I’ll Wait For You

Chapter 5

The graveyard continued to circle in Elinor’s head, teasing her from the shadows at every opportunity. She now, theoretically, had the job that came close to her dreams, and had already shifted some of her personal goods over to the studio, though it contained virtually everything she needed, aside from clothes and toiletries.

It had two cleaners every day as well, going through the huge area and making sure everything was up to scratch. Elinor felt spoiled by all this lavishness, and completely out of place in the new world offered. She was used to cleaning, to dealing with bare necessities, but apparently, she could even order out from the building, and not have to worry about the cost – she had been given a company credit card to be used solely for this kind of purpose. Food, drink, snacks.

 The glitz and glamour continued to assault her at every turn, and she had started tracking media outlets that mentioned Fusion Chord, who also owned three music channels that played popular music, as well as classic ones and old style rock tunes.

Everything about this new world sought to dazzle her, and make her feel out of her depth. She still kept her job at Velocity Café, though she needed to cut down the hours to balance the time spent at the studio.

Telling her friends and family gained mixed reactions, to the point where she simply didn’t bother sharing the expected earnings she was entitled to from working there. It also meant she needed to keep up the pretense by staying at Velocity Café, though that was something she could bear with.

Karen’s reaction bordered on outright jealously and envy, and though she tried acting as bubbly and cheerful as before, the odd snide comment escaped, making Elinor deeply uncomfortable. She didn’t want to create a rift between anyone she knew, but it seemed just by changing occupation and wealth earnings, that kind of thing proved inevitable.

“Are you sure you don’t earn that much with your new job, despite being recruited by the biggest music company in the world?” Doubt had laced Karen’s tone, marred her otherwise attractive features.

“Freelance writing for lyrics doesn’t pay so much. They made me sign all these agreements to not distribute the words and to have no rights to royalties or commissions the lyrics might provide. Which is depressing on a level, because I put all the effort into it. But it’s still more worthwhile than nothing – and it looks good on a resume.”

The lie came easy to Elinor’s lips, and sounded convincing enough for Karen to perk up, some of the cloud of jealously falling away.

“Yeah, I suppose that makes sense. Probably would have been different if you were singing, right?”

“Probably,” Elinor agreed. “But singing is not something I can do exceptionally. So, I’ll never be a singer of that scale.”

“Shame,” Karen said, now feeling it her duty to cheer up her colleague, “Because I think you truly do have an amazing voice. I don’t get why they ignored that. Though I’m sure your lyrics are good as well.” Karen amended her statement.

“Yes,” Elinor sighed, before focusing on her work shift.

Telling Tina and Peter came easier, and they shared in her joy, though she gave them the same white lie as Karen. It galled her on a level, because she didn’t like lying in general, and especially not to Tina – but there was one thing she had learned about the art of honesty and of lying.

As long as she knew the truth, and why she was lying to someone else, sometimes that justified the action to go through with it.

Sometimes you need to lie, because you know that the truth doesn’t make things better, or bring you closer in friendship.

“I really hope they see you for who you are and, worship your talent and keep you with them forever,” Tina had gushed, hugging Elinor so tight that she struggled to breathe. “Just don’t put yourself in a position where you’ll break down from overworking, caught between two jobs.”

“I’ll try not to,” Elinor had replied, enduring the hug without choking to death.

Her parents, of course, acted utterly delighted, as if her triumph was their own. In a way, this held true because they had endured the dreaded task of rearing her from a squalling baby to a hardworking adult. Elinor vowed to put aside as much of her earnings as possible, to treat everyone in her life who deserved it. She knew her mother had sights on a coffee machine and a juice blender, but couldn’t justify splashing out so much money on two luxuries – and her dad wanted to lease out an electric vehicle, with his heart set on a Nissan Leaf, even though it was a small car, and would be hard for a family of four. Tina wanted to visit Disneyland, Peter wanted to hike across Kilimanjaro, and Karen wanted to see a show on Broadway.

All of these little dreams, Elinor intended to fulfill. When it came to her own dreams, however, she didn’t know what she wanted.

To be happy. But what would make her happy? Nothing could replace the graveyard inside, or the knowledge that her body had rejected, even mocked her attempts at starting a family. The doctors might claim nothing was wrong with her, but neither had they scanned her thoroughly, simply because she couldn’t afford the bills that came with it. There could be some kind of fertility bomb inside her, that prevented the embryos from sticking properly to her womb, from developing to term.

It remained a constant, icy fear that consumed her, and filled her with the possibility that she might never be able to have children.

Kostya Vasilev had endured pain, too. He had lost a child and wife, so even if he couldn’t understand the impact of the three miscarriages, he knew the impact of sharp, hot grief that came with loss.

Elinor’s body still ached at times, a phantom echo of what should have been there, and her stomach, her womb, always felt hollow.

And, now, she sat in the studio, breathing in the scent of exotic plants, enjoying the snugness and warmth of the room, but finding herself unable to force out any words onto paper, anything that might be made into a song. Several attempts at words had come, but each start became crossed out, rewritten, or scratched over furiously, because her brain simply did not want to come up with anything.

It relied on emotions. Strong, horrific sensations that ate her from the inside out.

Meeting the five band members had been entertaining. Three men, two women. A drummer who doubled as a flutist, a singer who liked to also beatbox, a pianist who doubled as a violinist, a bass guitarist who also provided vocals, and an electric guitarist, who also played the banjo. An incredibly diverse group of musicians, which added extra dimension to the types of songs they could perform, especially if they decided to use all the instruments at their command.