Good night, sweet Eloise.
I hold my phone to my chest, letting out a small breath as memories of Eloise at the piano swirl through my mind. I wish she were here. I wish I didn’t have to look from afar.
All I can do is hope the time between now and our next lesson passes quickly.
11
Riot
Next week…
“Itoldyou I’ve been practicing!” Jane stares up at me with a haughty grin, hands clasped tightly around the neck of her guitar.
“So you did.” I extend my fist toward her, and Jane bumps her knuckles against mine. “Good job, kid. I mean it.”
“Does this mean you’ll teach me how to play a Respite song? Pretty, pretty pleaseee?”
I chuckle under my breath. It’s true Jane has progressed a lot in the past couple of weeks, and I can tell she’s been working hard at home. She deserves a reward—even if it will piss her mother off to hear Jane playing a heavy metal song.
At that moment, my alarm goes off, signaling the end of Jane’s lesson. My heart jumps to my throat, remembering that in a few minutes, Eloise will be walking through the door of the guitar shop. This week, Jane’s mom had to switch her lesson to the hour just before Eloise. Because of that, I haven’t had the time I normally need to prepare for her arrival. I’m scattered, atad unhinged, and I’m terrified I’ll do or say something to scare her away.
“Mr. Riot? You never answered…”
“Sorry, Jane.” I rub a hand over my face, exhausted and wound tight with anxiety all at once. “Yes, I’ll teach you the song. Next week, okay?”
“Eee! You’re the best!” she squeals, pumping her tiny fists in the air. “Next week is going to be so awesome!”
“What’s happening next week?”
Jane and I turn at the same time, drawn by that angelic voice that sends a bolt of lightning to my core. “Eloise…you’re here early.”
You look exquisiteis what I really want to say. I don’t even though it’s true. She’s dressed in a pair of shorts that match the color of her worn black high-tops. Her Pink Floyd shirt is tied in a knot at the base of her sternum, exposing a small strip of skin on her abdomen.
“Am I?” she murmurs, worrying her bottom lip. “I could have sworn it was five thirty…”
“Well, yeah. But you’re usually around thirteen and a half minutes late. So… it’s early for you… you know?” Silence descends over the three of us, and I curse myself for being so damn awkward around her. With a steadying breath, I stand from my seat and gesture for Eloise to take my place. “Sit, please. Jane’s mom should be here any minute, and then we’ll get started. Jane, this is Eloise. Eloise, Jane.”
Eloise turns her kind smile toward Jane as she lowers into the chair. “It’s nice to meet you, Jane. So what’s happening next week?”
Jane’s eyes light up at the question. “Mr. Riot is gonna teach me a Respite song!”
“Respite?” Her brows shoot up in surprise. “You like heavy metal music?”
“Iloveit.EspeciallyRespite,” Jane emphasizes. “When my dad was alive, me and him and mom used to drive around in his truck and listen to all their songs. She doesn’t listen to it anymore, though.” Jane’s eyes turn sad, but in the next blink, her expression is replaced with her familiar gap-toothed grin. “But now I’m gonna learn one! Isn’t that cool?”
“Verycool,” Eloise says, her tone hiding the sheen of sympathy in her eyes. “I bet you’ve been practicingreallyhard.”
“Yep!” She nods, her head bobbing exaggeratedly. “Riot didn’t believe I knewallmy barre chords, so I had to prove him wrong.”
Eloise shoots me a look out of the corner of her eye. “Did you now?”
“I did!” she leans toward Eloise, cupping a hand around her mouth in an attempt to shield her voice from my ears. “Is he always this moody?”
This time, Eloise bursts out laughing, the sound high and bright and one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever heard. “I’m afraid he is, Jane.” Another look at me, and then, she says, “But I kind of like that about him.”
Jane giggles. “I knewyou liked him back. Iknewit.”
The blood drains from my face as Eloise makes a choked noise, her gaze flitting from Jane to me and back several times. Thankfully, Jane’s mom decides to show up at that moment, distracting everyone from the nine-year-old’s untimely comment.
