Harp's Song Part 8

"Um ... thanks. Listen, I just want to say that I'm sorry if you got in trouble with Coach the other day after the fight."

"Harp, it's ok. I knew what I was risking when I got involved," smiling, he continues, "Connor is my best friend and I love him like a brother."

"Speak of the devil," I say as I see Connor walking toward us with a smile on his face.

The party is a lot of fun, and beyond not being able to shake the huge smile from my face, I feel like things are finally in the right place for me.

Today is the District Music Compet.i.tion. It's the day I've been preparing for since January. I live for the adrenaline rush that flows through my body right before a performance. We've already performed our orchestra pieces and now I'm getting ready for my solo performance. Connor just left to sit with his mom after he gave me a hug and kiss as a good-luck wish. He has such a calming presence and I love that they are here supporting me.

I take a deep breath and walk into the room. I get myself situated and acknowledge the cue from the judge giving me the go ahead. You have to start your performance within a minute of their cue, so I take another deep breath and exhale-calming the adrenaline rus.h.i.+ng through my veins.

There are different stages of adrenaline. When I was backstage it made me feel anxious and nervous, almost shaky. But now that I'm center stage and ready to perform the piece I spent thousands of hours perfecting, the adrenaline has changed. It feels stronger somehow and lifts me to a different level and a different place.

As soon as I exhale, I close my eyes and start my piece. I always do that to help me tune everyone out and then a few bars in, I open them and instead of seeing people in this large room, I see music notes and feel them come together in the most joyous way.

A few minutes later, the piece is over. The adrenaline has s.h.i.+fted again leaving me feeling euphoric. I blink my eyes to snap myself back to reality. Everyone is clapping politely with the exception of Connor and Catherine, who are standing, clapping and cheering. I smile and nod to the judge before exiting from the stage to pack up my cello and wait for the judge's results-which could take up to two hours. This is the worst part. I'm zipping the case around my cello when Connor grabs me from behind and twirls me around.

"That was amazing. Your best performance yet."

"You're supposed to say that because you're my boyfriend, but thank you."

He bends down to my ear and leans in, "You should really learn how to take a compliment because you were unbelievable out there. I'm so proud of you."

I blush and do the only thing I can think of to thank him. I pull his face to mine with both of my hands and kiss him. It's a frantic kiss, an outward show of the adrenaline still flowing through me and I don't want to stop, but I need to breathe so I pull away from him.

"Was that your version of thank you?" he asks his eyes darkened with l.u.s.t.

"Mmmhmm."

"Well, you can thank me that way any time." he chuckles.

He's picking up my cello when I turn toward the exit and stiffen.

"Come on," he says, "let's get something to eat while we wait for the results."

I can't move. I mean literally can't move. I don't believe my eyes. Standing in front of me is my mother. What the h.e.l.l is she doing here? We haven't spoken since I stood up to her after the bathtub incident. In fact, I've barely seen her.

"Mom?"

Connor is facing her now too, and pulls me into his side, "What do you want?"

The contempt dripping from his voice makes me wince.

She looks to Connor and back at me and opens her mouth, but before she says anything, I interrupt her and nod toward the door, "Outside."

It's the only word I can get out, but whatever she wants to say to me, she's going to have to do it outside because even though the backstage area is large, I'm feeling suffocated and need fresh air.

She nods and turns toward the exit.

Connor carries my cello and I walk ahead of him following my mom. Once we are outside, Catherine walks over to us and I introduce her to my mom.

"Nice to meet you Anne. Were you able to see Harp perform today?" Catherine asks politely.

"Um, yeah, I did," my mom answers looking between Catherine and me.

"She was wonderful, don't you think?" Catherine says proudly.

My mom looks down and shuts her eyes before looking back up at me, "She was beyond wonderful, she was ... inspiring," she says as tears well in her eyes. She's s.h.i.+fting her weight between her feet obviously nervous to talk to her own daughter.

"Catherine, Connor, could you give us a few minutes, please?" I ask. I have no idea where I summon the courage to speak so confidently, but I'm on guard and need to stay that way.

"I'm not going anywhere," Connor says to me and then turns to my mom, "Whatever you have to say to her, you can say in front of me."

"Connor, this is not your business. Let's leave them to talk for a few minutes." Catherine says, "Harp, we'll be in the Student Union if you want to join us when you're done here."

If looks could kill, Connor's at least wound my mom, because he's shooting daggers at her from his eyes. I appreciate his protectiveness. I never had a doting parent try to protect me from things, so the concept is new to me.

He turns to me and gives me a hug, "If you need anything text me, and I'll come get you. I won't be far, ok?"

I hug him back and shake my head.

Once Connor and Catherine leave, I face my mom with disbelief.

"What are you doing here? What do you want?"

She stands there shuffling her feet looking between the ground and me. If she doesn't answer me soon, I'm leaving her here. Dealing with her is the absolute last thing I want to do today. Today is my day and I will not let her ruin it.

"I don't have all day mom. Either tell me what you are doing here or leave."

She's looking down at the ground, and closes her eyes before looking up at me.

"Harp, I ... well, I need to talk to you about a lot of things, but I really wanted to hear you perform today. You were amazing, you know?"

I don't know who this woman standing in front of me is, and what she's done to my mother. So I stand there facing her with shock clearly written on my face.

"I understand your shock right now. I really do," she says, "I've been horrible to you. I want you to know that I've changed since ... that night. I haven't had a drink since then and I've been working with a therapist. That's what I've been doing at night." She looks at me intently now.

"I've been up really early in the mornings because I couldn't face you yet. I couldn't see you again until I was ready to be honest with you and apologize."

I'm soaking in the words coming from my mom's mouth. I'm not just hearing her, but listening. I can see the honesty in her face and hear the quiet pain in her words, but it's hard to reconcile that with what I've heard from her throughout my life.

"That's great. I truly mean that, but you can't expect me to automatically accept what you are telling me after all these years," I tell her. "So, you'll forgive me if I'm not jumping up and down with joy right now."

She nods, "I understand, but I'm hoping you'll give me a chance to explain. I know it won't erase what I've done to you, but it might help you understand a few things about me."

How many times growing up did I wish that my mom would look at me and see me the way she is right now? A million. But, I wonder if it's too late? Even a few months ago, I would have been happy to have this conversation with her, but things have changed. I've changed. Since the fight in the bathroom about my entrance to Oberlin ... something snapped and I lost all my tolerance for her, and any shred of compa.s.sion or hope that I held deep within my heart.

I look over her face and see her anxiousness at my response. Her body language seems to be genuine and when I look into her eyes, I see sincere emotion ... I remember when I was younger, after a fight with her I told myself I would never stoop to her level. Never. Ever. Instead, I would be the bigger person and because of that, I would have a better life. That young girl is still inside me and she is at war with the cynical girl ready to walk away from her mother.

The idealistic girl wins, "Ok, we can talk but I don't want to do it right now. Today is about me, not you. I'd like to spend the rest of the afternoon with Connor and Catherine. I'll meet you at home later. You can talk and I'll listen, ok?"

"Ok," she says as she exhales.

"Ok," I repeat.

We stand for a minute longer examining at each other before I turn to meet Connor, and as I'm walking away from her she says, "You were really amazing today, Harp."

I turn and nod at her before continuing on my way. Once I see Connor and Catherine in the Student Union, I smile and go sit with them. I tell them everything and Catherine seems pleased, although I can still see the worry behind her eyes. Connor, on the other hand, seems annoyed. When Catherine leaves us to go to the restroom, he turns to me.

"Are you sure you want to do this Harp? You know you don't owe her anything, right?"

"I know, but I don't ever want to be her. I don't want to carry around all that hate inside me like she does. I'm better than that, so I'm going to hear her out and see what she has to say and I'll figure it out from there. I owe that to myself not her. This is the right decision."

He seems to understand where I'm coming from when he reluctantly shakes his head.

"I just don't want to see you get hurt again. I don't think I could take it. I love you so much."

"I know and I love you too. I'll call you the second we're done talking. I promise," I say before giving him a quick kiss on the lips.

We sit in the Student Union until I get word that the results are up. I make my way to the board with the solo cello performance to find my name and rank, and when I do, a huge smile spreads across my face. I turn back to Connor and Catherine, and they can tell by my reaction that I've gotten a ranking high enough to be heading to the state compet.i.tion. Only musicians with an "I"-the equivalent to one, or "first" in roman numerals-ranking move on to state compet.i.tion. Usually, only a few kids per school get to advance to that level.

Since my freshman year, I've advanced to the state level and every year, I've scored the highest rank at state too. I want to end my high school career with a perfect performance ranking. I know it's ambitious, but it's what I've been working for since I started playing and what has given me hope that I could really get out of here and live my life the way I want.

Connor lifts me in a huge hug and spins me around while crus.h.i.+ng his lips to mine. Once he puts me down, I giggle like a schoolgirl.

"I'm so proud of you," he says in between kisses.

"Hey, it's my turn now," Catherine says pulling me from Connor and into her arms, "I'm proud of what you've done today." When I pull away from her, I can tell by the look in her eyes that she doesn't just mean she's proud of my performance and ranking, but also for agreeing to talk to my mom.

"Thanks." I say softly before Connor pulls me into his side and we walk to his truck. Catherine drove separately because Connor and I were supposed to go out and celebrate tonight, but now he's taking me straight home.

Once he pulls in my driveway he gives me another congratulatory kiss, which turns in to another kiss and yet another kiss. By the time we unload my cello and I walk through the door I'm breathless from the make out session.

"He's really cute and he likes you a lot," my mom's voice breaks me from my reverie. I look into the living room and she's curled up with her knees in her chest in one of the oversized chairs facing the door.

I give her a tight smile and nod before laying down my cello. I walk into the living room and sit down on the couch facing her.

"So, you wanted to talk, let's talk," I say coldly.

She looks me over again like she did earlier. I get the distinct feeling she really is seeing me for the first time today.

"I have a lot I want to tell you and a lot I want and need to apologize for, but it's going to be hard. Hard for me to say what I need to say and hard for you to hear it. So I need you to guarantee me that you won't leave until I'm done because the things I'm going to tell you aren't pleasant, do you understand?"

"I'm not a kid anymore, I get what you are saying and I promise that I'll listen to everything you need to say."

She nods and picks up a mug of tea sitting on the side table next to the chair. Repeatedly dunking her tea bag, she stares into the mug and begins talking.

"I had a really good life for a while. I grew up with my parents and older sister in a suburb of Chicago. My mom was a great mom. She stayed at home and took care of us girls. She always had homemade cookies or treats for us after school and she helped us with our homework. She would give us hugs and kisses and tell us all the time that she loved us. My dad, was the same way, well, except he couldn't cook to save his life. Literally, he would burn toast ... every time," a small smile crosses her lips as she pauses lost in a memory.

"He was really athletic and encouraged us to play sports. Ginny, my older sister, played volleyball throughout high school and college. He spent hours with her practicing. I was more like mom, who was a gifted musician. She was always humming when she cooked or baked. I spent more time with her, and was soon humming along with her to whatever she was singing. After a while, she got me into piano lessons and I loved it. Even though I wasn't the sports kid, my Dad got me a piano so that I could practice at home-which I did all the time. Soon, I was asking my parents for a violin. I fell in love with it after a teacher had played it in music cla.s.s. I loved the sound of it almost immediately. I still played the piano and sang in the choir, but now, I was part of the orchestra."

I'm incredibly stunned right now. The woman who has been telling me to stop playing "that racket" just openly admitted to playing the violin, the piano and to singing. I always wondered where my musical ability came from, and had a.s.sumed it was from my dad. Since we were never close enough to talk about family, I had also a.s.sumed she didn't have parents or anyone else. I do remember asking her once if I had grandparents after we celebrated Grandparents appreciation day in elementary school, but her "No!" scared me enough to never bring it up again.

"I was always a little quieter than Ginny," she continues. "She was popular and beautiful and despite the difference in our ages we were really close. She was my best friend. By the time she was a freshman in college, I was a freshman in high school. Ginny looked just like mom-she had s.h.i.+mmering blonde hair and piercing blue eyes combined with a lighter shade of dad's olive skin. I took after Dad with his dark hair and dark eyes, but I have my mom's smooth, porcelain white skin. If you looked at the two of us together it was impossible to think that we were sisters, which made us laugh sometimes."

She pauses now and I have so many thoughts and questions running through my head that I'm trying to push them away, just so I can process what she's telling me. I wait for her to speak again while curling myself into a ball on the couch.

"When I was a senior in high school, Ginny was finis.h.i.+ng up at Michigan State and had a steady boyfriend, Alex. They had been dating seriously for about a year and a half. They were the perfect couple. His looks complemented Ginny's and he was smart. His dad managed his own law practice in Michigan and Alex had been accepted to law school at Northwestern in Chicago. Ginny and Alex found an apartment close enough to campus for him, yet close enough to the train so they could still come see us. My parents were thrilled-Alex was a good catch. He was handsome, on the road to success and very respectful and conservative. That summer, after they had graduated and moved into their apartment I heard Ginny and my mom talking about whether or not Alex was going to propose soon."

She shakes her head and holds her mug so tight I can see her knuckles turn white.

"Are you ok? We can take a break," I tell her.

She looks up at me and I see her eyes are filled with salty water and when she blinks, fat tears roll down her face.

She shakes her head, "No ... I need to tell you this so you understand me a little more. And, I need you to know so that we can move forward." She pauses, but quickly continues, "I hate the way I've been with you. I can't even call myself a mother because I know you've raised yourself. You are so beautiful and strong and talented and I hate myself for all these years I've ..." she succ.u.mbs to tears and can't finish talking.

I nod my head and after setting her mug down, she brushes the tears from her face with her hands and takes a deep breath.

"At the end of June, my parents hosted their annual summer BBQ at the house. It was a yearly tradition for our neighbors and family friends. The younger neighbor kids were playing, while the rest of us older kids were hanging out. The adults congregated around the grill and picnic tables eating and drinking. Ginny and Alex were there too and after I had eaten, I decided I was tired of the party and went to my room. I was never a very social person. I didn't have any close friends. I was so focused on my music and entrance to college, that I spent all my free time practicing or at music lessons or studying. It wasn't unusual for me to disappear into my room even with a house full of guests. Once I got to my room, I put on one of my favorite cla.s.sical pieces ... Scheherazade by Rimsky-Korsakov. I'm sure you're familiar with it ... " she looks at me.

"Yes, it's beautiful," I agree.

"I was listening to that with my headphones on to help drown out the noise and music coming from outside. I sat on the floor and was halfway through a quiz in Cosmo magazine, when I looked up to see Alex leaning against my closed bedroom door. He and I had never been alone before, and I couldn't figure out why he was in my room instead of outside with everyone else. I was getting ready to pull my headphones off, but stopped when he walked to my stereo and pulled the headphone cord out of the stereo jack. The music filled my room while he sat down on the floor and pulled my headphones off. I watched his eyes roam over my face, down to my chest, and back to my eyes. I finally found my voice and asked him what he was doing in my room, and he said that he was there to see me. The way he said it, it was like nothing out of the ordinary. But, it felt weird so I told him he should leave and he laughed ... he just laughed. Finally he asked me why I wasn't happy to see him?"

"I didn't know what to say so I just told him I thought it was weird that he was in there with me. Next he asked me if Ginny and I shared our things. I was so confused that I just shrugged my shoulders. He laughed again and said, 'Well, I'm practically family and will be soon, so I think we should share something ...,' she starts crying heavier now and there's a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.

"Mom, are you saying ..." I can't even finish my sentence because I think I know what happens next and my thoughts are not coherent anymore. I wait for her to expel the emotion that's overcome her before she looks me in the eyes and begins again.

"I was seventeen years old and so naive. I asked him if he wanted to borrow some music and he chuckled at me. He reached for a piece of my long hair and tucked it behind my ears and said 'no, I think I'd like to share you.' And ... then, he leaned in and kissed me. It took me a few seconds to realize what he was doing and as soon as I did, I put my hands on his chest and pushed him away from me. I asked him what the h.e.l.l he was doing and he said 'we're sharing.' I told him I didn't want to share like that and he brushed me off. Since we were on the floor, I moved away from him and got on my bed. Stupidly, I was sitting flush against my headboard when he got on the bed and caged me with his arms," she pauses.

"I tried to push him off my bed but he was too strong. He grabbed my legs and pulled them down away from my chest. Suddenly he was on top of me with his arms restraining me. I was so shocked with the speed and strength that he used to pull me down underneath him that I wasn't aware of him kissing me until my lips felt like they were being bruised. I shook my head from side to side trying to release him and when I got away from his mouth, I begged him to stop ... over and over again. But he didn't."

The look on her face tells me everything I need to know. There's sadness, hurt, anger and remorse flas.h.i.+ng through her eyes and I know how the rest of this story goes. I'm not sure I want to hear it. I've almost convinced myself to leave when she stops me.

"Harp, I know this is a horrible story to share with you and I know you probably think I'm being selfish right now by telling you this, because Lord knows you don't deserve the pain this is causing you. Honestly, I need you to know these things about me so I can fix myself and fix us. I've been such a horrible person, mother and I want that to change."

"I ...," I don't know what to say, "Go on."

We sit in silence for probably ten minutes before she takes a deep breath, steadying herself so she can continue.

"Once he was on top of me and I couldn't get away from him, he pulled my arms above my head and held them there with one hand while he used his other hand to rub different parts of my body. Foolishly, I was wearing a dress that day, so when his hand moved up under my dress I knew he wasn't going to stop. He pushed my dress up and pulled my underwear down. I remember him saying more crude, disgusting things. All of it made my stomach curl and I thought I was going to vomit. When I caught a breath from his brutal kisses, I screamed. After that he hit me across the face and threatened me. I was your age-and so scared. I was supposed to trust this man who was living with my sister and who was probably going to be my brother-in-law. My parents loved him and so did everyone else, so I obeyed him even though I was terrified. Besides, no one had come to check on me after the first scream so I knew it was useless to keep doing it. My whole body stiffened when I heard his zipper, and then I started sobbing. In between breaths, I would beg for him to stop but he didn't. The pain was ..." she pauses to catch her breath from the tears that rack her body at the memory, "I've never felt anything so horrible. It felt like millions of tiny needles p.r.i.c.king my insides. He clasped his other hand over my mouth and said some revolting things about me being a virgin. I couldn't do anything but lay there stiff as a board crying, waiting for him to finish. When it was over he smiled at me sweetly, and told me this was our little secret and that no one else needed to know. Of course if I did tell anyone they wouldn't believe me, but he didn't just leave it at that. He also threatened to hurt me again if I did try to tell anyone and he found out."

"Once he put himself back together he left me in my room. I remember curling into a ball, shaking and crying. A few hours later, I heard people leaving and realized my parents would be up to check on me. I couldn't have them come in and see me like this."

"When I got up, I looked at my bed and there was ... there was blood all over my comforter and I freaked out. I pulled everything off my bed and threw it in a ball inside my closet until I could throw them away. I wiped my face and got new sheets from the hall, put them on my bed and then got in the shower. I hurt so bad that I sat in the tub for a long time, letting the hot water pour over me while I cried and cried. I knew I could do that safely in there since no one would hear me over the water. Once the water started turning cold, I got out and dried off. I looked at myself in the mirror and made a decision right there-to never think about what had happened again. I knew it would be hard for anyone to believe me since everyone loved him, but also because he was going to be a lawyer and his dad was a big shot attorney that would defend him no matter what. He knew that too and had used that to his advantage. I ..."

"Oh my G.o.d, I think I'm going to be sick ..." I interrupt her to run to the bathroom. After depositing the contents of my stomach into the toilet, I hold my knees to my chest and process everything she just said. When I get it together, I return to the couch, I curl myself into a ball and face her.