t there! You didn’t see all those flashing cameras,” I accused.

“Actually, I’m pretty sure I was right behind you the whole time.”

“Yeah, well I’m sensitive to light right now, so it’s far worse for me.”

Eli shook his head, smirking. He looked straight ahead, and let me blow off my steam. It wasn’t until then that I realized I hadn’t even brought up the whole violin thing.

“And what the hell was that?!” I screeched, breaking the silence.

Eli jumped, and served slightly. “What?!” he asked.

“That violin playing! When were you going to tell me you’re the lead violinist in a major nation-wide orchestra?”

“Oh, that,” he mumbled. “Well, I don’t know. Most girls don’t like classical music. They think violins are… well, feminine.”

“Yeah, as if a girl could ever learn to play like that. Nobody can learn that. You’re in a league of your own, buddy,” I told him.

He smiled when I said this. “I hoped you’d say something like that.”

We cruised around the corner towards my house, my heart sinking with every foot we got closer. I didn’t want the night to be over yet. I wanted to talk to Eli forever, but I knew that wasn’t going to happen. I sighed and squished the ice pack over my eyes.

The coolness of the ice on my face helped me calm down. I let myself unwind a little and just relax into the soft leather seat of the car. I felt Eli’s hand reach over and take mine, gently stroking it with his thumb. My heart skipped a beat.
“We’re here,” he said, a hint of sadness in his voice as we slowed to a stop. He killed the motor and stepped out of the car to help me on my side. After opening the door, he made sure that I stood up slowly and balanced myself before I started moving. I thought he was being a little too overprotective. I can walk to my house just fine, I thought grumpily, but I guess this is kind of nice.

Eli walked me to the porch to say goodnight, and I hesitated before entering. “I had a really good time tonight,” I smiled, “aside from the fainting, of course.”

“Of course,” he grinned.

We were both quiet then, simply looking each other in the eyes. Eli had a small smile on his lips, and his gaze was soft and warm. He began to lean forward slightly, putting his hand behind my neck. I closed my eyes in anticipation.
I felt Eli’s lips press against mine gently, and immediately I felt like I was in another world. My heart was pounding in my chest, and I finally allowed myself to admit that I had fallen in love with Eli. This was the moment that I had discovered that the right man really was out there, and I was kissing him. I had found him.

Eli pulled away, and I exhaled slowly. He looked at me and grinned.

“So, uh…” I mumbled, lost for words. I was trying to suppress a laugh.

“I’ll call you,” he chuckled. “Have a good night, Emelia Jane. Get some rest”

“Goodnight,” I giggled, biting my thumbnail like a junior high school girl. I ran into the house before Eli even reached his car, and grabbed the phone. I snatched the phone dialed Amber’s number regardless of the fact that it was twelve-thirty that night.

“Hello?” Amber asked grumpily. I had woke her up.

“You are never going to believe this!” I yelled into the receiver.

“Damn it, Leah, this had better be important!”

“Oh, it is,” I grinned. “This is like the mother of all things important! I think the violin is my new favorite instrument.”

The Violinist: Chapter 5

I closed my eyes. I was trying to lose myself in the moment. I pictured everything in my mind exactly the way I wanted it. I couldn’t mess this one up. I put this off for too long, so it was time to start again.

            I glared at my blank canvass for about twenty minutes, concentrating. This was one of the hardest paintings I had ever tried to master. The tree, with its city and mountains glowing beautifully behind it, mocked my painting abilities. I had tried to paint my tree about eight times in the past, working to include all of the features and background that I could, but I could never get it right. I always messed up on something. Finally, I had given up on it, and didn’t try for a few months. It was on this day, however, that I felt I could master it.

            I sucked in one huge breath and stepped up to my canvass, lucky paintbrush in hand. Carefully, I dipped the brush into the first color, and steadily made a stroke on the paper. It looked good, so I sighed in relief. The hardest part was over. I kept working for about an hour until it started getting too dark for me to continue. The rays of the sun had disappeared from the landscape, making it impossible to see the details in the mountain. After packing everything up, I headed home and fell asleep on the couch.

I dreamt of Eli that night. He was very upset, and was yelling with extreme malice at someone. Every time I tried to get him to stop, he just kept yelling louder and louder. It wasn’t until I tried listening to what he was saying that I realized he was yelling at me. He was telling me to get away. He didn’t want me to come too close to him. He feared me.

            I took a step back, but Eli didn’t like that either. “Come back!” he yelled. I came towards him again, but he got even angrier. “Leave me!” he said. I was so confused, but I kept doing what he asked because he frightened me. Finally, he sank to his knees in defeat and looked up at me with sad eyes. “Help me,” he whispered.

            My cell phone rang on the coffee table, awakening me with a start. I sat up, breathing heavily, and realized that I was covered with sweat. I shivered a few times before I allowed myself to answer the phone. It was only nine o’clock that night, about an hour since I had fallen asleep.

            “Hello?” I answered hoarsely.

            “Leah, is that you?” Amber asked. “Gosh, you sound horrible.”

            “Sorry,” I said, clearing my throat. “I was sleeping.”

            “Sleeping? Already? Well, then I guess you won’t care to know who Corey and I saw at Starbucks a few minutes ago.”

            “Who?” I asked curiously, walking into the kitchen for a glass of water.

            “I think we saw your boy, Eli.”

            “You don’t even know what he looks like.”

            “Well, you said he has dark brown hair and blue eyes, right? Plus he’s totally gorgeous and polite far beyond that of a normal man?”

            “Yes,” I whimpered, praying he wasn’t the same guy.

            “And the Starbucks employee said the name ‘Eli’ when his order was ready, so I’m guessing it was him.”

            “You didn’t talk to him, did you?” I was almost willing her with my mind to say no.

            “No, but I wanted to. I was going to tell him all about how much you’re obsessed with him, and how you won’t admit your feelings of love because you’re trapped behind a romance that ended tragically in the past.”

            I rolled my eyes and smiled. “Whatever, I’m just glad you didn’t say anything.”

            Amber laughed. “Well, I just called to let you know that I approve. Eli seems like a very mature guy.”

            “Well, thank you, Amber. Where would I be without your approval?” I asked, sarcastically.

            “Nowhere,” she replied, happily.

            After I hung up with Amber, I stood in thought. Over the past couple of weeks Eli had come into the studio quite often. He would walk in and talk to me for awhile before going to see Denise and help her with whatever she needed.

            I had to admit, Eli had really started to grow on me. He was really funny, and he always had a huge smile on his face whenever he saw me. I enjoyed his company, and he seemed to enjoy mine. At one point he even seemed to embarrass himself in front of me on accident.

            We were talking like normal when suddenly he said, “We need to hang out more.”

            “Why?” I asked, curiously.

            “Why not?” he smiled. Then he said, without really thinking, “I like you.”

            I grinned, and he blushed a little. “Well, I mean…” Eli muttered, looking like he wished he hadn’t said that.

            “I know,” I replied. My heart pounded in my chest. He likes me, I thought, biting my lip to stop myself from singing.

            It had been two days since then, and Eli hadn’t come back to the studio yet. I felt restless half the time because he was all I could think about. I wanted work hours to extend past seven thirty to give him more time to come in and see me. And when I wasn’t at work, I was at home praying that I had someone I could talk to about him. There was no way I was giving Amber the satisfaction.

*****

            “Em! Emelia, come here please!” Denise called from the back storage room where she was often found painting.

            I finished entering the last payment into the computer account, and quickly got up to see what Denise wanted. She had been spending most of her days back there lately, and hardly any time in her office. She had just finished her latest set, so I was wondering what kept her working in there so much. The studio wasn’t in need of any new works for at least another month.

            “Yes, Miss Denise?” I asked politely, walking in to find her covered with paint while looking at an empty canvass. The room was a mess with acrylics and ruined canvasses everywhere. There floor was hardly visible beneath all the paint and paper that buried it.

            She looked at me and sighed, “Em, I need help.”

            “Help?” This surprised me. Denise never asked me to help her with anything. “What kind of help?”

            “I’m having some sort of painter’s block,” she said, disheartened.

            “What’s painter’s block?”

            “It’s like a writer’s block, only with a painter. I’ve run low on creativity, you see,” Denise explained. She looked around her and grimaced. “I can’t come up with anything.”

            “Well, maybe it’s a sign that you should take a break. Relax your mind and let it come to you,” I suggested. That always worked for me. I once had a ‘painter’s block’ for two months. It was quite depressing, and I almost thought I’d have to give up on my dream. Luckily, I finally found inspiration at the local park while looking at some rose bushes.

            “Maybe you’re right.”

            “It can’t hurt to take a break.”

            “I just feel so lost,” Denise murmured. She looked back at her blank paper, and pressed her hand to it. She stared off into space for quite some time, so I decided to leave her be.

            As I made my way back to the front desk, I saw to my surprise that someone was waiting for me. I couldn’t help but smile when I saw Eli’s face light up when I entered the room. My heart started pounding as soon as I laid eyes on him.

            “Hi there,” I said warmly. “I haven’t seen you in a few days.”

            “Yeah, I’ve been trying to work out some things with my contractors. I’m getting my living room expanded, but something went wrong with the payment. Work has pretty much been on hold for the past few days,” he explained.

            “Wow, did everything work itself out?” I asked.

            “Well, not really,” he chuckled rolling his eyes. “I just had to get out of the house today. Would you and Denise like to join me for lunch?”

            “Not me, dear,” Denise called from her back room. “You two go have fun.”

            Eli cocked his head to the side. “Is she okay?”

            “She’s feeling a little down because she can’t think of anything to paint. She’s kind of lost,” I told him.

            He sighed, “That’s too bad. It will come back to her, though.”

            “I think so.”

            “Well, you will come with me, won’t you?” he asked, looking at me with pleading eyes. “Please don’t make me go back home.”

            I laughed lightly. “I’d love to join you for lunch, Eli.”

            “Great!” he exclaimed. “I’ll love your company.”

*****

            I rifled through my closet, searching out the perfect dress for the night. I had no idea where I was going, only that I had to look nice. Eli couldn’t have been less specific. He was coming in forty-five minutes and I was supposed to be ready in formal attire. However, how formal, he did not mention. It was infuriating.

            At lunch earlier that day, I had asked Eli if he wanted to go out for drinks later, but he replied that he had plans already. At that point, I was pretty much convinced that he didn’t want to be anything more than friends. It was becoming obvious that he didn’t really want to spend time with me that way, so my asking him out was rather awkward.

            “I’m really sorry,” he told me sheepishly. “Maybe we can do something next week.”

            “No, that’s okay,” I said sadly. “I get it.” I sighed and looked down at my shoes. Disappointment tightened my heart as I realized what a fool I had been to think he was interested in me.

            “Get what?” he asked, curiously.

            “We’re friends… and that’s that,” I mumbled.

            “Oh, Leah,” he said, fighting the urge to laugh. “This is so hard because I really do have plans, but you have no idea how much I want to say yes.”

            I looked up at him from under my overgrown bangs, and waited for him to continue. Suddenly, Eli reached over and pushed my hair out of my eyes and behind my ear. I shivered from his touch.

            “Tell you what,” he said. “Why don’t come with me? You might actually like it.”

            “Really?” I asked, my eyes widening. “What is it you’re doing?”

            He stopped then, unable to find the right words. “Something,” he muttered, embarrassed.

            “You aren’t even going to tell me what it is?”

            “Well, you might not come if I tell you.”

            “Okay, that scares me,” I said, raising an eyebrow.

            “It’s not dangerous,” he laughed. “You just might think I’m weird.”

            “Either way, Eli, I’m going to think you’re weird,” I joked.

            “Ha-ha,” he smirked.

            So, there I was, panicking about my wardrobe, and the whole time Eli was probably relaxed at home knowing exactly what was appropriate to wear. I finally settled with a light blue strapless dress that had gotten a while ago, but hadn’t really gotten a chance to wear. It went a little below my knees and had a black sash around the waist. Overall, it made me feel very important, like I was going to be introduced to someone famous.

            I couldn’t stop thinking about where it was that Eli was taking me. An opera, perhaps? I thought as I gently applied mascara to my eyelashes. I hadn’t been to anything this formal since my high-school prom, so I was a little nervous.

            A gentle tapping on the front door sent my heart up into my throat, and my stomach plummeted horribly. I clutched my chest and swallowed hard. Be strong, Leah, I told myself. Taking one last fleeting glance at the mirror, I flicked off the light in the bathroom, smoothed my dress with my palm, and made my way to the door.

            I opened the door to what looked like a model god for Men’s Warehouse, smiling in all his glory. Eli’s dark hair was brushed back with a few strands hanging loose in front of his eyes. His suit was all black with a white dress shirt underneath and a black bow-tie tied smartly around his collar. Our jaws dropped at the same moment we took in the other’s appearance.

            “Crap, I am so underdressed,” I groaned.

            He looked shocked. “Not at all. I was going to tell you that you look gorgeous,” he laughed.

            “Oh,” I said, shyly. “Thank you.” Then I caught a glimpse of the car parked on street across the front lawn and almost fainted.

            “That’s yours?” I asked, my eyes wide. It was a stunning black Lexus FLA with a V10 engine and nine-thousand max RPM. I had read about them in the newspaper the other day along with a few other sports car ads. It was a speed demon’s dream.

            “Yeah,” he said, sheepishly. “The other car has an oil leak, so I had to bring this one.”

            He has two cars? “But these things cost over three-hundred grand!”

            “I know. I bought it,” he chuckled. “Shall we go, then? I’m sorry to rush you, but I’m running a bit later than I thought.”

            I nodded hypnotically, my legs carrying me to the car without my consent. “I get to sit in the front, right?”

            Eli laughed, “Careful not to get drool on it.”

Eli took my hand and helped me into the car so that my dress didn’t get caught in the door. However, I wasn’t sure if that was for my sake or the car’s. I mean, a dress floating outside the car door would look pretty tacky.

            The engine roared to life, and I instantly felt the seat vibrate beneath me. I smiled in spite of myself, feeling the power of the engine. This car was fast. I could see from the speedometer that the top speed went up to two-hundred miles per hour. I felt like I was in a jet made to float on asphalt.

            “Here we go,” Eli said, grinning. The car took off, and three seconds was all it took to race our way out of my tiny neighborhood. What took my piece of crap Camaro three minutes to do we had accomplished at light speed… or so it felt.

            “I don’t know how you’d ever get used to driving this,” I commented, feeling the adrenaline rush from the speed.

            “I don’t. I enjoy every second of it,” he winked. “I’ll let you drive it sometime if you like. You just have to be careful because you have no idea how easy it is to get a ticket in this thing.”

            “I can imagine,” I murmured, letting the purr of the car relax me. “Now will you please tell me where we’re going?”

            He frowned. “Don’t you want it to be a surprise?”

            “Well, at this point I honestly have no idea what to expect. Can’t you give me a hint or something?”

            “No,” he snickered. “There’s no hint to give. Anything I say would give it away.”

            “I’m not your date to a wedding am I?”

            “No, not even close.”

            “You’re bothering me,” I grumbled, giving up.

            “Well we’re nearly there, Miss Impatience.”

            I rolled my eyes. “My apologies, Lord of the Secrets.”

            We both laughed at that.

            When we had arrived, I became even more confused. There were people everywhere, dressed in evening gowns and black suits, and all were headed to a large outdoor amphitheatre that looked down upon a massive stage. The stage lit up the darkening skies with thousands of lights, and soundstage crews were running back and forth hysterically trying to prepare for some sort of performance.

            As I stepped out of the car, the valet standing nearby saw its beauty and eagerly jumped in it to speed off toward the parking lot. Eli smirked and took my hand casually, leading me toward the theatre.

            I looked around and saw to my surprise that newscasters and photographers had begun to show up. What kind of an event is this? I thought. Eli squeezed my hand gently when he saw the paranoid look on my face.

            Once inside, Eli took me towards the front row near the stage. I hadn’t realized how huge the seating was for the audience until I found myself craning my neck behind me to see the top. As I glanced up to the sky, I noticed that the stars had begun to show themselves in the absence of the sun.

            “Leah,” Eli said, getting my attention. I looked at him, startled. “This is your seat. I’ve got something I need to do really fast, but if I’m not back before the show starts don’t worry about it. Just relax, okay?”

            “Wait, where are you…?” I started to ask, but Eli had taken off. I sighed, agitated. I was surrounded by thousands of important-looking people I knew nothing about, and Eli had left me alone. Slowly, I took a deep breath, exhaled, and sat in my seat calmly. He’ll be back, I told myself.

            Moments later a young, blonde woman took the stage and the lights in the audience dimmed. A round of applause arose as she picked up the microphone and asked for attention.

            “Ladies and Gentlemen,” she said when the clapping had quieted. “Thank you, and welcome to the performance of a lifetime. This is a show that is put on all over the nation and has finally agreed to come to our town on request of our lead violinist. That’s right, folks, the legendary musician is here to play for you tonight.” A few cheers had erupted from the crowd, and loud applause followed. I suddenly understood. So, this is an orchestra, I mused. I assumed that the lead violinist was well-known because of the ovation he was given by the crowd.

I searched the rows for Eli’s face, but couldn’t see him anywhere. He was going to miss the beginning.

“Enjoy the show,” the woman concluded, stepping offstage as the blue curtain behind her began to rise. The curtain revealed a group of about fifty people sitting in several rows holding many different kinds of instruments. All of them were dressed in black suits, even the women, and none spoke. They had been warming up when the conductor entered the stage, and silenced them. He was then applauded as he took his place at the podium facing his players.

The orchestra had began their first song, and music filled the open air with a vast sound far better than any other I had ever heard before. I moaned and looked for Eli again. What is he doing?

The music played, and it was the most exuberant performance known to man. Everything worked together to create a perfect harmony. My ears felt like they were eating candy because the song was so rich with liveliness. I wanted to completely lose myself in the melody except for the fact that Eli was missing. I was too tense to really enjoy the show and the first song was over before I realized it had begun.

More applause arose and the conductor turned and introduced himself and his orchestra to the audience. “We are so honored to be playing for you tonight, ladies and gentlemen, so thank you very much for having us.”

He went on to talk about that first song, so I took the opportunity again to find Eli. I searched high and low, thinking he may have forgotten the seat… even if it was in the first row. I had stopped paying attention to the man until he mentioned something about the lead violinist again.

“In this next song, we will have our most gifted young violinist play a solo at center stage. Please help me in welcoming the man who made this night possible, Eli Collins,” said the conductor. My heart just about stopped then. He didn’t just say what I thought he said. He couldn’t have. Eli was here with me, and he was off doing something somewhere…

The crowd cheered much louder than before, and my heart thudded as I saw a man with dark brown hair leave his chair and make his way to the front of the stage. There was a microphone set up for him, and he paused to adjust it to the right height. It was Eli. My Eli was up on the stage with the orchestra. It all made sense then.

Eli lifted his violin to his shoulder and rested his chin upon it, raising his bow. He gave the conductor a quick glance for the okay to begin, and turned to face the audience. I saw his chest rise and fall once, and he then closed his eyes and pulled his bow across the strings, generating a heavenly sound.

After a few notes, the rest of the orchestra joined in with him, but his piece was heard above all the rest. I thought I had heard the most amazing music before Eli got up there and worked his magic, but now I was certain I would never hear anything more beautiful in my life than what he produced. I couldn’t take my eyes off him, and my mouth was gaping the entire time.

His movements were fluid and precise, exactly how a violinist should look. He used no sheet music, and played with his eyes closed for most of the song. At one point he did open his eyes and searched the first row for me. When he finally saw me, he broke his serious look and smiled helplessly. Then he winked and closed his eyes again, losing himself in the moment.

I was absolutely astounded.

The Violinist: Chapter 4

Chapter 4

            After we had finished eating that night, Amber’s boyfriend, Corey, turned up at the restaurant and whisked her away to some lame movie. I was slightly peeved because Amber had planned to come over to my house for girl’s night, but it wasn’t like this hadn’t happened before. Corey did this all the time so that he could be “romantic” and “mysterious”. It was a load of bull in my opinion. That selfish little fiend wanted my best friend all to himself. Inconsiderate slime, I thought as I drove home by myself. At least Amber liked it.

            “Hello, Hampton,” I sighed, acknowledging my fish as usual when I got in the house. He swam around excitedly when the light flicked on. I plopped down onto the couch and stared lazily at the ceiling. All I could think about was disgusting coffee, and extremely large eyes.

            Why did I agree to coffee? I hated coffee. The very idea of coffee made me want to hurl. I didn’t drink coffee, I preferred tea. To be perfectly honest there was a special way in which I ordered my tea at the local Starbucks so that it tasted just right. Plus, I liked to make the employees work a little bit harder.

*****

            The next morning I arrived to work and saw that Denise was already there. Usually I was the one who opened up the studio, but that day she beat me. Upon opening the door I had to stop and look around for a moment to make sure that I had walked into the correct place.

            Everything looked different. Denise had completely filled the empty walls with new paintings that looked even more marvelous than before. She had set up the room as though it were a small maze and used the artwork to make up the walls. Of all the displays I had ever seen her create, this, by far, was the greatest. I smiled in spite of myself, and began making my way through the masterpieces.

            About a half an hour after I arrived, Denise came out of her office and found me admiring her work.

            “Oh, Em!” she said. “I didn’t know you were here. Goodness, I must’ve lost track of time.”

            I smiled and asked, “Did you do all of this last night?”

            “And this morning,” she sighed, looking around the room. “Eli actually stopped by at around three and gave me a hand moving the larger ones.”

            “Three o’clock in the morning?” I asked, bewildered.

            “I wanted to get it just right. What do you think?”

            “I think it’s gorgeous,” I gushed, looking back at the picture before me. “I love all of it.”

            Denise eyed me suspiciously then. I looked over and saw her standing with a mysterious smile playing on her lips.

            “Miss Denise?” I asked cautiously.

            “You know, Eli told me about your junk,” she joked.

            “He did?” I asked, my face reddening with embarrassment. “Oh, great.”

            “Although, I am surprised that you let him keep the best one for free,” she smirked.

            “Well, actually he’s getting me coffee.”

            “You hate coffee.”

            “I know, but he wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer,” I replied. “Besides, it’s the thought that counts.”

            “If you say so,” Denise shrugged.

            I rolled my eyes and took my rightful place at the check-in desk, trying to clear my mind of embarrassing memories. I put my face in my hands to calm my nerves. When I couldn’t see the world, the world couldn’t see me. After a couple minutes the phone rang, ceasing my relief session.

            “Sheldon Arts, how can I help you?” I asked politely, picking up the receiver.

            “How do you take your coffee, Ms. Emelia…?” a man asked, hesitating. “What is your last name?”

            I laughed, “It’s Young. Emelia Jane Young.”

            “Well, Ms. Emelia Jane Young, how would you like your coffee today?” Eli asked, amused.

            “Would you be upset if I didn’t drink it?” I asked sheepishly.

            “I’m confused.”

            “I don’t really like coffee,” I whispered.

            “Oh, I see.”

            “I’m sorry,” I moaned. “I really wish I liked it, but I just can’t stand it. It’s gross.”

            “Then why did you agree to something you don’t like? I could’ve taken you somewhere else, silly,” he snickered.

            “I don’t know. I was already complaining about the wild price you were willing to offer, so I guess I didn’t want to seem picky.”

            “Oh, heaven forbid you tell me something you hate so that you don’t seem picky,” he said sarcastically.

            I laughed lightly. “Well, I like ice cream.”

            “Ice cream it is. When is your lunch break?”

            “Twelve-thirty,” I answered.

            “Then I will see you at twelve-thirty, Emelia Jane,” Eli said.

            “Bye.” I hung up the phone and pressed my hands to my face to suppress my grin. Eli probably stole the hearts of all the girls he met. He was quite the charmer.

            “He’s single, you know,” Denise said from beside me. I jumped in surprise and dropped my hands. How long had she been standing there?

            “Who’s single?” I asked dumbly, pretending that I didn’t know who she was talking about.

            “Eli,” she grinned. “He’s also twenty-four, only one year older than you.”

            “And?” I snorted.

            “And you two would be really cute together.”

            I groaned. “Why do people keep pairing us up?”

            Denise put up her hands in surrender, and walked back to her office. I shook my head and pressed my hands to my face again.

            The ice cream date was a lot less awkward than I expected it to be. I got to know Eli a lot better and found that he always had something to say. He was very kind and always looked me in the eyes when I spoke, listening very intently. We had walked from Sheldon Arts during my break over to the local ice cream parlor, Eli always making sure that he was on the traffic side of the sidewalk. He held the door for me, and kindly pulled my chair out for me at our table. Not even Amber’s boyfriend did any of that. What a sweetheart, I thought.

            He talked a lot about music and art, things he assumed that I loved. He was constantly asking questions and talked little about his own hobbies. At one point I had asked him about his family, but he quickly changed the subject. He didn’t seem to like talking about himself.

            Toward the end of my lunch break I found myself staring at Eli’s eyes without even realizing it. He had been making fun of the fact that I don’t drink coffee, when I found that I could not tear my gaze away. I had started to lean in closer absentmindedly when suddenly, he said, “What are you looking at?”

            I snapped out of my trance immediately and stuttered for words. Eli looked amused. He inched closer to me across the table and opened his eyes even wider.

            “Staring contest,” he grinned.

            Inside my heart rate increased rapidly and I thought, yes! I could stare into those eyes forever. I opened my eyes bigger and leaned forward as well. “You’re on,” I said.

It had not been fifteen seconds and neither of us could refrain from laughing. We looked like bugs, eying each other with malice.

Afterwards, Eli walked me back to the art studio and bade me goodbye. “I had fun. We should do this again sometime,” he smiled.

“You know where to find me,” I replied.

*****

            “Mario, I’ve been thinking,” I told my Spanish friend one night as I sat on a stool at M.T. Paints. Mario had let me hang out behind the counter while he fixed my lucky paintbrush. Unfortunately, I had snapped the brush in two, the night before. It had been in my backpack on the ground while I was up in my tree watching the sunset again. Being my clumsy self, I slipped and fell out of the tree right on top of my backpack. I was fine, but my favorite purple round brush was completely trashed.

            “About what?” Mario asked as he carefully tried to hot-glue the two pieces back together. This was not his job profession, but he was nice enough to try for me.

            “Well, there’s this guy,” I started, tensing for his reaction. He stopped what he was doing and looked at me from under his large reading glasses.

            “It’s about time! For goodness sake, I thought you’d never settle down,” he sighed in relief.

            I stared at him for a moment. “I haven’t yet,” I grumbled.

            “Oh, sorry,” he replied, sheepishly. “Go on.”

            I rolled my eyes. “Anyway, I’m not sure if he’s the right match for me. I mean, I feel like I’m not good enough for him.”

            “Are you two dating?” Mario enquired, going back to the paintbrush.

            “Kind of. We had ice cream the other day. I actually had a great time.”

            “What flavors did you each get?”

            “Excuse me?” I asked, perplexed.

            “Just answer the question.”

            “Um, I got chocolate and he got strawberry.”

            Mario grinned and said, “You’re perfect for each other.”

            “I don’t underst—’’

            “Just trust me,” Mario interrupted. “Oh, and Leah…”

            “Yes?”

            “Never tell yourself that you aren’t good enough. You are more than enough. That man should consider himself to be the luckiest guy on the planet to have a chance with you.”

            I raised my eyebrows in surprise. Mario had never given me such praise before. It felt kind of nice to hear that. “Thanks,” I mumbled shyly.

            Mario smiled and wrapped a large Band-Aid around the paint brush so the glue could dry. He handed it to me and said, “When it dries you can unwrap it and paint over the cracks so you won’t be able to tell as much.”

            “You’re the best, Mario,” I grinned, taking back my utensil.

            “True,” he nodded. I sighed and thought, Mario says he’s perfect for me. Might he be right?

The Violinist: Chapter 3

              That night I dreamt of knots of string twisting around and around my head. Each time I tried to disentangle myself, the knots would get tighter and hold me back. There was so much confusion going on, but all I wanted was to get free. I didn’t understand what it meant. Was I in chains? Were the knots keeping me from showing my true colors? My true being? I was ashamed of who I was on the inside, so I didn’t let myself be free. I tied myself away from the world and lived a fake life. When I woke up that morning I didn’t remember the dream.

            I yawned and stretched, wiggling my toes beneath the soft sheets on my bed. I had finally put my room back together and arranged the furniture just the way I liked it. It had been a few nights since I had slept in my comfy bed, and I really appreciated the feel of the mattress after dealing with the couch.

            I had the gift of the early bird. I hardly ever slept in purposely. It was quite lucky actually that I managed to wake up without an alarm clock every morning. I used to think that there was something in my brain that triggered my consciousness at a certain time in the morning and woke me up. Whatever it was, I always had a good night sleep and was never troubled with getting up early for work.

            It wasn’t until I realized who was coming that morning, that my heart sank and I buried my face in my pillow. I groaned and clenched my sheet in my fist. Just the thought of Eli Collins had already ruined my day.

            Don’t come, don’t come, please don’t come, I thought to myself as I waited anxiously at the front desk of Sheldon Arts. I had brought in at least ten samples of my best work in hopes that Eli might think they were alright for an amateur. Anyone could tell I wasn’t expecting him to actually like any of it.

            The door swished as it opened, letting in the morning sunlight across the wooden floor. I shut my eyes tightly, willing myself to believe that nobody was there. Maybe if I ignore him long enough, he’ll leave, I thought.

            “Are you okay?” Eli asked. I opened my eyes and saw him staring at me uneasily. He looked extremely handsome up close, and his blue eyes were so breath-taking that I didn’t know what to say.

            “I… um,” I mumbled. “Good morning.”

            He cocked his head to the side in confusion, but smiled all the same. “Good morning,” he replied. “Emelia, is it?”

            “Yes, but you can call me Leah,” I answered shyly. “And you are Eli?”

            “Yeah, but you can call me Eli,” he laughed. “Three letters is short enough.”

            I tried to laugh, but all that came out was a choked gasp. My heart was throbbing, and I could hardly breathe under his intimidating glance.

            “Are you sure, you’re okay?” he asked worriedly.

            “I’m fine,” I said too quickly. “I mean, it’s just been awhile since anyone has looked at my junk.”

            His eyes widened and he raised his eyebrows in confusion. Almost instantly I realized what I had said wrong.

            “Oh, God! I mean, my stuff! No, I mean my paintings!” I could feel the blood rushing to my face. “It’s junk in my opinion.”

            He chuckled in response. “I get it.”

            I couldn’t believe how idiotic I was being. People never made me nervous. I wasn’t the shy girl. I was the fun, happy, excited girl. What was this guy doing to me? I was being turned inside out. You’re being too dramatic, my conscience told me.

            “So, shall I take a look at your junk?” He laughed at his own joke.

             “Ha-ha,” I said sarcastically. I pointed to where I had laid out my display, and watched him make his way over. I only prayed that he wouldn’t laugh at it.

            At first he just rested his beautiful eyes on the artwork and looked very carefully so not to miss anything. He then furrowed his eyebrows in concentration and folded his arms across his chest. He seemed very interested in his assessment of everything, and he didn’t move for quite some time. After awhile he moved his elbow to rest on his left arm and placed his chin in his palm smartly. At one point I could have sworn he mouthed the word ‘wow’.

            Finally, he caught sight of something that forced a question out of him. “This is a fantastic frame,” he said about one painting that I had worked particularly hard on. “Did you make it yourself?”

            “I did actually,” I said in surprise. I didn’t think he would notice the detail in the frame.

            “How long did it take you?”

            “Well, I would estimate that I spent about two months carving it, but I spent a couple more weeks trying to get it just right. I’m kind of a perfectionist.”

            “Wow,” he marveled, “and the texture of the brush strokes in the painting look great next to the wood design.”

            My jaw dropped. “Really?” I asked.

            “Yes, your style of painting is very unique. I’m surprised you aren’t managing yourself by now.”

            I could hardly believe what I was hearing. “You like it?”

            “You have seriously got to give yourself more credit. For goodness sake, you have a gift, Leah,” Eli said. At least, that was what I thought he said. My increased heart rate was drowning out his voice.

            “How much would you like for this one?” he asked, suddenly.

            “W-what? As in payment?”

            He nodded and smiled. “I was thinking around… six-hundred.”

            “DOLLARS?!” I screeched.

            He jumped in surprise. “Would you like more?”

            “Wait, wait,” I said, trying to control my breathing. “Hold on a minute.” Eli waited patiently, watching me with an amused expression on his face.

            “That is way too much,” I sputtered, regaining my voice.

            “Well, you said you worked really hard for a long time. Shouldn’t I pay you for the labor?”

            “No, no,” I fumed.

            “I mean, I feel like I’d be cheating you out of a sale for anything less. Perhaps less money and a coffee would settle it?” Eli suggested.

            That got me thinking for a moment. I wouldn’t want to be rude and reject the man for coffee, but I didn’t want to take his money either. I was stuck.

            “Look,” I said, taking control of the situation. “Take it. It’s yours.” He looked like he was about to object, but I cut him off. “If it’s such a big deal, then… I’ll settle for that coffee.”

            “I can’t possibly,” he said. “That’s not fair.”

            “Just think of it as a very-first-customer discount,” I smiled. I was feeling generous that day. I thought that maybe Eli would put the word out of my amazing gift if I let him take home my junk.

            “You’re a saint,” he chuckled. Then he looked at me seriously with a small smile on his lips. “Thank you.”

            “No, thank you.”

            He looked at his painting again, admiring it quietly. “It must be amazing to be able to create stuff like this all the time. I only wish I was as good as you painters.”

            I looked at him in confusion. “But, I thought you were an artist,” I said, bewildered.

            “What gave you that idea?” Eli snorted.

            “Well, Denise was going on and on about how talented you are…”

            “Not at painting. I’m not that kind of artist.” The way he said this made it clear that he wasn’t going to tell me what it was that he had a talent for. I didn’t pry.

*****

            “So, is he cute or what?” Amber asked impatiently, leaning closer to me across the dinner table. I hardly even heard her because I was so lost in my thoughts. I began to mash my ravioli with my fork absentmindedly.

            Amber and I had been eating dinner at our favorite bistro when I told her about my first fan. She, being my best friend since high school, was trying to squeeze every juicy detail out of me about the guy. Getting ahead in my line of work was the least of her worries.

            “Leah!” she snapped, getting my attention. I sat upright and flung my fork across the table right on top of her pizza. She groaned and flicked it off her plate. “You’re not listening.”

            “Sorry,” I smiled sheepishly. “I’m just thinking about what Denise is going to say.”
            “Denise, Denise,” she muttered, flipping her wavy red hair behind her shoulder. “All you care about is your boss. Did it ever occur to you that maybe Eli is interested? I mean, he was practically begging you for a date.”

            “Hah!” I snorted. “I guy like that would definitely not be paying any attention to a girl like me.”

            “Why? What is so different about him? He’s just a guy.”

            “No, he’s not just any guy. He’s special,” I heard myself say. I felt like an idiot the minute the words escaped me.

            Amber rolled her eyes. “If he’s so ‘special’, then why let him get away? He’s yours for the taking.”

            “You don’t know that,” I pointed out. “He could have a girlfriend, or maybe he’s married.”

            “If he were either of those things, why would he ask you out?”

            “Because he’s a good person. He wanted to give me six-hundred dollars remember?”

            “Yeah, and if that doesn’t get your attention, I don’t know what will,” she sighed, giving up. Amber had been with her boyfriend for almost a year, so she knew what it was like to have a man she could depend on. I, on the other hand, was not so fortunate with boys in the past. My last boyfriend, Ian, turned out to be a disaster after I caught him in my dorm room with some freshman girl. I didn’t date anyone after that senior year of college.

            “Okay, so what if I do date him, and he turns out just like Ian?” I asked.

            “And what if he doesn’t? Not all guys are like that, Leah. I mean, you even said it yourself. Eli’s special.” Amber was staring at me with her big blue eyes as if forcing me to believe her. “Just let it work itself out. If it’s not meant to be then that’s that.”

            I sighed. “He is pretty adorable.”

            Amber grinned. “So, tell me everything.”

The Violinist: Chapter 2

The sponge fell into the open paint can with a plop. It floated on the surface for a moment before it was slowly engulfed by the light blue paint. It was with a large, bulky sponge that I used to paint my room. It was perfect for what I needed.

After letting it soak up enough paint, I hoisted the sponge from the can and let it drip for a moment. Then, in one swift movement I chucked the thing at the wall. It hit with a loud smack and stuck there for a second or two. Then it slowly moved downward, leaving smeared blue behind it before it fell to the tarp that covered the floor.

I appreciated how it turned out, and nodded in approval. The wall had a large, round blue splat in the center of it with many flecks of paint surrounding it, and the short smear almost gave it a look similar to a tree.

It was then that I decided to open up the other small cans of red, green, yellow, and orange. In these I set a different paint brush. First, I picked up the paint brush in the red can, and flicked its contents at the blue splat on the wall, creating several red dots. I did this again once more with the red, and again with the other colors in the same pattern. This technique created a flurry of color among the light blue base. I fell in love with the design that resembled my ice cream almost instantly. Then, I repeated everything a few more times on the other walls, each design looking somewhat different than the last.

It took me about three hours to paint everything and then clean up. By the time I had completely emptied the room, I was too tired to move back in all of the furniture. Another night sleeping on the couch was fine with me.

The art studio was packed the next day. Denise was having a limited-time sale on almost all of her artwork to celebrate her fortieth birthday. By ten o’clock that morning the gallery was filled with customers anxious to buy any masterpiece they could get their hands on. The phone was ringing off the hook and I was having difficulty handling the huge line at the register. A fight almost broke out between two women who both wanted the same painting, but luckily Denise convinced one of them to purchase a different piece that was similar to the first.

Everything finally started to die down at about three o’clock that afternoon when most of the artwork had been sold. The only few remaining pieces weren’t on sale and they were quite large. I had just about dozed off when the phone rang and scared me half to death.

“Sheldon Arts, how may I help you?” I asked quickly.

“Hello, I was calling to ask if the gallery was busy right now. I don’t have a lot of time and I was wondering if I might make a quick purchase.” It was a man’s voice, and he sounded very polite on the phone.

“No, sir, there isn’t much business right now, but I’m afraid most of the art has been sold from today’s sale,” I explained.

“Well, perhaps I might make a request for Miss Sheldon?” he asked. This surprised me. A customer had never made a request for Denise Sheldon before. I didn’t know what to say.

“Oh, um… I’m not sure she does that, but I can certainly ask her for you.”

“No worries. I will ask her myself. May I come in say… fifteen minutes?”

“Of course. You may come whenever you like, sir,” I said. “May I have your name?”

“Eli Collins,” he said simply.

“Ok, thank you, Mr. Collins,” I said, writing it down on a piece of paper.

“Goodbye.”

I hung up the phone. Denise was going to react to this in one of two ways: she was either going to feel very excited, or very insulted. I thought it best to warn her of the coming stranger.

“Miss Denise?” I asked, peeking my head into her office.

She turned and smiled at me tiredly. She had faint wrinkles that had begun to appear on around her eyes from her growing age. Denise had worked all her life for this job. She got everything she deserved and ever wanted. How I envied her. I couldn’t figure out how she managed to do it.

“Yes, Em, what do you need?” she asked.

“Well, there is a man who is coming here in about fifteen minutes who needs to ask you something. His name is Eli Collins–”

“Eli?!” she exclaimed suddenly. “I haven’t seen that boy in years! The last time I saw him he was about seventeen! A very, very talented boy, that one is. Oh, he is quite a joy to have around.”

“Oh good, you know him,” I sighed.

“Yes, yes he used to work for me when he was in high school. He would clean and run errands for me. His father tore a hole in him about halfway through junior year, though… poor boy.”

“A hole?” I asked, perplexed. Denise was very strange when it came to metaphors, and I never understood what she meant when she used one.

“Yeah, he wasn’t a good man. Kicked out his own son, but Eli never told me why.” Denise reminisced for a moment with a concentrated look on her face before she said, “He’s a great kid. So talented…”

Already I envied Eli. How could he get Denise’s attention so easily? She couldn’t possibly compare me to him after giving him such praise could she? I was done for.

About fifteen minutes later I was sitting at my desk at front of the studio when a young man with messy dark brown hair pushed open the door. My eyes widened when I caught sight of his deep blue eyes. Eli Collins was the man from the ice cream parlor.

My breath caught when he turned to look at me, and I wondered if he would recognize me. He flashed me a smile, and then furrowed his eyebrows in concentration.

“I remember you,” he said suddenly, grinning widely. “You ordered the crazy ice cream last night.”

I laughed lightly. “That’s me.”

He chuckled and asked, “Is Denise available?”

Barely had the words escaped his mouth than the woman came barreling out of her office towards Eli and engulfed him in tight embrace.

“Eli, Eli, Eli!” she sang, squeezing the life out of him. He gasped for air, but smiled all the same. I could tell she meant a lot to him.

“Where have you been all these years?!” she yelled at him.

“Working,” he breathed. “I’ve been working a lot.”

She let go of him and cradled his face in her hands. “Well, I must say the years have been very kind to you. You look great! So thin, so handsome…” she said, examining him.

“Thank you,” he said. “I could say the same to you.”

“Wait, wait you said you have been working? Working where?” she pressed.

“I’ve been in New York. I just moved back a few days ago. They’ve finally set up something for me here.”

“Oh, perfect! Now you can come see me all the time!”

“And take out your trash,” he chuckled. Eli was a very charming young man. He had an air about him that seemed very kind and wise. It was almost as if he had a soul that was too mature for his body. Too old.

“Goodness! I’m so rude. Eli, this is my assistant, Emilia,” Denise said looking at me.

Eli smiled casually as if we were buddies already, and I smiled back.

“So, you have a question?” Denise asked Eli expectantly.

“Yes. I’ve just moved into a new apartment that has very big walls and nothing to cover them. It’s very plain. I wonder if you might paint something for me?”

“Well, there isn’t much to choose from now, but I can paint you up a few things if you like,” she suggested.

“That sounds perfect,” he said.

“In the meantime, though…” she said, turning to me. “Em, you’ve got some samples at your place haven’t you?”

I froze. That had been the first time Denise had ever asked me about my work for as long as I had been employed to her. I blanked for words.

“Perhaps, Em, you could be so kind as to offer him some of your paintings? Eli does have a deep fascination with artwork,” Denise said.

“B-b-but, I don’t really… I mean you don’t want my–” I stuttered.

“Nonsense, how stupid do you think I am?” Denise asked. “I read your resume didn’t I? I know you graduated from art school, so of course you must be good at art.”

“Um…” I muttered, my eyes wide. Now’s your chance, Emelia, I told myself, Now you can show her what you’re made of!

“Sounds good,” Eli interjected. “I’ll be by tomorrow morning to have a look, but for now I’m afraid I can’t stay much longer.”

“That’s fine,” Denise said. “Now, I won’t be here tomorrow because I have an appointment, but Em will be. Also, feel free to have a look around at what is left. It may not be much, but you might like what you see.”

“Alright, then I will see you tomorrow,” he said, smiling at me.

I nodded uneasily, not sure whether I was giving him a smile or a snarl. I couldn’t feel my face very well from all the shock I was experiencing. Whatever I did, Eli looked satisfied enough and hugged Denise goodbye.

            I groaned on the inside. Why did he need to see my stuff? It was my stuff. Good grief, I thought.