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Everything was going perfectly.
She hadn't played a wrong note yet, she hadn't tripped or stumbled on stage despite the beautiful but too-high heels she was wearing. The girls playing with her were amazing, and the three of them were working together like a well oiled machine.
Yet the pressure was undeniable. Every time she looked out over the audience she could feel it, waiting for her like a monster at the end of a dark hallway. There were over a hundred sets of eyes watching the three of them on stage, but Joanne could feel only two. Two monsters, and there was no way she was running in these heels.
Are you packed? Her father had come into her room last night after she'd turned off the light. She's wanted an early night so she'd be well rested for the concert, but she was lying awake, trying to calm her nerves. She'd jumped when he'd knocked and flicked on the bedside lamp.
We're leaving directly after the concert. You better be packed. Leave your things in the hall and Damien will throw them in the car tomorrow morning, before school. She'd said yes sir and had gotten out of bed to gather her things. She'd thought they would be leaving on Saturday, at the earliest! It was frustrating, but she couldn't do anything about it.
She'd slid her mother's chunky jersey and some jeans under her seat on the drive to school. If her father said they were leaving immediately after the concert, he meant it, and she wouldn't have time to dig around in her pack for something warm to wear. There was no way she was driving for hours through mountains, in the dark, in a strappy black dress and lacy stocking.
Her piano tutor's daughter was singing with her for the next piece, much more contemporary than Bach but just as much of a finger workout. Vanessa Carlton's More Than Wanted, they'd been working on this one for a couple of months, and Joanne loved it. Deana's voice pulled it off amazingly and the grand piano Joanne was sitting in front of made every note twice as dramatic as an ordinary piano.
I have wandered far and wide
For something real something to die for
But I have found you and you do not see
All that is me, all that is true.
-and angry. Deana's voice was practically screaming at the audience and Joanne wondered if, tonight, it was more than an act. There was admirable passion in this girl. She sang from a bruised heart.
And I am more than you will see
And I am more than you will need.
Joanne felt empowered when she was playing this, more than her family could ever squash out of her. While she was on stage, they couldn't reach her, and she was free to blossom into anything, anyone. She was grinning uncontrollably by the time the song finished and barely noticed when Deana moved back to the piano so the two girls could bow together. She smiled out at the audience- and caught the eye of her father, standing along with everyone else in the middle of the theater. The grin just fell away and she remembered who she really was, and the foreboding feeling crashed right back down on her. She was suddenly glad that her part in the concert was done and she could relax- hide- backstage till it was over.
Red velvet curtains fell between Joanne, Deana and the audience a moment later, and Deane grabbed her, bouncing up and down. “That was FANTASTIC! God, what a rush!”
“Off the stage please, girls.” someone called from behind the curtain, and they moved along.
“C'mon, let's go get something to drink, I'm parched.” Deana had Joanne by the hand and was dragging her back to the two rooms set up backstage for the performers. Joanne slid her hand out of Deana's, “Sorry, I have to go to the bathroom. Cramps.” Deana nodded understandingly and let her go, catching sight of her boyfriend and running over to him, squealing. Joanne's lip twitched in a smile for her friends excitement, and she rushed to the bathroom, just wanting to lock herself in a stall and hide. It wasn't fair, she loved this aspect of her life, there performances, but they always ended, and she always had to turn back into Libby Micheals and go home to play meek daughter and maid. Two hot tears run down her cheeks and she wiped them off, smudging her makeup. She didn't know if she could do this for just over two more years.
She reached the bathroom and jerked open the door, leaning on it once she was inside. The white marble floor shone with polishing and the very art deco basins were perfectly clean. There was even a little chair with velvet cushions set up next to a three legged, beautifully carved stool with a bowl of breath mints perched on top. It was an utterly ridiculous bathroom. She didn't want to leave it, didn't want to go back out there and drive for five or six hours and stay locked up in an isolated house while her family ran around as animals and demanded to be fed every other hour and treated her like a servant and, worst of all, gave her no support. Because Easter Sunday was the anniversary of her mother's death, and Joanne was the only one who cared. A small sob escaped her throat and she sunk down on the silly chair, hugging herself. It was at that moment when the door swung upon and a blond girl about her own age burst in, in tears.
It was her mother's birthday present to her. She knew that Melissa always enjoyed piano recitals so the knowledge that one was on so close to her daughter's birthday? Perfect. They all dressed up nicely for it- Melissa, her mother, and her sister- even though Melissa didn't feel much like going. She didn't feel much like doing anything and was sure her party that night was going to be a disaster.
She barely heard most of the performances: all she could think about was Deirdre. Deirdre and Renee. The woman her Deirdre loved. The woman her Deirdre had chosen. It made all of her ache and she gripped tight into her knee with her nails to keep herself together as she sat there with her family in the dark audience.
And when intermission came she thought she could bare it no longer. She stood with a forced smile. "I'm just going to the bathroom," she told her mum as she made her way out of the aisle and started looking for it.
How was this happening? How was it allowed that all she wanted in the entire world was Deirdre and she couldn't be with her? It was what had kept her going any time in the last year when she felt hopeless: Deirdre. Deirdre's voice. Deirdre's smile. All of it.
She was crying and there were people were looking at her. She ignored them and hurried her steps once she spotted the bathroom. As she shoved the door open she let it all out. Let out all the pain and frustration and sadness and loss. She pressed her balled fists into her stomach and sobbed.
She raised her eyes after a moment and stopped, mid sob. There was a dark haired girl sitting on the chair across from her and watching her.
The surprise knocked the sobs right out of her. Joanne sat there, tears on her face and her hand over her mouth, staring at the girl in stunned silence. Their eyes met and Joanne gave the other girl a supportive little smile, hidden by her hand. She swallowed hard, trying to pretend nothing was wrong. "Hey." she squeaked.
Melissa blinked and then sniffed. "Hey," she replied, unsure of herself and her voice thick. Now she felt like an idiot.
Joanne did not work well in awkward situations, and it couldn't have been any more awkward if she'd walked in naked. She felt terribly sheepish, but then, the other girl had been crying too. It seemed unfair, that they'd both come seeking solitude and gotten... this. Unfair, and kind of ridiculous.
Joanne giggled, laughing at herself.
For a moment Melissa was shocked and she made an expression that showed it. And then she too laughed, not sure what else she could do.
She wiped her cheeks dry as she was laughing with the tissues provided next to the complimentry bathroom mints, and offered the tissues to the other girl. "Hi," she said, traces of giggling still in her voice, "I'm Joanne."
She hadn't played a wrong note yet, she hadn't tripped or stumbled on stage despite the beautiful but too-high heels she was wearing. The girls playing with her were amazing, and the three of them were working together like a well oiled machine.
Yet the pressure was undeniable. Every time she looked out over the audience she could feel it, waiting for her like a monster at the end of a dark hallway. There were over a hundred sets of eyes watching the three of them on stage, but Joanne could feel only two. Two monsters, and there was no way she was running in these heels.
Are you packed? Her father had come into her room last night after she'd turned off the light. She's wanted an early night so she'd be well rested for the concert, but she was lying awake, trying to calm her nerves. She'd jumped when he'd knocked and flicked on the bedside lamp.
We're leaving directly after the concert. You better be packed. Leave your things in the hall and Damien will throw them in the car tomorrow morning, before school. She'd said yes sir and had gotten out of bed to gather her things. She'd thought they would be leaving on Saturday, at the earliest! It was frustrating, but she couldn't do anything about it.
She'd slid her mother's chunky jersey and some jeans under her seat on the drive to school. If her father said they were leaving immediately after the concert, he meant it, and she wouldn't have time to dig around in her pack for something warm to wear. There was no way she was driving for hours through mountains, in the dark, in a strappy black dress and lacy stocking.
Her piano tutor's daughter was singing with her for the next piece, much more contemporary than Bach but just as much of a finger workout. Vanessa Carlton's More Than Wanted, they'd been working on this one for a couple of months, and Joanne loved it. Deana's voice pulled it off amazingly and the grand piano Joanne was sitting in front of made every note twice as dramatic as an ordinary piano.
I have wandered far and wide
For something real something to die for
But I have found you and you do not see
All that is me, all that is true.
-and angry. Deana's voice was practically screaming at the audience and Joanne wondered if, tonight, it was more than an act. There was admirable passion in this girl. She sang from a bruised heart.
And I am more than you will see
And I am more than you will need.
Joanne felt empowered when she was playing this, more than her family could ever squash out of her. While she was on stage, they couldn't reach her, and she was free to blossom into anything, anyone. She was grinning uncontrollably by the time the song finished and barely noticed when Deana moved back to the piano so the two girls could bow together. She smiled out at the audience- and caught the eye of her father, standing along with everyone else in the middle of the theater. The grin just fell away and she remembered who she really was, and the foreboding feeling crashed right back down on her. She was suddenly glad that her part in the concert was done and she could relax- hide- backstage till it was over.
Red velvet curtains fell between Joanne, Deana and the audience a moment later, and Deane grabbed her, bouncing up and down. “That was FANTASTIC! God, what a rush!”
“Off the stage please, girls.” someone called from behind the curtain, and they moved along.
“C'mon, let's go get something to drink, I'm parched.” Deana had Joanne by the hand and was dragging her back to the two rooms set up backstage for the performers. Joanne slid her hand out of Deana's, “Sorry, I have to go to the bathroom. Cramps.” Deana nodded understandingly and let her go, catching sight of her boyfriend and running over to him, squealing. Joanne's lip twitched in a smile for her friends excitement, and she rushed to the bathroom, just wanting to lock herself in a stall and hide. It wasn't fair, she loved this aspect of her life, there performances, but they always ended, and she always had to turn back into Libby Micheals and go home to play meek daughter and maid. Two hot tears run down her cheeks and she wiped them off, smudging her makeup. She didn't know if she could do this for just over two more years.
She reached the bathroom and jerked open the door, leaning on it once she was inside. The white marble floor shone with polishing and the very art deco basins were perfectly clean. There was even a little chair with velvet cushions set up next to a three legged, beautifully carved stool with a bowl of breath mints perched on top. It was an utterly ridiculous bathroom. She didn't want to leave it, didn't want to go back out there and drive for five or six hours and stay locked up in an isolated house while her family ran around as animals and demanded to be fed every other hour and treated her like a servant and, worst of all, gave her no support. Because Easter Sunday was the anniversary of her mother's death, and Joanne was the only one who cared. A small sob escaped her throat and she sunk down on the silly chair, hugging herself. It was at that moment when the door swung upon and a blond girl about her own age burst in, in tears.
It was her mother's birthday present to her. She knew that Melissa always enjoyed piano recitals so the knowledge that one was on so close to her daughter's birthday? Perfect. They all dressed up nicely for it- Melissa, her mother, and her sister- even though Melissa didn't feel much like going. She didn't feel much like doing anything and was sure her party that night was going to be a disaster.
She barely heard most of the performances: all she could think about was Deirdre. Deirdre and Renee. The woman her Deirdre loved. The woman her Deirdre had chosen. It made all of her ache and she gripped tight into her knee with her nails to keep herself together as she sat there with her family in the dark audience.
And when intermission came she thought she could bare it no longer. She stood with a forced smile. "I'm just going to the bathroom," she told her mum as she made her way out of the aisle and started looking for it.
How was this happening? How was it allowed that all she wanted in the entire world was Deirdre and she couldn't be with her? It was what had kept her going any time in the last year when she felt hopeless: Deirdre. Deirdre's voice. Deirdre's smile. All of it.
She was crying and there were people were looking at her. She ignored them and hurried her steps once she spotted the bathroom. As she shoved the door open she let it all out. Let out all the pain and frustration and sadness and loss. She pressed her balled fists into her stomach and sobbed.
She raised her eyes after a moment and stopped, mid sob. There was a dark haired girl sitting on the chair across from her and watching her.
The surprise knocked the sobs right out of her. Joanne sat there, tears on her face and her hand over her mouth, staring at the girl in stunned silence. Their eyes met and Joanne gave the other girl a supportive little smile, hidden by her hand. She swallowed hard, trying to pretend nothing was wrong. "Hey." she squeaked.
Melissa blinked and then sniffed. "Hey," she replied, unsure of herself and her voice thick. Now she felt like an idiot.
Joanne did not work well in awkward situations, and it couldn't have been any more awkward if she'd walked in naked. She felt terribly sheepish, but then, the other girl had been crying too. It seemed unfair, that they'd both come seeking solitude and gotten... this. Unfair, and kind of ridiculous.
Joanne giggled, laughing at herself.
For a moment Melissa was shocked and she made an expression that showed it. And then she too laughed, not sure what else she could do.
She wiped her cheeks dry as she was laughing with the tissues provided next to the complimentry bathroom mints, and offered the tissues to the other girl. "Hi," she said, traces of giggling still in her voice, "I'm Joanne."
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