Hitting the Right Notes (14 page)

As she finished the verse, the whole crew, who was working on the set burst in sudden applause. Tony showed thumbs up to her from behind the monitors and she winked at him.

“If you think you are too old for Rock ’n roll, then you are.” Darya concluded.

“Wise words.” The host tried to recover from surprise.

“Ah, that’s not from me. Those are Lemmy’s words.” She smiled giving tribute to the Rock ’n Roll god in her mind.

The rest of the interview was much friendlier, but the adrenaline had not left Darya’s system when they returned to the studio. She entered the rehearsal room with strength, which was unknown to her until now – she knew that for the first time in many years the woman, who was ready to struggle until the end to get what she wanted was awakened in her.

She bared her teeth and went back to work. There was still a lot to do and not a single moment to relax. If she was going to fight against the cold hostility of media, the unforgotten memories of her failure, her own age and all the years that she had missed, she needed all her strength. At this moment Darya knew that nothing other than rage and love towards her man could’ve lit that fire inside her.

She was not sure if her love for Eric was enough to overcome all of the obstacles that were on her way, but she was going to try, as that was the greatest feeling that she could feel in her heart now. Darya knew that deep in her heart she had not forgiven herself, she was not in terms with her past and maybe was even lacking some love towards her own self, but she knew she was a fighter and she was to fight with every means she had at hand right now.

Darya was relieved to find the rehearsal room empty. As she closed the room behind her, she suddenly felt a flame inside her ready to burst out. Darya opened her mouth and started singing a totally new song. She sang it from the beginning to the end. It had been gnawing at her from the moment she had exited the TV station that morning. Darya sang as if she had heard and rehearsed the song for so many times, yet every word was new to her – every word was so dear to her already.

“Did we hear this song before?” She heard Tony’s puzzled voice from the technician’s room. “What is it called?”

“Raging forgiveness,” she said and in her mind she imagined the song nod to her in agreement. Darya believed most of her songs had personalities. This one was a brave soul and if it had had a face it would’ve smiled to her. The song liked its new name; and so did Darya.

Some memories live too vividly that for the rest of their lives, people yearn to relive those cherished moments again and again, but they can never feel quite the same way.

Eric knew he was never going to feel the same as he had when he first heard DaYa singing. That voice, those lyrics…that perfect moment, when his teenage soul had been filled with the brightest colors and the world had gotten totally new patterns and feel – all of that would never be repeated or recreated again.

He knew the memories of those first emotions were still filling his heart like the ghost dreams of the past. He warmed them inside his heart, cherished them, replayed again and again in his mind to make sure the memories didn’t fade or get stained with time. He was just a gloomy boy back then and the feeling that nobody could understand his true feelings had been gnawing him from inside – that same feeling of insecurity made him angry at the whole world, made him want to harm everyone and everything on his way, behave rude at school, even try an attempt or two to run away from home. All of the angst and torment inhabiting inside him built a thick tall wall and isolated him from the rest of the world.

Then one day her music broke through the defenses of that thick protective barrier and found its path all the way to his heart. It was unbelievable how that music made him believe that there was at least one person in the whole universe who could hear and understand him. He would imagine that music as the alter ego of himself, a person who sang exactly what was in his heart, who embraced him every night in her warm arms and eased his worries to bring the peace of sleep to his tired mind.

Later he had discovered the beautifully beaming face of the woman inside who lived the voice that sang as if playing on the chords of his heart. He also learned her name – DaYa and from the very first moment as he pronounced her name, it felt so dear to him, that he knew he would never let her go, that his life would be so empty without her.

A very naïve and childish part of him had assumed that once DaYa sang again everything would be back to that wishful day that, although happened many years ago, was still so fresh in his memory. Some part of him believed that the past could be brought back, resurrected from the dust of oblivion and breathed a new life into. He had assumed that DaYa would be the same again from the very moment she would step again on the stage. He expected all those years to magically vanish and get back DaYa his idol, his true love, his eternal fantasy.

If she were back, perhaps that would’ve meant that his own younger and unbroken self could be brought back – the one, who had not undergone the dark years of depression and isolation, who didn’t suffer the random breakouts of anxiety…

He had hoped. He had believed in a miracle. But that hope had crashed against the same stage and its million broken pieces glittered reflecting the stage lights. The woman singing on the stage was so different from his DaYa. The woman who glanced into his eyes, who held his hand, who kissed him was not the DaYa he hoped to have back, she was different… Maybe much stronger, much more beautiful and at the same time so very fragile…

Yet, he still cherished that crushed hope. He believed the million broken pieces could come back as one. The dark days he had been through had proved that he was always too stubborn to abandon hope, even if it was something as impossible as this one. He still kept that tiny spark of dream in his mind – maybe once the album was ready, once DaYa was fully back and sang in big stadiums instead of small clubs, once her posters decorated the streets of the city again - then her true old self might be back again.

It was this hope that had Eric abandon every other occupation in his own life and merge his own life to DaYa’s as much as he could and as much as she allowed him. He wanted to spend most of his time in the studio with her listening to her rehearsals, sharing his opinion and sometimes even giving advice.

Margo believed that was another sweet lie he was telling himself and one day when the bubble of dream would break and he’d fall and hurt again. She and Ali tried every now and then to steal Eric from the studio or the household duties he had voluntarily assigned himself to. Sometimes it did work, but most of the time they ended up arguing and shouting at each other.

“Er, I think Margo has a point here,” Alison had told him once as they went out for a walk before that night’s concert. “This new obsession with Darya does not look healthy. When have you done anything just for yourself?”

“I am doing this for myself!” he had objected and he felt that his voice sounded quite brittle and his throat was tight with a knot of nerves and emotions in it. “I want my DaYa back. I have been doing all of this for myself in the first place!”

Margo rolled her eyes with disagreement. They had been talking about this from the very day they had been back from their trip to DaBlazers concert. “You know yourself that Darya has changed since then so much. You are chasing windmills, but if you wanna do it, perfect, it’s up to you!” Her voice had gotten that edgy, dark undertone, which would indicate she was really pissed off. “But at least go back to some freelance work or study or anything that is not about Darya. You can’t merge into her life? And even worse – force her to have you everywhere with her and around her 24/7.”

“That might be bad for your relationship in general,” Ali added and tenderly caressed Eric’s shoulder, which was now curled slightly inwards in a protective manner.

“Well, I don’t go to her drinking parties. I hate it when she drinks.” He spat and could almost feel the taste of alcohol, which he had not physically tasted for years now.

“And you probably express your dislike of it in a very unsubtle way,” Margo intuited and she was not completely wrong. Eric had mentioned that time and time again, but that never prevented Darya from what she wanted to do.

Eric suddenly realized that whenever he was displeased with her actions, he would refer to her as Darya and whenever he dreamed of her, he would always call her DaYa. He felt a slight fireball of guilt sparkle inside him and though it lasted but a moment, it stung all the same.

“We should go back to the club. I want to see Darya before the gig starts,” he said hiding his momentary discomfort and attempting to distract all of them from the painful talk.

Margo shrugged animatedly, pretending she did not care. Alison knew she did and she patted her hand lightly as she also hugged Eric to sooth his raging thoughts. Eric helped them to find their seats in the hall while he hurried backstage to find D.

The heavy cloud of smoke and thick smell of alcohol washed over him as he opened the door to DaYa’s dressing room. In his mind he had been expecting her alone and a bit anxious, pacing in her room, maybe missing him and longing for some comforting hug from him. Eric didn’t think that he would find her laughing and drinking with her bandmates and some other people he didn’t recognize – they looked like fans, or maybe they were also musicians. He didn’t care much about who they were. The only person he worried about was comfortably shining in the center of everyone’s attention and consuming the viciously poisonous liquid.

“Eric, come here babe, I miss you so much,” she shouted and extended her arms towards him.

Was she really this wasted? Or just pretending to ease the tension before going to stage?
Eric was not sure, but he could not pretend that everything was fine.

“Can I talk to you for a moment, D.” he spoke trying to ignore the curious stares of her friends. Darya had introduced him to some of them, but most of the time he had a feeling that she was trying to hide him from them. Tonight seemed like a strange exception though. Sadly, the timing was not quite right. “In private,” he added as he realized none of them was eager to interrupt their party.

“Um, ok… sure… is it so urgent? We’re starting soon.”

“It is.” Surprisingly, Darya didn’t question him any further about the sudden emergency. Instead, she lightly nodded at her friends and they grabbed their half empty drinks and left the room without comments or questions.

“See you on stage, Baby D.” said the DaBlazer’s drummer and Eric remembered how uncomfortable Darya felt when she had met him and the rest of the band at their after party. How they humiliated her with painful reminders of her failures, how they made fun of her, teased her.

Once they were alone in the room, Darya jumped into his arms and Eric did not have much time to react or push her away. She covered his lips with hers and though her kiss was tender and loving, the smell and taste of alcohol made his stomach clench. He broke the kiss and stepped back.

“What’s wrong, babe?” She looked sincerely puzzled. Was she indeed that blind and could not see what was really here?

“Everything, D. What are you doing? How can you drink and hangout before the concert?” He knew he was almost shouting at her. Suddenly the room felt too small and too silent, while his emotions were too heated.

“It was just a bottle of beer, it is nothing.” She said almost defensively, but then suddenly turned and her face flamed with suddenly raging emotions. “Why are you talking to me like that?”

“Because you are wasting your talent. Because you have to concentrate on our goal instead of having fun. Because I want you back! Because you can’t fail again. Is that not enough?” Eric could not stop the words, which had been burning him from inside for days and weeks. He knew he should not bring this up now, minutes before she was going on stage, but suddenly the whole hurricane of mixed and messed up emotions was greater than himself, was so massive that he could not control it or hold it inside.

Darya fell silent. Her whole body was trembling. Eric knew how cruel he had been, but his angst and stubbornness didn’t let him take his words back, ask her to forget those words, kiss their sting away. He simply waited and watched the threateningly big drops of tears gather in her eyes.

“Tell me, Eric, who are you truly in love with?” Her question was just a whisper, that he would’ve almost missed, as his own heart was beating deafeningly loud.

He could’ve said “you.” A simple word, which would not be a lie and would ease the pain which was now squeezing Darya’s body, biting at her skin and burning her eyes with tears.

Instead, he let the cold whisper out of his lips.

“DaYa.”

Just a word – a name so dear to him for so many years. He could see how that name pierced through her heart. How Darya’s breath froze in her lungs.

Then there was a loud bang and the manager’s annoyed voice shouting that Darya had to get on stage in two minutes.

Darya’s body trembled again. She nodded confirming that she had understood his confession. She avoided looking at him as she walked out of the dressing room.

A moment later Eric could hear the audience scream and welcome DaYa on stage. The heavy guitar riffs filled the air. Then a familiar scream and the powerful beats of drums.

Eric stood in the room unable to move. He could feel thousands of thoughts filling his head, but in the chaos of it could not really understand what he was thinking or feeling. He needed some air. And his legs carried him out – away from the music, away from the crashed dream, away from the woman, who could sing and play on the strings of his heart.

Darya stood on the stage – awash in stage lights. She could feel the beat flow through her body, creep into her, take all of her body under its reign. She could feel connected to every musician performing on the stage with her; she could feel the breathing of the audience – every single one of them.