Merciless Union by Faith Summers

36

Aria

“How are you doing today?” Dr. Belmont asks in his usual good-natured way.

I’ve only just realized he starts the session the same way every time we see each other. It was only the first day we met that things were different.

I look back and remember the glimmer of excitement I’d felt at meeting a musician and the prospect of finding myself. What a journey it’s been.

How am I doing today?

“I’m not sure,” I reply, and he straightens up.

I guess right now, I’m happy that Damien’s not getting the business.

Other than remembering it was he who shot Mom, that was the thing that weighed me down over the last few days. I think I would be more than a mess now if Lucca didn’t believe me and insisted on giving the business to Damien.

“You know I’m going to ask you to explain a bit more by what you mean. Right?” He smiles and sets his shoulders back.

“I know.”

Today we’re in the hall where I was trying on wedding dresses weeks ago.

It’s raining heavily outside. The sky cracked open without warning, and the

rain poured like the tears falling within my soul.

Dr. Belmont and I are doing violin stuff again today, so Yuliana got some chairs together and a little table set up in the hall for us.

I get the feeling we’ll be focusing on music for a while until Dr. Belmont asks me about the baby again.

I also think that’s going to be soon too. We’re approaching the end of the week and are already outside the days he’d said he’d allow.

Would it count if I told him the last few days were quite bad, and I had a hard time not knowing what Lucca was going to do regarding the company and Damien?

I nearly told Lucca about the baby this morning. Very nearly.

“Go on then, just talk. We can put music aside for a little while.”

“Things have been bad. I’ve been feeling more unbalanced, and I’m sure you’ve guessed I haven’t told Lucca about the baby yet.”

“I did guess that, but I won’t pressure you until I absolutely have to. I know this was a really tough week, and you might not have found the right time. I don’t want to panic you, but yesterday your blood pressure was higher. I’ll be checking it again at the end of our session just to see if it’s any lower.”

“Thanks. Could that be why I feel so strange?” I woke up with a headache.

“It’s going to be one reason.”

“I’m planning to tell Lucca on Sunday.” My birthday is on Monday, and I don’t want to add anything extra to what might already happen. Of course, then I’ll also know what to expect from him.

“That would be good.”

That gives me four days, including today, to prepare myself.

“I just need some time to process what happened to my mother.” I keep imagining what she must have gone through before she was killed and then when it happened.

She said she hated that she loved my father. She would have known she was going to die, and she still loved him. “Every time I replay the memory of my mother, I feel sick. I thought I’d feel different for remembering what happened and knowing the truth.”

“The truth sets us free, Aria. It doesn’t promise to make us feel good or bad after. How we feel is reliant on what the truth is. But you are now free from the captivity your mind placed on you. It restricted you, and you couldn’t tell friend from foe. That’s not going to leave you feeling good.”

I nod at that. “No, there’s so much to get my head around. My father really did a number on me. I hate that I was in his care for so long and never knew how evil he was. Even that damn doctor he gave me was most likely set up so he’d know if I remembered what he did.”

“I don’t doubt that. Everything is going to feel raw for a while. It’s going to take time to heal, but I promise you, you can pull through this.”

“Thank you for believing in me. I wouldn’t have gotten this far without you.” I smile.

“You’re welcome. That’s what I’m here for.”

“You were so sure my memories were being suppressed. How did you know it wasn’t just brain damage?”

“I’ve seen it before. Thankfully not too many times. The last time was the worse, though, and it was enough to set me up for life.”

I’m curious to find out what the last time was if he’ll tell me. “Last time?”

“Last time was about my wife. Before she died, she was a psychiatrist like me. She was in a car accident, but she couldn’t remember how she crashed the car. It took a year before she remembered it was someone who purposely ran her off the road. She saw them do something she shouldn’t have seen.”

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. Like you, that same person was in our lives, and they came to see her in the hospital every day. They acted like they cared, but they were just checking to make sure she didn’t get her memory back. It turned into a big disaster in the end that ripped the family apart.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you that, forgive me. I didn’t mean to stir any bad memories.”

“You didn’t. I threw you a bone when I said last time. I wanted you to ask me about it. She died because the damage to her body from the accident was too substantial. She spent that year in the hospital and was never able to walk again. I knew we didn’t have long together, and I was lucky to have her for as long as I did.” He gives me a warm smile. “I guess my point in telling you this is so that you know these things happen. For me, the grief of losing her took time to heal. Now she lives on in my guitar.”

I narrow my eyes. “Your guitar, Jessie Jane?” It feels odd calling a guitar by a name, but that’s what he called it, so I should be respectful.

“Jessie Jane was my wife’s name. That’s why I named my guitar after her. We met in college, and I was that crazy rock band guy. Every song I wrote was about her. Every time I played my guitar, I thought of her. My Jessie Jane.”

His words grip me. “That’s beautiful, Dr. Belmont.”

“Thank you. Now let’s see how we can apply that to you. We’ve spent a lot of time reacquainting with your violin. Yesterday we did some sheet music and practical work. How are you feeling about trying to play again?”

“I want to.” I nod. I’ve been going over my old music books a lot, and at least I’m now familiar with where to find the notes on the violin. “I’ve been looking at the sheet music for Clair de Lune. I printed it off and tried to learn it.”

I brought it with me so he could look at it—not that he needs it. It just has the notes for the violin and piano.

“Perfect. How’d it go?”

I wince. “A little better than last time.” Which means it was still terrible. “But there was a tune of sorts.”

He laughs. “The best thing is you’re trying. Lucca mentioned a teacher coming at some point when we last spoke. I think between her and me, we should be able to get you playing again soon. She can, of course, teach you the more technical details, and I’ll focus on your memory.”

“That would be great.” It was nice of Lucca to remember such a thing in spite of everything that’s going on.

“Yes.” He reaches for his guitar. “So, last time I played the guitar, and you listened. I was hoping I could tease out the memory of the tune. This time we’re going to do the same thing, but I want you to focus on the emotion you feel when you hear that song. Creative people do things with emotion. It can be love, happiness, sadness, hate, anger, despair. So I’ll start playing, and you listen for the first verse, then when you feel whatever emotion comes to you, play what you practiced. It doesn’t matter if it sounds bad.”

I’m glad to hear that. “Okay. I think I’m ready.”

He nods, positions his guitar then starts playing. I focus on the beautiful melody and allow him to play the first verse. It’s hard to really pinpoint the emotion that comes to me because I always think of Lucca when I hear this piece.

When I’ve heard it recently, I remember the only real memory that’s ever come to me from our childhood. The day we met.

As the thought comes to me, I think of when I first had the memory. It was when I thought I was going to lose him. It was at that moment when I realized I loved him.

Nothing else mattered to me. Just the fact that he was going to die, and I couldn’t do anything to stop it from happening.

Lovebrought the memory of our first meeting back to my mind at that moment.

The emotion I feel as I listen is love. I’m compelled to close my eyes as Dr. Belmont continues playing, and I search my mind but also my heart. Love is what I’ve been suppressing all these weeks, and I only feel it when shimmers of it leak out of my heart.

I indulge in it now and feel the music. However, the weight of eyes watching me pulls me from that deep concentration. I already know the eyes don’t belong to Dr. Belmont.

I always know when it’s him—Lucca. I can always feel him before I see him.

I lift my head before opening my eyes, and as my lids flutter open, my gaze rivets to Lucca standing on the balcony ahead of us.

He’s in the same spot he was when he watched me trying on my wedding dress.

Now he’s looking at me, enticing me into another fantasy with the thing that connects us—music.

Dr. Belmont doesn’t stop playing, but he can see I’m looking ahead of us and not at him.

The melody from the piece and the sight of Lucca evokes such strong emotions within me the impact unlocks something in my brain. It’s then that wall in my mind that stops me from accessing my memories cracks.

As it does, one brick at a time falls away, and I remember myself playing this song. But it wasn’t at any concert. It was in a building—the music school—and Lucca was next to me playing the piano.

I stood paces away, playing with my heart while he did the same.

When I break the intensive stare to look at my violin, it doesn’t feel foreign to me anymore. I look at the strings, and the bow, and the polished wood, and I remember my mother buying this violin for me.

We went together to Ludwig’s Violin shop in San Marino.

That wasn’t the first time we went, and this wasn’t the first violin she bought for me there. It was the one I took to Berklee.

I smile to myself when I remember Mom. And my heart smiles and aches at the same time next when I remember thinking of the boy I loved who disappeared from my life. I remembered thinking of this song, and I used to only play it to remember him.

I know how to do this and since I never play sitting down. I stand and position my violin under my jaw.

The little smile that flits across Dr. Belmont’s face doesn’t escape me.

There’s a smile in my heart, too, when I slide the bow over the strings, and I start playing the way I was born to.

Dr. Belmont stops and allows me to play. I close my eyes again, and I play Clair de lune the way I used to with Peter.

No… not Peter. I know his name now.

It’s Lucca.

I play until I finish the piece, and Dr. Belmont starts clapping.

I open my eyes again and gaze up to the balcony where Lucca still is.

I take one small step and stop when the room shifts around me. My nose feels funny like I’ve smelled something strong, and it burns.

My head suddenly feels light. Dizziness overcomes me when I look at Dr. Belmont.

“Aria,” he says my name, but I can’t answer.

Drops of blood fall from my nose, and then I fall into darkness.