Chapter 16
Dmitri
Walking to Red’s takes me longer than I expected due to the number of Maplewoodians stopping me to chat like I’ve lived here my entire life. When I finally get to the diner, I take out my phone and text Ever.
Dmitri: At Red’s. What do you want and I’ll bring lunch to you.
Ever: COFFEE
Dmitri: And a turkey club.
Ever: Would it be weird if I said I’d pledge my undying love to you for one of their maple bars?
Dmitri: It’d be weird if you didn’t. :)
He gives the message a laughing emoji, and I place the order.
“Heard you and Ever are going to London. What are you going to see?” Mickey asks as he rings me up.
I hand him my credit card, unsurprised by his knowledge of our trip. At this point, I’d be more surprised if he didn’t. “Probably not much. I’m going for an audition, so we won’t be there long.”
“Maybe next time you two can do two weeks.” He hustles off as an older woman calls to him to pick up an order for table six.
“Yeah, maybe,” I say to his back. Is it strange that everyone in this town seems to think Ever and I are more than a vacation fling?
But is this really a vacation? I came to Maplewood because we were recording in New Island.
But you haven’t left yet . Before I can ponder the implication, I’m interrupted.
“Dmitri.” Naloni, Jaggar’s mom, steps up behind me. “When are you and Ever leaving?”
“Friday night.” My head spins at how informed the town is of the comings and goings of Ever and me. Our itinerary might as well be posted on the Community Happenings board at the library.
She touches my arm. “I’m so glad I ran into you. Since you started working with Jagger and the kids, he’s been so excited about the violin.”
“That’s wonderful. If we can foster a love of music, he’ll always have it.” Even if he loses it for a bit, it eventually comes back. I’m the perfect example. And from what Ever has shared, he is too.
“Well, some of the other parents and I were talking with Lydia, Celia, and the girls in their band.” I cover my smirk because a group of eighty-somethings is not what I’d classify as girls.
Then again, I thought Lydia and Celia were only in their sixties when I met them, and the Rocktogenarians have more energy than many half their age.
“And we were thinking,” Naloni continues, “that Maplewood should have a youth orchestra.”
I pocket my receipt. “That’s a great idea. Doesn’t the New Island high school have one?”
She waves her hand in front of her face like she’s shooing my words away and wrinkles her nose.
“We’ve already approached our district about doing more with the music program, but with bureaucracy, who knows how long that will take?
We want to have an orchestra separate from the school.
Something that will attract young musicians from the surrounding areas.
“It will take some work, but the thing I’ve noticed in the short time I’ve been here is how Maplewoodians rally when they want to get something done.
” Immediately, ideas ping in my head. Funding, practice space, a conductor, other musicians who could help…
I quickly abolish any excitement bubbling.
I don’t live here. Heck, in less than a week, I have an audition in London.
Through pressed lips, I paste on an encouraging smile and tamp down the crushing feeling that makes me feel like I’m sinking to the bottom of the Schuylkill River.
“I’m sure Ever’s friends, Bianca and Icelyn, could give you some insight.
My understanding is that Bianca transformed New Island’s music department.
And there’s always Roy. He probably has a bunch of connections. ”
“I’m sure Ever’s friends are fabulous, and Roy is as busy as he wants to be with the store. Our committee voted unanimously to recruit you.” The wide smile she flashes me is as warm and playful as her son’s.
Acceptance is on the tip of my tongue, but I bite it.
You don’t live here. Auditioning for a job on the other side of the ocean.
Establishing a youth orchestra would take a ton of work, not to mention that I need to do something to actually earn money.
Sure, I have a few recording gigs lined up and while I’ve been here, I’ve been working with Rio on projects other than my own, and I’m up to six students, but my savings won’t last forever.
I rub the back of my neck to keep my shoulders from drooping and displaying my true feelings.
“I’m more than happy to help for as long as I’m here, but you’ll need to find someone who’s local.
Someone who can commit to it for the long term. ”
She holds my gaze and I swear her eyes dance with unabashed laughter, though her mouth only tilts up ever so slightly. Like she has a secret she’s trying desperately not to spill. She pats my arm and says, “Wonderful. I’ll tell everyone you’ll help while you’re in Maplewood . We’ll be in touch.”
With that, she spins on her heel and joins another woman already seated in a booth, leaving me with a ball lodged in my throat. I tap my fingers at my throat’s base where the words I’d love to sit. And they have no intentions of going anywhere, anytime soon.
Mickey brings my order and I thank him, putting a ten in the tip jar, then leave.
My head spins as I walk to the Honey Spot.
I’ve been in Maplewood for three weeks and I feel like I’ve been a part of this community for years.
I want to see what happens with the youth orchestra.
Want to be a part of the creation of it.
Want to hear more of Ever’s compositions.
Want to attend the music festival, the pride festival, the Halloween festival, and whatever other festivals this town can think up.
But most of all, I want to share all of it with Ever.
Whatever this is between us may be new and it may be fast, but the feelings I have sure the hell feel real.
The familiar sound of the tinkle of Honey Spot’s bell is another of the many things that feel like home in this unexpected little town.
“Hey, you.” Ever stands from where he is crouched in the children’s corner, rearranging books, and relieves me of the drink carrier.
With his free arm, he pulls me into a deep kiss, leaving me lightheaded when he pulls away.
“You’re a savior.” I follow him to the front counter.
He sets the carrier down, then hands me my coffee and takes his own.
We moan in unison at the first sip. “My ass is dragging.”
“Maybe if you hadn’t kept me up so late last night, you wouldn’t be so tired today.” I stick out my tongue and swipe the droplet of coffee from the plastic lid, unable to contain my smile at the memory of him rimming me until we were both panting with need.
His eyes darken and he dips his chin to his chest with a look that can only be described as smoldering. “Are you complaining?”
“Absolutely not. But we may want to see what the recommended daily caffeine intake is because, at the rate we’re going, we’ll be putting our health at risk,” I tease.
He takes a long drink from his cup, then says, “Totally worth it.”
My insides bubble, partly from the easy back-and-forth banter and partly because I want to tell him about my encounter with Naloni. “Did you know there’s talk of starting a youth orchestra in Maplewood?”
He removes the takeout containers from the bag, opening them, then handing me the one with the chicken salad, and my chest flutters at how normal and easy it is. “That’s cool.”
“I ran into Naloni just now and she mentioned that the group spearheading the project wants me to be a part of it.” I pluck the pickle spear from my container and set it on the lid of Ever’s container.
He pauses mid-bite, then sets his sandwich down.
I watch him for any sign of what he’s thinking, but his expression is neutral.
Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything. Maybe the thought of me staying isn’t anything he’s interested in.
It would be crazy to move my life to this tiny town, especially with no plan and no secure way to support myself. Plus, I still have the London audition.
I rub my forehead, wishing I had kept my mouth shut. I’m so tired. Tired of this limbo I’m in. Tired of feeling like my life is a mess. Tired of wanting something I can’t name that always seems to be out of my reach.
“What would that look like?”
My gaze darts from the pile of potato chips to Ever’s beautiful face. Silver hairs sprinkle his stubble, covering the dip in his chin. But when I meet his eyes, I think I see… Hope? I lick my lips. “I don’t kno—”
My phone sounds and I pull it from my pocket, checking the screen. I look up at Ever. “My parents.”
He tips his chin to the back of the store. “You can use my office.”
I press my lips to his cheek, loving the scruff against them and answer the call.
My mom is talking before I get a chance to say hello. “So you’re still in Maplewood, not Philadelphia?”
The lilt of her voice, so much like the flute my father plays, flits over the speaker, and I often wonder if her voice was what struck my dad.
He’s always said the sight of my five-foot-two mother “haul her bass around like it didn’t weigh as much as she did” made him want to know her, but I think he was a goner the minute he heard her speak.
Kind of like when I saw Ever with his eyes closed, moaning over chocolate.
There was something about him in that moment that made me want to know him. And I haven’t been the same since.
I step into Ever’s office. The old paneled walls make the room dark even with the overhead light on. Despite that, the room has a cozy, welcoming feel.
“I figured you’d go home before going to London.” This comes from my father, since my parents cannot seem to have a conversation with me unless both of them are on speaker.