The Orchestra - Sinfónia Lifsins - 42. A Peaceful Weekend At Last

Alone with my cello. Too dark to see anything. It is not cold, but not hot either. Silence. Solitude. It is refreshing for a while, but soon the complete lack of noise becomes unnerving. Is such quietness even possible? Have I lost my hearing? I play an open G in the cello just to be sure. The note echoes in the dark space and resonates inside me too. I play one of Vivaldi’s cello sonatas.

The rest of the ISO’s cello section appears one by one, sitting in their usual places in the Concert Hall. They play with me. The volume increases tenfold, and I feel the sound vibrations taking over my body. The Violins and Violas appear too, with Arnar as their Leader. They look like they are playing, even though all I hear is the sonata for solo cello.

The woodwinds appear too. And the brass, and the percussion. We are in the Concert Hall, playing together even though most of them have no part in this particular piece. The audience flicks into existence. Lights illuminate the rest of the hall. It is concert night, and I am home.

(...)

“Good morning, Siggi! Did you sleep well?” Arnar and his wife were already sitting at the table, waiting for me to start breakfast. He had a newspaper on his lap, but looked up and smiled when he saw me coming down the stairs into the completely open space that was the ground floor. The place was somehow magically kept together by random columns. The only walls were the ones around the bathroom in the corner. The kitchen space was separated from the rest by an elevated platform.

“I did.”

Arnar’s smile widened. He patted me on the back when I took my place at the table beside him. “I’m glad. You do seem quite cheerful today.”

“Do I?” My breakfast was ready: salad leaves, homemade gluten-free bread with butter, cheese, and lactose pills, all in enough quantity to keep me full for the whole day. I would never be able to eat everything. They knew it, and they did not care. They put all the food there ‘just in case’.

“Yes.”

“I guess I’ll believe you, then.” Maybe Arnar was right. The lack of nightmares and the good night of sleep did make me feel somewhat more energetic than usual. The wave of good feelings from the concert had not yet dissipated.

“Good, good.” Arnar waited until I had started eating to speak again. “I think yesterday was your best performance. I was very moved by it.”

“Me too. You two made me cry all the way to the encore. It was absolutely beautiful.”

“Thank you.” My voice nearly died. My food became suddenly very interesting. Ágústa’s comment about her feelings was not something I was prepared to deal with. As much as I understood that this kind of feedback was a dream come true to any self-respecting musician, it involved a kind of emotional baggage I struggled to deal with in myself, let alone in others.

“The newspaper is saying pretty good things about the concert too.” Arnar spread the paper over to a corner of the table. “Arnar Sæmundarson gave a brilliant performance in his debut as conductor, but the biggest star of the night was undoubtedly the soloist.” Arnar read loudly, as if he was addressing a full auditorium rather than just his wife and son. “Sigurður Jónsson showed a kind of emotional virtuosity that brought tears to the eyes of many. Haydn never sounded so enticing.” Arnar’s attention turned back to me. “As if there was still any doubts about your performance.”

“I wouldn’t have cared if they said the opposite. Those were the same people who wanted my ‘emotional virtuosity’ out of ISO for good less than a week ago.”

“Still, it’s good to have our work recognised.” Arnar shrugged. He knew better than to try changing my mind. “And anyway, I’m really proud of you for everything you did yesterday, and for everything you did in the past four years. It was an honour to conduct your concert.”

“I…” My eyes stung. My sight blurred. “Thanks.”

“Here, here.” Arnar hugged me with his good arm. The gesture was the proverbial last straw. At the breakfast table, first thing in the morning after my big night, Arnar managed to redo what three months of near-complete separation had undone. The flood of feelings was too much for me to bear, too many different emotions to name. A kind of positive energy I thought I would never feel again. “It’s ok. It’s ok. Let it out. It’s good for you.”

“Never go away again.”

“I won’t. I’m back, and I’m staying. I promise.” Arnar’s hand found my hair. My body lay awkwardly against his, but it was far from a problem. “I’ll do all I can to help you get better. We managed it once, we can do it again.”

“I believe you. I trust you.”

It was a déjà vu of sorts. The first time he freed me from sixteen years of misery and pain. Now it was only three-months-worth of sorrow, but the sense of relief and freedom was the same. Like in the past, this single moment of trust would not erase all my problems or bring eternal rainbows and sunshine. But it was an important beginning, one that allowed me to walk my tightrope of a life with the certainty that there was a safety net to catch me when I fell.

(...)

Arnar’s ability to put up force fields of happiness by merely existing beside me resulted in a weekend that took me back to the time when I was still seventeen years old and living in Arnar’s house, before Dmitri invited me to move in with him. We returned to our old routine without even thinking about it. Like I had never left.

But Monday eventually came. Reality called me back to its claws. Gummi’s emergency meeting to discuss my ‘involvement’ with Kresten was barely a few hours away.

“Gummi told me you told him Kresten tried to rape you at dress rehearsal. Now, I only know of what happened because of what Dmitri told me back then.” Arnar and I sat alone after breakfast. Soon it would be time to appease the boss and spill the truth about the Christmas Concert. “I did what I could. I arranged the emergency session with our counsellor, and I kept my mouth shut out of respect for your wishes. But now that the cat’s out of the bag…” He looked at me eye to eye. Even I could tell he was worried. “Is there anything else you want to tell me before we go to Gummi? Do you want me to do anything to make this easier for you when we get there?”

“I don’t know.” I did not consider lying to Arnar. Particularly after the last two days. “I don’t know if there’s anything left to tell. Kresten wanted to have sex with me, I said I couldn’t, he went ahead anyway. He was the one who pointed out Gummi would never believe me if I told him.”

“And you believed him?”

“Of course I did. It made sense. I had just tried to kill myself by fucking my best friend. There was nothing keeping Gummi from believing I was still suicidal and wanted a second shot. Kresten is such a huge celebrity. It would be his word against mine. The words of a suicidal teenager would never beat the word of a famous star.”

“There was no way Kresten could have known about your suicide attempt. Only a handful of people knew the details, and those were the people least likely to tell anybody else.” Arnar put his good hand on my shoulder.

“But he was still right. At the end of the day, he’s still the celebrity and I’m the immature brat who called rape to destroy his career. That’s what it’s going to look like if it goes public. That’s what it always looks like.”

Arnar lunged forward to hug me. His embrace was tight. Protective, even. He would not let go. “Gummi called this meeting because he believes you. He wants to do what he can to keep you safe.”

“I’m ok, I think. My life was so crap at that point that one more shit thing to happen to me didn’t make much of a difference.” I had just tried to kill myself. The yearly Christmas sickness was just around the corner. The replacement’s existence took away one of the few things that kept me attached to this world. “If Kresten had succeeded, or even killed me afterwards, I don’t know how much I would’ve cared.”

“Are you serious?”

“Are you going to cry?” His eyes were getting red.

“It hurts to hear all the horrible things my own son went through when I wasn’t there to help. It hurts that someone I love so much is hurt more than I could ever imagine.”

“You don’t need to cry. You’re kind of the reason I’m still here.”

“Actually, that’s all the more reason to cry. You deserve so much better than depending on me forever. You’re young, talented, and I know you’ll always deny it, but you can be kind and gentle to others too. You’re not a bad person.”

“You gave me that same speech when I moved out. You were so proud that I felt well enough to go away…” And because I did not want to disappoint him, I never considered coming back.

“Of course I did! My son was growing up and ready to face the world away from the safety of our nest!” Arnar smiled again. “And I’m still very proud of you. Which doesn’t mean you aren’t welcome here anymore.” He looked me in the eye again. “If you ever feel like the outside world is getting too much, I’m here and I’m ready to take you back. I won’t think you’re a failure for not being able to stand on your own. I love you no matter what. I’m proud of what you achieved, but if there’s a setback and you become even worse than what you were when I met you, I’ll still love you and I’ll still be proud of who you are. And I’ll stay with you for as long as it takes for you to get better again.”

“You’re making me want to move back here now.” My turn to feel my eyes stinging. Another turmoil of feelings I could not sort through. A knot in my stomach that was definitely not nausea. A wish to hug Arnar and only let go when all my nightmares were gone.

“If that’s what you want…”

“No, I don’t think it’s right. At least not for now. Dmitri, Karen, and Gísli are good housemates. I’m fine living with them for the most part. It’s only when things get really crap that I feel like I need something else.”

“Then when that happens, your old room is here for you.”

“Thanks.”

“You think you’re going to be ok talking about Kresten, then?”

“I never thought too much about it after it happened because of all the other stuff. I don’t really know how it’s gonna go now. Maybe I’ll feel something bad if I start to remember things, or maybe I’ll feel nothing at all.”

“Gummi won’t force you to say anything you don’t want to. He knows it’s important that you don’t feel pressured into anything.”

“Ok. I’ll remember that.” The wall clock reminded us it was nearly time to go. My cello was already by the door. We were ready to leave as soon as Ágústa came down to drive us there.

“Should we go, then? Get this over and done with?” Arnar got up and offered me his hand.

“Yeah.” He pulled me up and into a hug.

“Thank you for talking to me and trusting me.”

“It’s all your doing. You had four years to perfect your ‘let’s-make-Siggi-talk’ technique. If there was anyone I would ever trust with this stuff, it’s you.”

“I’m honoured.”

Arnar had not earned this trust easily. In the beginning, it had been a mess. But he never gave up. He insisted in believing someone like me could get better. He trusted me even when I could not trust myself.

And that made all the difference.