Marius
“Wait. You’re really Anca?” I repeat, trying to make sense of what’s going on.
She rolls her eyes and turns to Jez. “Did his mother drop him on his head when he was a baby?” she asks him.
Jez finds it hilarious, of course. “Oh, you heard about that?” he says to her but grinning at me. Then he frowns. “Dude, you’ve met Anca before, surely.”
It takes me a moment to rifle through my memory. It finally comes to me, “Yeah, like 8 years ago, at Guildhall. She was a freshman when we were seniors.”
“Yeah.” He nods, rummaging around his memory as well.
“Well, anyway, you, er… she, er. You look. Um. Different.” I stammer, trying to find the right word. Fuckable doesn’t seem like it would be appropriate, nor appreciated by either of the brother or sister staring me down.
She scowls, her expression of choice all night, and mumbles something that sounds like “Ugh, different. Asshole.”
“What?” Jez asks.
“Um, nothing.” She waves her hand. He frowns at her and she stares him down, daring him to ask her again. She wins.
“Er, yeah, anyway, come on, everyone’s waiting. You too, manwhore,” he emphasizes the word, obviously overhearing the end of my conversation with his sister.
They walk ahead of me, and I’m trying to reconcile the feisty, mouthy woman with the shy 13-year-old I met almost a decade ago. I can’t say that I recognized her at all.
Jez’s sister.
Damn.
Shit on a hotdog stick.
Well, whatever I was considering, which is nothing, is going to have to be forgotten. Not that I was considering anything, I tell myself. Just that talking to her was infuriating. But interesting. In its infuriatingness, that’s all. Nothing else.
Jez is introducing her or re-introducing her to everyone when I catch up with them at the bar.
“Guys, this is Anca. Anca, this is Cadence and Hailey. You remember the band, of course.”
“Of course! Hi Sebastian, Brad.” She smiles at each of them as she says their name.
Then she turns around and stares me in the eyes, definitely not smiling. “And Marius.”
Fuck. She’s known who I am this whole time? Why didn’t she say anything? There’s something, like a challenge in her eyes and I can’t help but want to aggravate her.
I hold out my hand, “Yeah, hi, Anca. We’ve met before. But you probably don’t remember. It’s ok.”
“Wha? I…” she splutters. “I know we’ve met, you’re the one who didn’t remember!”
“Now, does that really seem true to you? A pretty girl like yourself, not likely I would forget you.”
“Yeah, that really doesn’t sound like Marius at all,” Brad chimes in, not realizing what he’s getting in the middle of. “He might forget to shower or the right end of a toothbrush, but he wouldn’t forget a woman.”
I grin at her. “See?”
The look she gives me is pure venom.
“Who you calling a pretty girl?” Jez cuts in, ruining the fun. And he gives me a look that will keep me up in the coming weeks. Loaded. Warning.
“Sorry.” I say backing away from her. “Just being nice. I didn’t mean it.” Her head whips around and she searches my face for meaning. “I mean, I didn’t mean anything by it.” I say, my voice lowered, but loud enough for her to hear. A hardness in her eyes softens and feel a sense of relief that she hasn’t misunderstood me. Not that it matters to me, of course.
“Anyway, guys, we’ve talked about it, and Anca is happy to be given a shot to see if she fits in with the band.” Jez explains.
Wait. What did he say?
“Wait, what?” My mouth verbalizes my thoughts.
“Dude, what is wrong with you today?” He frowns at me before continuing, “I said that Anca is the person I was talking about yesterday, about coming to play with us. Anyway, we thought, maybe tomorrow, we’ll have a bit of a jam session, and if Cadence and you guys are okay with how it goes, Anca would like to play with us on tour.”
“Oh wow! That’s great!” Brad says, coming over and giving Jez a friendly punch on the shoulder.
“I knew it!” Sebastian says, “didn’t I say it was going to be Anca, babe?” he looks to Cadence.
“He sure did. And he said that you’d be great,” Cadence confirms and walks over to give Anca a hug. “I’m sure you will fit right in. And give these guys a run for their too-much-money,” she says, winking at Jez’s sister.
Anca smiles at her, looking instantly relaxed. It’s the exact opposite of what I’m feeling.
“Marius?” Cadence looks at me. “What do you think?” She’s giving me a weird look. And her eyebrows are doing something weird. Like, a ‘this is fate’ look.
I shoot her a look back. One that I hope tells her, between the guys in the band, it will always be, “misters before each others’ sisters.”
“Er, well, I guess we’ll see tomorrow.” I answer, hoping that’ll get them off my back for now and wonder what excuse I’ll have to come up with tomorrow to make sure this infuriating woman does not come with us on tour.
Anca
3 years ago
“Stop.”
“But…”
“I said, stop.” His voice is quiet but firm. There’s no room for argument. I drop my hands and lower my eyes, not wanting to see his disappointment. I focus on the vase of dahlias on the coffee table instead.
“Anca, where is the soul?” He asks.
“I’m sorry?”
“Where is it?” He gestures his hands in front of him, seemingly to nothing.
“The soul?” I repeat, trying to make sense of what he’s asking me.
“Your soul, my soul, the world’s soul?”
I bite my tongue. I never have an answer for his questions. His questions that make no sense to me, until he gives the answer. Then they mean everything.
“Is it in your head?” He waves his hand, as if pulling the words from the air.
“I, er-…”
“Is it in your chest? Or, in your stomach, floating around with the chicken sandwich you had for lunch?”
“Um…No.” That’s as much of an answer as I can commit to.
“No, that’s right, it’s in none of those place. Soul is in the breath. In the living. It’s like smoke, like clouds on a windy day. You can’t… touch it, can’t see it.”
I lift my eyes to his, knowing the point is coming.
“So…stop looking for it! I can SEE the thought, the effort in your eyes when you play. You must STOP!”
I jump, more from the force of his words, than the volume.
“Now,” he continues, his voice returning to its usual soft timbre, “play.”
“I’m trying…” I argue.
“Shhh,” he says, bringing a finger to his lips to quiet me, “…just play. Forget everything but encapsulating the soul of music. You’re killing it with your ‘trying.'”
I lift my fingers to the strings.
His breath is suddenly hot against the back of my neck.