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Maelie
Maelie woke suddenly Sunday morning to a six a.m. text from her father. It was a harsh reality following the very steamy dream she had been having about a certain tenor saxophone player whom she refused to acknowledge.
DAD: In town today with Clara. Breakfast at 8:00. Meridian.
“Fuck,” she groaned aloud and mimicked throwing her phone at the ceiling. How satisfying would it be to shatter her phone and never have to respond?
DAD: Don’t be late, you know Clara will not tolerate it.
“You know Clara won’t tolerate it,” she mimed like a brat. Ugh, she hated that woman. She could never understand why her father put up with her. She was nearly half his age and a complete bitch. They didn’t even like each other anymore. It was a mystery to her why they remained married. But then again, it seemed her father had the uncanny ability to turn any woman ugly and hateful. Her own mother disappeared when she was six and at last check, was living in a mansion on the coast of France, remarried and blissfully uninterested in the daughter she’d borne. It had bothered Maelie until she visited her at the age of twenty and realized she had no interest and no common ground with her. At this point in her life, she rarely spared her a thought.
The lovely image of a lazy Sunday morning she had gone to bed with shattered like the glass candy she broke on the sidewalk as a child. She toyed with the idea of not going at all but knew she would catch bigger hell than it was worth. She typed out a nasty response about how it would have been nice to have a warning and how Clara could shove her disapproval up her ass, but she erased it.
MAELIE: 8:00, Meridian.
DAD: And dress nicely please, you always look so frumpy.
“Fuck you, Dad,” she said aloud and set the phone down without answering.
Like a petulant child, she crossed her arms, shimmied further into her covers, and set her alarm for another hour of sleep.
An hour later, the alarm startled her so much she sat straight up in bed and had to literally roll herself out to get up. She was actually on her knees for a few moments before she remembered she had somewhere to be.
Muttering horrible things about her father and Clara, she showered, pulled her hair back as neat as she could, and donned a pair of pants and silk blouse that would barely pass muster for Meridian. Seriously, who ate breakfast at the most expensive restaurant in the city? It was stupid. Give her a big bowl of cereal any day of the week over that pretentious place.
“Oh, fuck,” she groaned aloud when she stepped out of her apartment to find a dusting of snow covering everything in sight. With a sigh, she marched back in, put on a hat and gloves, and slammed the apartment door so hard she was instantly sorry. It wasn’t fair to make others miserable just because she was.
Despite the snow that kept falling, she actually made it to the restaurant on time but stayed in her car five minutes past to really irk Clara. The breakfast was bound to be a disaster whether she showed up on time or not, and she didn’t want fucking Clara to think she had any iota of control of her life.
“Ah, there she is,” her father cooed and stood as she rounded the corner to their table. He always played the doting father in public and it never failed to jar her. He pulled her into his arms for an awkward hug. “My beautiful girl, how are you?”
“Other than late,” Clara intoned from where she was still sitting at the table with a pinched look on her perfectly made-up face. She was only about thirty-five but her swept-back brown hair and look of disdain always made her look well over forty. This pleased Maelie to no end.
“I’m good, Dad.” She struggled out of the hug. She had always hated participating in his shows of affection. Everything was a performance to him. Every goddamn minute of his life. “Thank you,” she added, ignoring Clara as she pulled off her coat and sat in the chair he pulled out for her.
He sat across from her and smiled. He was astonishingly handsome for his age. The salt-and-pepper of his thick hair and the crinkles that had formed on the edges of his piercing blue eyes had only served to make him more attractive. She’d always hated the way women reacted to him and how important their reactions seemed to him. Far more than any opinion or feeling she ever had.
“How are you?” she asked after too long of a silence had passed. “What brings you to Chicago?”
“I’m good,” he answered, reaching out to grab Clara’s hand. “We are on our way to California and I thought it would be good to stop in and say hello, check on how you’re doing.”
“Yeah, I can see how Chicago makes an easy stop from Paris,” she remarked, grabbing her menu so she didn’t have to make any more eye contact with anyone. “Why are you really here?” she asked as she looked over the egg offerings that were so expensive their prices weren’t listed, because if you had to ask, you couldn’t afford it.
Clara clucked her tongue at Maelie’s contrariness, but she ignored it.
“Can’t a father come visit his daughter from time to time?”
Maelie dropped the menu and looked at her father straight in the eye. “Why start now?”
Clara put her mimosa down with irritation. “Are you really going to let her talk to you like that, Gerard?” Her French accent curled around her words, making her disdain that much more pointed.
He patted her hand and cleared his throat before directing his attention back to his daughter. “I did come to see you. I also wanted to make sure you are taking the audition with the New York Phil seriously. Have you even looked at the audition requirements?”
“Dad, I’m not interested,” she told him for the thousandth time through clenched teeth. “I have a job I’m happy with. I like teaching.”
“Oh, please,” Clara droned.
Her father waved his hand through the air as if he could completely dismiss everything about her with a simple movement. “That is not a real job, Maelie, anyone can teach. You are a born performer; I can’t understand why you won’t share your talent with the rest of the world.”
Maelie drew in a deep, steadying breath. “Teaching is hard, Dad, and not everyone can do it. I like performing, but teaching is where my heart is. I don’t understand why you continually try to force me to have your life.”
Her father blinked and sat forward, his face twitching slightly with irritation. “And what, pray tell, is so horrible about my life?”
“Nothing,” she bit with an edge of frustration, her voice rising dangerously. Clara looked around to see if anyone was staring. “It’s just not what I want. I don’t want to be touted around stage to stage as Gerard Barre’s daughter for the rest of my life. I had enough of that as a child. I want my own life now.”
He shook his head and poked the table with his forefinger as he spoke. “Do you have any idea what other violinists out there would pay to have the opportunities you have as my daughter?”
“Yes!” she shouted. “And I want them to have those opportunities. Someone should get the chair in the New York Phil because it’s their dream, not because their father is famous and they have passable talent.”
“You have more than passable talent,” he grumbled, the closest thing he had ever come to complimenting her. “You can make it on your own merit.”
“I know,” she answered through clenched teeth. “But I don’t want to. And even if I did, everyone would always think I achieved everything because of you. I’m a good teacher, Dad, and it’s my calling. Did you even know I’m writing a pedagogy book for early beginners?”
He stared at her.
“I didn’t think so,” she answered. “You know what? I’m not very hungry, I’m going to leave you two to eat on your own.” In three seconds, she was out of her chair and marching back to the valet with her head held high.
She knew she was going to pay for her behavior later, but damn it felt good in the moment.
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Sebastian
“My boy,” his mother cooed at him when he arrived at her house on Sunday evening for family dinner. It was a monthly ritual; the first Sunday of the month was sacred. He had only ever been allowed to miss it when he was touring and only if he was out of the country.
She brushed the snowflakes off his shoulders and folded him into her arms with suffocating strength. “How are you?” She hung on to him as if she was afraid he might run away.
“I’m good, Mom,” he promised, letting the familiar scent of her perfume calm him. She had worn it as long as he could remember. It had been one of the last gifts his father had given her before his accident, and she had worn it every day since. It had been her mother’s day gift from the boys for years now.
She held him at arm’s length, her bright blue eyes searching his. “You look so good,” she told him, before crushing him to her again.
He let out an “oof.” Though tiny, his mother had the strength of a lioness when it came to her boys.
“Is that Seb?” He heard Lu ask from somewhere in the house.
He managed to wrangle out of his mother’s grasp and looked up to find Dom and his wife Lula standing in the doorway to the kitchen smiling at him. Lu made a grand gesture of looking at her watch and showing it to Dom, who eyed it comically. “Dear, Lord.” He grasped at his chest. “It’s one minute before six. Is ... is Sebastian Adams of the Jazzmen actually early?”
Lula grabbed on to his arm, eyes wide. “I ... I see it too.” She stepped forward and touched Seb on the shoulder. “Oh my God, he’s really here!”
“Ha ha,” Seb droned. His lack of punctuality had been a joke in his family for a long time. Turns out it was easy to be on time when you didn’t have much going on and you weren’t pumping yourself full of alcohol. Who knew? “You two should be a stand-up team.”
“Ah, it’s good to see you.” Lu hugged him warmly. “You know we love you.”
“Yeah, yeah, Dom can’t stop telling me.”
For that, Dom clocked him on the shoulder and he pretended it didn’t hurt.
“None of that,” their mother said. “Come on, everyone’s in the kitchen; let’s eat.”
They all followed her into the kitchen where Mason and Gabi were seated with Steve, their mother’s boyfriend.
“Seb,” Gabi greeted him from where she was tucked under Mason’s massive arm, “it’s so good to see you.”
“You too, Gabs.” He smiled. “Mace.” He nodded to his brother.
Steve stood to reach out and shake his hand. “Good to see you, Sebastian, as always.” He leaned in closer than usual. “I’ve already mentioned it to your brothers, but I would like a private moment with the three of you before the night is over, okay?”
Seb grinned at him. “Of course, good to see you too, Steve.”
He nodded.
Seb had a good idea what it might be about and just hoped his brothers could keep it together. Steve’s transition into the family as their mother’s boyfriend had not been a smooth one. Sebastian had been supportive from the start, but Dom and Mason had had a very hard time accepting that their mother wanted to date a man that wasn’t their father. Time had worn them down a little, but if Steve wanted to marry their mother, it was going to be a hard sell for sure.
But since she had met Steve, their mother had come alive in a way they hadn’t seen in upwards of twenty years. She kept her now slightly blonder hair in a young shoulder-brushing length, Lu and Gabi had helped her put together a stylish wardrobe, and she finally had mastered the art of natural make-up. Steve had taken at least a dozen years from her face, and Sebastian couldn’t think of anything better than to see his mother so happy in love after being alone for so long.
Tonight, she was skimming around the kitchen in a pair of cuffed jeans, trendy flats, and a soft, flowing sweater that had Lula written all over it.
Once all the greetings were over and everyone was seated, the conversation was easy as usual. They never lacked for topics, especially with the baseball season starting in the near future. Dom’s favorite thing to do was pick on Steve about being a Yankees fan in Chicago, which if Seb were being honest, would be the only flaw he could see in the man. Jesus, the Yankees?
“So, Seb,” Lula asked as dessert was getting passed around, “how is teaching going?”
Everyone looked at him, and he felt a mixed rush of emotions. He loved that everyone clearly cared about him but hated how important his answer was. As if it weren’t going well, he wasn’t doing well. Everyone at that table was highly successful at what they did. He had been too, until a few months ago. He felt a little silly now.
“Oh.” He cleared his throat. “Good, I guess.” He dragged his fork through the apple pie on his plate that suddenly didn’t sound good anymore. “I only have a couple students right now, but Mr. Hanson says the calls keep coming, so that’s good.”
“That’s awesome.” Lu clapped her hands together. “Are you enjoying it?”
“I guess,” he answered truthfully. He didn’t hate it, but it wasn’t what he really wanted. Not by a long shot. “So far, my students are great, and the other teachers have been nice.” The image of Miss Barre’s pink cheeks and irritated eyes hit him in the stomach with surprising force. His dreams about her the night before had been far from innocent.
“I’m so happy to hear it, dear.” His mother put her hand lightly on his arm for just a few moments.
“You never know,” Dom spoke up. “You could get bit by the teaching bug; it’s a pretty fucking great career,” he added and then kissed Lula on the cheek. “Plus, super-hot coworkers.”
Lula giggled and swatted at him.
God, they were so cute he wanted to puke.
He was grateful when the topic changed to Gabi’s write-up in Home Magazine, and he felt his body relax for a few moments. He didn’t know when he had become uncomfortable in his own skin, but it seemed to be exquisitely present every fucking minute now.
When dessert had wound down, Steve took the men into the living room with the cover of watching preseason baseball reports, and the girls sat around the table giggling over who knew what. Seb was so grateful for Gabi and Lu’s presence in his mother’s life. They were truly amazing women.
Steve sat Dom, Mason, and Seb down on the couch and paced in front of them as if they had been caught sneaking out of the house on a school night. He was clearly nervous and kept running his hand through his silvering hair.
Seb was pretty sure everyone knew what he wanted to say, but he was letting Dom take lead on this as the oldest.
His brother finally let the man off the hook.
“Steve,” he said, clearly trying to keep the amusement out of his face, “is there something you’d like to ask us about our mother?”
The man stopped pacing and stood in front of them looking equal parts thrilled and terrified. “Yes.” He blew out a breath. “I would like to have your permission to marry your mother.” He put his hand up before they could answer. “I’m not trying to replace your father or come between you and your mother in any way, but I am in love with her, and it would be my honor to call her my wife. I promise—”
“Steve,” Dom interrupted, trying to keep the smile off his face. Seb was amazed at how well Dom was handling this. A year ago, he would have punched him right in the nose. “Stop.”
Steve’s face paled, and he swallowed.
“Could my brothers and I have a few minutes to discuss?”
“Oh, of course, yes, yes,” he let out before he scurried off to the bathroom.
As soon as he was behind the door, the three of them burst into laughter.
“Oh, man,” Mason said to Dom. “That was brutal. Why’d you do that to the poor guy?”
“Eh”—Dom shrugged—“I thought it would be fun to make him sweat a little.”
“But we’ve all agreed,” Seb chimed in. “I mean, I’m cool with it.”
“Yep.” Mason grinned. “Believe it or not.”
They looked at Dom who put up his hands. “Yeah, believe it or not, I’m cool with it too. It’s been good to see Mom this happy.”
“Perfect,” Seb answered, genuinely happy for the guy.
They all straightened their faces when Steve wandered back in a few minutes later. He looked nervous and sweaty.
“We’ve talked it over,” Dom announced. He paused for maximum discomfort. “And we’ve decided that you may marry our mother. Provided she says yes, of course.”
Steve’s face broke into a gigantic smile. “Oh, thank you,” he breathed, relief pouring from his body. “I promise I’ll do everything possible to make her happy.”
“You’d better,” Dom warned.
“Or we’ll come find you,” Mason added.
Seb shook his hand. “I’m happy for you, Steve.”
Steve grinned. “Thank you, Seb, that means a lot to me.”
As Steve shook the hands of his brothers, Seb’s happiness receded as he realized with a gut punch that he was now the only person in the family without someone. It shocked him that he cared at all, but as he watched his family couple up again in the living room, he felt particularly alone.