Melody

Even by the time we've quietly left the theatre through the back doors and headed towards the car, that guy is still etched into my mind. That tiny little smirk he gave me for a split second, his messy brown hair, the bluest eyes I've ever seen, and he was tall, so tall. Who was he? What did he want? Why do I care?

"Ms. Aria?" I'm snapped back to reality by Mr. Carter. I realize he's holding the car door open for me while I've just been staring into space, whoops. He chuckles slightly in his deep, gruff voice. "Distracted tonight, aren't we?"

I shrug casually and brush it off. "No, it's nothing." Though I'm sure he knows it's not nothing. Mr. Carter's known me since mom hired him when I was eleven, and he can pretty much read me like a book. He decides not to push it though, and we drive in peaceful silence back to the hotel.

I stare out the window at the buildings and sidewalks coated in a pristine white layer of snow as we drive through downtown. Buildings are piled high with brightly lit advertisements on digital billboards, reminding me of Times Square. Who knew Canada had cities like this? The quiet squeaking of the windshield wipers remind me of a metronome, and my brain can't help but imagine a piece that fits with that tempo. Traffic slows to a crawl as drivers struggle to get their cars through the slippery and unshoveled roads.

Mr. Carter sighs. "Looks like we're going to be here for a while." He peers at me through the rearview mirror. "You never fail to impress me, Ms. Aria. Four concerts, four nights in a row this week."

"Thank you," I chuckle, giving him a tired smile. "I'm relieved I'm done with this tour though, I'm absolutely exhausted."

It's been a long year and I'm utterly drained. As much as I've loved it, I miss having free time. Not spending every waking minute sitting in front of a piano. Getting up without having to immediately head to an airport or into venues for terribly dull soundchecks. Not feeling the incessant anxiety before while waiting for reviews on my performances. Regular clothes and comfortable shoes instead of fancy gowns and painful high heels. Living in a permanent home instead of a tour bus.

I'm just looking forward to things returning to normal, though I suppose I have no real sense of what normalcy even is - I never have. Most people my age would be in college, finding jobs, starting relationships, and beginning new chapters in their lives. I'm aware of the fact that I'm most likely reaching my peak soon, and it's all just going to be downhill from there. A depressing thought, sure, but hey, this is my life.

He gives me a sympathetic smile. "Are you looking forward to going home?"

I hesitate for a moment, anxiously chewing on my lip. "I was actually thinking of staying here for a bit." I see him raise an eyebrow, as expected. "I've been on tour without a break for nearly a year now, I thought this would be a nice place to rest for a little bit. Maybe rent a studio or small apartment for a month or so."

He laughs. "It sounds like a nice idea, does your mother know though?"

Mom, or momager, as she likes to call herself, flew back home yesterday. Some meeting with a record company she couldn't reschedule apparently, so she had to leave early without me. "Not yet, I'll call her now." I figured she'd be against it, so why not tell her when she's too far away to stop me?

Mom has never been the best at listening. I know she has good intentions at heart, but it's incredibly draining trying to reason with her. She hears me, but she doesn't listen. Fighting with her for my autonomy is a waste of breath. How dare I have the audacity to want to be an adult and handle my own life. I might as well just be a puppet.

I've found it easier to just handle things on my own, and I'm perfectly content with that. Mr. Carter would call me a mini adult when I was a kid, teasing me over how independently I've always acted. Although I quickly had my suspicions that he was concealing his feelings with humor. I realized I was right, as I began overhearing him talking to mom late at night many times, bringing up his concern that my relationship with her was stunting my communication skills.

I connect my phone to the Bluetooth speakers in the car. My thumb nervously hovers over the call icon as I hesitate for a moment. I can't help but feel as if I'm setting myself up for disappointment, yet again.

Swallowing the painful lump in my throat, I bite the bullet and tap the button. Mom picks up on the first ring. "Hey Melody, how was the show?"

"It went well, I-"

"Perfect! My meeting was great too, they want you to start recording once you get back!"

I hastily begin to speak before she can continue. "Actually Mom, I'm planning to stay here for a bit. I need some time to decompress."

"What?!" I can just picture mom doing that overly dramatic thing where she takes off her glasses and clutches her chest when she's surprised.

"Please? Just for a month or so? It's a nice city, I like it here," I plead.

It's only my second time coming to Canada, and my first time in Toronto. It's probably been my favorite stop on the tour. There's more snow than I've ever experienced in my life and it's absolutely freezing, but the few people I've interacted with have all been so kind.

"Well...I guess it has been a while since you've had a break. Will you be safe by yourself?" She's being much more understanding than I thought she'd be, not that I'm complaining.

Mr. Carter speaks up, "I'm happy to stay with her, Mrs. Aria." I give him a grateful smile when he glances at me through the mirror.

"Oh Wyatt, you're a sweetheart," mom chuckles. "Alright Melody, you can stay as long as you promise to practice at least once a week. I'll make some calls and find somewhere you can practice, and I'll help you find a place to stay too."

On instinct, I try to hide my grimace even though I know she can't see me. I knew it was too good to be true.

It's something I suppose.

-----

I lay on the soft hotel bed wrapped in a fluffy white bathrobe. The smell of the overly floral shampoo in the mini hotel bottles wafts from my damp hair and assaults my nose. Gentle classical music plays from my laptop as I absentmindedly scroll through my phone.

Browsing their Instagram, today's theatre posted a wide shot of me on stage. My long light blonde hair being my defining feature, as per usual in these pictures. The comments are full of kind words, but also plenty of harsh speculations about who I am, also as per usual.

I go through my daily task of deleting emails from news and radio stations, newspapers, and websites requesting interviews with me. You would think that they'd get the hint after nearly a decade, but apparently not. Even though she's my manager - ahem, momager, mom refuses to do this for me. She still disapproves of the fact that I decided to stay out of the public eye and left it up to me to handle this.

Frustrated, I haphazardly toss my phone onto the bed. "No!" I gasp as my phone bounces off the bed and lands on the floor with a nasty cracking noise. "Just great," I groan as I pick up my phone, now with a sprawling crack shaped like a spiderweb in the corner of the screen.

There's a gentle knock on the door that connects my room to the one next door. "Ms. Aria? Are you alright?" I hear Mr. Carter's muffled voice through the door.

"I'm fine," I sigh and flop back onto the bed. "Can you find somewhere we can go tomorrow to fix a broken phone screen?"

-----

The drive to the mall is agonizingly slow. The snow stopped falling some time last night, but there's still so much snow on the roads. It's like a giant slip and slide, but for cars - and a lot less fun. A disorderly situation like this one would normally stress me out. A perpetually busy schedule means I'm always in a rush to go somewhere, and bad traffic throws everything off track. I find myself needing to continuously remind myself I'm on a break now.

I scroll through my playlist and find something to play. I land on Chopin's Nocturnes No.1 in B Major, Op. 32. Chopin's work is always a safe bet when I want to decompress. I zone out and try to relax as the gentle notes float through the air. A minute or so passes before I jolt at the sound of my phone ringing, it's mom.

"Hey Mom."

"Hi Melody, just wanted to let you know I found you an apartment and I've emailed you all the info. You should be able to move in today." Based on her tone, you'd think she was talking to a client, rather than her daughter.

"That was quick." Although I suppose she's always quick when it comes to work.

"Oh my friend Arvin is a realtor there, he was very helpful." Sometimes I forget that she has connections with people from all sorts of fields, all over the world. "I found you somewhere to practice too! The apartment is a short drive from the University of Markham. They have an excellent music department with high quality instruments and lots of rehearsal spaces. I talked to the dean and he said you're welcome to use them when classes aren't in session."

I sigh a little. The relaxation didn't last long. "Thanks Mom."

-----

I hand my poor broken phone to the man over the counter. He puts on a pair of round reading glasses and analyzes the crack. "No problem, we should have this fixed up in an hour or so. That'll be one hundred and twenty dollars," he says. I cringe a bit, being clumsy is expensive sometimes. "For an extra twenty, I'll add a tempered glass screen protector."

"Yeah, sure," I sigh and take out my credit card. There goes half of my shopping budget for today. The apartment is already furnished, but I wanted to get some things to make it feel more homey. Things people on Pinterest would get, y'know?

We leave and begin looking for the nearest department store. The mall is quite busy, as to be expected on a Saturday afternoon. I don't even remember the last time I was in a mall. I need to remind myself to relax again and walk a bit slower than usual to take in my surroundings.

There are five levels, the tiled white floors are a light grey marble, most of the ceilings are glass - letting in plenty of natural light, and the architecture is very modern and elegant. Stores have giant signs taller than me to advertise their sales with mannequins in the most bizarre poses in the windows. Walking by stores selling bath and body products feels like walking through a condensed cloud of every scent that's ever existed - mashed into one. Most retail employees look tired and miserable with strained smiles plastered on.

"Well, would you look at that."

I turn to see what Mr. Carter is looking at. "Oh god," I grumble.

On the back of one of the directory maps is an ad for my concerts from this week. The only compromise I was willing to make for the ads was a picture of my side profile while sitting at a piano. At the bottom is the information about the location, dates, and prices.

I roll my eyes and quickly continue walking. "I hate seeing myself in ads." The marketing specialist mom hired insisted a picture of just my hands on the keys wouldn't be enough. Why hide that pretty face of yours? I was not a big fan of hers.

We enter a massive department store. Mr. Carter follows me around with a cart that I quickly begin to fill. Fuzzy throw blankets and pillows, adorable animal shaped succulent planters, scented candles, a clock shaped like an apple, and glittery coasters. It's blatantly obvious that this is my first time getting to decorate my own place. Nothing I've chosen matches, but I don't care.

"Mel! Is that you?" I hear a voice call excitedly.

The both of us turn to see a girl with a bright smile quickly coming over. I feel my heartbeat suddenly quicken and Mr. Carter immediately takes a protective step in front of me. I carefully peer around his muscular arm to take a peek, the girl looks oddly familiar.

"Can I help you?" His tone is serious and deep - it's been seven years but it still intimidates me. The seamless switch from his soft, calm voice to his gruff, gravelly voice still makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up when I hear it - even though I know I'm the one he's protecting.

The girl furrows her brows in confusion. "That's Melody Aria right? I'm Alyssa, her cousin."

"Oh my god Alyssa, I didn't recognize you!" I quickly step around Mr. Carter and give her a hug. She's still much taller than me, and her eyes are just as bright emerald green as I remember.

"Let's grab some food, we have to catch up." Without waiting for an answer, she links her arm around mine and starts walking.

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I don't blame Melody, I'd totally make a mess while trying to decorate my own place for the first time too haha. What's your decorating style like?

Thanks for reading! :)