Chapter 5
You Were Like a Light
Nolan
I was rearranging my portfolio when I heard Elise’s voice in the hall. I had left my door cracked on purpose, hoping she might pass by. When she tapped on the frame, I tried to look surprised.
“Hey, neighbor.”
Her eyes traveled from my face to my boots. “I like your boots.”
“Thanks. Do you want to come in?”
“Actually, I came to ask if you want lunch. It’s free.”
“Free how?”
“They pay you to donate blood.”
I found a shirt and followed her downstairs. My jeans had no belt, so Elise removed the shoelace from one of my boots and tied it around my waist.
“There,” she said. “Fashionable.”
“I’ll have to tell everyone my neighbor dressed me.”
We walked through the city under a clear, warm sky. Elise moved quickly, pointing out shortcuts and buildings as if New York belonged to her. I was new to the city and still confused by the subway, but beside her the confusion felt less frightening.
“I heard you playing last night,” I said.
“You heard me practicing.”
“It sounded good.”
“I’m preparing for auditions. If I lose my scholarship, I can’t stay here.”
“You’ll keep it.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know you play like someone who has no intention of leaving.”
She looked at me, then turned away before I could read her expression.
At the blood center, we filled out forms and took seats beside each other. Elise explained the process while pretending it was no big deal. I tried to look equally calm.
“Cheers,” she said, raising her juice box.
“Best date ever.”
The room began to tilt before she could answer. Blackness gathered at the edge of my vision, and a nurse hurried over as I slumped back.
When I opened my eyes, Elise was standing above me.
“Nolly, you fainted.”
“I did not.”
“You absolutely did.”
She handed me a packet of crackers. “Eat.”
I watched her return to her own chair. She looked pale and tired, so when I noticed goose bumps on her arms, I called for a blanket. The nurse wrapped Elise in it, and I stayed beside her until the color returned to her face.
“You’re a good neighbor,” she said.
“I’m trying to make up for passing out.”
“You were very brave.”
“I was horizontal.”
She laughed. I liked that laugh immediately.
Outside, she led me to a small park. We stopped at Senior House so I could collect my camera, and she grabbed a blanket and the thinnest joint I had ever seen.
“Are we having a picnic?” I asked.
“We are escaping responsibility.”
Under a tree, she stretched out beside me. I photographed the way sunlight caught in her hair and the way she kept smiling even when she thought I was not looking.
“Why don’t you date?” I asked.
“I need to focus on music.”
“That sounds like a carefully rehearsed answer.”
“Maybe it is.”
“Did someone break your heart?”
She rolled her eyes. “No. I just know what I want.”
“And what is that?”
“To be good enough that no one can take this away from me.”
Her voice lost its playfulness. I understood then that music was not merely a dream. It was a place she had built for herself, and she was afraid that wanting anything else might weaken it.
“You can want more than one thing,” I said.
“That’s easy for you to say.”
“Why?”
“Because you look as if the world has already made room for you.”
I laughed. “The world has made room for my shoelace belt.”
She smiled, but her eyes stayed serious.
Professor Hale passed us on the path and stopped to greet Elise. There was something proprietary in his attention, or perhaps I was imagining it. When he left, I nudged her.
“He has a thing for you.”
“He has a mustache.”
“Those aren’t mutually exclusive.”
She laughed again and rested her head against the tree. “There’s nothing going on with him.”
“Good.”
“Good?”
“I would hate to compete with that mustache.”
She shook her head. “You’re ridiculous.”
“You like me.”
“I’ve known you for two days.”
“That’s plenty of time.”
She looked down at me. “You’re not my usual kind of person.”
“What kind of person am I?”
“Too confident. Too curious. Too comfortable being noticed.”
“And what’s your usual kind?”
“Quiet. Complicated. Probably unavailable.”
“I can be complicated.”
“You can be quiet if you try.”
She patted her lap, and I rested my head there. Her fingers moved through my hair with absent tenderness. The city noise faded around us.
“Fast friends,” she murmured.
“I like you,” I said.
“You’re kind of weird.”
“I was going to say that about you.”
She looked at me for a long moment. “Nolan, I can’t let this become a distraction.”
“I’m not asking you to choose between me and music.”
“You might be asking without realizing it.”
“Then let me be clear. I want to know you. That’s all.”
“That’s not all.”
She was right. I wanted her attention, her laughter, and the chance to become the person she called when she had good news. But wanting did not give me a claim.
“Okay,” I said. “I want more. I can wait for you to decide whether you do, too.”
The honesty unsettled her. It also made her smile.
I turned my camera toward us and took three photographs. In the first, she was looking away. In the second, she was trying not to laugh. In the third, she looked directly at me.
That was the photograph I kept.
When we walked back to Senior House, she took my hand. Neither of us mentioned it. At the entrance, she squeezed my fingers once and let go.
“Practice starts at seven,” she said.
“I’ll be next door.”
“You’d better be quiet.”
“I’ll listen.”
She climbed the stairs. I watched until she disappeared.
Elise was like a light in a city full of windows. I did not yet know how close I could stand without burning her, but I knew I wanted to keep looking.
That evening, I waited outside my room while she practiced next door. The first notes were cautious, then grew steadier. She played as if she were answering a question no one else could hear. When the piece ended, the hallway remained quiet for a breath.
I knocked once.
“Come in,” she called.
She sat beside her cello, cheeks flushed from playing. “Was it too loud?”
“No. It was exactly loud enough.”
“You’re going to make a habit of listening.”
“I hope so.”
She looked at the camera hanging from my neck. “Did you take any good photographs today?”
“One.”
“Of the blood center?”
“Of you.”
She held out her hand. I showed her the print I had made earlier. She studied it, then handed it back.
“You made me look different.”
“No. I noticed something.”
“What?”
“That you were already looking at me before you decided whether you should.”
Her eyes widened. Then she smiled and returned to her cello.
“Good night, Nolan.”
“Good night, Elise.”
I went back to my room and left the door open. This time, I did not need to pretend it was an accident.