I’ll Wait For You

“Of course. We’re all hoping that. You do your best, honey, and knock them out.”

Elinor smiled, whilst simultaneously enduring a shiver of fear. She’d never enjoyed performing in front of people, even when she took singing lessons in the past. The only reason she learned to sing was because she wanted to hear what her words sounded like in rhythm, and took four years of lessons. She’d never been an exceptional singer, but at least learned to hit the right pitch and maintain tone all the way through a song.

When her music teacher suggested learning another instrument, she tried guitar for about two weeks, piano for another month, then gave up, because it didn’t interest her in the slightest.

To be fair, I had other, better things to do – like binge watch Harry Potter with Tina, and spend hours trawling through random crap on the internet for no other reason than to get a laugh out of it. My priorities weren’t exactly… the best. Elinor ran a hand through her thick hair, pleased that she raked it through without getting tangled.

The wooden stage, with the red velvet curtains draped over it, called to her. All the square and rounded tables dotted over the café were illuminated in soft orange, and Elinor recalled a fact she’d heard once, before starting as a waitress.

Cafes and restaurants tricked customers with lighting. Harsher, brighter colors persuaded them to leave faster psychologically, whereas softer, warmer colors persuaded them to stay longer and relax. Velocity Café employed warm lightning, and many customers stayed for an hour or more. Elinor liked that fact, found it fascinating to know how so many things affected how people functioned, even if they weren’t always so aware of it.

Velocity Café’s decorations appealed to Elinor. Most of the artwork framed on the walls came from happy customers, and all of them spoke of vibrant hues, the color schemes mostly pink, blue and purple. Her favorite picture hung above the bar – a pink tree painted against a blue and purple background, abstract but eye catching.

She served up six more customers, and noted a few members in the crowd who likely planned to perform on the open mic Friday night. She didn’t see the disasters of last week, and she rather thought everyone acted relieved over the matter.

“Shame you can’t be the first act, given that you’re still working past the stage opening hours,” Karen said, as she strode past her colleague and friend. She tossed back blonde hair, heading to serve a group of four people, two men and women who glanced around the room in first time interest.

The emotions honed themselves into sharp claws, scratching at her insides. She wondered if the guy would like what she had to offer. The guy whose name she still hadn’t asked, even though she’d gone to serve him another two times since. What was wrong with her?

Even though the crowd’s only going to be like fifteen-twenty people, I’m already jittery as hell. Gosh.

When her friends came in through the door, it caused her anxiety to spike, but she went over to greet them as usual. “Hey, guys. We really should stop meeting up in this place, and try other venues. I literally work here.”

“I know, but it’s really nice.” Tina showed her earplugs. “And for you, I promise to not wear these. I can’t make the same promise for the others, though.”

“It’s them,” Elinor said, pointing to a man and a woman, both holding acoustic guitars and chatting to Richard Strong. Tina and Peter appraised them, even as they both shrugged out of their dark jackets, hanging them over the back of their chairs.

“They don’t look awful,” Tina said, doubt inflected in her voice.

“To be fair, you didn’t look awful when I first met you,” Elinor said. “But you were a horrible child.”

“So were you,” Tina said, wiggling her eyebrows. “I hit you because you insulted me.”

“Uh, no. You whacked me for no reason. None. You just liked watching other people suffer.”

Peter watched this exchange, a half smile playing upon his lips. “Are you two reflecting on the good old days when you hated each other, again?”

“Yup. I miss them,” Tina said. “Life was so much simpler back then.”

Elinor privately agreed. Not that she wanted to go back in time and erase everything that had happened between them. Only when it came to Aidan.  Somewhere in the back of her head, she dimly registered the fact that it wasn’t entirely Aidan’s fault. She certainly hadn’t done anything to make it easier, though she did like laying across the point of how much she had given up for him, trying to stab him where it hurt, because she had been hurting inside a long time.

She could have tried spicing up their s*x life, being more vocal about how she felt as if she was little more than his potential baby machine.

Funny, to think she could be honest with Tina, and absolutely loved honesty in others, yet she struggled to say anything remotely close to the truth when it came to Aidan.

An image of his dark brown eyes and hair, the wide smile that used to make her heart ache swam into mind. He had wept with her, when the first miscarriage occurred, and all the blood came oozing out of her, too much blood to be normal, along with the hollow, stabbing sensation inside, the knowledge that something which should have been there was gone.

One time was cruel enough. But three? The doctors insisted there was nothing fundamentally wrong with her – the miscarriages just amounted to a string of bad luck. Just like her whole relationship with Aidan. He had been bad luck, though at first, she thought of him as her sun. A person who needed help and love in their life to truly shine.

It su*ked that just because she poured her time, motivation and affection into something, it didn’t necessarily mean a payoff. No heavenly reward, no seeing the person grow and become something amazing – just watching him take her for granted, leech off every penny, and she believed not only their lies, but the ones she told herself.

Perhaps I’m not meant to have children. Not that I know where else I want to go and do in my life.

That thought was a lie as well. She knew what she wanted, she just didn’t think she could achieve it.

The duo act went on stage, and Tina ignored her penguin earplugs, nodding in time to their tune, a simple rendition of Fast Car. The woman missed some notes, but otherwise stayed on point, crooning into the microphone as her companion strummed. She occasionally plucked her guitar as well, but concentrated more on remembering and uttering the lyrics.