Caesura - 7. Chapter 7

Noël sat cross-legged on the aft-deck. His fingers played with some loose threads of his cutoffs as he gazed through his dark sunglasses at the glimmering horizon. Then he shook his head as if he could get rid of his thoughts that easily, and pulled his large straw hat deeper onto his face.

Leaning back against the bench behind him, he closed his eyes, allowing his other senses to take over and distract him from his musings. A light breeze tugged at the seams of his unbuttoned shirt, cooling sun-heated skin; water lapped against the boat’s hull, and he would have been lulled to sleep if not for the clanking of pots and dishes coming from the galley.

While the smell of sautéed onions wafted through the air, he could almost see Simon sitting at the table cutting vegetables and peeling potatoes. Landyn would probably be leaning over the stove, stirring pots and pans. Hearing their low voices, a smile appeared on Noël’s face. He couldn’t understand the actual words, yet he had listened to them many times in the past weeks to know they were probably exchanging stories about how and where they bought which exotic fruit or seafood while in the last harbor. Since Noël had been on the boat, he had eaten stuff he hadn’t known even existed, not that he was complaining. Landyn proved to be a surprisingly good cook.

Sometimes he felt like an intruder. This was the only time during the year the two got to spend time together, and here he was making them babysit him. Of course they said otherwise, still, he tried giving them as much space as he could; and not entirely for selfless reasons. Seeing them together, exchanging all those small gestures that showed how much they were in love, made him long for something similar. They knew each other so well, never getting bored with the other’s company. Even in the beginning, when Simon hated Noël, it had never seriously come between them.

Once he had thought this was the future he was looking for with Diarmad, that this would be them one day. Kris always said he needed insulin shots just watching Landyn and Simon. Noël grinned when he thought of his best friend’s face when he had said that; it was a mixture of disgust and envy Noël thought only Kris could pull off.

Kris. The one week they spent together at Landyn’s lake house during spring break had been awkward. Those moments where he had felt Kris’ longing gaze on him were still making his stomach clench. Kris wanted them to be more than just friends, and sometimes Noël had even thought ‘Why not?’. But then he found he couldn’t go there, not yet and probably not ever. However, when he tried to talk to Kris about this, his friend had just smiled. Noël didn’t know what to make of that.

So, he was kind of glad Kris couldn’t join them on their little cruise; he had to go home for summer break. Smirking, Noël imagined his friend, the future spiffy-suit-wearing lawyer, mucking out stalls on his parents horse farm, wearing grimy jeans, maybe even a cowboy hat. Almost by itself, his mind’s eye combined both looks: the suit together with the boots and the hat. Hey, that would be hot. Noël rolled his eyes. What now, having some cowboy slash lawyer fantasies? Must be the sun…

God how I miss having a piano right now. Even though he had told Cieran otherwise, he had started practicing at the new Music and Art center as soon as they had bought a decent piano. Of course, it was not the same as his precious Steinway. My Steinway? Well, obviously not as mine as I once thought. However, he couldn’t go to the center in the middle of the night when he felt like pouring his soul into a piece of music. Which was why he had gotten a keyboard for his laptop instead.

Suddenly his fingers itched to play. He got up, shook the kinks out of his legs, and descended the stairs down to his cabin. Maybe some ‘Queen’. Already hearing the tune of ‘Seaside Rendezvous’ in his head, he began to sing, ‘Seaside, whenever you stroll along with me / I'm merely contemplating what you feel inside…’

***

“Did you know that Noël and Kris are thinking about changing schools next term?” Simon scraped the diced ginger root into the bowl in front of him. “They are finally going to include music in their careers.”

Landyn dipped a spoon into one of the pans and blew at it, before he put it into his mouth. “Hmm, good. They could have pursued a musical profession. Noël is an incredible pianist. When he decided he didn’t want to spoil his music by making a job out of it, I understood his motives. But I’m glad he changed his mind.”

“Well, he still won’t be a pianist. He told me they checked out places and found a school that offers an MBA degree with a special orientation towards the music industries. Kris looked into their joint degree program in law and music business and liked it very much too. When we come back from the King’s summer party, they plan on driving over there to get more detailed information.”

“Do they want to share an apartment or stay in the dorms again?”

“Kris said they are thinking about renting an apartment.”

“That’s cool! Who knows what will happen in the privacy of their own space.” Landyn wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“Seriously?” Simon frowned. “I can’t see Noël being with Kris. I mean the kid loves him, everybody can see that, but staying in tune with the musical theme here─‘the first cut is the deepest’. I have a feeling that for Noël, Seraei actually mate for life.”

“I know, which is quite ironic since he was the former human in this relationship, I know. But you’re right. Every other partner would be… I don’t know, Not Diarmad?, and Kris has to love Noël very much if he can stand to be second choice. Noël will never be one hundred percent his.”

“Which reminds me. Don’t you think it’s time to tell Kris about the Seraei? He probably already wonders why Noël still goes to all those meetings, why he still has contact with the King after all he has done to him.”

“You’re right. Kris can be trusted.” Landyn pulled the pan from the stovetop. “Of course, Noël has to ask the council and the King for permission first, but I think they will agree. And if Kris and he will be lovers one day, he has to know anyway.”

“The King might want to dig his heels in, though.”

“For what reason? He is separated from Noël. They would only think he’s jealous.” Landyn shook his head. “No, he will agree, even if he would rather not.”

“You’re probably right.” Simon pointed his knife at Landyn. “But your idea of Kris and Noël becoming lovers: Not. Gonna. Happen. Friends yes, but lovers?” He shook his head vehemently ‘no’.

“We will see.” Landyn looked as if he wanted to say more, but then thought better of it. “On another note, how did Noël take the news that we have to be at the King’s summer party next weekend?”

“What do you think? Of course he was thrilled… Meeting the ex and his new lover at a Seraei gathering, being the discarded mate who still has to play a role in our society. What’s not to love? And yet he flat out refused to go. How did he put it? ‘Nobody can force me to play the King’s mate while his mistress’, he actually said ‘mistress’ by the way, ‘is flaunting his ancient, mature ass under my youthful nose.’ Which is totally right; nobody can force him.”

“At least this year it’s a barbecue and not a black tie event like last year.”

“Thank God for small favors. There is still the question of how we get him to come with us? I don’t want to see my brother’s ugly face bragging Noël tucked in his tail.”

“There is no need; Cieran O’Connor already did it for us. He invited him in the name of the whole council. I think I heard something along the lines of ‘not backing down’, and ‘arrogant bastard’.”

“Good, good. You can always rely on Cieran to find the right words.” The first notes of ‘Seaside Rendezvous’ sounded from Noël’s cabin. “Does he know that he is expected to play something on the piano?”

“You tell him that, I will not, and I don’t think even O’Connor can get him to do that.”

***

A light breeze puffed the white gauze curtains which hid a door to a small balcony. Noël sat on the bed at the summerhouse, his backpack open beside him. He had never been there before. Last year, Diarmad decided to host a much smaller event at the penthouse, saying he didn’t want to overwhelm Noël with the sheer number of Seraei usually attending the anniversary.

A sharp knock made him tense up. ”Yes?”

“My Lord Noël, are you awake?” The thick wood door muffled Keith voice.

“Yeah, Keith, come on in, the door is open.”

Smiling at the man standing in the doorframe, Noël wondered if he had ever seen him wearing anything other than black slacks, a white button-down shirt, and a black waistcoat. He simply had to ask him. “I always wanted to see the inside of your closet, Keith. Is it all black pants, matching waistcoats and white shirts? Nothing daring like...dark blue, smoky grey or sunny yellow?”

“Certainly not, my lord.” Then the man smiled faintly. “I do have a dark red bathrobe, though.”

“Wow. What about bright pink underwear?”

“I don’t wear those.”

The remark had been meant to be a joke, so Noël actually needed a moment to comprehend. “No underwear?” Then he waggled his eyebrows in pure Landyn fashion. “Wicked.”

“If you think so, my lord,” Keith said, his voice slightly mocking. “Everybody is down in the sunroom for breakfast. Do you want me to bring some croissants and coffee up to your room?”

“Aww, Keith, you know me so well.”

“I certainly hope so, my lord.”

Ten minutes later, Noël was sitting at a wrought iron table on the small balcony with warm croissants, golden butter, raspberry jam, and a large cup of café au lait in front of him. This is a much better start to the day than I thought.

They had arrived late the other evening, wanting to avoid the crowd. Diarmad had been waiting for them in his office. The meeting had been short; Diarmad had only acknowledged him with a curt nod before he had ordered Landyn to meet him in his study early the next morning. After that, they were dismissed, and Keith had showed them to their rooms. Noël had been glad that his was a bit away from the other guests. He needed to remember to thank Keith for that later.

After he had finished his breakfast, Noël stared at the bright blue sea and listened to the seagulls. He knew he couldn’t hide all day in his room; he had to go out and mingle eventually. Landyn explained that clan leaders from all over the world were here for the celebration of the day the Seraei set foot on Earth. Many of them were eager to finally meet their king’s mate. He scoffed. A little late for meeting the mate. And of course they all knew about the separation by now, and were probably curious to lay their eyes on the loser who couldn’t hold their king’s love.

He made sure he didn’t meet the requirements regarding his clothes. In his mind, he could already hear Simon scolding him for being childish, as he tugged his bright red board shorts and a snug black tee out of his backpack. Black flip-flops completed his outfit. Well fuck it, it’s a beach house. And wasn’t my immaturity one of the reasons Diarmad threw me out to the curb? We wouldn’t want him to change his mind.

The first person Noël saw was his friend Andy from the Music and Arts center at home. They chatted a little, right until Andy told him about the evening’s entertainment program and his role in it. He was expected to play the piano. His first thought was to turn around, pack his stuff, and take off as fast as possible, and his second was to scream at whomever was responsible for putting him into the program. But then he had an idea, and a fitting song came to his mind. He speculatively eyed Andy and then dragged him to his room.

“Grab your guitar! We need to practice!”

“In your room?”

***

Noël stood on the makeshift stage, taking his time to watch the audience settle. Was he making a mistake? Then his gaze fell on Diarmad, who sat in one of the wicker chairs in the first row, his long legs slightly spread and stretched out in front of him. He seemed to be calm and relaxed, but when their eyes met, silver flashed, burning holes into Noël. As if he dares me… Well, let’s see what I can do about that.

Inhaling deeply, he threw up his shields so he wouldn’t be bombarded by Diarmad’s annoyance, shoved the rolled up sleeves of his white, button-down shirt over his elbows, and grabbed the mic.

“Good evening, my lord.” He bowed slightly in the direction of the King, before turning to the rest of the assembled guests. “Ladies and gentlemen, I’ve been asked to play a few songs tonight to celebrate with you the day the first Seraei arrived on Earth.” His announcement was rewarded with a long applause.

“Some of you might know my favorite instrument,” he gestured at the black, shiny upright piano behind him, “and you undoubtedly expect me to sit down behind it and hit those keys,” Without touching it, the open lid of the piano suddenly fell down, causing a loud thud. He grinned. “I decided to shake things up a little.” Noël turned and pulled out a guitar case he had hidden under a side table and held it up for everyone to see. “Surprise!” Then he dragged the piano bench behind him and sat down. “My best friend Kris has been teaching me for a while now, but as I’m not as good as I need to be yet, I’m glad I could persuade Andy from our new Music & Art center back home, to accompany me tonight. Please welcome Andy!”

People clapped their hands enthusiastically as his friend entered the stage. He chuckled. “Okay, maybe it’s better to say I’ll accompany him, because between the two of us, he’s the one who plays a really mean guitar.

“We thought our first few songs should have one thing in common…Arrival!” The audience cheered. Some called out song suggestions, which prompted others to loudly agree or complain.

Strapping the guitar over his shoulder, Noël fiddled a bit with the keys, then nodded at Andy who immediately intoned the first lines of Arrival on Earth, which earned them groaning and laughter.

After they finished the Transformers song, Noël smirked, placed his right hand on his heart and yelled, “Welcome to Earth, Seraei!” Everybody clapped and cheered. Some called, “Welcome, Noël!”

When the guests had calmed down enough, Noël announced, “The next song has been written by a well-known Swedish band back in the seventies.” And after a slight pause. “I’m sure most of you can still remember it.” He winked. “Arrival from Abba!”

The last notes of the second piece had faded away, and Noël was pleased at the joy he could see in the faces glancing up at them. “They say ‘all things come in threes’, so for our last ‘arrival’ song, I’d like to introduce you to a piece from the movie Arrival: From the Nature of Daylight. If you haven’t seen the film yet, I strongly recommend it.”

Noël had been a little nervous because they didn’t have much time to practice their last song, but it went without a hitch, at least on Andy’s part. He screwed up a little, but he was sure no one noticed—except for his friends, who had winced slightly a few times.

“No ‘arrival’ without ‘departure’. Now, we could get into a discussion on what was first, arrival or departure, like with the ‘the hen or the egg’ question. Anyway, I don’t want to become too philosophical here. Instead, I’m going to finish this little performance with a song written by Ty Lacy and originally sung by Keith Urban, You’ll Think of Me. Although this kind of music is normally not my cup of tea, tonight it expresses exactly what I’m feeling. Before we start, I should apologize to Ty, because of the slight change in the chorus line. Those among you who know the song will immediately know what I’m talking about.”

And without further ado, Noël started to strum the chords letting the intricate intro seep into him and then he sang. “I woke up early this morning around 4am / with the moon shining bright as headlights on the interstate…”

Moving his body with the rhythm of the song, he let his eyes fall closed, then suddenly lifted his head, meeting the gaze of his ex-lover, “…Ever since you found yourself in someone else's arms / I've been trying my best to get along /But that's okay / There's nothing left to say…” and was confronted with a wave of irritation.

Without stopping his singing, Noël let his gaze sweep over his audience to gauge their reaction. From content listening, to terror-stricken eyes, to scowling; he could detect it all.

When he finally came to the last chorus, he fixed his gaze firmly on Diarmad, knowing his own eyes were glistening just as silver as his mate’s.

“Take your records, take your freedom / Take your memories, I don't need 'em / Take your space and all your stupid reasons / But you'll think of me / And take your crap and I take my sweater…” Noël caught himself glaring at his ex, and quickly plastered an indifferent expression on his face.

After the last chords had faded, he was met with an awkward silence; everybody was watching Diarmad, whose face had become a stoic mask. Finally Simon got up from his seat, and started clapping his hands, and one by one, the others followed.

Noël bowed, grabbed his guitar, and gestured for Andy to follow him. They slipped through the curtains behind the stage, which were covering the French doors leading to the back porch.

Outside, he turned to his friend. “Andy, could you do me a favor and get Simon to come to my room? I need to talk to him, but I don’t want to go back in there. Oh and Andy, thank you for helping me out, sometime you’ll have to show me some of your tricks; that was awesome what you did with your guitar tonight.”

“No prob. I’ll go get Simon, and Noël? Nice voice. I’d like to hear you again soon. Maybe we can do some songs together sometime at the M&A.”

“Sure.”

Up in his room, Noël threw the few things he had unpacked into his backpack, then he waited.

Simon arrived a few minutes later with a worried expression on his face. “Noël! Andy told me you wanted to see me. What’s up?”

“Si, I need to go home.”

His friend took one look at him and said, “I’ll come with you. Let me call Landyn and explain the situation to him. He can’t leave yet, but he’ll bring my stuff. You call a cab. Oh, and tell them to wait down the street and not to honk, that we’ll come out by ourselves.”