On the way home from the mall, I contemplated the conversation I had with Frank earlier.

It took some time and effort to open him up about his life as a kid etcetera, I can't deny that, but it is his life after he turned eighteen that he won't tell me about. I can't help myself but wonder what happened after that, and more interestingly, if in that particular period of time his personality formed its shape.

Those were all the thoughts I spend on Frank. My mind had to clear space in order to focus on my upcoming performance which has taken the priority. As soon as I got home, I sat myself behind my beloved piano and used the time I could spare to practise speed and precision.

Minute passed minute while pressure found a way to crawl closer. It doesn't matter how many concerts I'll give: I know the stress before one will never go away. From experience, I know I have to end practising when these emotions arrive, otherwise the pressure will rise exponentially with every little mistake I make.

I sigh deeply and stand up. The next time I touch a piano will be in front of a huge audience.

"You're going to be fine, honey." My dad walks into the living room. He has seen me dozens of times before a concert and has developed experience on how to handle the situation.

"You can't be sure of that." I respond as always.

"Of course I can be sure of that." He smiles comforting. "And besides, I bet nobody in that audience has any idea how the music you're going to play should sound. Nobody will notice if you play a mistake."

"I will notice." I say childishly.

My dad looks at me like he knows he's right. I know he's right. He opens his arms to give me a hug. "What tie do you think I should wear by the way?"

I'm confused. "Are you going as well? How did you get invited?"

"Honey, you're forgetting my company is a big deal, I can get into any party I like."

I laugh. My dad does not like parties at all. I can't remember the last time he deliberately didn't take any excuse to avoid going to one.

"Besides," my dad continues, "Debby got me an invitation." Debby is my dad's assistant and a real miracle-worker. I know my dad's a 'big deal' in his field, but I'm utterly convinced his whole business will crumble to bits the day that woman decides to retire.

"You should go for the black tie, the feasty one."

My dad nods. "Okay, I will."

I don't have that much time until I have to leave, so I decide to put on some make-up. Nothing over the top: some mascara and lipstick will have to do. Meanwhile, the sun has set and the sereneness of the evening has taken its place. The night feels young and full of excitement...

It is in my bedroom that I take a look at myself in the mirror. I really like what that hairdresser has done to my hair. Everything is nicely tucked away, so I won't be bothered while playing the piano, but what a timeless hairdo she gave me nevertheless. Additionally, it complements the features of my face. I love it.

Almost as much as I love my newly bought dress.

Carefully, I unzip the back and place my feet and legs in the bottom part, whereupon I slide my arms through the long red sleeves. The skirt feels light, although being long. My shoulders and collarbone are elegantly exposed and when I walk around, you may catch a glimpse of my legs. Although undeniably stunning and attention-demanding being the main features of this dress, I find it comfortable.

If I could only reach the zipper on the back, that would be splendid.

"Dad!" I shout, in the hope he could help me zip it up, as he has done so countless times in the past. I don't get a response, nor do I hear him getting up the stairs. I call him again. "Dad! Daughter in need!"

Nothing.

I put on my heels: now I'm tall enough to lift the dress from the floor. That way I won't step on it. I go down the stairs, while concentrating not to trip and holding the upper part of my dress up, as the back has not yet been zipped up. I hope the stage I'll have to perform on doesn't have too many stairs. What if I trip on these shoes?

I sigh. The pressure is rising again.

I'll have to concentrate deeply to contain it. Then, and only then, I'll be fine. I deeply breath in while entering the living room. "Dad, can you zip me... oh." I'm taken off guard by finding Frank sitting on my couch, dressed in tuxedo and everything. It takes me a couple of seconds to process the confusion, all the while Frank doesn't say a word to me as well, but he doesn't have to. As soon as we noticed each other, he stood up from the couch and looked at me from top to bottom and the other way around. I felt his gaze on me like a soft burn. I couldn't move.

"You look beautiful."

It hit me in the stomach, completely unannounced. The sound of those words, pronounced with his voice, deep and dawdling and delicate, made me simmer on the inside. "What..." My mouth suddenly feels dry "... are you doing here?" Still numb by raging emotions, I cannot decide what the appropriate thing is to say. But Frank seems a bit confused or offended, or both, by my question and every second he doesn't say anything back spreads out infinitely long.

He opens his hands in a defending gesture. "Debby got me an invitation."

I don't even bother to ask. "I'm looking for my dad," I say, "I need help with something."

Frank puts his hands in his pockets. "He already left. He had some business to take care of."

I look down. Business, of course.

"But he'll meet us at the party."

I shouldn't be surprised, I'm actually fine with it.

Frank takes a couple of steps in my direction. "You said you needed help?"

I hesitate, but give in quickly. I simply don't have a choice. "Yes, my dress..." My body temperature rises when Frank quickly glances at my dress and back to my eyes. "... I can't reach the zipper on my back." Frank doesn't seem to know what to do with this information. I slightly turn my shoulder in his direction. "Could you...?"

Then it suddenly seems to become clear to him. "Yes, of course." He takes three steps to reach me and I turn around. I am very aware that I'm not wearing a bra, as this dress makes it unnecessary, and as a result, my cheeks unwillingly become heated by the thought my whole back is exposed to Frank to see. I'm just happy he can't see the redness on my cheeks this time.

The zipper makes a quiet sound, but the tranquility of its movement gets disturbed when Frank accidentally touches my skin and goosebumps arise.

This, he evidently will notice. Damn it.

I close my eyes, to help me concentrate.

Instead, I now sense his breath on one of my shoulders, which only makes the situation worse. Frank doesn't step away when he's done his job, and that's giving me indication that he must be aware of what I'm feeling. At least some of it.

I slowly turn around on my heels, probably the most comfortable pair I've ever owned, and smile as naturally as I possibly can at the moment. Because of the heels I'm wearing, I have exceeded my normal length, yet I am still not as tall as Frank.

He answers my smile by lifting a single corner of his mouth. He does so very attractively. But he doesn't say anything. He looks at the side of my face, my chin, my neck. He looks into my eyes, and reaches out to my hand, only to look down again. I feel like he isn't hiding that much anymore.

He's letting me know exactly what he's feeling. As clear as daylight it is.

Frank lightly clenches his jaws and sighs almost inaudibly. With his thumb, he caresses the back of my hand.

Transparency.

He brings my hand to his lips and places a soft kiss on its skin.

Clarity, finally.

He lowers my hand and lets it go. With slow pace, he walks past me to wait by the door.

I look at my hand and feel the soft burn. Now I finally know for sure.

I turn around and walk past Frank through the open door he's holding, briefly making eye contact.

He told me that he can't.

I open the car and take place, carefully looking out that I don't destroy my dress. Through the big window in the front of the car, I can see Frank turning off the lights in the house. Eventually, he finds himself locking the front door behind him. I see him walking towards the car.

He told me that he wants me, but can't have me.

The car door on my left opens and Frank takes place behind the wheel. Soon enough, he turns the keys and the powerful engine comes lustily alive, shamelessly arousing the nightly sereness.

He can't have me just yet.