Lisa Desrochers - A Little Too Much

“I can’t imagine my life without him.”

“Me either.”

She pushes off the counter and hugs me. “I love you, Hilary. I really do.”

“I love you too,” I say thickly past the lump in my throat as tears leak over my lashes.

“You gave me the most amazing gift.” She sniffles. “Please don’t do anything to hurt him.”

I can’t remember ever letting Mallory see me cry, but I bury my face in her shoulder as the tears start for real.

ALESSANDRO AND I spend every day together, but Thursdays are still our day to explore, and today it’s my turn to choose. We have a command performance at Mallory’s for dinner because she says wants to talk to Alessandro about his family medical history, but I know it’s more. She wants to feel him out—to be sure he’s on board with keeping our secret.

But that’s tonight. We have all day.

I’m just drying off from the shower when my phone rings. It’s Terry’s ringtone.

My palms go instantly clammy as I lift my phone to my ear. “Hey.”

“Hilary? Good news, honey. Are you sitting down?”

I move to my bed on shaky legs and sit. “Yeah. Hit me.”

“So, you know how you auditioned for a secondary role in Don’t Look Back ?”

“Yeah . . .”

“What would you think if they offered you a primary?”

There’s a zing through my chest, and for a second I’m sure I’m having a heart attack. “Don’t mess with me, Terry. I’m fragile.”

She barks out a laugh. “You’re about as tough as they come, honey, but I’m not messing with you.”

“Holy shit.”

“I know! This is so exciting!”

“Which role?” I ask as my head clears a little.

“Rene. The sister that goes away to college.”

“Holy shit!” I say again.

Terry laughs. “I know!”

“Holy shit,” I whisper as I feel tears press against the backs of my eyes.

My door flies open and Jess and is standing there with an expectant look on her face. I nod and she launches herself into me.

Terry’s voice comes faintly from where I dropped the phone on the floor. “Hilary?”

Jess backs off and I sniffle as I scoop it up. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. We’re still negotiating contract points, but the money’s good and I think you should take this. Are we in agreement?”

I sniffle again. “Yes! Totally yes.”

“Good. Congratulations, Hilary. I’ll call you later with all the details.”

“Thank you so much, Terry.”

“I just sent you in the right direction, honey. You did all the heavy lifting.”

When I lower the phone, Jess jumps me again. “Which one?”

“I got Rene in Don’t Look Back .” I flop back on the bed and plaster my hands over my face. “I’m Rene.”

I scream through my tears, and Jess screams along with me.

“Tell me everything!” she says.

But all I can do is cry for a really long time.

WE MEET AT Argo Tea and Alessandro beams when I tell him my news.

“I never doubted your talent,” he says, reaching across the table and weaving his fingers into mine.

“I just can’t believe it’s finally happening.” It still doesn’t feel real.

He scrapes my chair closer and lifts me into his lap, and I ignore the stares from the table next to ours as he kisses me. “Congratulation,” he says when he finally lets me go.

“Thanks.” I nip his lip. “You ready?”

“I am.”

We stand and he helps me into my jacket. I lead him down the first set of subway stairs we come to. He doesn’t ask where we’re going, and it’s a good thing, because I don’t know.

A train is just whooshing up to the platform when we get there and Alessandro moves to get on, but I grab his arm.

“Not yet,” I tell him because, from somewhere deep in the echoey station, I hear the faint chords of a guitar. I take Alessandro’s hand and follow the sound to the stairs between platforms, where I find a young blond guy on a folding stool, strumming out “Stairway to Heaven.”

I glide my arm around Alessandro’s waist and lean into him. When he finally figures out that we’re not actually trying to catch a train, I feel him relax into me. He pulls me closer, looping both arms around my shoulders, and, as Guitar Man segues into an Evanescence song that I don’t remember the name of, he starts to sway us to the rhythm.

After two more songs, I throw a couple dollars in the open guitar case and we move to the train. We ride the subway, changing lines randomly, and as we roll into each stop, I scan the platform. When the doors slide open, I listen through the rustle of the crowd for music. And wherever I find it, we get off and listen.

Some of the musicians are really good, like Guitar Man, and others truly suck, but either way, I leave two dollars in their hats or cases or whatever. Three hours later, after ten stops, I’m down to my last two dollars.

We roll into Union Square Station and, as I listen, I finally hear what I didn’t even realize I’ve been listening for. I grab Alessandro’s hand and pull him off the train. After it whooshes away, I zero in on the rich notes of the sax and follow my ears.

He’s outside the turnstiles, just like he was the first night I ever saw him, four months ago . . . the night Alessandro found me. I tow Alessandro through without hesitating and find the guy with long, stringy, gray hair in his face sitting cross-legged on the cement floor, his grungy sax case open in front of him. He still seems just as sad as he did that night, or maybe even sadder. He doesn’t look up at us as he plays, but his song wraps itself around me and speaks to my soul.

Alessandro steps up behind me and slips his arms around my waist, and I close my eyes and listen. Just like that first night, I picture all the notes fluttering in the air like butterfly wings, and instead of making me feel sad . . . trapped, I finally feel free.

I’m shedding my secrets and coming clean. I’m letting go of my fear and anger. I’m starting out of the dark tunnel I’ve been living in for so long, and the tighter Alessandro holds me, the freer I am.

MALLORY TAKES OUR jackets when we get to her house. “Make yourselves comfortable,” she says with a wave of her hand at the family room. On the coffee table is a spread of munchies, and I hear Jeff crashing around in the kitchen.

“Where are the boys?” I ask when it stays quiet.

“We sent them over to Wendy’s for the night.” The way Mallory says it, I know tonight’s going to be all business.

Jeff comes in from the kitchen. “Hi, Hilary.” His eyes shift to Alessandro and give him the once over. “I’m Hilary’s brother-in-law, Jeff,” he says holding out his hand. “We didn’t really have a chance to meet at the cemetery.”

Alessandro takes his hand and gives it a firm shake. “Alessandro. It’s a pleasure.”

“Well . . . make yourselves at home,” he says with a tip of his head at the couch. “What can I get you to drink? Beer? Wine? Soda?”

Alessandro and I take seats on the couch, and Mallory sits beside me. “Wine,” she says, a little too fast. Her nerves are already shot, I can tell.

“Wine sounds lovely, thank you,” Alessandro says.

Jeff looks at me and for a second I think about saying wine too, but decide it’s too early to pick a fight. “Diet.”

I pluck a bruschetta off the tray in front of me as Jeff turns for the kitchen.

“Who is the cook?” Alessandro asks, helping himself to a stuffed mushroom.

“Jeff, mostly,” Mallory says, then she shifts beside me and levels Alessandro in her gaze. “First, I want to apologize for my behavior at the cemetery.”