I’ll Wait For You

“And that is a fu*king irony right there,” Darren said, eyes narrowed. “And good riddance.”

Arina shrugged. “He wants to press charges against my uncle, but there’s no real evidence to convict the guy, and my mother would likely defend him until her last breath.”

“Your dad sounds like an honorable man,” Elinor said. “Someone to be proud of.”

“He is. He really is. If he hadn’t come and gotten me, well, I have no idea where I’d be now.”

“Probably a junkie wastrel like your mother,” Darren supplied. He added, “Sorry. I saw what drugs did to people when I was in and out of foster care. It turns them into shells of humans, only existing for the next hit. It gives uncontrollable rage and hatred when that fix isn’t given.”

“I know,” Isaac said. “And I hated dealing them, though I always told myself it was a means to an end. I needed the money. I didn’t need the guilt.”

With all their stories shared, the atmosphere in the room weighed down on Elinor’s soul.

Suddenly, her life, which had caused so much pain and misery, didn’t feel quite so bad anymore. She might have suffered, but in stark comparison, she had love from the start, and only stumbled across misery later on.

Did it make her story less, though? The others had all reacted in indignant fury. They cared about her story, the things she said.

“How did you guys even meet? It seems so incredible, to have such vastly different backgrounds, but to find each other in the billions of others who live in this world.” For Elinor, it sounded like nothing short of a miracle, that these people sat before her, not broken by their pasts, not victims.

“Because Kostya Vasilev has this Good Samaritan thing going on. Unlike the rest of his viper family, he likes to find out who is hiding in the cracks of society and mold them together into something successful. We’re not the first group, and we’re certainly not going to be the last. Not that we’re complaining.” Arina flumped back on the sofa she shared with Elinor and Freya, kicking out her legs over Elinor’s lap.

“That makes sense. You know, that dude was coming to my workplace’s café every Friday, just watching the acts performing there. They were terrible, to the point where my best friend brought earplugs every time she came to hang out with me on Friday evening.”

This caused a wave of laughter to go through the group.

“Earplugs? Why not just a different venue?” Freya asked, chortling.

“No idea. I think she just liked showing them off because they had these little penguins on them.”

“Kostya was coming there? Did you perform a lot, then?”

“No. I didn’t write or sing for years. I kind of lost the will when I went into that relationship, and I’ve only just rediscovered what I’ve lost. I missed it.”

“Are you a good singer?” Oscar shifted his weight, dedicating all his attention to her.

“Not bad. Enough so I can hit the notes. It’s the words that matter for me, and letting people feel the words.”

“Give us an example,” Arina urged, nudging Elinor. “Show us your pipes.”

Elinor swallowed nervously, but obliged with a short rhyme.

This is me using my singing voice

I sing cos I have to because I’ve no choice

And now you’re looking at me all strange

As I demonstrate my vocal range

She finished, and Arina exclaimed, “Did you just make that up on the spot?”

Yes I did

Did you like it?

This sent them all off into roaring laughter, including Elinor, who needed to wipe her eyes at the end.

“That was brilliant!” Freya clapped her hands and prodded her shoulder into Elinor. “We got ourselves a fu*king genius here.”

“I wouldn’t say that was proof of genius,” Elinor replied, embarrassed by the praise and admiration she was getting. It meant something huge to her to be acknowledged by these individuals, who had gone through such hardships to become who they were today.

“You can sing as well. You really can. We can probably include you in guest compositions. I’d like that,” Arina said, under a chorus of agreement.

“Can I hear you guys, then?” Elinor asked, flinging the ball back at them. “I’d love to hear your voices and the way you play your instruments.”

“’Instruments,’ she says. I can play the tuba,” Darren said. He pointed at his crotch area, before getting a sound wallop by Oscar and Isaac simultaneously. “What the fu*k was that for?”

“We have ladies. No talk about tubas,” Isaac said. Oscar simply glared with daggers in his eyes.

Arina, ignoring the brief explosion of drama, launched into wordless sound, just to show her musical range. From the first sound to the last, Elinor had chills going up and down her spine. Arina sounded ethereal, powerful, with a near operatic voice, and an absolutely incredible range of four octaves. She could dip low to piercingly high, and Elinor just gaped.

When the last haunting note faded into quiet, Elinor gushed, “Oh my God. Oh Lord. Girl, that is some voice. My bones have turned to jello just listening to that.”

“Mine, too,” Oscar confessed, patting his huge chest. “She’s got it.”

Elinor, now that she realized just what sort of voice she would be working with, started changing the shape of her lyrics, knowing a powerful voice would back them up, make them haunting and beautiful or dark and despairing.

Oscar Ackles sang next, and his voice came low, like he was singing a lullaby. His range was not as intense as Arina’s, but Elinor could immediately see how perfectly he would contrast with that operatic voice, the melodic harmonies born from them singing together, and she started getting inspired and excited.

“You too will work really well together. And I need my notepad. Now. One second. Can you set up your other equipment too, so I can get a good idea of what I’ll be writing for? And do you have any songs already composed?”

“One,” Arina said. “Lyrics aren’t amazing, but we wanted something to showcase our talents.”

“Play it for me,” Elinor said. She dashed into the study, took her pen and notepad, and came back in feverish joy.

She had real talent in front of her. Real, awesome talent to sing her songs.

She also had the kiss from Kostya. Somehow, it all merged together into something new, and wonderful, and brilliant.

She spent the rest of the day and most of the night talking with the band members, sharing ideas.

Eventually, Elinor ended up crashing in one of the studio bedrooms she had commandeered, her notepad full of lyrics ideas, and her heart soothed and at peace.

For the first time in a long time, she didn’t dream of the graveyard.